Children of a Certain Age

By Lydia Scholten Ott

This story is based on the children of the main characters described in "Women of a Certain Age" and "Gentlemen of a Certain Age". As an author, the idea of creating a sequel to the first two novels gave my imagination a boost, and putting the grandchildren of the characters of the second book in a setting of their own adventures and love interests, I made it into a trilogy. Although "Women of a Certain Age" did not relate necessarily to "Gentlemen of a Certain Age", the third novel describes the lives and adventures of the children of the characters in both books. After their education, and college experiences many of the characters become friends when they meet ocasionally while visiting their grandparents who had decided to enter the same retirement community once their careers ended. The grandchildren become acquainted as well, thereby starting another circle of friendships that may create yet another one through the next generation -- circles linking together once again, designing another brand-new pattern.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514430408

Book preview

ONE

Astoria, Oregon

Twenty Years Earlier

T HE PLAYGROUND WAS crowded with children laughing and chattering, chasing one another, still others sitting on benches under some of the large trees near the playground fences. It was the first day of the new school year.

For teachers like Valerie Taylor, it was a day to come in early, get the schoolroom set up, organize the lesson plan in the folder on top of the table in front of the blackboard, make sure there was an assortment of white and colored chalks, and most of all, check if the windows could easily be opened for fresh air to keep the children alert. A student roster for her class was the top sheet in the folder. She had twenty-eight students. Thirteen of them were girls, and fifteen were boys.

At 8:45 a.m., she joined the two other first-grade teachers in the gym, where the principal would enter with all the new students. After seating them, each first-grade teacher would go up to the microphone and call out the names of the children in her class and ask them to follow him or her to their new classroom. The procedure was well organized, and by nine o’clock, each new student was seated behind a desk.

Valerie Taylor waited patiently for the noise to quiet down in her classroom. When it did, she gave a friendly smile and said, Good morning, class. My name is Ms. Taylor. Pointing to the blackboard, she added, When I call your name, I’d like for you to stand up, give us your name, and let us know a little about yourself, your family, and where you live. All right, here we go. Sandra Anderson.

A petite girl dressed in a plaid skirt, white shirt, dark-green socks, and black shoes stood up. A mass of chestnut curls surrounded an intelligent-looking oval face with dark-brown eyes, which darted nervously from one side of the room to the other.

I’m Sandra Anderson. I live on Spruce Lane. My father is a lawyer, and my mother designs jewelry. My grandparents live in the Oakleaf Manor Retirement Community in Myrtle Creek with their old college friends. But my grandmother visits and takes care of my brother, Jeremy, and me when Mom has to travel to stores that buy the jewelry she makes. My brother is nine and bosses me around, and sometimes, he’s a real jerk. At that statement, the children laughed, and Sandra sat down again.

Valerie suppressed a smile as she made a quick notation of Jeremy’s name to see if she could find out which teacher was unfortunate enough to have Jeremy the Jerk among her students. Thank you, Sandra. Hopefully, your brother will make a lot of new friends so that he will no longer pester you so much.

The next one on her list was Carl Ballister, and Valerie called out his name. Carl Ballister, where are you? Looking up, she saw a tall boy with sparkling blue eyes and a wicked grin stand up. Valerie had a fleeting image of a dark knight on a large black horse racing toward a damsel in distress, and her first thought was Hmmm, now here’s someone who will break a few hearts in less than ten years.

His back straight, Carl said quietly, I’m Carl Ballister. I live in a big white house with a pond in the back. My family moved here to be near my grandparents, who also live in Oak Leaf Manor in Myrtle Creek. Some of their old college friends live there too. I also have a three-year-old sister, Elizabeth Josephine. She is fun, but she talks too much, and sometimes, she’s a brat.

Valerie smiled back, made a quick note, and said, If you listen to her once in a while, I’m sure you will start to understand her better. After all, you’re her older brother.

Looking at her list again, she called out, Elaine Carstairs. This time, a tall, slim girl with shoulder-length blond hair, dark-brown eyes, and a strong, angular chin stood up. Her voice was strong, and the way she spoke with that soft Southern drawl drew Valerie’s attention.

I’m Elaine Carstairs. My family moved here from Savannah, Georgia, to be near my grandfather, Alan Carstairs, who also lives in Oak Leaf Manor, where a lot of his friends live as well. My dad is an attorney. It’s in the blood, I’m told. She continued with a grin, And my mom is a court stenographer. I have a lot of cousins, and Carl Ballister’s grandparents are very good friends of my grandparents. She gave a quick wave to Carl, who blushed.

Valerie made another notation. She liked to know the background of her students. Homelife was important to the attitude of every student in her class, and family dynamics provided an important key to their learning skills.

The next name on her list was Evans, David. Oh yes, Valerie thought, here’s an interesting student with lots of talent to explore and encourage.

Okay, who is David Evans?

A sturdy, tall, blond, and handsome boy stood, his eyes quickly focusing from his desk to Ms. Valerie as he quickly put a pencil down on the pad of paper on his desk.

I’m David Evans. I live in the blue house called Ashcroft at the end of Belvedere Lane. My dad is a painter, and his studio is in the back of our house. I have a younger brother, George, who will go to kindergarten next year. We also have two dogs, and one of them just had puppies about ten days ago. They’re kinda cute. My granddad is Peter Evans. He’s a painter too who lives with Grandma in the same retirement home as Carl and Carla’s grandparents.

Thank you, David, Valerie said. I have seen some of your dad’s paintings. They are beautiful. Do you draw as well?

David looked down, trying to make up his mind whether or not to show his drawing to Ms. Valerie. He decided to be honest and said Some and handed her the little sketch he made.

Valerie took one look and couldn’t believe how well he had drawn her face with just a few lines. Like father, like son, she thought. It’s very good. May I have it? Nodding, he handed it to her. She thanked him then looked at her list again. Patrick McKenzie, where are you?

A tall boy with eyes the color of aged whiskey stood up. In a clear voice, he answered, I’m Patrick. I live in the center of town. My father is a detective, and my mother, an FBI agent, so I don’t think anyone should mess with me. But before he sat down again, he quickly added, I have an older sister named Maureen and a younger brother named Sean, and my grandparents also live in Oakleaf Manor.

Valerie was impressed at the close relationships the grandparents of quite a few of her students had, and to all retire together in the same retirement community was quite unusual. Then she quickly made a note in her book to check on Maureen before she looked at Patrick again and said, Now I know who to call on when I need help when I’m in trouble.

Continuing to call the names on her list, she entered notes beside each name. When she called out Carl Samuel Whittier, a boy with hair the color of midnight and eyes to match stood and answered.

I’m Carl. I’m named after my granddad’s best friend, Sam Whittier. He’s also a lawyer and a colleague of Elaine’s granddad.

Before Carl could continue, Valerie laughed and said, And they also happen to live in Oakleaf Manor, isn’t that right?

That’s it, Carl answered and smiled as he sat down again.

Good grief, Valerie thought, yet another couple who wants to spend retirement years with friends. How enviable to have such strong bonds.

The morning continued as Valerie read off the names of the remaining children and then introduced them to the alphabet she wrote down on the blackboard. When the bell rang, it was time for recess, and Valerie told her students to stand next to their desks and wait for her signal so that she could lead them to the playground in an orderly fashion. She felt grateful that up to that moment, none of her kids had exhibited any tendency to bully. Dealing with bullies was not her strong point, but she could deal with appropriate disciplinary action if and when needed. She told her students that when the bell rang again after fifteen minutes of recess, she would be waiting in the exact spot where she dropped them off so that they could all return to the classroom together. The children nodded, impatient to go outside and mingle with one another as well as with kids from their neighborhood to exchange a few words about their impressions of the class and the teacher.

A cool breeze ruffled everyone’s hair, but none of the children cared. They were looking for other friends and ran when they saw them to exchange stories about teachers and classmates. That done, they quickly said good-bye and ran back to their new first-grade friends.

Watching her charges awhile, Valerie thought of how uncomplicated the lives of her students were and wished she could keep them that way all through grade school. Turning, she went back inside to join the other teachers in their break room. With a cup of steaming coffee between her hands, she listened to the other teachers talk about the children in their classes and quickly asked about the brothers or sisters her students had. It did not take long before two of her friends laughed and commented about the siblings of Valerie’s students in third and fourth grades. It provided a chance to exchange information and thoughts, which was exactly what Valerie was looking for. God, how she loved teaching—to fill these open minds with all the possibilities for the future and to prepare them for making the dreams they would develop become a reality when they had to make decisions about their future.

When the bell rang in the break room, it was time to go back outside to position herself again in the spot where her students would assemble. They came running, cheeks red, eyes sparkling, slapping one another on the back as they got into line. Valerie led them back through the hall, where coats were quickly hung on hooks next to their classroom. Upon entering, the students saw lined paper on top of their desks, and as soon as everyone was