Chapter 1
A red brick house sat on a hill in Somewhereton, a small, sleepy town in Mississippi with a population of forty-two. This brick red house sat in isolation atop a hill, far from neighbors and obstructions to the peace of the family inside: a mother named Lilly, a father named George, a young woman known by all of her students as “Miss Kay,” and a little girl called Bee. The father was a mechanic. The mother was a writer. The daughter, Bee, was everything her imagination could conjure up, and Ms. Kay was her teacher. More specifically, she was the second-grade teacher of English, Mathematics, Music, and Art (the school had a small budget and her counterpart, Dr. Fin, taught the remaining curriculum, covering Science, History, Geography, and Home Ec). Behind the scenes, Miss Kay had other jobs, one of which was entirely voluntary: to be the housekeeper and cook at the little brick red house on the hill. Miss Kay loved Bee as her own daughter the moment the girl stepped into her class. Unable to have children of her own, she cherished the opportunity to teach this little girl with the golden braids how to paint and draw the contents of her vast imagination. If asked to draw a tree, Bee created a forest. If asked to draw a house, she drew the universe. Miss Kay knew immediately there was something special about her, and did not even hesitate to come help out around the house the very moment she heard Bee’s mother was sick. Bee’s father offered $12 an hour. He needed someone to help with the cooking and cleaning and taking care of Bee while he was away at work or visiting Bee’s mother, who was away quite frequently either at the doctor or at her own parents’ home to be cared for, since she did not want Bee to see her on her bad days. Cancer is not the prettiest of sights. Big-hearted, compassionate, and already beloved by Bee, Miss Kay was the perfect woman for the job. Monday through Thursday, she came to the house after school to help until George arrived home. She had the weekends off. It was not long before Miss Kay was as much a part of the family as an employee.
Miss Kay was standing in the kitchen that morning, licking a bit of excess frosting off her fingers as she let the water run over the pan she’d just used. Tomorrow was Bee’s mother’s birthday and Miss Kay wanted to make it special. Every once in a while, Bee would come stomping through the hallway, trying to get a quick peak at the cake before it was finished.
“Bee, why don’t you come in here and play a game with me?” Miss Kay suggested, taking her hand.
Bee grinned and took her teacher’s hand to be led to her game closet in the living room. Miss Kay swung open the door and turned toward Bee with a box of cards, aware making houses of cards was among Bee’s favorite activities. “Mine, too” she’d replied when Bee first told her, subconsciously reaching for the chain of the necklace her own father had given her. Miss Kay had grown up building elaborate houses of cards with her father, who’d referred to her as “Katie.” He was in a nursing home now, and his health had worsened since check-in. That was why she was visiting him a week from tomorrow. It was the first weekend she’d have completely off grading papers or cleaning houses or picking up shifts at her sister’s diner a town over. Eight days seemed so far away.
“Oh, Miiis Kaaay?” Bee was singing, her little palms pressed against her face, all scrunched up and pudgy-looking.
“Oh, don’t do that, honey. Your face will get stuck like that,” she replied, wondering how long she’d zoned out this time. It was getting worse all the time, these moments- the zoning out, episodes of the worst forgetfulness, the vivid memories, the sudden pang of dread, the heart palpitations. She blamed too much caffeine. That was all.
Bee dumped the box of cards on the floor and threw herself down, too, sitting on her knees, but still wriggling around in the middle of the cards. Miss Kay sat down to join her, careful not to let her skirt fly up as she got down on the floor with her to play. They started with one box of cards, struggling even to begin the foundation, but once a few cards had been carefully stacked and appeared stable enough, the speed of the project picked up. Eventually, they ran out of cards and, after standing up and getting just a brief look at the little card-town they’d created, Bee blew it down and laughed hysterically, rolling around on the floor and then laughing even harder as Miss Kay crawled over and tickled her under her arms. They both rolled over, Miss Kay careful to pull down her skirt as she did so, and then she reached over and held Bee’s hand again, rubbing her fingers over the little girls’ knuckles. She practically was her own by now; there was no denying it. Miss Kay had never been married, but she’d never found anybody whose wife she’d want to be. She only wanted to be a mother, and that wasn’t going to happen anyway, so there didn’t even seem all that much of a point. She’d told Bee when she started working here she could drop the “Miss” and just say “Kay” at home, but Bee insisted there could be no other way.
“When’s Daddy gonna be home, Miss Kay?” Bee asked.
“It won’t be too long,” Miss Kay answered, glancing at the clock, “I bet he’ll walk in any minute now.” She hoped so, but she couldn’t be sure. Bee looked satisfied with the answer, but there was no getting her off the subject, as she immediately followed-up with “Okay. Why is Mommy still gone?”
“Well,” she answered, giving Bee a reassuring squeeze, “Your mommy is out visiting her own mommy right now, but you know what? I’m sure she’ll come back soon, too.” Bee seemed discontent, but was soon distracted by a new thought which popped into her always-working mind. “I’ll be right back!” she exclaimed, sitting up and dashing to her room almost in one motion. There was the sound of a closet door opening, and a few items clearly crashed to the floor. There was some more rummaging around and humming before Bee came hurrying out of her room again, equipped with an impressive stack of coloring books and a box of colored pencils. Miss Kay grinned and joined her at the coffee table right after a quick check on the cake. It wasn’t long then before George walked in the door.
The pencils became secondary in interest when Bee heard his car pull up, and she was waiting behind the door to jump out the moment he opened it.
“Daddy!”
“There’s my Bee!” He added a friendly wave across the room. “Hello there, Katherine,” he said, addressing Miss Kay. Bee hated when he called her that. She was her teacher, Miss Kay; that was it, and she couldn’t understand why everyone else was always trying to change it.
Miss Kay got up to leave. She went into the kitchen, covered the cake and put it in the refrigerator, and grabbed her purse at the front door to head home. “Now, Bee,” she said, looking into her eyes sternly, “You have a happy birthday and don’t you dare touch that cake until your daddy says you can, okay?” Bee bobbed her head seriously. They pinky promised. Then, Miss Kay walked out the door and down the porch steps and drove down the dark and empty street to her house.
~
On Monday, Miss Kay didn’t come. The classroom remained dull and cloaked in a sort of melancholy haze as students stared blankly at the substitute teacher, who was an elderly lady with a blob of gray hair and a sad-looking face. Bee sat with her hand pressed against her cheek so that her face looked sort of smashed up as she stared at the invisible window in the classroom. In her head, she saw a field of yellow daisies and kids playing wiffle ball with a stick for a bat. She heard the sing-songy birds in her head and hummed to herself a bit, along with them, until the old lady pulled her out of her imagination by giving her a little tug on the ear. “Ouch!” Bee complained.
“Oh, stop it now. That didn’t hurt,” the substitute insisted. But it did.
Bee ran home, knowing with absolute certainty Miss Kay would be there waiting for her, and she couldn’t wait to tell her all about the terrible, evil substitute and to find out what interesting adventure could have kept her from arriving to class today. Miss Kay wasn’t there, though. The house was empty.
“Hello?” Bee called, but still the house offered no reply. Bee grinned, then, and tiptoed into the kitchen very quietly, like a little mouse. She crept in, ducking behind the counter so as to remain unseen. When she was halfway between the seat her mother normally sat in and her father’s chair, she sprang up from behind the countertop. “Boo!” she yelled, but Miss Kay did not come out, feigning fear and surprise at Bee’s arrival. Miss Kay had not been hiding from her today. Bee stared in confusion at the stove, on which there was normally a tray of celery with peanut butter or crackers with cream cheese, two of Bee’s favorite after-school snacks Miss Kay liked to prepare. There was no apron hanging on the handle of the door to the pantry. Only Bee’s shoes were set by the door. She sat at the table and stared at the grains in the wood, wondering why Miss Kay was late today, and planning what she would do for dinner if no one came home tonight. Surely, she could fend for herself just as well. Yes, she decided she would be just find for one night without Miss Kay to help her.
Bee never saw Miss Kay again.
