Part 8
“I can’t say.”
“Then don’t force an answer.”
Daniel was near the corridor door when she spoke again.
“Sounds as though you’re raising a good girl.”
“Best one in the house.”
“Including the four-legged resident?”
“He’s sensitive about rankings.”
Arnett gave a brief smile and went back into the training room.
That evening, Hollis confirmed that Mrs. Haskett would be on a planning period during the presentation. A substitute would bring the class. Daniel passed the arrangement on without speculating about who had chosen it.
Claire nodded and returned to her book.
“We could run through it once,” he offered.
She looked up.
“I’ve run through it many times.”
“I was thinking about the microphone.”
“I haven’t forgotten the report, Dad.”
He held up both hands and retreated to the kitchen.
Tuesday went by in familiar pieces: school bag on the counter, homework, dinner, a documentary playing while Claire insisted she was paying no attention to it. Late that night, light still showed beneath her door.
Daniel knocked.
“Tomorrow’s going to start early.”
“I know.”
He waited in the hall. Kestrel lay beside the opposite wall, leaving the doorway clear.
“I might be nervous,” Claire said.
“That’s reasonable.”
“It’s also annoying.”
“Yes.”
The dog changed position, claws brushing the floor.
“What if they’re weird?” she asked. “What if nobody knows what to do?”
“They may need a minute.”
“Wonderful. Very helpful.”
Daniel rested a hand against the doorframe.
“I can’t promise their part. Your part is finishing what you came to say.”
There was no answer for a while.
Then she said, “Okay. Good night.”
“Sleep well, kid.”
The light went out before he reached his bedroom.
At the auditorium the next morning, Daniel could smell warm dust from the stage lamps. The custodian had opened the side door and adjusted the microphone stand. Erin stood near it, counting quietly into the room while Daniel checked the ramp and the turn at the top.
Two teachers waited by the aisle. Reed spoke to the substitute near the back doors.
Claire had brought a few note cards. She set them on a chair beside the stage and forgot them there until Daniel held them out.
“Pocket?” he asked.
She nodded.
He put them away.
The class entered in an uneven line, whispering and rearranging themselves as soon as they reached the seats. The substitute asked for quiet, obtained it briefly, and tried again.
Jonah took a place in the third row. He looked at Daniel, held his gaze for an instant, and dropped his eyes. Simone sat closer to the front, staring at the empty microphone.
Claire moved toward the ramp. A few children leaned together to whisper.
At the bottom, she looked back. Daniel stayed beside Kestrel, leaving the route clear.
She pushed up the ramp and positioned herself at the stand.
When she turned the microphone, a squeal came through the speakers. Several children jumped. Claire narrowed her eyes at the equipment, and a laugh ran through the front row.
She waited for the noise to settle.
“I’m Claire Donovan. I still have some of my project to give.”
Daniel put his hands behind his back.
“My subject is my dad.”
She began with the dog.
Kestrel listened to his name from the stage, looked toward her, and remained beside Daniel.
Claire explained why Belgian Malinois were often chosen for difficult work, then described the differences among individual dogs. Health mattered. Confidence and interest counted too, along with the willingness to stay focused on the handler despite distractions.
“Not being right for a job doesn’t make a dog a failure,” she said. “They can move him to work that suits him.”
A boy who had been watching the ceiling turned toward the stage.
Claire described the time spent on scent training. She talked about a search area after other people had walked through it and how Kestrel had learned to keep following the scent he’d been given.
Then she told them about his hip care.
“He has exercises. So does Dad. Before breakfast, neither one acts grateful.”
The class laughed. Daniel looked down at his partner, who showed no interest in correcting the account.
When Claire moved on to Daniel, she left the commendations out.
She talked about calls with long gaps in the sound and learning to wait instead of assuming the connection was gone. She described him teaching her to read a map while she was still working her way through short books.
Then she told a story from two years earlier.
“A child was missing in another county. Dad got called out at night. Aunt Ruth came over, and I heard the garage door. It was around two. I checked.”
Daniel looked up sharply.
“I started counting the hours. I wasn’t trying to stay awake. I’d just look again and see how long it had been.”
She shifted her hands on the rims.
“When he came back, someone from family support was with him. They were talking about bringing the child’s parents in. I heard that part, and I knew they’d found the child.”
Daniel had never heard this account.
“I didn’t tell him I’d been counting.”
He looked toward the side wall, where a stack of folding chairs stood beneath an exit sign. He swallowed and brought his eyes back to her.
She spoke for nearly twenty minutes, sometimes moving from a fact into a small story and then finding her way back without looking for the cards. Her father checked homework and bought food. He knew which dinner she would request before asking. Bedtime was usually firm, except when a program about animals happened to run late.
He also missed things other parents could attend.
“If work had kept him away today, he’d still be my choice,” she said. “Usually, when he can’t be with me, he’s helping someone else.”
She glanced toward the side of the stage.
“At home he’s less impressive-looking. He asks about supper and complains if he can’t find matching socks.”
Lucas grinned in the front row.
Claire looked around the room.
“That’s everything I wanted to tell you.”
The first claps came before she had backed away from the stand. More children joined, some late, some clapping too fast. The substitute started to speak, then smiled and let them finish.
Daniel let his shoulders drop. Kestrel leaned briefly against his leg.
Claire came down the ramp and stopped beside them. She looked at the rows of children, then up at her father.
“Acceptable?”
“Every bit, kid.”
She studied him more closely.
“Your eyes are wet.”
“Allergies.”
“You don’t have allergies.”
“New ones.”
She tried to keep a straight face and failed.
Daniel bent a little closer.
“You knew it.”
“Tried telling you.”
“You did.”
The class took its time leaving. Questions passed from seat to seat about scent, dogs, and Kestrel’s exercises. Jonah stopped near the doors and looked back before following the line out.
While Claire spoke with Erin near the ramp, Reed approached Daniel.
“She was excellent.”
Daniel nodded.
“There’s something else you should know. A formal performance review has begun concerning Mrs. Haskett. I can’t discuss personnel information, but this isn’t being concluded by today’s presentation.”
“Good.”
Reed rubbed his thumb along the edge of his notebook.
“We should have acted sooner.”
Claire was explaining something to Erin with both hands. Daniel watched her for a moment.
“Keep at it,” he told the principal.
Reed nodded and went to speak to the substitute.
Claire elected to stay for the afternoon. She was already at school, she said, and didn’t see the point in leaving. Daniel took Kestrel home and returned at dismissal.
She came out beside a dark-haired girl carrying an enormous backpack. They were talking fast enough that neither noticed him at first. Claire smiled while the other girl finished a sentence.
At the buses, the girl waved and hurried away.
“Who’s that?” Daniel asked.
“Priya. The other third grade. She moved here this fall.”
“What were you discussing?”
“Kestrel. She’d heard about him. She wanted to know if he was really that big.”
“And?”
“I said bigger.”
“He’s a normal-sized Malinois.”
“Your answer’s boring.”
Daniel loaded the chair. Late-October sunlight reached through the thinning clouds as they drove home. Claire lowered her window a little and rested her arm beside it.
After a few quiet blocks, she asked, “Can they fire Mrs. Haskett?”
To read the rest of the story – CLICK the NEXT button 👇👇👇