Triplets Find a Mom. Annie Jones

to avoid “complications.” Polly understood the code word for school politics. She knew that as a fairly new teacher—just three years out of college—and totally new to Van Buren Elementary, some parents would have misgivings about their kids being assigned to her. Others would demand to have their children in Miss Bennett’s class, thinking she would have fresher perspective, all the latest approaches and no preconceptions about which were the good kids and which were the “problems.” Though Polly couldn’t really imagine how much of a problem your average small-town second grader could be.

      “No more problem than you right now, mister.” She whirred the window down a few inches, got out and shut the door. She started to turn toward the front door of the single-level blond-brick building, then suddenly felt compelled to explain, “You just have to stay here for two minutes while I run into my classroom here to get some paper. I can make up flyers there so we can find your parents, okay?”

      The thick tail thumped against the back of the seat and he whimpered softly as if to tell her he understood.

      She tapped the window. Did she really have to make flyers today? She had moved here to learn to take her time, relish the past and not be so anxious to press forward, after all.

      A silvery-blue minivan came gliding up past her car and pulled up to the curb in front of her.

      Parents were beginning to arrive. She had two choices. Go inside and get what she came for and get out. Or run away.

      The passenger door of the minivan swung open and Polly couldn’t help taking a peek.

      One little girl with a bright red ponytail, dressed in canvas-colored overalls over a lime-green camp shirt scrambled out onto the sidewalk with so much energy that she almost fell over herself. No, that wasn’t herself she had fallen over. It was …

      “Twins!” Polly couldn’t help it. She whispered the word in a rush of excitement to the little dog.

      The second child emerged. Her red hair was woven into a gorgeous French braid tied with a pink ribbon. In fact, everything she wore was pink. Pink top, pink skirt, pink sparkly shoelaces in pink sequined tennis shoes.

      Polly laughed out loud at the sight. “A set of identical—”

      A third child climbed out.

      “Triplets,” Polly murmured.

      This one wore tennis shoes, too, plain white ones. With faded jeans and an ill-fitting gray shirt. Her hair was caught up in pigtails, the right one a good two inches higher than the left.

      That was the one that got to Polly. She felt a smile start that grew beyond simple amusement to recognition of a kindred spirit. All three girls turned and looked at her, their eyes wide.

      Polly wondered if she should say hello. It seemed wrong to just get in her car and rush off now. Maybe she should wave and say, See ya soon, I hope. Or should she ask their names? Before she could speak or move or even make up her mind, the driver’s door swung open.

      “I told you girls we were leaving too early. I don’t know if the doors are even open yet.” A large, weathered cowboy boot hit the concrete followed by more than six feet of tall, muscular man.

      Polly leaned back against the car, a bit for support, a bit to give her room to take in the whole view. “You!”

      “Me!” Sam grinned as he shut his door and started toward her. “So, you have a kid in this school, too?”

      “Too?” Polly looked at the children, then at the van and realized nobody else was getting out.

      He pointed toward the girls each in turn. “Hayley, Juliette and Caroline.”

      “Those are … your daughters?” Sam Goodacre had identical triplets. Some women might have wanted to run from a situation like that, but for Polly, just seeing these girls made her feel less homesick for her own twin.

      “Yeah.” He held up three fingers. “All mine. And you …”

      Three high-pitched squeals tore through the quiet air of the summer morning.

      “You … brought … a dog.” They all sang out a variation of almost the same thing.

      “I don’t have any kids, Sam. I’m not even married.” Polly moved closer to him to speak softly enough that the girls wouldn’t hear as she whispered her confession, “I’m the new teacher.”

      “Of course you are.” He shook his head. “You are the single, new teacher with an adorable, homeless puppy.”

      In a flash of red curls and giggles, the girls ran up to the car. The puppy rushed to the side and licked the place where the small hands pressed against the glass.

      “You say ‘new teacher’ like it’s a bad thing.” She ducked her head to try to meet his lowered gaze. “It’s because of the hat thing, right? It’s the hat?”

      “Forget about the hat. That’s the past.” He waved his hand as if actually pushing it behind them. “No, it’s more complicated than that, starting with the fact that my girls are starting second grade this year. This is Hayley. That one is Juliette.” He pointed to each girl as he spoke. “And that is Caroline.”

      “Oh.” Polly whipped around and saw the girls in another light—not as fellow multiples but each a potential student.

      The one Sam called Caroline gasped, her eyes grew wide and in that second there was a light in her to rival her other sisters’ natural vivaciousness. Caroline turned her head to tell Polly, “I like your dog.”

      “He’s not mine, really.” She slipped away from Sam and went to the children. “I found him hanging around my house. I’m going to put up flyers to see if I can find his real owners.”

      “You don’t have to do that. I know his real owners.” Caroline jerked her head around to fix her huge, pleading eyes on her father.

      “Me, too.” Juliette ran to the car to peer inside.

      “Me, too, too,” Hayley said with sweetness but conviction.

      Sam strode forward from the parking lot to the sidewalk, motioning the girls away from the car. “Okay, girls, you know the rules.”

      “We weren’t matchmaking, Dad,” they all protested together in perfect harmony, a trick only identical multiples could fully pull off.

      “Matchmaking?” Polly laughed, a bit too nervously for her own comfort. What was this all about? Sam had a rule against matchmaking?

      Sam scowled. “I meant the rule about dogs.”

      “Oh, so we can matchmake?” Hayley rushed forward.

      “No.” He spread his hands wide as if calling a runner out at home plate.

      Polly felt a blush rush from the constriction in her chest to the tips of her ears. She didn’t know if she should say something or get out of there fast.

      “You know we can’t have a dog right now. You have too many activities. Juliette, you want to give up ballet?”

      The girl opened her mouth, but before she could actually give an answer, the man moved on, intent on making his point quick and clean. It was a familiar means of “communicating” in her family and it made Polly tense up.

      “And, Hayley, you have your hands full with your 4-H projects, right?”

      Hayley put her shoulders back and didn’t answer—a means of getting her message across that Sam did not seem to notice.

      “And, Caroline … well, when school starts I’m sure you’ll find some things to keep you busy. We’re all busy. Bringing a dog into our lives now wouldn’t be fair to your aunt Gina having to care for it, or to the dog not getting our full attention.”

      Caroline glanced back and the dog. “But …”

      “We don’t even know.”