The Kindergarten orientation was a mass of small children, parents and teachers. It was apparent which teachers were knew to school; they sat quietly and read over the agenda for the afternoon as though the paper held the secrets to eternal life. Veterans chatted in small groups and called out to other parents they knew. Children that knew each other skipped about and compared new haircuts.

Seated in the rear of the Cedar Grove Elementary School cafeteria, Heather Lucas tried to look like she knew what she was doing. She knew she was failing miserably. She had memorized the agenda down to the last detail. She knew precisely how many seats were at each table in the cafeteria. She had learned every bus driver's name thanks to the bulletin board to her left that showed the school's appreciation for them.

She had given up looking for someone she knew. A few faces were familiar; most likely she had seen them at the park or grocery store within the last five months. None of the names listed on the paper (handed to her by a smiling older woman at the door who introduced herself as the secretary) were familiar to her.

Deciding not to count the tiles on the ceiling she turned to her daughter. Donna was quietly sitting next to her, studiously filling in Winnie the Pooh's shirt with a bright red crayon. Heather smiled at the look of complete concentration on her child's face. The small plastic container of crayons sat on the table next to the coloring book and Heather double-checked the floor to make sure none had gotten away.

She shouldn't have worried. Donna was borderline obsessive-compulsive when it came to her crayons and coloring books. She insisted on coloring each page in sequence and Heather vividly remembered the meltdown when her cousin's son had torn a page from the middle of the Finding Nemo book before Donna had a chance to color the first page. Crayons never littered the kitchen table and Heather never found them on the sofa after she had put Donna to bed.

Perhaps it was wrong of her to indulge her daughter's obsession with coloring but she couldn't help it. Aside from the teddy bears and various stuffed animals Donna had amassed since birth and the blankets Heather knitted for her frequently, coloring books and crayon were her main enjoyment in life. She rarely watched TV, had decided back in April that Barbie dolls were dumb and hardly glanced at the shelves of toys in Wal-Mart on her way to the coloring books. Heather silently thanked the Lord for sending her a child who was happier with a coloring book of Disney Princesses than with an expensive, noisy toy.

"How's it coming along, honey?" she asked, reaching to smooth Donna's blonde hair away from her face. Hopefully she would be able to manage a trim over the weekend.

"Almost finished, Mommy." Donna paused in her coloring and regarded the page. "Do you think my teacher will like it?"

"She'll love it," Heather promised before pressing a kiss to her daughter's head. "It's beautiful."

"Piglet's tongue is red. I couldn't find my dark pink one."

"It broke, remember? When we leave here we'll stop at the store and buy a new box." Heather was thankful that her tips had managed to cover the new school clothes and list of supplies. The list had taken up two pages and Heather still didn't understand why a four year-old girl would need a box of gallon freezer bags at school. Luckily the bills were paid for the month and she had enough leftover from paying the babysitter to give her daughter a treat after orientation.

A small boy whizzed by with a gleeful laugh and Heather had to bite back the envy she felt when she saw his mother rush after him. She was dressed in obviously expensive clothes and her professionally bleached hair hung in gentle waves past her shoulders. Heather refrained from touching her own hair, which hadn't seen the inside of a salon since February. Expelling a sigh she watched as the mother sashayed to the front and took a seat, crossing her tanned legs and smoothing her designer jeans with perfectly manicured fingers.

Who brings a Coach bag to Kindergarten orientation? Heather wondered, turning her attention back to Donna. The shirt was almost complete. After that Donna would color in the honey pot and put her initials at the bottom.

Her gaze slid about the filling room. All the children were so much bigger than Donna. Was she doing the right thing? The head of the daycare center had encouraged her to apply for early entrance for Donna. The lady from the school board, principal and one of the teachers had been amazed by the girl's test results, so amazed that they had made her take the tests again.

Donna had surpassed her previous score by ten. She had been three away from a perfect score. The principal had marveled that no one had ever done that well before. The teacher had given Donna a present for doing so good and had immediately won the girl's favor; it had been two coloring books and a box of crayons.

Everyone had assured her that Donna was ready for Kindergarten, despite being a full year younger than the norm. She was advanced for her age, the pediatrician had assured her. She was mature. She was extremely well-behaved. She was possibly smarter than some of the other children entering Kindergarten.

And then the final argument, from the principal, which had broken Heather's reserve.

Surely you don't want to hold back her progress?

Heather knew they were right. She had realized Donna's advancement when she'd begun to walk at nine months. And it had been clinched in her mind when suddenly at the age of eighteen months her daughter had turned to her and spoken with the eloquence of a three year-old.

When the principal made his way around the tables and approached the microphone, Heather reached to give Donna an encouraging squeeze.

She was doing the right thing.

- - -

"Mommy? What does 'success' mean?" Donna asked as she walked down the hallway with her mother.

"Success?" Heather repeated. Her eyes scanned the signs on each classroom door they passed, looking for the name that was printed on the card handed her by the lady at the table. J. Timberlake…

"What's it mean? Mr. Smith said it when he was talking to everybody."

"Success means reaching a goal. Remember when you wanted to help me save money for the big teddy bear we saw in the mall?"

Donna nodded. "I put all my pennies and quarters in the piggy bank."

"That's right. And at the end of the month we counted all the money we had saved and had enough to buy the teddy bear and ice cream. That was success. Our goal was getting the teddy bear and we got him."

"And ice cream."

Heather chuckled and squeezed her daughter's hand. "It was good ice cream, wasn't it?"

"The best. Can we go back there again?"

"We'll see." Heather paused when she found the name she was looking for. "Here we go, honey. Are you ready to meet your teacher?"

"Yes ma'am." Donna clutched her coloring book to her chest.

The door was ajar and Heather hesitated before pushing it open further. Scanning the room she saw a young man seated at one of the child-sized tables. He was flipping through a stack of folders. The assistant, she guessed as she and Donna entered the room. "Excuse me, we're looking for Ms. Timberlake."

His head lifted and Heather was taken aback by the warm and welcoming grin on his face. Deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he got to his feet. "J. Timberlake?"

"Yes. My daughter's in her class…"

"His class," he corrected as he crossed the room. "I'm J. Timberlake."

"You're my daughter's teacher?" Heather blurted in surprise. Impossible. He was too… Too… Her mind scrambled for some reason why he couldn't be Donna's teacher. Too male, she decided. Her mental image of a Kindergarten teacher was a kindly woman, near forty, who was warm and kind to children and wasn't above crawling around on the floor to search for a lost hair barrette. Much like her teachers had been in elementary school.

"Yep," he answered, grin still in place. "The J is for Justin."

He was too tall, she added silently when she realized how he towered over her. Of course, she was rather short. He had to have a good foot on her. Maybe more. And he wasn't dressed like a teacher. He wore loose jeans and a comfortable-looking t-shirt. And sneakers. Bright white Nikes that looked as though they'd never been worn before.

Teachers wore slacks or simple suits and dress shoes. They didn't dress as though they were about to go to the mall. And they surely didn't smell like fabric softener and cologne.

He had hunkered down so he was even with Donna. "Hi, my name's Mr. Timberlake. What's your name?"

"Donna Marie Lucas. I thought only girls were teachers."

"Looks like Mommy thought that, too." He grinned again and Heather felt her cheeks turn crimson. "I've heard a lot about you, Donna. But the counselor forgot to tell me the most important thing."

"What?" Donna asked, eyes wide.

"She forgot to tell me what your favorite color is." Justin turned and pointed at a large bulletin board that took up an entire wall. A brightly-colored area rug took up the space directly beneath it and Heather saw several stacks of different colored papers. "See, I'm going to put everyone's name on a colored piece of paper and I want to do it on your favorite color. Can you help me pick one out for you?"

"Sure!" Donna pushed her coloring book towards her mother. "Can we do it now?"

"You go on and start looking through the paper and I'll be there in a minute, okay? I need to talk to Mommy."

"Okay." Donna looked up at Heather. "Don't tell him what my favorite color is, Mommy."

"I won't," Heather promised with a smile, squeezing her daughter's hand before she slipped away. When Donna was kneeled on the rug looking through the choices she turned her attention to the teacher. "Mrs. Falls told you about her?"

"I didn't know until yesterday that every teacher on this hall was arguing over who would get to teach her. We drew straws," he admitted with an easy grin.

"Nobody wanted her?" Heather questioned with growing horror.

"No, no. They all wanted her. I was lucky and got her in my class." He cleared his throat. "I've got a couple of papers for you to fill out if that's okay?"

"Sure…" Heather followed him across the room to the table he had been sitting at when she'd entered. She saw that the folders each had a child's name on it and as she settled into a low chair he began to thumb through them. She brazenly noticed that there was no evidence of a wedding band on his left hand and then told herself that many men never wore them. Feeling ridiculous, she turned her attention to his face but her gaze was immediately drawn to the biceps that bunched.

What was wrong with her? The last thing she needed to do was get interested in a man. Especially her daughter's teacher…

"I know you're probably sick of forms by now," he was saying as he plucked a folder from the stack. Taking the seat next to her he got a pen from the cup on the table and opened the folder. "This is just for my files in here. The office has emergency contacts and everything but I like to have them on hand just in case. By the time I sent for someone from the office and called you, who knows what might happen, right?"

She nodded with understanding and instinctively glanced over her shoulder to check on Donna. She was still immersed in the choices. Turning back to Justin, she accepted the pen and looked down at the paper he had placed in front of her. "I'm the main emergency contact," she explained suddenly. "If I'm at work and can't leave you'd have to call her babysitter. But my manager knows that I have a daughter and that she comes first so I don't see leaving being a problem…"

"No family in the area?"

"No." She held her breath. "We're new in town."

"Do I need to keep an eye out for someone posing to be related?" he asked softly.

"No, that's not a problem," she whispered. She prayed every day that it wouldn't be. That God would watch over them.

"I'm sorry." He had leaned close so the parents entering the room wouldn't overhear. "I know how tough it can be to lose a parent at a young age."

He thought she was a widow. "Thank you. She understands that Daddy won't be with us anymore. So I don't think that will be a problem. …Is there going to be a day when the kids bring their Daddies to school?"

"I think the PTA has a lunch with fathers once a month planned," he informed her. There was something comforting about his voice and she instinctively knew that he understood. "But don't worry about that, okay? I'll sit with her then."

"She'd like that," Heather said with a smile. His gaze held hers for a moment and she forced herself to look down at the papers.

He left her to it and went to greet the other parents that were in the class. Heather kept her eye on Donna, but she seemed to have no troubles interacting with the children that had joined her in the color selection. When she had finished filling out the paperwork she stood and watched as Justin went to join the group of ten kids, dropping down on the carpet with ease. He called each child by name and showed delight over their choices when they handed them over, pulling out a marker to write down the names.

She was surprised when a toddler suddenly grabbed hold of her leg and stooped down to greet the small boy with a smile. A big grin revealed dimples in his pudgy cheeks and he held up a figure she recognized as the latest Happy Meal toy. Glancing up she saw a woman she guessed to be near her age heading over with an apologetic expression.

"Timmy, you little rascal," the woman admonished as she scooped the toddler into her arms. "I let you down for five seconds and you go off flirting!"

"He's adorable," Heather admired with a smile. Timmy gurgled with amusement and held the toy out again. "Thanks for the offer, sweetie, but I think you'd miss it."

The woman chuckled and smacked a kiss to the boy's cheek. "Go find Sissy," she instructed before setting him down again. She watched him cross to an older child that stood near the doorway before turning to Heather. "Hi, I'm Liz. Zachary is my little one. He's wearing the Transformers shirt."

Heather glanced over to the kids and saw him immediately. He was sitting next to Donna and they seemed to be having a discussion about which was better, blue or purple. "That's my girl beside him. Donna."

"She's so tiny…" Liz breathed.

"She turns four in a week," Heather admitted. "Early bloomer."

"She sure looks well-behaved," Liz commented, wincing when one of the boys began crumpling his paper. She and Heather watched as Justin immediately intervened and spoke gently to the boy. Chastened, the boy carried the paper to the trash before selecting another one. Liz offered Heather a smile. "I like him."

"He's awfully young, though."

"Carmen's teacher was telling me that this is his first year teaching. He was an assistant in the classroom last year and when Mrs. Poarch retired he got her job." Liz sighed as Justin leaned across the rug to accept a paper from one of the children.

Heather knew exactly what she was thinking. She fanned her suddenly warm cheeks with the papers in her hand. Even as her mind screamed at her to stop. It was useless to even look.

"They didn't have teachers like that when I was in school," Liz whispered.

"Me either. Heck, they didn't have boys like that when I was in school," Heather admitted.

"Did you go to Jefferson High?"

"No. I went to school in Virginia." Suddenly her home state seemed very far away. She hoped it always would.

"How long have you been in town?"

"Since March."

"Wow. I thought I knew everybody here… Well, I've been staying at home now for two years so I don't see as many people as I used to. Do you work?"

"At the Eagle," Heather admitted softly. Everyone in town knew about the Eagle Tavern.

"You've probably seen my husband, then. Bruce Thompson? He and his buddies go there every Friday night. Boys' Night," she explained with a roll of her eyes. "That's the night they pile into their trucks and spend the night drinking beer and watching a game and acting all macho."

Heather struggled to remember if she'd heard the name before. She did know of a group of men who came to the Tavern every Friday. They always took the table in the corner closest to the TV. As bar patrons went, they were kind and decent and rarely did they raise their voices unless they disagreed with a referee's call during whichever game was on. "Does he have a friend named Johnny?"

"That's his cousin. You do know them. Now you can tell me when he tries to forget that he's married," Liz said in a conspiring tone that made Heather chuckle.

"Don't worry. They all give off the 'married-guy' vibe."

"They do?" Liz sounded surprised.

"They all walk in and greet Jim and sit at their table. They always order the same thing. And when I have their table they're always nice and leave me a big tip. And not one of them has ever pinched my bottom."

"Well, if they do, please slap them with your tray."

Heather laughed and when Liz asked if they could exchange numbers she agreed. For the first time since moving to Cedar Grove in March she felt as if she'd made a friend. As she tucked the receipt with Liz's number written on the back into her wallet she sensed someone approaching.

"Sorry about that. I didn't think they'd be that excited about picking a color," Justin explained as he stepped up to them. His grin was in place again and Heather noticed that he had tucked the marker behind his ear. "All finished?"

"All finished. I put Ally's numbers too, just in case I ever have to work the day shift." She held out the papers and felt a giddy, almost schoolgirl, flutter when his fingers brushed hers. "She's the babysitter."

"No problem. Just make sure she knows that she's an emergency contact."

"I will." Heather unconsciously held her breath when he leaned close to retrieve something from a shelf behind her. This close, she realized that he used Zest soap. And that his eyes were bluer than she'd thought earlier.

"Here you go," he said, holding out a sheet of paper. She glanced over it quickly and saw that it was a list of numbers and an email address. "My direct line here, my home and cell numbers and my email address. Just in case you have a question or a problem. Feel free to call me anytime."

Nodding, she carefully folded the paper and tucked it into her purse. She had never heard of a teacher giving out contact information before. But she reminded herself that it had been a good twelve years since she'd been in a school.

"Donna?" he called. When she had said goodbye to the children she was sitting with and walked over, he hunkered down once more. "See that basket on my desk?" he asked, pointing to the desk in the corner. She nodded eagerly. "You go get yourself something."

"Thank you, Mr. Timberlake," Donna said. She smiled brightly before walking quickly over to the desk.

"She is so adorable," Liz murmured. When Justin straightened she held out her hand. "Elizabeth Thompson. I'm Zachary's mother."

"Great to meet you." He greeted her with a smile and a firm handshake.

"Mom! Timmy's gross!"

The girl whom the toddler had gone to earlier appeared, holding him out at arm's length. Liz rolled her eyes, gave a long-suffering sigh, and excused herself. Heather noticed that she stopped to instruct her oldest child to keep an eye on her little brother before hurrying from the classroom.

Donna returned, holding a Fruit Roll-Up as though it were a priceless award. She thanked her teacher again and then tugged her coloring book from Heather's hand. Flipping through it she paid no attention to his surprise at the careful coloring she had done, instead searching for the one she had completed. When she finally located the picture of Pooh and Piglet eating from a pot of honey, she sat on the floor to carefully tear it out before holding it up to Justin with an expectant smile. "I did this for you."

"You did?" Justin asked with exaggerated surprise. He leaned down to accept it. "This is great, Donna. I'm going to take it home and put it on my fridge, okay? That way whenever I go in my kitchen I'll think of you."

Donna gave him an infections grin. "Can I bring you more?"

"Not too many. I have a small fridge," he explained. Taking her hand he helped her stand. "I'll see you Tuesday?"

"Yes, sir. Goodbye, Mr. Timberlake."

Heather smiled and reached to shake his extended hand. "Thanks so much. We'll see you Tuesday."

His grin tilted to one side slightly. "I look forward to it."

Donna kept up an excited monologue as they exited the school and crossed the parking lot. Heather buckled her in her seat and when she climbed in she heard her daughter mention that Mr. Timberlake's eyes were blue.

Her cheeks felt warm again.

As she started the car she found herself looking forward to the school year.