Oprah was right: When you were passionate about something, doing what needed to be done didn’t feel like work. Shiloh was certain that was the only reason she didn’t give in to the temptation to stretch out in her bed this morning and repeatedly hit the snooze button.
She and Randy had returned home after one a.m to find all four boys asleep, and while Shiloh had been eager to follow suit, her romantic hubby had other ideas. By the time she closed her eyes it was nearly three a.m. She wasn’t complaining then, but she wept when the alarm clock sounded less than three hours later.
To his credit, Randy slid out of bed and made coffee while she dressed. He even nudged the boys to get moving on time, so she didn’t have to lose her cool or her religion yelling them down to breakfast and out to their summer camp carpool spots.
“When are you going to let me start driving?” Lem asked between bites of cereal. “Basketball camp is just twenty minutes away.”
“You haven’t had your license that long. Plus, what are you going to drive—my van?” Shiloh asked.
Lem swiveled his head from Shiloh to Randy and back. “I thought you guys were planning to get me a used car next year, when I’m a senior.”
Randy kept reading the sports section of the morning paper and took another bite of oatmeal. “If we do, you’ll earn that privilege by figuring out how to pay for gas,” he said.
“Huh?” Lem frowned and left the table to place his bowl in the
sink. He grabbed his swim trunks from the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, and slung them over his lanky shoulder. Shiloh chuckled to herself. He might forget some things, but not those swim trunks. Breaks at basketball camp offered opportunities to swim at the gym’s indoor pool, and he never missed. “I don’t have any money. Or a job.”
“Not yet,” Randy said. “We’ll talk.”
“Lia doesn’t have to do any of that,” he muttered on his way out of the door. “Her grandparents gave her a car over the summer, and they put gas in it, too.”
Lem must have recognized the warning in both of his parents’ eyes. He waved and disappeared to join his carpool before they could respond.
Shiloh rested her elbows on the kitchen island. “He’s still talking about this Lia girl in Alabama. He can’t find a girlfriend at his school, or at least in the Milwaukee metro area?”
Randy shrugged. “Virtual dating is in. I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve. He told me yesterday it would be great to spend Thanksgiving in Atchity, and he definitely wants to return to Atchity for the science camp next summer. Apparently Lia lives about an hour away, just outside of Birmingham, and they’re cooking up a way to see each other more often.”
Shiloh shook her head. “They think we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young and in love. But what about the Davis girl at church? I thought she had a crush on Lem and was trying to convince him to hang out with her.”
Randy grinned. “She hasn’t given up. She just doesn’t know she’s competing with a girl eight hundred miles away. Omari, on the other hand, has four or five different girls in the congregation swarming him every Sunday, and he stays on that cell phone.”
Shiloh grabbed her tote bag and strolled over to Randy to give him a kiss. “What are we going to do with these teenagers?” she said.
“Don’t forget to keep checking their Twitter and Instagram pages. I’ve had to slack off since I’ve been preparing for the school year.”
Randy’s raised eyebrows told her he had forgotten already.
She feigned frustration and pinched his arm. “Do it today, Reverend Daddy. We’ve got to stay on top of what they’re up to.”
He lightly pinched her back and kissed her again. “Don’t be late. Have a good day.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me so you can go back to bed. No fair.”
Randy gave her a sly smile. “If you weren’t going off to school,
we
just might do that. But that’s not my plan. I’m heading back to the hospital this morning to check on Sister Wray. I’ll go to the church from there, for the quarterly trustee meeting.”
Shiloh waved goodbye again and stepped into the garage, where she settled in the van. It was a sticky-hot morning, and by the time cold air was flowing full throttle from the vents, she was already sweaty. She cranked up the radio and sang along to the songs in rotation this morning on Tom Joyner’s syndicated radio show.
Her ringing cell phone interrupted the private music fest. Dayna’s number surfaced on caller ID, and she slid her Bluetooth device in her ear while at a stop sign.
“Good morning; to what do I owe this call?”
Dayna chuckled. “Do I touch base that infrequently?”
They both knew the answer was yes, but neither commented. Normally Shiloh wouldn’t take a call while she was driving, but hearing from the ever-busy Dayna was unusual, so she’d give her a few minutes.
“I’ll have to do better,” Dayna acknowledged. “I wanted to let you know it looks like we’re on track to have the house finished by late October. We’d love to have the family join us for Thanksgiving, and I’ve even convinced Mama and Daddy to come. Of course, they’re
going to want to be home by Saturday morning, so Daddy can preach that Sunday, but they’re willing to come.”
“Shut the front door.” Getting Daddy, and as a result Mama, to change their plans and leave Atchity during a holiday was huge. They must really want to see this house.
“Randy and I were just discussing Thanksgiving plans and how Lem is trying to convince us to go to Alabama so he can see a girl he met during his summer camp,” Shiloh said. “He’s not going to go for changing the family gathering to Calero, but I think the rest of us would love to visit sunny Florida. Now, Randy may have the same issue as Daddy, as far as needing to return home to preach on the last Sunday of the month. Will that be okay?”
“I haven’t forgotten that Randy is Daddy’s clone,” Dayna said.
Dayna laughed, but Shiloh knew she wasn’t really joking. Shiloh wasn’t oblivious to the looks Dayna and their sister Jessica exchanged whenever Daddy and Randy were together; she knew they resented the relationship between the two men. Truthfully, she’d had her moments, too.
From the time Randy had begun spending summers with their family at age sixteen, Daddy had unofficially adopted him, and Shiloh and her sisters had, each in her own way, felt pushed aside. Randy was the son of Daddy’s best friend and comrade from Vietnam; but in some ways, Randy’s bond with Daddy became stronger than the one he shared with his own father, and Daddy tended to seek out Randy over his daughters when he had some down time or needed a confidante other than Mama. Randy returned home to Buffalo, New York, at the end of that first summer with the Wilson family, but his heart remained in Atchity. It had merged with Daddy’s, and he visited as often as his father allowed—a few days during Christmas break, during spring break, and every summer thereafter.
Shiloh would never admit to Dayna or Jessica that she sometimes
wondered whether Daddy had encouraged Randy to marry her, to make him an official part of the family. Her husband’s genuine affection and caring always overshadowed that nagging fear. As she did whenever the fretful musing arose, she shook it off this morning, and forced herself to refocus on the conversation with Dayna.
“Anyway,” Shiloh said wryly, in response to Dayna dubbing Randy their father’s clone. She turned into a grocery store parking lot so she could chat without distraction. “I’m going to ignore that comment and keep it moving this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” Dayna said and chuckled. “But you need to get some swag about you, girl; that was your perfect chance to tease me about bringing ‘a brother from another mother’ named Warren into the family.”
Shiloh laughed. “Since when did you, the corporate executive, begin using slang?”
“When? Let’s see … soon after tying the knot two years, five weeks, and six days ago, and moving in with two rambunctious teens who consider themselves Drake’s biggest fans and who try to out-rap each other every chance they get.”
Shiloh pictured Michael and Mason in action and doubled over with laughter. She was thankful she had taken time to park. An older woman had returned to the car next to Shiloh’s and peered at Shiloh with concern as she unloaded her groceries.
Shiloh waved and pointed to her ear. But the woman looked even more confused. Shiloh realized she either didn’t see the Bluetooth device or didn’t know what it was. The woman placed the third bag in her trunk, slid behind the wheel, and sped away without looking back.
Shiloh laughed harder.
“I’ve got to go, Dayna. This is too much for me this morning. When I start teaching next week, I’ll ask my students to show me some swag.”
“Bye, girl,” Dayna said. “And if you have to get them to ‘show’ you, don’t worry about it.”
She hung up before Shiloh could respond, and Shiloh smiled. The formality between them seemed to be thawing a little more each time they talked. She could share a laugh with the sister who had kept her at arm’s length for nearly a decade. Shiloh hoped Randy would be open to spending Thanksgiving in Florida so the positive trajectory could continue. The more often she and Dayna chatted, the more she realized what she’d been missing. If Dayna was offering a way into her heart, Shiloh was ready to take it. When the time was right, God would bring her closer to Jessica, too.
Two hours into her new gig and so far so good.
Shiloh perched on the stool at the front of the band room and waited for the next round of student musicians to breeze in and take their seats. This group would be the full band—grades nine through twelve—and if they were as focused as the jazz band students had been, she might do okay at this teaching thing.
Shiloh was reviewing a note with instructions from Mrs. Helmsley when an afro distracted her. In fact, she saw the hair before she saw the rest of the girl. A soft, flowy affair at least six inches high filled the doorway, attached to the body of a tall, thin, fair-skinned teenager with delicate features. Shiloh wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the first-day-of-school joke, or take the young lady’s ‘do seriously. The girl perched on the first seat in the flute section and smiled at Shiloh. Shiloh could tell from this close proximity that it was no prank—the afro was real, not a wig, and this student was wearing it with confidence.
Another bold frame filled the doorway, and this time it was a tall girl with an asymmetrical bob and one of the brightest smiles Shiloh had ever seen.
“Monica, why did you leave me?”
The second girl’s voice filled the band room as she strode toward the woodwind section, where she took a seat and began opening her saxophone case. Her afro-wearing, flute-playing friend, who Shiloh now knew as Monica, giggled.
“Don’t mind us. That’s my silly best friend, Phaedra,” Monica said. “She’ll behave once class starts.”
Shiloh nodded, but in an effort to maintain her authority, suppressed the smile that wanted to escape.
Phaedra raised a tenor saxophone to her lips and blew one note in Monica’s direction, as if taunting her. The other students laughed, but kept preparing for class, which let Shiloh know they were used to the banter between these two. Without Shiloh having to utter a word, the students pulled out their flutes, saxophones, clarinets, trumpets, and other instruments, and by the time the bell rang, everyone was ready to play.
Shiloh was speechless. She hadn’t expected this level of maturity from a group of high school students. But Dr. Carter had reiterated after she’d completed the substitute teacher workshop that she was starting in a great place—a magnet school with kids who wanted to be there and were eager to learn. He had been modest.
“My goodness,” Shiloh finally said, after the bell rang. “Looks like I’m the one who’s not ready. I’m Mrs. Griffin, and as many of you know from the letter your parents received, Mrs. Helmlsey won’t return until late October, due to a relative’s illness. I’m looking forward to working with you until then. I’m a trained flutist and pianist and have taught students of all ages for years. I also have four children, ranging in age from sixteen to nine, and all of them play instruments. Let’s take attendance, and then we’ll get started on the music.”
A young man in the drum section raised his hand.
“Yes?” Shiloh responded.
“You have an interesting accent; where are you from?”
Shiloh smiled. “I should have warned you all. I am from Alabama, and you’ll have to forgive my thick accent. I’ve lived in Milwaukee for almost two years, but I still say ‘waaata’ for ‘water’ and ‘ya’ll’ or ‘you all’ instead of ‘you guys.’ I’m working on it!”
The students laughed.
As with the first period of the day, this hour whizzed by, and before Shiloh knew it, it was time to send this group of kids on their way. While everyone else dashed off to the next class, the girl with the afro, Monica, took her time packing up, then approached
Shiloh.
“Thanks for giving us a great start to the school year,” she said. “I love playing the flute, and would love to talk to you more about it, since you say that’s one of your primary instruments. I think I might want to make a career of it.”
“Anytime, Monica,” Shiloh said. “I studied the flute extensively and can show you some helpful breathing techniques and tongue methods, as well as some practice drills to strengthen your tone. Since you say you’re considering this as a career, are you also taking private lessons?”
Monica nodded. “Yes. I’ve had the same teacher since fifth grade, and she’s great. But I’m always looking for mentors.”
Shiloh was impressed. “I’ll be happy to help,” she said, appreciating the girl’s forthrightness. “What grade are you?”
“I’m in the tenth,” Monica said.
“Okay,” Shiloh said. “I was just wondering how much more time you have to prepare for college auditions and special summer programs.”
“I’m already starting,” Monica said. “It would be great to get an early acceptance into a good school, so I’m giving it my all, every chance I get. Thanks again for being willing to help me. See you on Thursday. Better get to my next class!”
Monica trotted out of the room with her flute case tucked under her arm. Shiloh hadn’t seen her friend, Phaedra, standing in the doorway until now. Phaedra waved, then took Monica by her free arm and pulled her from sight.
Ah, teenagers. To be young and carefree again.
Shiloh chuckled at that notion. Why was it that one always remembered their high school days wistfully, forgetting all of the awful parts?
She slid off the stool and tucked away her notes. This would be a free period, so she could relax in the teacher’s lounge and meet a few more of her temporary colleagues. Shiloh smiled as she walked through halls filled with pockets of plotting, giggling, whispering teen girls, and with boys doing the same just out of earshot. This felt right. She had made a good decision, and Mama shouldn’t worry. Instead of going home tired every evening, Shiloh had a feeling this group of kids would energize her.