The bell rang at Oakwood Elementary School, signifying the conclusion of another lunch period. I, Rebecca Collins, stood outside the door to my classroom and watched as my second-grade children came back in from the cafeteria, still smelling like chocolate milk and peanut butter sandwiches. As I counted heads, my eyes got a little narrower. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one… one is absent. Lily Parker. Again.
I looked at the time. Lily had not come back with the others for the third time this week. In the past, I had found her in the library, saying she had lost track of time while reading. But I knew better. The librarian had said that Lily wasn’t there yesterday.
“Until
“Yes, Miss Collins!” Katie responded with the excitement that only a seven-year-old, granted momentary power, could display.
I walked into the hallway, and my sensible navy flats made a noise on the shiny linoleum. The old windows of the school were starting to let in the cold air of late October, so I pulled my cardigan tightly around my thin body. Three years of being a widow had given me a sixth sense for when things weren’t quite right. And there was clearly something wrong with Lily Parker.
Before
“Have you seen Lily Parker, Marjorie? “She has dark hair and generally carries a purple backpack?”
The
I frowned. “What do you mean?””
“She comes through the line and takes her tray, but I don’t think she’s eating.” “Just sits there, moving food around.” Marjorie leaned on her mop. “Didn’t you teachers see these things?”
I felt a little guilty. Of course I had noticed. But I thought Lily’s shifts in behavior were caused by something else, something more ordinary, like a new sibling rivalry or her parents fighting—things that constantly happen when you’re a kid.
There weren’t many people on the playground outside. I squinted against the fall light as I looked over the play structures, the tetherball poles, and the painted hopscotch squares. No, Lily. I was ready to turn around when I saw a flash of purple. It was the corner of a backpack going around the building and into the woods that bordered the school property. My heart raced. Students weren’t allowed to go there without an adult.
I ran quickly across the tarmac, torn between my teacher’s gut feeling and my wish not to overreact. Lily had always been one of my finest students. She was smart, hard-working, and wanted to do well. Up until now.
I slowed down when I turned the corner so I wouldn’t scare the child. I could see Lily approximately fifty yards ahead of me, walking along a tiny dirt path that went between the maple trees. She walked with purpose, and her purple bag bounced against her petite body. I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t normal for a teacher to follow a youngster off school premises without telling anybody, but it also wasn’t normal for a seven-year-old to go into the woods alone. I took out my phone and swiftly texted the school secretary: “Checking on Lily Parker behind the school.” Back in ten minutes.
I stayed far enough away that I could still see Lily’s purple backpack through the foliage. The woods weren’t very deep; they were only a little space between the school and the neighborhood on the other side. But they were thick enough that I quickly lost sight of the school building. The girl stopped next to a big oak tree, looked around quickly, and then knelt down and unzipped her rucksack. I ducked behind a tree trunk and felt like I was in the way.
From where I was hiding, I watched Lily carefully remove her lunchbox from her bag and open it. There was a sandwich, an apple, a little bag of carrot sticks, and what looked like a pudding cup inside. It was the same lunch I had seen her pack every day. My chest felt heavy. Did Lily have an eating disorder when she was seven? Lily put the lunchbox back together, zipped it into a smaller front pocket of her backpack, and kept going along the route.
I followed, and with each stride, my worry grew. The trees got thinner after another minute, and a tiny clearing next to a creek that ran along the perimeter of the land appeared. I halted suddenly at the edge of the clearing, and my hand flew to my lips.
There was a homemade shelter made of tarps, an old tent, and what seemed like salvaged building materials tucked up against the embankment. A man sat on a milk crate that had been tipped over, holding his head in his hands. A tiny boy approximately four years old slept next to him on a torn sleeping bag. His face was red and sweaty even though the air was chilly.
Dad?” Lily’s words echoed through the clearing. “I packed lunch. Is Noah getting better?”
The man looked up, and I noticed the heavy circles under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks that had been there for several days. He looked messy, but the way his face and shoulders were shaped made it clear that he wasn’t used to being in this situation.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he remarked in a raspy whisper. “He’s still sick.” We’re almost out of Tylenol, but I’ve been giving it to him.
Lily walked over to him and unzipped the front pocket of her backpack. “I brought my lunch.” And see, they had pudding with chocolate in it today! She held it out like it was an exceptional gift.
The man’s face collapsed a little before he got himself together. “That’s great, honey, but you should eat that.” “You need your strength for school.”
Lily said, “I’m not hungry.” “And Noah likes pudding.” It might help him feel better.
“Lily,” the man replied in a soft voice. “You’ve been saying you don’t want to eat for two weeks now.” You have to eat.
I couldn’t stay out of sight any longer.
I walked into the clearing, and the leaves crunched under my feet.
Lily?”
The girl turned around quickly, and her face lost color. The man got up and, without thinking, put himself between the stranger and the sleeping youngster.
Lily’s voice was hardly heard as she said, “Miss Collins.” “I… I was just…”
“It’s okay, Lily,” I responded, trying to keep my voice calm even though I was shocked and had many questions. I looked at the man and said, “I’m Rebecca Collins, Lily’s teacher.”
The man looked at me tiredly, his body tight. I could tell up close that his clothing was originally of excellent quality, even though now it was soiled. His watch looked like it cost a lot of money, but it seemed as if it had stopped.
“Daniel Parker,” he finally said. “Lily’s dad.”
I looked at the boy who was asleep and saw that his cheeks were crimson and he was breathing heavily. Daniel said, “That’s my son, Noah.” His voice was tight with anger and something else—shame. “My younger son.”
There was a heavy silence between us, broken only by the faint sound of the creek and Noah’s stuffy breathing.
I told her, “Lily has been bringing you her lunches.” It wasn’t a question.
Daniel shut his eyes for a moment. “I told her not to.” I told her she had to eat.
Lily said, “Daddy needs it more.” “And Noah needs it too. When I get home, I can eat.”
“When do you get home?” I said it again softly, peering around the makeshift shelter. “Is this home now?””
Daniel’s jaw got tight. He looked at Lily, then Noah, and then at me. “For now.” “It’s only for a short time.”
My mind was racing through options, rules, and the right way to do things. But the only thing I could think of was how hard the small boy was breathing on the sleeping bag. “How long has Noah been sick?” “I asked
Daniel said, “Three days.”” It started with a cold, but the fever won’t go away. I’ve been giving him children’s Tylenol and doing my best to keep him hydrated.
I got closer to the child to see better. His cheeks were bright red against the pale skin of his face, and his breathing was irregular. I put my palm on his forehead and could feel the heat coming off of his skin.
I responded forcefully, “He needs medical help.” “This isn’t just a cold.”
Daniel’s voice broke when he said, “We don’t have insurance anymore.” “I can’t—”
“Daddy, will Noah be okay?” Lily inquired, her little face full of fear.
Daniel knelt next to his daughter and put his hands on her shoulders. “Of course he is, sweetie.” He just needs to sleep, that’s all.
I watched the conversation and saw how Daniel was exhausted yet still handled his daughter with care. This wasn’t negligence, at least not on purpose. The gesture was a last-ditch effort.
“Mr. I said, “Parker.” “Noah should see a doctor.” “I’m going to call for help.”
Daniel’s face showed panic. “Please, don’t. They’ll take them away from me. I can’t… they’re all I have left.”
The sheer anxiety in his voice made my heart race. “Who will take them away?””
“Child Services, the state.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “We lost our home. My wife, Emma, died six months ago. A problem with the heart. The medical bills and burial charges have been a burden. I slipped extremely behind. But I’m making an effort.” I’ve been looking for work, but it’s challenging with Noah. The shelters either won’t accept a single father with children, or they are full. He stopped, as if he realized he was talking too much. “Please,” he said. “We just need a little more time.”
I looked at Noah again. His cheeks were red, and his lips were chapped. Then there was Lily, who was emaciated and pale with black circles under her eyes that showed she was lying when she said she ate at home. There was no house.
I said forcefully, “Noah needs help right now.” “I know you’re scared, but his health has to come first.”
Daniel’s shoulders dropped. “They’re going to split us up.”
“I’ll do everything possible to stop that,” I pledged, and I was surprised at how sure I was. “But right now, Noah needs medical care that you can’t give him here.”
I took out my phone, stepped back a little, and called 911. I told the dispatcher where they were and how Noah was doing. I could see Daniel kneeling next to his kid and tenderly stroking his hair with a shaking hand.
I said, “They’re sending an ambulance,” when I hung up. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Daniel nodded, and the panic in his eyes turned to resignation. “Thanks for caring about Noah,” he added softly. “And thank you for taking care of Lily while she is at school.” She cares a lot about you.
Lily had moved to sit next to her dad, and her little hand was wrapped around his bigger one. I felt an unexpected pain in my chest as I saw it. Three years had passed since my husband, John, died. Three years had passed since I had felt that special bond, the unspoken understanding between two people who shared a life and looked out for one another.
A school security guard led paramedics out of the woods. I went in front of them and briefly explained the problem without going into too much detail about the family’s plight. Two paramedics rushed to Noah and checked his vital signs while asking Daniel questions. The third called in what they had found, and his face was dismal as he said the child’s fever was 104.2.
The head paramedic remarked, “We need to move him now.” “Come on, Dad. You can ride with us.”
Daniel started, “My daughter…”
“I’ll take Lily to the hospital,” I said quickly. “If that’s okay with you.”
Daniel’s expression showed relief. “Thanks.”
I saw the school security guard talking on his radio and looking around the improvised shelter as the paramedics put Noah on a stretcher. I knew what would happen next. There would be reports, the police would be told, and the school principal would have questions. But when I saw Daniel get into the ambulance next to his son’s stretcher, with Lily’s small hand in his, I knew I had made the correct choice. There was a rationale for protocol, but occasionally people had to come first.
“I’ll meet you at Memorial,” I said as the ambulance doors closed. I turned to look at the security man only then. His face showed a mix of perplexity and worry.
“Miss Collins,” he said. “Principal Washburn wants you to come to her office right away.”
I nodded and started walking back to school. “I’ll talk to her after I take Lily to the hospital.”
“But the principal said—”
“Tell her I’m doing my duty of care to a student,” I interrupted, startled at how strong I was being. “I’ll explain everything later.”
I tried to figure out what I had found as I led Lily through the woods, her purple backpack bouncing in front of me. A family torn apart by loss and circumstance, a father trying everything he could to keep his kids safe and educated despite terrible circumstances, and a little girl who had been quietly going hungry to feed her family, carrying a burden no child should have to face.
“Miss Collins?” Lily’s voice pierced through my thoughts. “Are they going to take Noah and my dad away from me?”
I paused and knelt down to look the child straight in the eye. I promised, “I’ll do everything possible to keep your family together.” “Everything.”
It would be a long time before I understood how big that commitment was and how it would affect all of our lives forever.
As I led Lily through the automated doors, the antiseptic fragrance of Memorial Hospital’s emergency room burned my nose.
“I don’t like hospitals,” Lily said in a low voice, her eyes darting nervously across the busy waiting room.
I softly squeezed her shoulder. “I know, honey.” “I don’t either.” I didn’t go into detail about my reasons, like the long, horrible nights I spent next to John’s bed watching chemotherapy drip into his veins, how his once-strong body had shrunk, or the time the monitors flatlined and the room filled with alarms and voices that somehow still felt like the deepest silence I’d ever known.
We saw Daniel standing next to a hospital bed in Room 412 of Pediatrics. Noah was small and pallid on the white sheets, with an IV in his arm and monitors on his chest. Daniel was talking to a doctor in a hushed voice.
Daniel said, “This is Miss Collins.” “Lily’s teacher.”
“Dr. The doctor shook my hand and said, “Patel.”” I was just telling Mr. Parker that Noah has pneumonia. It’s gotten to a point where it’s worrying. We started giving him IV fluids and antibiotics to help with the dehydration.
“Will he be okay?”
Dr. Patel added, “Children are forceful,” which was not a response that I was used to hearing while I was sitting next to John’s hospital bed. “We caught it in time to stop serious problems from happening, but he’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days.”
Only the continuous beeping of Noah’s monitors broke the awkward silence after the doctor left.
“Thank you,” Daniel murmured immediately, his voice trembling with emotion. “For following her and calling the ambulance. I was so scared of what might happen that I couldn’t see how sick he truly was.
“I would have done the same thing,” I said.
Daniel shook his head. “Not at all. Most people would have told the police about us without getting involved. You stayed. “You’re still here.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was correct. I should have just told the school administration and let them handle it. I had instead put myself right in the middle of this family’s problem. The question was, “Why?”
A woman in a blue suit walked in when the door opened. “Mr. Parker? “I’m Vanessa Morales from hospital social services.” She smiled at both of us as if she had done it before. “I know that you have some problems with housing that may have made your son’s condition worse.”
Daniel’s body stiffened. “My son got sick because kids get sick, not because we had to move for a short time.”
“Of course,” Vanessa said, and her professional demeanor didn’t change. “But living outside can make health problems worse.” She looked at her file. “I have to tell Child Protective Services about this.” It is thought to be dangerous to live outside with young children, especially as winter approaches.
Daniel’s fists tightened. “I’ve done everything I can to keep them safe.”
Vanessa said, “Your son has pneumonia,” but she wasn’t being mean. “And it looks like you’ve been getting your food from your daughter’s school lunches.”
I walked forward and said, “That’s not fair.”” Mr. Parker has been doing his best in a circumstance that is impossible.
Vanessa looked at me and said, “And you are?”
“Rebecca Collins.” “I’m Lily’s teacher.”
“I see,” Vanessa wrote down. “And do teachers usually go to the hospital with students?”
My cheeks felt heated. “No, but I promised Lily I would take her to see her brother.”
Daniel said, “Miss Collins found us.”
Vanessa’s lips were squeezed together into a thin line. “You have to do this as a mandated reporter—”
“I know what I have to do,” I said. “I’ve been a teacher for twelve years.”
Lily’s little voice broke the tension. “Are you going to take us away from Daddy?””
Vanessa thought for a moment. “Well, I—”
I cut in forcefully, “No one is taking you anywhere right now.” “Your dad is right here, and Noah is getting the care he needs.” I gave Vanessa a look that made it apparent she had gone too far. We went outside for a little while.
“I know you care about your student,” she remarked in a quiet voice. “But you can’t make statements like that.” The truth is that Mr. Parker may need to stay in foster care for a time until he finds a stable home.
I said, “He lost his wife six months ago.” “Separating him from his kids now would be too much for him to handle.”
“My duty is to keep those kids safe.”
I insisted, “They’re safer with their father than with strangers.”
