by Jeannie Watt
“I’m going back to school,” he blurted as soon as his cousin had said hello.
“No kidding.” Dylan sounded stunned at his announcement and he didn’t blame him.
“Yeah. I am. I want to become an industrial arts teacher with an emphasis in automotives.” There was a long stretch of silence. “Hello?” Finn finally said.
“Yeah. I’m here. I just thought I heard you say you wanted to be a teacher.”
“Not a real teacher. A shop teacher.”
“Last time I heard, they were real teachers.”
“What I meant was that I want to teach hands-on skills that kids who don’t go to college can use in life.”
“You want to be a teacher.”
“Strange, huh?”
“I gotta say that I never saw this coming. What does Mike think?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
“I...don’t know.” Fear of failure maybe?
“What school are you going to?”
“The community college let me in. I got official notice last week. I’m only taking two classes. I thought it best to start slow.”
“Definitely. Especially after...uh...” Dylan gave a discreet cough and Finn filled in the blank for him.
“I did crappy in high school?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“I had no reason to do well. Now I do.” And his grades hadn’t been that bad. He’d graduated with a high-C average. He’d actually excelled in math, the only class he’d truly enjoyed. The rest had been more a chore than anything, but again, now that he had a reason to learn, he’d do better.
“I think this is a good idea, Finn.”
That was what Finn had been waiting to hear. Dylan knew school. He knew academics. He knew Finn.
“Maybe I’ll tell Mike, then. I can take math and English in the evening and still work full-time. After that, then we’ll have to work something out.”
“After that, Jolie and I will be back and she can take over your job.” Just the words Finn had hoped to hear.
They talked for a few more minutes about life in Colorado, then Finn hung up feeling a lot more certain about his course of action.
Hell, he was actually kind of excited.
* * *
“I KNOW THIS is a full schedule,” Mary Jean Flannigan, the curriculum director, passed a printout of Molly’s new classes across the desk to her, “but with funding cuts, we’ve all had to pull extra duty.”
“I’m okay with it.” As a new instructor to this school, she’d be stupid not to be okay with it, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t mind being overloaded, and this schedule didn’t seem that bad. The only addition to the mock-up she’d received the week before was an evening basics class and a composition class run in conjunction with the local high school, which gave the high school participants college credit. Molly was well familiar with the program. She’d had nine college credits by the time she’d graduated from high school, but had never dreamed she’d one day be teaching in the program.
“Let’s see...” Mary Jean flipped through some papers on her desk, then squinted up at the computer screen. “Looks like you’re set. You’ll share an office with Kelsey Cunningham and you have a key to that, so...any questions?”
“Class lists?”
“Will be loaded by the end of the day.”
Molly smiled. “I’m set.”
She walked out of the director’s office and started down the hall to her office, only to slow her steps as she caught sight of a guy walking ahead of her who looked an awful lot like Finn Culver from the back.
Finn was a student?
He certainly hadn’t been one in high school. Rumor had it that the only reason he made grades was because the coaches needed him to be eligible to play.
It couldn’t be him.
But when the man turned down another hallway, Molly caught his profile and her stomach twisted a little. Yep. Finn.
She put her head down and continued to her office at a brisk pace. So what? He was probably there for the diesel mechanics course. Or maybe welding. Even if he was in one of her courses—so what? What had happened between them was history—and more importantly, it truly felt like history now that she had gotten her chance to address the matter with him. That had been satisfying, even if she hadn’t gotten her drain fixed for free.
Mousy.
Pfft.
The one thing she was never going to be again was mousy.
* * *
FINN HAD NO IDEA what to expect his first night of class. His schedule was simple—an hour-long English class on Monday and Wednesday and an hour-long math class on Tuesday and Thursday. Classes started midweek due to Labor Day, so he only had one of each that week. And thankfully, the classes started late enough that they didn’t interfere with work, meaning he didn’t have to tell his grandfather what he was doing just yet. He preferred to test the waters before making any big announcements and now, as he was getting out of his car in front of the community college, he was glad he’d kept his plans to himself.
Registering for the courses had felt surreal, but now that he was in the building, looking for his classroom, well, surrealism was replaced by good old-fashioned nerves.
Which was stupid. He’d seen action in the Middle East; he shouldn’t be intimidated by an English class. But his gut twisted as he recognized his room number. The two middle-aged women walking ahead of him went into the room. Cool. They didn’t look at all intimidating. They looked like normal people. Like him.
Drawing in a breath, he walked into the room, automatically searching for a chair in the back.
“I’d like all the students to sit in the first two rows, please.”
Finn froze at the oddly familiar voice, then slowly turned his head to meet Molly whatever-her-last-name-was’s rather grim gaze. Then he looked down at the schedule he still held in his hand as if it were a ticket to get into the room. M. Adamson.
Adamson. Her last name was Adamson. Bringing his eyes back up to hers, he tried to decide if the night could get any worse. Maybe if his car caught fire or something. Forcing a smile, he made his way to the second row and sat one desk away from one of the women he’d followed into the room. She smiled at him in a motherly way and he smiled back as he checked out Molly from the corner of his eye. She was welcoming another student, guiding her to the front of the room.
Son of a bitch. What were the chances?
He drew in a breath. He could do this. A woman he’d humiliated twelve years ago was now his teacher, but surely she’d treat the situation professionally and not find small ways to torture him. Because if she was going to do that...
What?
He was going to quit?
He didn’t think so. He centered his notepad on his desk, pulled a pencil out of his pocket and readied himself for battle. From the look Molly gave him before she turned to write something on the whiteboard, she was doing the same.
Let the game begin.
* * *
MOLLY HAD LEARNED that Finn was one of her students early that morning when the class lists finally posted—late because of a computer error. So she’d been ready for this moment. He hadn’t had a clue that she was his instructor, and she had to admit to feeling a certain satisfaction at the flash of the deer-in-the-headlights look he’d given her when he’d realized who his instructor was. Yes. That had been one small bright spot in what was no doubt going to be a series of long, self-conscious evenings.
Even now he was sitting with his feet stretched out in front of him, a half smile playing on his lips, looking way too sexy and comfortable. Making her feel less than comfortable. It was almost as if the air was snapping with small sparks now that he was in the room.
She started to speak, but had to stop and clear her throat. “Welcome to English Basic Comp. I’m Molly Adamson...”
She explained her grading procedures, her class expectations and what her objectives were for the course. She handed out the syllabus, gave a brief overview, then leaned back against her desk and asked if anyone had questions before they began the night’s work. Several hands went up, but Molly was expecting that. She’d taught classes specifically for older adults at college in Arizona while she’d worked on her degree and knew that nontraditional students liked to ask questions. They wanted some bang for their buck.
Finn had no questions and when she chanced a look straight at him, instead of letting her gaze skim past him as she’d been doing, she saw that his expression had shifted from cavalier to something bordering on serious.
She swallowed and called on the lady next to him—Debra—who had a lot of questions. When the students were finished grilling her, Molly handed out a paper.
“What you’re getting is your first assignment. A writing assessment to let me know where you are as a writer. The topic is simple—describe a moment in which your life changed forever. I’d like at least one page. No more than two.”
Finn was once again wearing his half smirk, but Molly ignored it.
“The computers are behind you. When you’re done, please hit Print, then place your papers in the in-box on my desk. I’ll have them back with comments and suggestions next week.”
Debra raised her hand. “Will this grade count?”
Shades of high school. Molly smiled. “I’ll put a grade on the paper, so you get an idea of where I think you are, but no. The first paper is for me to figure out what each of you need. Then I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
And damned if her gaze didn’t stray back to Finn, who met her look dead-on as the last words came out of her mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
FINN LEFT THE EVCC campus feeling drained and in deep need of a beer. No wonder there was so much drinking on college campuses. Although he wondered if regular students found sitting through a basic English comp class as challenging as he had. He’d sweated over that damned essay, typing a single sentence while Debra, at the computer next to him, seemed to be blasting out pages.
At least he could type, but he wasn’t fast. It’d been so long since he’d put thoughts down on paper that the whole process seemed foreign to him. But he’d done okay in the end, talking about how his parents’ divorce had affected him as a teen and managed a page and half. Hopefully Molly would go easy on him, realizing he hadn’t been in the classroom for a while. Hopefully...
Once he was on his way home, his tight muscles started to give. He rolled his neck and shoulders, told himself that the hard part was over. He’d sat through one class; Molly hadn’t embarrassed him, or even looked at him more than a couple of times...although that last look she gave him had him shifting in his seat.
Molly Adamson—he wouldn’t forget her last name again after tonight—didn’t look mousy anymore. A couple of times as she was answering student questions she’d become animated and he’d been surprised to see dimples appear at the corners of her mouth. She’d smiled and gestured, and then seemed to remember that he was in the room and instantly became the English Teacher.
She clearly was aware of him and probably still thought he was the king of assholes, but he felt better about the course walking out than he had walking in. He was also now less intimidated by his math class on Thursday. As long as it wasn’t taught by someone he’d once screwed over, he should be good.
* * *
MOLLY BIT THE END of her pencil as she read through Finn’s essay for the second time. The first time she’d thought he’d been putting her on, playing with her, so she’d skimmed over it, expecting to find some kind of punch line at the end. There was no punch line, so she’d turned back to the first page and started reading again. He hadn’t written about a moment, but rather a summer. His parents had divorced and he’d gone to live with his grandfather, Mike, while they sorted things out. It was the first time he hadn’t played summer ball because he’d been too ripped up inside, but he’d pretended to his friends that he had a shoulder injury.
Molly had had no idea that might Finn Culver’s life had been anything other than perfect during high school. He never showed a sign. But it wasn’t the experience she was grading. It was the writing, which wasn’t good.
His sentences were short and to the point, but more often than not, he used clauses instead of sentences...and sadly, the sentences/clauses were the strongest part of his writing. As far as structuring meaningful paragraphs, it was as if someone had fired a shotgun of disjointed thoughts at the page—and there were a lot of thoughts, since he’d dealt with a season—summer—rather than a moment as assigned.
Molly leaned back and tapped the pencil on her teeth. He couldn’t be serious. Could he?
She had to assume he was. He was paying for the course.
Finn, the sports hero, had obviously not spent much time in English class and now he was suffering the consequences. That piper, which people spoke of paying, was now making an appearance in Mr. Culver’s life, and she was in the unhappy position of having to point this fact out to him.
She marked his paper, the last of the evening, and slipped her grading folders into her bag as the phone rang. Please, don’t be the plumber canceling...
“Molly? Hey.” She froze at the rich deep tones of her ex’s voice. “Molly?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“How’re you doing in Big Sky Country?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.” If she didn’t make small talk, he’d get to his point and they could end this conversation all the sooner.
“I’m doing pretty good down here in Arizona, too, thanks for asking.”
She drew in a breath, but kept her mouth shut. “The season is winding down, but it’s been a good one.”
“What do you need, Blake?”
“I need the sale of the house to hurry along so I have some money to live on during the winter.” Twice the small house they’d shared had been in escrow and twice it had fallen through as the market fluctuated.
“And I’m supposed to do that how?”
“Would you let me borrow some money against the sale?”
“Are you kidding?” She used to be nicer about this. So much nicer.
“I need it.” His voice went flat.
“No.” Blake was still having trouble getting it through his head that she wasn’t in the make-Blake’s-life-easier club anymore. When he hit a wall, the first person he’d turn to, if he didn’t have a current girlfriend, was her. For old time’s sake. Because he’d made mistakes. Because he’d always loved her best.
Because he was a narcissist and she’d been stupid.
“Molly, I don’t have the resources to get through the winter.”
“Get a job.” She ended the call, then scrolled through her menus and blocked his number. There. Problem solved.
She should have done that the second time he’d called for a date. But no. She’d been blinded by his beauty, in awe of the fact that the gorgeous guy who sat next to her in English 405—an athlete, for Pete’s sake—wanted to go out with her. And he’d continued to go out with her. At first she thought he’d wanted help with his studies, but he did all right in his classes without her. That was when she’d given herself a good hard look in the mirror and realized that she really wasn’t that different from other women her age—she only perceived herself as different. As lacking in areas that other woman took for granted. Blake had even seemed charmed by her awkwardness and because of that, it had started to fade.
Her gift from Blake—a jump start to her self-confidence.
If she owed him for anything it was that, but not enough to lend him money. Especially when his behav
ior at the end of their short marriage had knocked her newfound self-confidence sideways.
She was still getting over a few of the knocks.
Molly pushed the thought aside. She’d moved back to the Eagle Valley because she’d been happy here. There’d been the usual high school traumas—cough, homecoming with Finn, cough—but in general she’d been a happily invisible nerd, with happily invisible nerdy friends. In Eagle Valley she’d found a sense of peace she’d never gotten anywhere else.
And it was a thousand miles away from Blake.
Yet still he called her to make things better.
She walked down the hall to her bedroom, glancing into Georgina’s room as she went by. One wall was stacked high with clear plastic bins that had become the temporary wardrobe solution. One bin sat on the floor next to her bed, which was scattered with the clothes she’d tried on before deciding on the perfect thing to wear for a Friday night out. Being as outgoing as Molly had been shy at the same age, she already had a circle of friends she’d met the first week of classes and had connected with two people she’d known when she’d attended third grade at Eagle Valley Elementary. Molly was in awe. To be born with confidence...what a gift.
But maybe if one had to fight to develop confidence, one appreciated it more.
And maybe they always had that tiny niggling fear that if they didn’t hold on to it with an iron grasp, it might just slip away.
* * *
FINN FOUND WALKING into English class the second time a lot easier than it had been the first. He held the door open for Debra and her friend Sharla, smiled back at them when they thanked him, and took the same seat he’d sat in the week before. Molly was busy talking to a student, but she glanced over at him as he sat and he nodded at her. Last week had been stressful. This week he was ready to light this candle.
Debra sat up a little straighter when Molly announced she was going to hand back last week’s papers.
“If your grade isn’t what you expected, don’t worry. The purpose of this class is to identify trouble areas and learn what to do about them. If you got over a 90 percent, you really don’t belong here.”