This was her world. The one she had built for herself, full of activity, love and hope. She breathed it in, greeting some of the students who smiled back at her and who didn’t ask questions other than if they could be in her class. Taking in her cuts and scrapes, another little girl, Kayla, wanted to know if she had fallen down. Vanessa assured her she was fine.
The query made her choke up slightly as she made her way down to the front, near the stage. Vanessa knew she had a good reputation with students and parents, but right now, knowing these children wanted to be in her life, that they were concerned about her and that her friends would open their homes to her, made everything all right. She could rebuild her house, buy new clothes. What she really cared about was her family, and that included these kids and her friends. Everything else could be replaced.
The tightness in her chest finally eased, and she started to take her seat as her mind went over her presentation. Luckily, she was third in the lineup, so she would have time to prepare.
“Ms. Grant,” she heard and looked up to see their new principal, Mr. Edwards. His eyes took in her bumps and bruises, too, and she tried to smile.
“Mr. Edwards.”
“Could we have a word before we get started?”
Vanessa read the tension in his face as nothing good, and felt her stress rise. Edwards was a competent principal as far as they knew—he’d only been with the school for one year. He wasn’t as friendly and approachable as their previous principal—he didn’t socialize or get to know teachers personally like Mrs. Madeira had—but he cared about the kids and he was fair.
They exited through a door that led up to the back of the stage.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes searching her face again. “We were all concerned when we saw the news.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Just some bumps and scrapes.”
Vanessa held his gaze, but almost caved, he was staring at her so intently.
“Do you know what I did before I came here, Vanessa?”
She blinked, surprised by his use of her first name. He always insisted on formal address.
“I was part of the search committee, so I know you were in the military, and when you came home, you went back to school and received your Ph.D. in Education, and then worked at a few very prestigious schools before you came here, yes.”
“That’s my résumé. But what I did was work in a bomb-disposal unit. I was exposed to explosions on an almost daily basis. Roadside explosions, mostly, but a few times we had close calls in structures. Buildings,” he clarified, and she saw his eyes darken in an emotional way that made her catch her breath. “Sometimes we got there too late, or it didn’t go well. I saw that, too.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I remember how long it took to get used to it. If you ever do. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”
Vanessa blinked, unsure of what had brought on this sudden confession.
“I can only imagine how horrible—”
“No need to imagine—you lived through that today. The reporter said he wasn’t sure what was the source of the explosion, but I could see right away that it was set on purpose, from how it blew up. You were lucky, and we’re all very glad about that.”
She nodded.
“But you shouldn’t be here,” he finished.
“But I’m fine, really, and I have my presentation prepared already, and the kids expect—”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, surprising her again and cutting off her objection. She stiffened, and realizing he’d stepped over the line, he drew back his touch.
“Listen, Vanessa. I know how it feels. I know the need to close it out and want everything back to normal, but it’s not normal. Not at the moment. Likely you haven’t even begun to deal with what’s happened yet and being here is the last thing you should be doing. What if you break down on stage? Worse, someone tried to blow up your house—I won’t ask why—but you should be in police protection. I can’t risk whatever danger you’re in affecting the school, the kids—parents have already been calling about that.”
“But it was a mistake, I’m sure. Someone must have thought my house was someone else’s. It’s the only explanation. Who would want to hurt me?”
“I agree, but until that’s certain, I have to insist you don’t come to school. I’ve already cleared it with the board to put you on extended paid leave. Your job will be here for you when you are ready to come back. But that’s not right now. Go deal with this. Find someone to talk to—if you can’t, then here’s a number for a friend of mine. She deals with post-traumatic stress specifically. You’d like her. But you can’t be here right now. It’s not good for you, or the kids.”
Vanessa’s world was blown to bits for the second time that day. She held Mr. Edwards’s card in her hand, frozen, unsure what to do next.
“Let me get someone to help you with your things and walk you to your car. Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine,” Vanessa bit out, suddenly very angry. “You may not believe it, but I am. Why won’t anyone believe me?”
How could they do this to her? After everything she’d been through, they were taking this away from her, too?
“It’s not permanent, Vanessa. You’ll be back before Columbus Day, I’m sure. But when the matter clears, you’ll see that I’m right.”
The anger receded as quickly as it had risen. She was completely exhausted.
“Okay, yes. I want to do what’s best for the kids.”
“I know. Go rest. Recover and get your life back together. I hope they find who did this so you can really put it behind you.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Mr. Edwards squeezed her shoulder in support and then went back to the auditorium where he and everyone else would go on with the program. Without her.
Vanessa walked like a zombie to her classroom, where she stared at the empty desks and the absolutely clean chalkboard. She always loved decorating her door for the new school year and writing her name on that perfect board for the first time every September. She would have all of the kids come up and write their names on it, too, to introduce themselves.
This year, someone else would be welcoming her students.
But Mr. Edwards was right. She couldn’t risk even the slightest chance that she could upset or bring harm to her students. Her bruises had already worried sweet Kayla, and Vanessa felt a pinch of guilt.
Blowing out a breath, she went to her desk and started cleaning it out, packing the few things she had in there in a box that she found in the supply closet.
It was only for a month or so, until the police closed the investigation and found the person who ruined her house. She’d start rebuilding, her bruises would fade and she’d be back to work. Maybe the leave was a blessing in disguise. This way she could focus on starting again, and—
A noise in the hall stalled her thoughts, making her freeze in place.
“Hello?” she called out into the hallway.
No one answered.
Shaking off the momentary panic, Vanessa returned to packing her desk but then jumped as the door behind her clicked shut and the lights in the room went dark.
Before she could turn around, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth, and she felt something hard jab into her ribs. She twisted, a stinging pain in her side making her cry out.
Vanessa fought and managed to grip the hand holding the knife, pushing