The kindergarten class’s music program fell the week before school broke for the Thanksgiving holiday. The performances were staggered, with each grade getting their own night to showcase what they’d learned. The kindergartners were always a bit of a wild card; all Layla could do was brace herself for the unexpected.
She was especially apprehensive because she’d wanted to try something new this year and she’d taught them the Beatles’ “Let It Be.” The abbreviated version she arranged was adorably sweet, and she’d also be accompanying them on acoustic guitar. If they could remember all the words and get through it without anyone tumbling off the risers, she knew the parents would love it.
Dressed to impress, the kids ran around backstage like they’d eaten nothing but sugar for dinner. Layla tried desperately to corral them before they started sweating or ripped their clothes. She clapped her hands five times rapidly in succession—the signal to pay attention and listen—and they stopped what they were doing and clapped back in the same pattern. Once they were quiet and she had their attention, she asked them to sit down so they could warm up. They collapsed into a haphazard circle on the carpet, and Layla took them through their vocal exercises.
When it was time to line up, Layla gave them a last-minute pep talk. “I know you’ll do a wonderful job,” she said. “Remember not to lock your knees. And I know you’ll want to wave at your families, but try not to do that, okay? They’ll be waiting for you afterward.” Telling them not to wave was futile, because they’d do it anyway, but at least she tried.
* * *
They missed the intro. She had hoped they wouldn’t, but it happened almost every time in class unless she sang along, and adding stage fright to the mix hadn’t helped. Layla had prepared for this, and she played it off like the delay was intentional and strummed the intro again.
They missed it again.
She strummed it a third time and began to sing. The kids immediately followed her lead, and their voices sounded every bit as sweet as they had in class. Layla tried to keep her voice low, because the parents hadn’t come to listen to the teacher sing, but she and the kids had a sort of rustic-sounding harmony that sounded pleasing to her ear and like they’d totally planned it that way. When the last notes faded away, a deafening applause filled the auditorium. The kids broke protocol and waved at their parents, smiling and jumping up and down, high on the enthusiasm from their families.
They filed from the risers and headed back to the music room, where Layla congratulated them on a wonderful performance. Their sugar high had been eclipsed by their performance high, and they went back to running around the room as, one by one, their parents came to collect them.
Layla was still flying high herself and couldn’t believe that—other than the missed intro—the music program had gone off without a hitch. Last year, one of her students threw up midsong and another knocked himself out when he fainted and tumbled from the top riser down three rows, his head hitting the floor with a rather gruesome-sounding thud.
Josh and Kimberly arrived to claim Sasha, who was standing right next to Layla twirling in a circle, watching the pleats of her dress fan out. She’d sleep hard tonight, Layla thought.
“This is our first experience with a music program, and I wanted to tell you how wonderful it was,” Kimberly gushed. “And you have a fantastic voice. You must sing often.”
Layla and Josh exchanged a quick glance. It was almost involuntary on her part, but her head turned toward him instinctively, and all she could think about was him watching her through the basement window. It was something she’d thought about a lot lately. “Sometimes, yes.”
“The program was absolutely precious,” Kimberly said.
“Thank you,” Layla said.
Kimberly took Sasha by the hand. “Let’s go, Sasha. Time to get you home for bed.”
Josh looked at Layla. “It was really great.”
“Thanks,” Layla said. “The kids worked very hard.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and the smile he gave her seemed like it was just for her and had nothing to do with the fact that she was Sasha’s music teacher.
What she felt then took her by surprise. After Liam, she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of feeling it again, but she did. The first flutters of interest for a man. She thought back to when she’d met him and Kimberly the first time, when the Alanis Morissette lyrics had popped into her head.
Kimberly was still beautiful, but it turned out that she wasn’t Josh’s wife.
chapter 21
Josh
Josh and Kimmy had struggled when it came time to figure out Thanksgiving. “I’m going to Angie’s this year,” Kimmy had said when she returned Josh’s phone call. He’d left her a voice mail saying he wanted to get a plan in place for the holiday. “Her parents decided to go on a cruise, so she’s doing a Friendsgiving this year and I want Sasha to be there with me.”
“What time?” Josh asked.
“Noon.” Kimmy knew that was exactly when his family sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, because she’d been sitting down with them since 1999. Josh and Kimmy had decided to go with the flow when it came to the holidays, and Josh now regretted that they hadn’t put something more official in place, because clearly, one of them was going to be disappointed.
“I really don’t want my daughter to not be with me on this holiday,” Josh said.
“I feel exactly the same way,” Kimmy said. “But it’s not like I’m taking her to a random group of people. Angie’s her godmother.”
“That’s not the point,” Josh said.
“Then what is?” she said, and an uncomfortable silence followed. She broke it by saying, “What if Sasha and I start at Angie’s and then I bring her over to your parents’ house around four o’clock since she’ll be switching to your house that night anyway? And then next year she can start with you and eat dinner at noon and then you can bring her to me when you’re done?”
“That’s fine,” he said. He agreed because he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and at least he would have his daughter for part of the holiday and the two days following it.
“Okay,” she said.
“How do you think Sasha’s gonna feel when we tell her there will be two Thanksgivings this year?” Josh asked.
“I think it’ll go over about as well as it did when we told her we aren’t going to The Grinch as a family. She doesn’t understand, Josh.”
“Of course she doesn’t,” he said. “You’re not telling me anything new here. I’m capable of understanding this without it being explained to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Kimmy said. He could hear the wobble in her voice and he immediately softened.
“I’m sorry too,” he said. He was the one who asked the question. It was just hard when the person you always discussed the problems with was not the one you could discuss them with going forward, even if they were half the reason there was a problem in the first place. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I know we will,” she said, because they always had.
* * *