“Let us step into my office for a moment,” Margaret said, gesturing toward the door behind the desk. “We can talk more quietly there.”
The small office was warm and smelled of old paper and peppermint candies. Margaret sat behind her dark wood desk, leaving the door slightly ajar so we could hear the children playing in the next room.
“We are doing our best with the weekend shifts, Clara,” she said, her voice dropping into a confidential, low register. “It has been so hard to find reliable help lately.”
“Is there someone new?” I asked.
“My sister has been helping out,” Margaret said, leaning forward slightly over the desk. “She is wonderful with the children, absolutely wonderful.”
“What is her name?” I asked.
“Verna,” Margaret said, her eyes dropping to the paperwork on her desk. “She is just temporary, of course, until the state licensing inspection is over.”
A child began to cry in the hallway behind her, a sharp, piercing sound that made Johnny clutch my leg even tighter. I looked down at the yellow paper peeking out from under Margaret’s clipboard, but she quickly placed her hand over it.
“We need to get Johnny settled,” Margaret said, reaching down to take Johnny’s hand. “He is going to miss the morning circle.”
I had to leave him there, his small hand locked in Margaret’s grip, his eyes wide and pleading as I backed out of the heavy glass doors.
The drive to the billing office felt like a blur, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I kept thinking about the small blue mark on Johnny’s arm.
By the time I sat down at my desk, the clock on the wall read ten past ten, and my supervisor’s office door was already closed. I stared at the green screen of my billing monitor, but the numbers blurred into a gray haze of worry.
