Echoes by Erin Quinn Page B

counselor's office. But her heart was hammering and her knees, shaking. She glanced at the clock, numb to the realization that only minutes had passed since Caitlin and Mrs. Sanders had gone to get Caitlin a soda. Only minutes... But it felt like days, weeks....centuries. She recoiled from the feelings of bewilderment and displacement that lingered.
    "Here we are," Mrs. Sanders said a moment before the door opened and she and Caitlin walked inside. She smiled kindly at Tess as she ushered Caitlin into her office. Caitlin gave her a tiny wave, more at ease than she'd been earlier.
    "Why don't you sit down and relax, Ms. Carson. We may be awhile," the counselor said as she followed Caitlin in and closed the door.
     
    * * *
     
    Mountain Bend Elementary was quiet by four pm, tomb-like by four-thirty. Sitting alone in his office, Craig Weston tried to concentrate on the paperwork stacked on his desk, but he knew that no one really expected him to accomplish anything this week. They were all surprised he'd even shown up for work when his father had died just the day before. But he hadn't wanted to stay home. There he'd be alone with nothing to do but rehash everything that had happened.
    He looked at the few items on his desk. A coffee cup with pens his secretary had given him, a brass bell engraved with the date he'd become principal here, a lucky five dollar chip from the casino in Piney River, and a picture of himself parasailing in Mexico. There was nothing else personal on the desktop. What did that say about him? Nothing he wanted to address at the moment, that was certain.
    He rifled through the stack of pink messages Donna had left for him by the phone. Most were sympathy calls. Parents, friends and neighbors, all wanting to offer him their condolences. Lydia had called three times. She was concerned, he knew. He should have stopped in this morning for coffee and talked to her. But he couldn't deal with Lydia anymore than he could with himself, alone at home. He needed the quasi-anonymity that came from doing a job in a building full of kids that didn't even know he had a first name.
    Craig tossed the messages back onto his desk and let out a pent up breath. His thoughts played hot potato in his mind, bouncing from one sensitive hold to another, leaving behind a dull burn and the promise of a revisit.
    During the past few years, his father had become more a burden than anything else. They loved each other in their own way. But the quality of their relationship had spiraled from the occasional perfunctory dinner to confrontations about Frank's future. He was too old to maintain the ranch and too stubborn to give it up. With Grant off living the Hollywood dream, the weight of responsibility had fallen to Craig's shoulders and he'd managed to carry the load. Then Grant had returned like the hero in one of his own movies and everything had gone completely to pieces.
    Craig rubbed his hands over the rough stubble on his cheeks. He was tired of thinking about it, about Grant, about Dad, about Tori, about the entire mess preceding and following his horrible death. Death by fire, just like his mother. He didn't know how he would make it through the days still to go before the funeral.
    He looked at the clock, wondering how much longer Mrs. Sanders would keep Caitlin and Tess. Wondering what Mrs. Sanders was harvesting from Caitlin's ripe, young mind. Before she'd disappeared, had Tori given her any hints about why? Or was Caitlin as confused as everyone else by her mother's vanishing?
    He heard their footsteps echoing in the hall seconds before their voices. Quickly he grabbed his raincoat and umbrella. He pulled his office door shut behind him and stepped out to wait.
    When he saw Tess, Craig was startled by her appearance. This morning she'd been disheveled and embarrassed to be caught in her pajamas, but she'd recovered quickly and with grace. Without makeup, a hair brush, or even coffee she'd been beautiful and alluring. The