Chapter 19

Tina's turn:

"Mizz Addison, our records show you as one of the parents for Terri Addison, age nine, and home-schooled?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said into my iPhone.

"I'm with the state Child Protective Services. We're working with local school boards to follow up on home-schooling to insure that children are getting the education mandated by state law."

Okay, cool down, Tina. This might be a bit of government intrusion, but if we play it right, we won't be standing at the Concord Bridge with a musket.

"We've complied with all the requirements given to us by the school board."

"I understand that, Mizz Addison. Still, we would like to investigate a bit further if you don't mind."

Oh, but there's a part of me that DOES mind. I'm not a bomb-throwing anarchist, but I do have some resentment about this. I know that the school board, at least some of them at the office, are very well versed in the Terri-Rachel-Vicki Munchkin Mafia's education, but apparently THOSE people don't get input into whatever cesspit in the bureaucracy from which this woman is dipping.

Still, I know – "You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar." Alan says that. And one of the other guys adds a codicil – "and shit draws more than either one." And I'm a pregnant mother engineer who doesn't need the stress.

"Okay," I replied. "How do we go about resolving your questions?"

I was hoping...

"We would like to interview and test your child..."

Okay, the 'your child' part always warms the cockles of my heart. 'Cockles' is one of those terms that Terri extracted from some reading. She dumped it on me in discussing her literature lessons. Obviously there are going to be some interesting interactions here. Like when she finds out about ME – now nineteen, pregnant (but not obviously so. You have to LOOK hard to see a baby bump) and a degreed engineer. And a mere decade older than Terri.

"Do you have a date and time in mind? A location?"

"Our normal choice of locations for the interview is your home. The testing we will do at the school board offices."

"That sounds reasonable," I said. "What day?"

"Tuesday of next week. Is that difficult?"

"No." I was already looking at the calendar.

"That would be the interview date. We can discuss a schedule for the testing at that time."

"I assume that my husband should be present as well," I stated.

"Is he the father of the child? In loco parentis?"

Okay, maybe I DO have a little evil streak. This woman seems to be operating under the assumption that I am Terri's mother and my husband is some random dude who's tagging along with ME. And sorry, lady, but a Latin legal term doesn't set me back on my heels.

"I will have him make sure that he is here. We both work. My schedule has some flexibility." And he's the CEO/chief cook/bottle washer of an engineering firm that's happily doing high seven figures worth of business this year. But I didn't tell her that. Nor did I tell her that my office is up the hall from his in our brand new building.

"The address that the school board has on file, is it current?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tuesday at nine AM, then?"

"I just put it on my calendar."

"Thank you, Mizz Addison. I look forward to our meeting."

"Thank you, Mizz Weeks. Have a nice day." CLICK.

Next call. Mizz Greybill, the nice lady at the school board who told me that Terri wasn't going to be well served in public schools.

Second ring. "School board. Joanne Greybill. How can I help you?"

"Mizz Greybill, this is Tina Addison..."

Happy sound. "Ah, yes, the mother of Terri – what's her business card say? pTerridactyl?"

"That's me, walking in her shadow."

Little laugh. "Tina, don't try that on me. I was at YOUR college graduation. Nineteen and an engineering degree. So what's up?"

I related the conversation with Mizz Weeks. Mizz Greybill – Joanne – sighed. "Oh, yes, I knew it was coming sooner or later. Lawsuit. Kneejerk reaction. You're getting the fallout."

"Figured as much," I said. "All the requirements for homeschooling? We're good, from a legal standpoint, right?"

"You're members of that home-schooling group. They're under the umbrella of a church school that holds accreditation. Your group has two certified teachers. I think you're good. But that's not what this is about, you know..."

"I suspect..."

"That somebody's child has tried to enter a college or a workplace and has been found to be lacking, and attorneys being what attorneys are, one decided to sue the state for failure to fulfill statutory obligations to guarantee home schooling students do actually receive an education."

"And they want to interview my Terri..."

"Appears so."

"They don't KNOW, do they?"

Joanne tittered. "No, they don't. I wish I could be there for this one ... do be sure and let me know what transpires."

"I will do that. And remember, we're always open for a visit."

"Saturday night. Music. I like that one."

"Come on."

The next phone call was to give Alan the news.

"I think they see me as one of those unfortunates living in a trailer park with a brat and a layabout husband..."

"What makes you say that?"

"They called ME. And the lady seemed almost surprised when I asked if you should be present, like you were some kind of an afterthought."

"Baby," Alan said, "I can only imagine some of the situations that woman's seen."

"Yeah, but to just automatically assume..."

"So Tuesday, nine AM, then..."

"Yeah," I said. "Not a problem, right?" I can look at his schedule just as easily as he can.

"No," he replied. "And I guess we need to talk with the rest of 'em. Beck and Sim, Kim 'n' Tim. And tell the girls."

"I guess. Sim's on campus. Kim's on campus. Beck has the girls at the library ... Let's see if we can shunt the girls off at first and have an adult talk."

"D'ya think it's something to worry about?"

"No, baby," I replied. "I talked with Joanne – Mizz Greybill. She says we crossed all the 'Ts' and dotted all the 'Is' as far as state law is concerned."

"Yeah, kinda like Tennessee's 'age of consent' law. Alabama's homeschooling law caught me by surprise."

"Yeah. But we're good. And it's obvious that this lady has absolutely NO idea of Terri's intelligence."

"Then it'll be interesting," he said. "You coming back over here?"

"Yeah," I said. "As soon as I finish puking my guts up."

"I'm sorry, baby..."

"Alan, morning sickness is part of the deal."

"I still hate to see you sick."

I giggled. "You should've told me that while we were partaking of frequent unprotected sex, guy..."

"I thought I WAS protected."

"And I wouldn't've stopped anyway. 'Sides, it's getting better. Just makes me jealous that The Radiant Susan has NONE of this..."

A few more crackers and some ginger ale and I was walking to the office. Once across the parking lot behind the office, I turned and looked at our apartments. Funny. Doesn't LOOK like paradise. Is, though.

I walked in the back door, stopped in on Alan, kissed him. Yes, semi-public displays of affection when clients aren't present are okay here.

And into the office I share with Cindy. Of course, Cindy's not there. She's on campus today frightening some poor teaching assistant with the block outline of her doctoral dissertation. Susan is out with Mister Bill, doing a site visit to a substation project that's in range for a day trip.

Cindy's mom, Donna, sticks her head in the door. "Stomach givin' you fits, darlin'?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," I say.

"Cindy did that to me for two months before it let up. Missed a period and started pukin' every morning ... How I knew she was coming."

I turn and smile at her. "Thanks for the advice about the ginger ale. Never tried the stuff until you told me."

"Just passing it on, baby," she said.

Cindy's mom. Mister Bill's wife. And Cindy's still amazed about the change.

Mister Bill, on the other hand... "Placid," Cindy says. "He always was one of those guys you'd see and think 'stability', but he's even more so now."

"You know what I think, Sis?" I asked her.

"What's that?"

"Long, tortuous path, but they're made for each other. Right place, right time..."

The lady – Cindy's mom – has turned into a pretty good fit within the community. Her work with 3Sigma goes well. We made her our documents clerk, and she's a quick study. The fact is, we still don't NEED a full-time docs clerk, and now that she's married, Donna doesn't need the money so much, so she's freed up to accompany Bill on some of his jaunts out of town.

My own mom, though –

And nothing. Still nothing. It's the dark spot in my life. I don't imagine that she'll ever be like Susan's mom, or Cindy's mom (the 'now' version). Still, she's my mom and even though we had a bad relationship I never wished her ill.

"Baby," Alan said one night when I was feeling down over this, "She chose that path. I didn't see her try to stop that guy when he grabbed you..."

"I know ... but I can wish, can't I. I mean, Donna..."

"Donna's a good case for never giving up," he replied. "But she's like you and Cindy and the bunch. Anomalies. Not the way to bet." He put his hand on my belly. There's a perceptible curve there, if you know to look for it. "That's why YOU will be a good mom. You ARE a good mom. Terri..."

"I love Terri."

"Terri loves you right back. And that makes me far luckier than I deserve. Because I surely adore you and her both."

I sighed, putting my hand atop his where it rested on my belly. "And this one's gonna rock the boat, you know..."

"Only in the best of ways, punkin," he said. "We will deal with this like everything else."

"I just get a little nervous. This whole thing's a whirlwind."

"It has been. I'd rather be in a whirlwind with you than in a field of serenity without you."

"Dammit, Alan!" I said, rolling over halfway on top of him. "You MAKE me love you."

"You better love me. I'm your baby's daddy."

"Hah! 'Love' has little to do with that status these days, but I do indeed love you." I slide my hand, the one that's caressing his face, down. "This still works."

"Does THIS?" he counters. His fingers stroke my pussy. "I mean, like, it's all WET!"

"Alan Dean Addison, I've been wet after crawling in bed with you since that time I went to Susan's party," I said. "And it still means the same thing. I want you." Yeah. THAT way. Because all the OTHER ways are just so right, you know. I learned that before I crawled into his bed. The 'crawling into his bed' part was the logical (and emotional) progression.

And tonight, why not? I'm NOT one of those women who are looking for reasons NOT to have sex. Nope. No way. Making love ... Not sex, making love. I've read the articles about the endorphin release caused by sexual stimulation, so if you want to attribute this to chemistry and biology, go right ahead. I look at it as spiritual ... It's a way that the Almighty allows us mere mortals a glimpse of ecstasy.