by Zoe Chant
But Clara, not at all bothered by the noise, was trotting forward, her lunch clutched in one hand and the other pulling him reluctantly forward. "Her name is Miss Patricia," she said enthusiastically. "Aunt Bella said so."
Then "Miss Patricia" was bouncing out from behind the piano, and Lee's excuses died on his lips.
The gray bun and glasses he had imagined were nowhere to be seen. The tiny, ancient woman he had envisioned bore no resemblance to the blonde goddess who was smiling down at his daughter. She was tall and curvy, with big, brown eyes and straw-blonde hair loose to her shoulders. Energy radiated from her, and Lee felt like the floor had fallen away.
"You must be Clara," she was saying. Her voice sounded very far away–the sounds of the room had tunneled away in the shock of seeing her.
"I am," Clara said confidently. "I'm four. I brought my lunch."
"Let me show you where to put that," Miss Patricia said, and as she straightened, she met Lee's eyes.
Lee had never believed in soulmates; he thought the whole idea of a destined mate was ridiculous, made up for people who need comforting fiction to get through their lives. But the teacher's eyes, infinite pools of brown warmth, were the first place he had ever felt truly at home. The bear in him rumbled in delight.
"You must be Mr. Montgomery," she said, and her voice was as rich as her eyes, with the subtle Midwestern accent that he hadn't known he adored.
Lee realized she was holding out her hand, and had no idea how long it had been there. "Lee," he said swiftly, reaching out too fast to shake it. Touching her skin was like being struck by lightning, and he had to make himself let go after a handshake that was too long and trailed away into simply holding onto her. He had never wanted so badly to kiss a complete stranger.
"Lee," she said, with amusement. "It's nice to meet you."
Then Clara was slipping out of his other hand and following the golden woman away. She moved like a dancer, all grace and efficiency of motion. If she filled out her flowered country shirt nicely, she filled out her simple jeans even better, and Lee was mesmerized to watch her bend over to show Clara where to put her lunch. Down at their level, she suddenly became a magnet to the children, and was swiftly swarmed by small people demanding her attention.
More attractive than her curves and soft hair–which were enough by themselves to send Lee into a stupor of desire–was an air of gentle affection that glowed around her. Her sweet smile and careful handling of the childrens' attention was enchanting to watch. She knew just which ones needed a little playful redirection of their energy, and which ones needed a gentle nudge to boost their confidence. Her movements were never sharp or angry. Her attention flowed between them seamlessly, and the entire room was warmed by her simple presence.
Lee did not realize that he was standing there, staring stupidly, until Clara trotted back to him and pulled on his hand. "Papa, you're supposed to leave now."
Lee felt his cheeks heat unexpectedly– he couldn't remember the last time he had blushed–and knelt to give Clara a swift hug. "Have a fun day, cub," he told her, and then he turned and fled in a rush of confusion.
PATRICIA KNEW THAT the first day of preschool after any break–even just Christmas–was always as much about the parents as it was the children. Few of them were really ready to say goodbye, and they dealt poorly with the children who were clingy. But so far, only one child that morning needed any serious distraction, and she was enchanted with the class rabbit in short order.
Harriette Ambler, as expected, was the worst of the mothers, a perfect storm of condescending and demanding. Her son, Trevor, was a meek little angel, but to hear Harriette talk–right in front of the poor boy!–he was a perfect devil, and she clearly doubted that Patricia was up to the challenge for a second semester. She elbowed a little girl out of the way in order to get Patricia's attention, and detailed the contents of his lunch (which were also written on the outside of his lunch bag), and insisted that he was not to participate in rough play or, from the sounds of it, anything fun. Patricia managed to catch Trevor's eye while his mother was turned away, and rolled her eyes at him with an exaggerated shrug. She was rewarded with a shy half-smile, swiftly hidden as Harriette scolded him for slouching.
"I'm sure we'll manage, Harriette," Patricia assured her buoyantly. "We'll see you at two!" Then she was able to herd Trevor off to a painting station and walk away to the piano. Left without an audience, the infuriating woman finally left, and Patricia launched into a cheerful song to celebrate.
The last parent on Patricia's list and the only one that she didn't already know was Leland Montgomery. In some ways, he was exactly as she expected–and in some ways nothing at all as she'd envisioned.
His sister, Bella, had explained that he was a single father, and Patricia braced herself for a spoiled or neglected child and a harried father who couldn't even be bothered to arrange his own child's education. She was unsurprised that he was running late, and came out from around the piano braced for excuses and unpleasant conflict–he would either be the kind of single father who hated women for hurting him, or the overprotective sort who would never believe their child had flaws. Either way, being late would already put him on the defensive.
The first shock was his size. He made the schoolhouse feel small with his great bulk. He played football in high school, she guessed, with those fabulous shoulders. He probably worked construction now. A glance out of the window confirmed that guess– a battered company truck was parked in front of the school.
But he didn't look like a blue-collar worker, despite the worn plaid shirt and the big hands. He looked like a model playing at being a lumberjack, with fine cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. A mop of thick dark hair above glowering eyebrows looked as artful and deliberate as the stubble across his chiseled jaw. It was the kind of face and build that made Patricia's knees feel weak, and she had to focus on the daughter––or embarrass herself by drooling, or possibly fainting dramatically at his feet. Since she was far too large and awkward to look good fainting, Patricia was happy to exchange smiles with the little girl instead.
Clara was as adorable as only a four-year-old with curls could be. Her chubby-cheeked smile of trust and excitement was the whole reason that Patricia had become a teacher. Meeting her father's watchful gaze gave her whole new reasons for other things, and Patricia had to reach deep to find the calmness to say, "You must be Mr. Montgomery."
"Lee," he said shortly, with a scowl, and he reached out to give her hand a shake. The touch of his hand on her own was like jumping into a cool swimming hole on a sweltering day, all shock and relief and excitement at once. He had calluses that confirmed her guess about his occupation, big, strong, rough-fingered hands that made her own feel small and dainty. She forgot to let go until it had become awkward.
"Lee," she repeated like an idiot, savoring the simple syllable. "It's nice to meet you."
Fortunately, Clara broke her stupor with her childlike enthusiasm, and Patricia was able to peel herself away from the gorgeous man to show her across the room to where the child cubbies were so she could stow her lunch.
"It has my name!" Clara exclaimed in delight, and she could point out all the letters. "I have two As," the little girl assured her solemnly. "But they aren't together."
That drew the attention of a little boy named Aaron, who pointed out that his As were together, and then they were the center of a swarm of children who wanted to meet the new girl. Coming from such a small town, the rest all knew each other already.
"We just moved here from the city," Clara told them. "Our house is falling apart, but Daddy will make it like new."
That prompted questions about the city, and Amber begged Patricia to read the City Mouse book, and somewhere in the chaos Clara slipped away to see her father and shoo him out the door. Patricia didn't watch him go, but could feel his exit from the room as if he'd taken all of the light with him. She had never been so disappointed to see a parent leave and wished for a fooli
sh moment that Clara had been more needy and given him reason to linger longer.
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