As we pulled up to the elementary school, I forced myself to remain calm. We’d known this time would come, yet that didn’t make it easier. As Byron turned my way with a weary smile, the car came to a stop in a parking spot. The one-story building loomed before us. To the average parent it was probably beautiful, a recently constructed school with all the amenities including a rubber-covered ground for the playground, a small backstop and field for kickball games, and a soccer field with child-sized goals on each end.

The thing was that I wasn’t concerned about a skinned knee on a playground or if Renee would enjoy recess. My stomach knotted as I took in the open space around the school and the chain-link fences. My gaze darted to the surrounding streets.

“Are you ready to show me your new school?” Byron asked, looking at Renee in the rearview mirror.

“Yes!” Renee replied, bouncing in the back seat.

Byron reached over and took my hand. “She’s going to be okay.”

“It’s so open here. What if they’re watching her?” I asked in a low voice.

Undoing her seat belt, Renee scooted toward the back door. “Come on. I want to see my class again. Oh, and my teacher, Daddy, she’s real pretty. Her name is Miss Macdonald...” She looked at me. “Right, Mom?”

I grinned. We’d been working on learning her teacher’s name since the day we came to meet her. That was a week ago. Miss Macdonald was young with dark hair and an infectious smile. She’d greeted each child by bending down, talking directly to them, and calling them by name. She’d taken each child’s picture and promised to know all the names by tonight.

School started tomorrow.

“She’s excited,” my husband said. “Let her be excited.”

I inhaled and exhaled, trying to live in the moment, and for once, not let Sparrow’s shadow haunt what should be an enjoyable milestone in Renee’s life.

With Renee holding my hand on one side and Byron’s on the other, we walked into the school surrounded by other parents and children.

“Do you remember the direction to your classroom?” Byron asked.

I was busy looking at the entry. It was large and nicely decorated with glass doors that led to the outside and a web of hallways.

“This way,” Renee said excitedly as she pulled us along.

Byron peered at me over her head. Be excited for her, he mouthed.

“I wonder if they lock the school during the day,” I asked quietly.

“Look around at all of these students,” he replied. “They know what they’re doing here. This is one of the newest schools in the area.”

Renee continued to tug until we came to her classroom door. On the wall beside the door was a colorful bulletin board covered in construction paper to look like a giant apple tree.

“Look!” she said. “It’s me.”

Sure enough it was.

On the tree hung cutouts of apples, and on each apple was a child’s picture with their name spelled out beneath.

“It says Renee Marsh,” she said, pointing to the name. “That’s me.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Byron replied, “it is you. Now where is this Miss McDonald?”

“No, Daddy. It’s Macdonald like the song, not the restaurant.”

I smiled. It was how we’d practiced, singing Old Macdonald had a farm.

“You’re right,” he said with a laugh as she tugged us through the door.

“Oh,” she sighed as her brown eyes grew wide and she took in the classroom.

In the last week, Miss Macdonald had turned the relatively plain room into a kindergartener’s delight. There were tiny desks all in groupings of four and on each desk was a large colorful name tag.

“Hello, Renee,” Miss Macdonald said in greeting us.

“Hi,” she replied shyly with a grin. “Can I find my desk?”

“May I,” I corrected.

Miss Macdonald grinned my direction and turned back to Renee. “Yes, you may. See if you can find your name.”

Letting go of our hands, our daughter ran toward the multiple groupings of desks as Miss Macdonald turned our direction. “Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, she will do wonderfully. It’s obvious how much you’ve worked with her.”

“She loves to read,” I said, watching as she pointed to the top of her desk. I turned back to the teacher. “I should say for us to read to her, but she can read some too. We’ve been sounding out words.”

The teacher nodded and tipped her head toward a cozy corner of the room. “Over there we have a bookcase full of books, levels one through three. And over there...” She pointed another direction. “...we have our work centers where the students will learn about letters and numbers. At this age their minds are wide open to new discoveries.”

I tried to smile.

“You seem apprehensive,” she said to me.

“I’m...”

Byron placed his arm around me. “Renee has always been home. Josey is having a little problem with the idea of her being away from us.”

“I’m always open for parent helpers.”

My eyes grew wide. “I’d love to do that.”

“Great, let me get your contact information. I know this is difficult, but it’s part of growing up. I would love to have you help after the first two weeks.”

“I can help tomorrow,” I volunteered.

She smiled. “We find it’s better that for the first two weeks the children and parents make a clean break during the school day. It lets the students get accustomed to the routine. After that, when the parent comes in, the children usually don’t have a problem with the separation.”

I nodded as I looked up to see Renee talking with another little girl.

“She seems social for being home,” Miss Macdonald said.

“We’ve been involved in play groups and we go to the library.”

She reached out to my arm. “Mrs. Marsh, you’ve done a great job. I can’t wait to get to know Renee better.”

“She is also very creative. She draws clothes for her dolls and we create patterns. I do the sewing, but she wants to.” I’m not ready for her to have sharp needles.

“That’s a great way to encourage her imagination.” Miss Macdonald said before adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Byron hugged me as we watched Renee and her new friend make discoveries around the classroom. “She will be safe,” he said. “I was looking too. I saw cameras in the hallway.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I exhaled. “There’s also a door to the outside at the end of the hallway. Someone could—”

He shook his head.

I knew he was right. I was being overcautious. I’d considered homeschooling, but we agreed to make her childhood as normal as possible. I feigned a smile. “I’m volunteering at least once a week, more if they can use me.”

“Of course, you are,” he said with a grin.

By the time we and other parents were leaving, a peaceful feeling had settled, mostly instilled by Renee’s innocent anticipation. It helped that we met some of the parents of a few of her new classmates, exchanging telephone numbers and agreeing to get the children together outside of school.

As we entered the hallway, I looked again at the corkboard, about to ask Renee if she could find her new friends’ pictures when my stomach dropped. Tugging her hand, I instead asked her the names as we hurried away.

The tree wasn’t the same as it was when we entered.

Renee’s picture and name were gone.