Read Online Quiet Magic by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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it. "My name is
Robert Davis. I'm a guidance counselor at Deer Creek Elementary
School and--"
"Has Jeffrey been injured?" The man's
voice was crisp--a gentleman used to slicing directly to the heart
of matters.
"No, sir. There has been a problem
however, and I'm afraid that Jeffrey's parents are going to have to
come to school and--"
"Impossible, sir. I am sorry.
Jeffrey's mother is doing fieldwork in Auckland at the moment--the
grant runs eighteen months, I believe--and his father is out of
town until next Monday or Tuesday. Perhaps I might be of
assistance? I am Jeffrey's Uncle Tulaine.
Rob grinned ruefully. "Well, sir, the
problem concerns a candle Jeffrey brought with him in his lunch
bag. I'm afraid school regulations explicitly forbid children to
use matches or candles, or indeed, play with fire in any manner on
school property."
There was a silence on the other end
of the phone. Then, "Surely, Mr. Davis, you apprehend that Jeffrey
is not your common six-year-old. May the rules not be
circumvented?"
"Mister--sir." Rob paused a moment to
gain control of himself, biting his lip on the smile that would not
fade. "The regulations are made and enforced by the school's
officials to insure the greatest good for the greatest
number--"
"Yes, yes," said Uncle Tulaine
impatiently. "I know of that theory--some Englishman's idea, no
doubt. But really, sir, can you imagine in the long run such a
course is beneficial?"
"The problem at this point," said Rob
with laudable evenness, "is that Jeffrey will not eat without
lighting the candle and the school requires him both not to light
the candle and to eat his lunch."
"So," said Uncle Tulaine, and there
was a silence. Rob shifted uneasily on his end of the
line.
"Young man, please hold on," Uncle
Tulaine directed decisively. "I see that the problem as you present
it is not one that can be most efficiently resolved over the
telephone. I will ascertain whether there is someone within the
house who may come to you today. Hold..." The voice faded and went
away. Rob shifted again and fidgeted with Jeffrey's folder,
frowning as he noted that no placement tests had been given to the
boy. Six years old? Put him in the first grade. Rob pulled a pad of
paper toward him and made a notation.
"Hello? Yes? Mr. Davis?" Uncle Tulaine
was back.
"Yes sir."
"It has been arranged, sir. Jeffrey's
aunt, Miss Elmira Brown, will come to you. She is ready to leave
immediately and should be at your office within twenty minutes. Is
this satisfactory to you?"
Rob blinked. Twenty minutes? When
there were parents who were concerned--oh yes--but their schedules
would not permit them to get away for at least two or three weeks
--
"Mr. Davis? Are you there?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't expect
such immediate action. Please tell Miss Brown that I will be
waiting for her."
"I will do so, sir. You are most
kind." The connection was broken.
Rob sat holding the receiver for a
little longer before he cradled it and forcefully turned his
attention to Jeffrey Eljensen's file.
* * *
THE BUZZER ON his telephone razzed him
just as he was assimilating the fact that Jeffrey Eljensen's mother
was indeed in Auckland on a grant from Monsanto. It was perhaps the
third or fourth peculiar fact contained in the folder and Rob was
feeling a bit off-balance as he stretched out a hand for the
receiver.
"Ms. Elmira Brown to see you, Mr.
Davis, " his secretary's voice murmured in his ear.
"Ah." Rob straightened. "Thank you,
Mrs. Jenson. I'll be right out."
Two of his long strides took him to
the door; he pulled it open, professional smile in place for the
older woman he expected to find in the waiting room.
"Miss Brown, I'm Rob Davis--
"
He was glad that much was formula, for
the woman who stood and took his outstretched hand was perhaps
thirty, nearly as tall as he was and slender with an athlete's
tautness. She wore a denim shirt two sizes too large for her over a
pair of much-abused and paint-spattered blue jeans.
Robert Davis. I'm a guidance counselor at Deer Creek Elementary
School and--"
"Has Jeffrey been injured?" The man's
voice was crisp--a gentleman used to slicing directly to the heart
of matters.
"No, sir. There has been a problem
however, and I'm afraid that Jeffrey's parents are going to have to
come to school and--"
"Impossible, sir. I am sorry.
Jeffrey's mother is doing fieldwork in Auckland at the moment--the
grant runs eighteen months, I believe--and his father is out of
town until next Monday or Tuesday. Perhaps I might be of
assistance? I am Jeffrey's Uncle Tulaine.
Rob grinned ruefully. "Well, sir, the
problem concerns a candle Jeffrey brought with him in his lunch
bag. I'm afraid school regulations explicitly forbid children to
use matches or candles, or indeed, play with fire in any manner on
school property."
There was a silence on the other end
of the phone. Then, "Surely, Mr. Davis, you apprehend that Jeffrey
is not your common six-year-old. May the rules not be
circumvented?"
"Mister--sir." Rob paused a moment to
gain control of himself, biting his lip on the smile that would not
fade. "The regulations are made and enforced by the school's
officials to insure the greatest good for the greatest
number--"
"Yes, yes," said Uncle Tulaine
impatiently. "I know of that theory--some Englishman's idea, no
doubt. But really, sir, can you imagine in the long run such a
course is beneficial?"
"The problem at this point," said Rob
with laudable evenness, "is that Jeffrey will not eat without
lighting the candle and the school requires him both not to light
the candle and to eat his lunch."
"So," said Uncle Tulaine, and there
was a silence. Rob shifted uneasily on his end of the
line.
"Young man, please hold on," Uncle
Tulaine directed decisively. "I see that the problem as you present
it is not one that can be most efficiently resolved over the
telephone. I will ascertain whether there is someone within the
house who may come to you today. Hold..." The voice faded and went
away. Rob shifted again and fidgeted with Jeffrey's folder,
frowning as he noted that no placement tests had been given to the
boy. Six years old? Put him in the first grade. Rob pulled a pad of
paper toward him and made a notation.
"Hello? Yes? Mr. Davis?" Uncle Tulaine
was back.
"Yes sir."
"It has been arranged, sir. Jeffrey's
aunt, Miss Elmira Brown, will come to you. She is ready to leave
immediately and should be at your office within twenty minutes. Is
this satisfactory to you?"
Rob blinked. Twenty minutes? When
there were parents who were concerned--oh yes--but their schedules
would not permit them to get away for at least two or three weeks
--
"Mr. Davis? Are you there?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't expect
such immediate action. Please tell Miss Brown that I will be
waiting for her."
"I will do so, sir. You are most
kind." The connection was broken.
Rob sat holding the receiver for a
little longer before he cradled it and forcefully turned his
attention to Jeffrey Eljensen's file.
* * *
THE BUZZER ON his telephone razzed him
just as he was assimilating the fact that Jeffrey Eljensen's mother
was indeed in Auckland on a grant from Monsanto. It was perhaps the
third or fourth peculiar fact contained in the folder and Rob was
feeling a bit off-balance as he stretched out a hand for the
receiver.
"Ms. Elmira Brown to see you, Mr.
Davis, " his secretary's voice murmured in his ear.
"Ah." Rob straightened. "Thank you,
Mrs. Jenson. I'll be right out."
Two of his long strides took him to
the door; he pulled it open, professional smile in place for the
older woman he expected to find in the waiting room.
"Miss Brown, I'm Rob Davis--
"
He was glad that much was formula, for
the woman who stood and took his outstretched hand was perhaps
thirty, nearly as tall as he was and slender with an athlete's
tautness. She wore a denim shirt two sizes too large for her over a
pair of much-abused and paint-spattered blue jeans.
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