“I know that I’m still new here at the school, Ryan, but I just wanted you to know that if you have something you need to talk about, or if there’s something that’s bothering you, no matter how small it might be, I’m here for you.”
It was everything she could do not to put her arms around the boy and hold him to her. He looked so terribly vulnerable.
“You can tell me absolutely anything you want.” She peered down into his face, trying her best to maintain that eye contact. The boy had attempted to look away, but she wouldn’t let him. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Ryan?”
Ryan pressed his lips together and nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
It was like pulling teeth, Wynona thought. Very elusive teeth.
But she was determined and she tried again. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Ryan?”
Ryan shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
His answer was so low, she almost couldn’t hear the boy.
She knew that she could only push so much without scaring him off.
“Okay, but if you change your mind,” Wynona told the boy, “my offer still stands. And you know where to find me.”
Ryan responded to her question in complete seriousness. “In school.”
The corners of her mouth curved ever so slightly, but she managed not to laugh.
“Exactly.” Wynona glanced at her watch. “You’d better get outside, Ryan. I’ve used up part of your recess playtime.”
He obediently rose to his feet. “That’s okay,” he told her. “I wasn’t going to play anyway.”
Wynona took advantage of the opening, hoping to get a better understanding of what was going on in the boy’s head.
“Why not? Don’t you like to play, Ryan?”
She watched the small shoulders rise and fall in a helpless shrug. “Everybody already picked who they wanted on their side and what games they’re gonna be playing,” he told her.
She came to stand beside him, trying to convey in spirit that she was on his side. “Nothing’s cast in stone, Ryan. There’s always room for one more.”
The look he gave her said that they both knew that wasn’t true, at least not in his case. As he began to slip out of the classroom, Wynona called after him. “Would you like to help me put out the books for our reading lesson?”
Sensing that would only put him even further apart from the others, Ryan answered, “That’s okay. I’ll just go outside.”
Watching him go, Wynona blew out a long breath. Granted, she hadn’t been a teacher for all that long, but she could definitely recognize a cry for help when she saw it, even though none of those particular words had actually been spoken.
“Oh, Lord, what happened to you, Ryan?” she murmured under her breath as she observed the boy from the window as he made his way outside.
As she watched, Ryan went to a space on the playground that was totally devoid of any students. It was as if he had voluntarily placed himself in exile.
She needed to do something about this, Wynona thought. She honestly didn’t know what, but there had to be something she could do. She couldn’t just stand back and do nothing while she watched the little boy almost wither away and die on the vine.
Over the course of the next two days, Wynona attempted to call Clint Washburn three more times. Each time she called, the phone rang five times and then the call went to his answering machine. She already knew that she was calling a landline. Apparently, Clint Washburn didn’t have a cell phone.
He also didn’t answer his landline or check his messages, she thought, growing progressively more and more annoyed. Being annoyed was something rare and out of character for her but she was definitely getting there, she thought, frustrated.
When she “struck out” again, waiting in vain for the man to return any of her calls, Wynona made up her mind as to what she was going to do next.
She obtained Ryan’s address from the administrative office—a closet of a space, she thought as she walked out—and drove over to Ryan’s family ranch.
She knew that this was highly unorthodox, given that they were only entering into the second full month of the school year, but she was out of options. At this point she was dead set on giving Washburn a piece of her mind. She wasn’t used to being ignored like this. Especially not when it came to a matter that concerned one of her students.
When she drove her vehicle up to the ranch house that afternoon, Ryan was the first to spot her. The sound of an approaching vehicle had already drawn him to the front window. He was looking out that window when the car pulled up.
The car was unfamiliar to him. The person emerging from it was not.
“It’s Ms. Chee!” he all but shouted in surprise. Turning for a split second to look over his shoulder in Lucia’s direction, Ryan repeated what he’d just seen. “Lucia, it’s Ms. Chee! She’s here. My teacher’s here!”
Caught by surprise, Lucia quickly wiped her hands on her ever-present apron as she hurried toward the front door. Puzzled, she spared Ryan a glance. “Did she tell you she was coming?”
“No,” he answered, his head moving from side to side like a metronome set on high. “She didn’t say anything to me about coming here.”
“Are you sure?” Lucia prodded. “Did you do something bad in school?”
Even as she asked the question, Lucia was certain that the answer was no. Ryan was the model of obedience at home, but nothing else occurred to her at the moment.
“No,” Ryan answered in a small, uneasy voice that said he was wavering in his belief about his own innocence in the matter.
Lucia had reached the front door by now and began to open it.
“Well, she has to have a reason for this visit,” Lucia insisted. The next moment the small, dynamic housekeeper was standing on the porch, a one-woman welcoming committee. “Hello, I’m Mr. Washburn’s housekeeper, Lucia Ortiz.”
Wynona quickly made her way up the steps to the housekeeper. She took the woman’s outstretched hand, shaking it.
“Hello, I’m Ryan’s teacher, Wynona Chee.” She peered over the shorter woman’s shoulder, looking into the house. “Is Mr. Washburn around?”
Lucia remained standing in the doorway, making no move to let the other woman in. Her first allegiance was to the family she worked for. “Yes.”
Wynona had come this far; she was not about to back off or turn around and go back to town. “I’d like to see him, please.”
“He’s at the corral,” Lucia informed Ryan’s teacher politely. “But this is his busy season. He’s breaking in the new horses.”
From what she remembered, ranchers were always busy, Wynona thought. She hadn’t come to discuss what the man was doing; she had come about his son, whose well-being was far more important than any horses or cattle.
“I’m sure that’s all very important,” she told the woman, “but what I have to say to him is far more important.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll be out of your hair,” she promised the housekeeper.
“Maybe you should wait in the house,” Lucia tactfully suggested. “I can bring you some tea to drink. Or perhaps you’d rather leave a message for Mr. Washburn and he’ll get in touch with you.”
Right, because that had worked out so well, Wynona thought. “Sorry,