Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Twenty

“Ms. Simmons!” yet another one of her students squealed, his eyes wide as he ran into the room and threw himself into her arms.

Anna accepted Alister's light weight gladly, cuddling this precious boy to her until tears began to form. She had missed her class so much, and now, she was finally back, surrounded by all of her students. Letting go, she took a step back and a deep breath, closing her eyes in the process.

“Alister McCoy, remember why she was gone?” Anna heard his mother ask.

“Oh yeah! I was at the wedding. She's Mrs. Cantrell.” He tugged on her hand, making her eyes snap open at not just the contact but also the words he had just said. Mrs. Cantrell – she was going to have a hard time getting used to it. “You're Mrs. Cantrell now.”

She smiled down at the little, blonde boy, giving his mother a thankful glance. Mrs. McCoy smiled back before leaving the room and thereby leaving Anna with all twenty-four of her students who were giving her wide-eyed glances. She remembered all of them sitting at their own little table, screaming and squealing as they ate.

“How do you spell it?” one of them piped up, not even bothering to raise her hand.

She went to the board, grabbed a purple dry erase marker, and wrote Mrs. Cantrell on the white board. Oohsand ahs were all said, all as if they were watching some sort of magic trick that just astounded their little minds.

“So we can't call you Ms. Simmons no more?”

“Anymore,” she corrected. “And no, I guess you shouldn't, but if you make a little mistake every now and then, that's okay. Did you guys like the wedding.”

One said, “I liked the cake!”

“I danced good!”

“Your flowers smelt pretty!” another said.

And Leesha replied, “Mr. Cantrell's gonna stop by more, right? He can bring some of his baby cows!”

“Calves, Leesha. Baby cattle are called calves, and we have to go to the ranch to see them. He can't just carry all of his calves here away from their mothers.”

“Yes, he can!” Justin shouted from his spot way in the back of the classroom. “My mom told me he used to wrestle bulls when he was only sixteen!”

Anna held up her hands, the gesture immediately quieting her students whose eyes were gleaming with the stories they had heard of the ranch man just outside of town. “No, he has never wrestled a bull.”

“How do you know?”

“I grew up with him,”she said simply, leaning back against the white board in preparation of this long, exaggerated debate.

“You went to kindergarten together?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

After that, she spent almost thirty minutes explaining to them how a person didn't have to be the exact same age to get married. By the time the bell rung to signal the upper graders to move onto their next class, Anna felt she had won the argument and pushed her students to work in their spelling and handwriting books.

Heads bowed and little hands scribbling away in the cheap binders, they all worked diligently, some raising hands on more than one occasion for help on a certain letter or word pronunciation. Their dependence on her was the healing balm that kept her going throughout the morning, smoothing over prickled nerves that had been spiked ever since she had greeted a few other teachers this morning.

But just as she was about to forget the whole ordeal that was to come, the bell rang, signaling the time for lunch. Her hands were sweaty as she led her class into the cafeteria, stomach feeling more sick than it had this morning and last night; but she forged on.