Denial

By Carolyn Roosth

Still reeling from the tragic death of her husband, Jan Goodnight is reassigned as principal to a different middle school in a small Texas town. Replacing that school's recently-deceased and beloved principal becomes more difficult than Jan had anticipated. Her more disciplined approach at Eastwood Middle School is met with disapproval and resentment. The students are out of control. Test scores are marginal. One teacher craves Jan's job; another is accused of protecting a campus gang.

It all starts with a mouse in a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. Just a kid's prank, right? Negative. It's only the first in a series of mysterious and threatening incidents. When kids start to get hurt, Jan turns to a pair of local detectives for help. Enter Jordan Perry, a reporter in search of a juicy story. He steps not only into the investigation but also into a relationship with Jan.

Amid the whirling pace of dangers, parents' complaints, students' antics, and a teacher's threats, Jan and her allies team to connect the clues which will solve the mystery.

Three characters from DENIAL become protagonists in the novels ANGER, PROMISES, and DESPAIR.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carolyn Roosth
• Release date: Sep 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301904815

Carolyn Roosth

I grew up on a farm outside a small East Texas town. I graduated from the University of Houston with a BA in English and Speech and completed my Masters of Education at the University of Texas in Tyler, Texas. My twenty-two years spent in teaching ranged from stints in elementary, middle school, and high school to graduate level at the University. An avid reader, I believe that reading is a wonderful educational doorway to the world. My husband and I are both retired and enjoy traveling, hiking, snorkeling, and watching movies. You can find my books in print at CreateSpace.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

This time, smoke in the cockpit set off deafening alarms. This time, the click, click, click of the useless automatic eject button triggered a mule-kick flood of adrenaline through his chest and head. This time, he felt the awful heat of the fire sear his feet. This time, he stared in horror as the flames jumped and began to melt the skin from his hand and lower arm. This time, he opened his mouth and screamed her name.

Startled awake by the scream which became the shrilling of the alarm clock, Jan pushed the dream from her mind and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was always different, this nightmarish reliving of Buddy’s death. Buddy Goodnight, her husband of twenty-four years, had been annihilated in a freak accident on a training mission over Lackland Air Force Base. No one could say what went wrong or whether he suffered. All they knew for sure was that there had been fire hot enough to disintegrate most of the plane, leaving only fragments. No trace of his body was ever found.

Even their daughter Lucy’s coming home for the summer from Texas A&M University had done little to ease their pain. The pain of not knowing was almost as great as the pain of their loss. They were simply miserable and lost together, hardly able to give comfort and strength to each other. Lucy, ordinarily so full of life, seemed shrunken and small by the loss of her father.

Six months and seventeen days past losing Buddy, Jan Goodnight was faced with a challenge as great as any she’d ever faced. Another untimely death had placed her in a new job. That death and the routine shake-up of principalships in August had landed her at Eastwood Middle School, which housed grades seven through nine. Eastwood, as its name implied, was on the east side of the small town of Longmoore, near San Antonio, Texas. Jan had spent seven years as principal of the middle school on the other side of town, Westwood.

Not only was she facing returning to a new school after a six months’ leave, but she’d also be leaving behind friends and allies at Westwood. She would especially miss Alicia, her instructional consultant at Westwood, who’d become her closest friend as well as a dedicated and efficient colleague. As instructional consultant, Alicia watched over curriculum and testing. She also screened students for special education assignments and counseled with their parents.

Now, Jan was being forced to put two deaths together and make them equal something positive. Eastwood, never a high-performing school, was mired in student problems and teacher apathy. Longtime principal, Theodore Rodriguez, beloved by faculty and students alike, dropped dead in April while running on the Eastwood track. Theodore had been affectionately called Teddy or The Bear, depending on whether or not one agreed or disagreed with his policies. His faculty and students, however, recognized that Teddy would always come down on the side of the teacher. He simply kept out of the way and allowed the teachers free rein in curriculum and discipline. However, the name of the game in Texas was student performance, and Teddy had not demanded enough from his faculty. He was too old-fashioned and too much in need of their approval to mandate and expect performance.

How can I replace Teddy? How can I forget Buddy? Jan wondered, as she headed to the shower. Buddy, with his laughing eyes and booming voice, a stickler for rules, regimen, and organization, had kept her tied down to earth, kept her from floating away on a tide of serendipity or sentimentality. He’d been the yang to her yin. They’d been perfect together, and now she was going to be lost without him.

Just as she stepped from the shower, the phone started to ring. Surely there’s not a problem at school already; it’s only six o’clock, Jan mused. Hello? she inquired.

Mom, chimed Lucy.

Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice, Jan sighed.

Just wanted to wish you a good first day back at school; I know it’s going to be a hard one, Lucy sympathized. Just remember some of things Daddy used to say: ‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going;’ or ‘Plan the work and work the plan.’ You know, those attitude adjusters for the weak-of-heart and weary-of-spirit.

Jan smiled at the reminder of her husband’s quirky comments. Oh, Lucy, how will I ever fit into this new school and fill the shoes of ‘Teddy Bear’ Rodriguez?

Not to worry, Mom; you’ve got what it takes. Just get in there and show ‘em who’s boss.

I’ll try, Jan promised. Inside, she felt empty and incompetent.

Anyway, continued Lucy, just wanted to let you know I’m on your side, and I’ll be thinking about you today.

Thanks, I feel better already. And how about you? Are you really OK?

Hangin’ in there, Mom; that’s what we’ll both do for as long as it takes.

Thanks for the pep talk, but I gotta run now. Wouldn’t want to be late on my first day back at school.

Love ya, bye, Lucy whispered their usual signoff signal.

You too, Jan breathed in response. As she hung up the phone, she worried about her daughter. Lucy was blessed with her father’s sense of humor and extroverted personality, but his death had really taken its toll on her. Her crooked smile and blazing blue eyes were duplicates of her father’s, but seldom in evidence lately. The summer’s mourning had temporarily stolen her contagious laughter and ten pounds from her already slim frame. Fortunately, she was gradually regaining both.

As an adult, Jan was thankful for her short curly mop of black hair, which she’d always hated as a child. Now it was a real bonus in time saved getting ready for the day. Just a push here and a tug there made her presentable with as little fuss as possible. Buddy had always loved running his fingers through her curly mop. Don’t go there now, Jan cautioned her emotions. As if to counterbalance the bonus of her curly hair, Jan contended with a five-foot-three-inch frame that seemed to beg for extra pounds. Her jogging and sensible eating habits were no longer choices, but long-term realities. As Jan quickly dressed in her no-nonsense navy skirt, white cotton blouse, and navy SAS’s, she thought about what Lucy had said. Buddy was right. She had to be tough. She had to survive. She owed his memory that much.

Rinsing her teacup before dropping it into the sink full of last night’s dishes, Jan headed for the garage. As she opened the door, she could feel, even inside the closed garage, a new chill in the air. Probably a cold front coming in today, though it was only early September. Hurriedly, she scooted back to her bedroom where she found the red, soft wool vest Buddy had given her last Christmas. It was perfect. As Jan slipped into the vest, she felt as if she were putting on a flak jacket or protective armor. Maybe she would need it today. If not, at least maybe she looked patriotic in her colors.

Chapter 2

Richard Champion stepped into his new, size ten, brown leather loafers, soft as butter, quiet as a whisper, as comfortable as walking on air. Richard had always loved soft and comfortable clothes. They made him feel powerful and attractive. There were those who would deny him both attributes. Standing five feet seven inches in his stocking feet and weighing in at only 170 pounds, he was certainly no giant of a man. His thick, wavy blond hair, when falling carelessly over his forehead, gave him sort of rakish good looks. Some would say roguish. Blazing blue eyes did little to atone for his small, pouty mouth and receding chin.

Richard was beginning his third year at Eastwood as ninth-grade girls’ coach. His reputation painted him as easygoing, stressing as he did exercise and nutrition over sports and competition.

He had moved to Longmoore, Texas, to get away from painful memories in his boyhood town of Alamosa, Colorado. His mother, with whom he’d lived throughout his college years at Adams State, had spent ten months dying an agonizing death from breast cancer detected too late. His father, long gone since he was eight years old, was not to be found. Richard had reveled in his exclusive relationship with his mother. As a child, he was allowed to share in every part of her life and, for a time, even her bed. She denied him nothing and devoted her life to making him happy, never developing a relationship with any other man after her husband left.

After teaching two years at the high school in Trinidad, Colorado, Richard needed a change. Longmoore seemed the perfect move. His Uncle Angus in Boulder had agreed to allow him to use a house that had belonged to his sister in Longmoore. Aunt Lilly had been moved to a nursing home, where she was fighting an escalating battle against diabetes and its accompanying liver failure. Though the little house was old, it was solidly built and seemed to fit his needs to a T. Longmoore was a quiet, reserved town but still close enough to San Antonio for times when he wanted a change of pace.

Today, he was prepared to make a good first impression on the new principal, Jan Goodnight. He would not tiptoe around her grief as he sized her up to see what kind of threat she might bring to the easy equilibrium he’d so far enjoyed at Eastwood.

The call last night from his buddy, John, who taught at Westwood, had put him somewhat on edge regarding Mrs. Goodnight. Hey, ‘Champ,’ are you ready to meet your new leader? John asked.

Take me to her, buddy. So, what’s your take? You’ve worked with her.

In a word, organization. Guess you could even say she has a military air about her, and her expectations are set pretty high.

I appreciate the info. Hey, gotta go now; maybe we can get together this weekend and compare notes.

Sure thing. Check you later.

Organization? Military? Well, mused Richard, I guess Mrs. Goodnight will just have to learn to march to a different drummer. I don’t intend to change my ways for her.

One last approving look at his reflection in the mirror sent Richard out the door in a good mood, anxious to see his girls and the new girl.

Chapter 3

Alarm clocks were going off all over Longmoore on this Monday morning, but not one person dreaded the sound as much as Helen Johnston. After the deaths of her parents in an automobile accident, Helen had finished her degree in music education and moved away from Houston. The small-town atmosphere of Longmoore was a welcome change, and she began to feel safe again. Around Longmoore, Helen had earned the nickname, Hell on Wheels. The wheels were the in-line skates that took her from east to west and from north to south, examining and recording all that went on in Longmoore. Who was seeing whom, where? Who got up late on Sundays, leaving their paper for her to scoop up and tuck under her arm as she sped by? Who watered their lawn during prohibited hours of the weekend? Who partied late on Saturday nights?

With all this activity, you’d expect Helen to be thin and fit. She was, however, just the opposite. All her travels left her little time to prepare healthy meals. She usually swung by the Mickey D’s or Kentucky Fried’s take-out windows for meals. Coupled with her forty-year-old metabolic rate, there was just no amount of exercise that could halt the pounds and increased girth, which crept up on her as steadily as a line of ants marching to a picnic lunch.

Helen’s further obsession was chat rooms on the Internet. Those were the anonymous venues that satisfied her almost as much as a hot fudge sundae. There was just no winding down and getting to bed at a decent hour when you’re hyped up on sugar and secrets.

Therefore, the alarm clock was the enemy, to be squashed and squealed at, especially on Monday mornings. Helen literally rolled out of bed and into the shower for her wake-up routine. It would take only five minutes to get that huge body revved up and shoved into her regulation tight pants and pullover cotton shirt for the day.

And Helen did love her days as choir director at Eastwood. Choir gave her a chance to sing through the day even though some of her students were nothing to sing about. Understanding born of first-hand experience had allowed her to gain the trust of her students, but she sometimes wound up overwhelmed by their needs.

She assumed today would be different in that she had additional territory to evaluate in the guise of the new Eastwood principal, Jan Goodnight. Helen knew that Jan would soon discover that she had her work cut out for her at Eastwood, especially the job of motivating the faculty and filling Teddy’s comfortable shoes.

Grabbing a windbreaker and strapping on her skates and kneepads, Helen literally flew out the front door. First stop, McDonald’s, for the 99¢ sausage-egg-biscuit breakfast. Properly fortified, she’d be ready to size up the new recruit.

Chapter 4

Sixty-two-year-old Nola Santiago considered herself the backbone of Eastwood Middle School. She’d begun at Eastwood with Theodore Rodriguez when the new school was opened ten years ago. Her role there was more than just secretary to the principal. Her responsibilities, after all, included screening all incoming calls and mail addressed to the principal; keeping track of tardies, absences, detentions, and suspensions; posting news and notes to the faculty’s email; and so on; and so on. She’d even spent two weeks in August finalizing registration, checking schedules, and assigning lockers. She was the eyes and ears of Eastwood.

Nola, rhyming