“Those children need to learn there are consequences for destructive behavior.”
“I would hardly call getting a little water on the floor destructive behavior.”
“Well it would’ve been a flood if I hadn’t stopped them.”
“Don’t you think you are exaggerating just a little?”
“The issue is you promised to supervise your students, and you failed to keep that promise.”
She sucked in a quick breath. “Those boys aren’t my students. They’re too young for our program.”
“It’s still your responsibility to keep an eye on them.”
“We sent them to the bathroom. I had no idea they’d get distracted on the way.”
“The water fight started after they ran screaming down the hall. I can’t believe you didn’t hear them.”
“My door was shut!”
“Oh, well, that explains it.” He huffed. “Maybe you should’ve kept it open so you could hear what’s going on.”
“Look, I never promised every child who enters the building would never speak above a whisper!”
He leaned toward her, his intensity matching hers. “And I never said I expected silence. I just asked you to keep your kids under control and not tear the building apart!”
She clenched her jaw. “All right. I get the point.”
“Good. Because if this is going to work, you’ve got to do a better job overseeing your kids.”
His words cut through her like a knife. “A better job?”
“Yes. Be in charge. Supervise what’s going on. Take your promise seriously.”
Her mouth dropped open. Of all the rude, pompous things to say! How could he make such sweeping judgments about her based on one small incident. A flaming rebuttal rose in her throat, but there was too much at risk to blurt it out now, no matter how unfair his words were. She grabbed her purse off the desk. “I…I can’t talk about this right now.”
Without looking back, she rushed out the door. But she couldn’t run away from the memory of his brooding scowl.
The gray, wind-whipped waters of Bellingham Bay came into view as Rachel traveled west on Taylor Avenue. Dancing whitecaps ruffled the surface of the harbor, and threatening clouds rose in the west. The rain hadn’t started yet, but a storm seemed only moments away.
Rachel scanned the sky, certain the weather was a perfect reflection of her life. A downpour of trouble was due to dump on her at any moment, and no umbrella was going to keep her from being soaked this time.
Why had she ever promised Cam she would keep her kids quiet and never disturb anyone? Who was she kidding? Keeping two rambunctious boys under control for ten minutes had proven impossible. What was she going to do when all fifty kids showed up for summer drama camp? Had she locked herself into an impossible situation that was doomed for failure? Would she end up losing her lease at the Arts Center before summer camp even began?
Straightening her shoulders, she pulled in a calming breath. Whatever it took, she had to find a way to make this work. There was no other option.
She rolled to a stop at the corner and tapped on the steering wheel as she waited to make a left turn. Perhaps things weren’t really as bleak as they seemed. Not all of her co-op partners were so difficult to please…just a certain frame shop owner who needed to lighten up and learn how to take things in stride.
Kids made noise! Their energy, laughter and goofy antics were going to disrupt the peaceful ambience of the Arts Center. Their music and dancing might even shake the walls of that old building, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He just needed to adjust his expectations.
She parked near the Taylor Avenue dock and climbed out of the car. Perhaps a stroll on the South Bay Trail would clear her head and give her a chance to pray through everything.
A wave of conviction washed over her, slowing her racing thoughts. It was past time she consulted the One who knew how to resolve this situation rather than plowing ahead under her own steam and running straight into more trouble.
A cool, salt-tinged wind blew the hair away from her face as she trudged toward the dock and path that ran north through Boulevard Park up the South Bay Trail from Fairhaven to Bellingham proper.
Gulls hung on the breeze circling the sailboats anchored in the harbor. One lone walker in purple capri pants and matching sweatshirt strode toward her, a hot pink sun visor shading her eyes. The walker looked up and smiled.
Rachel lifted her sunglasses and waved to Hannah Bodine, curator of the small Fairhaven Historical Museum that shared space at the Arts Center. Moving N.C.Y.T. there had been Hannah’s idea. Maybe she could help smooth things over with Cam, or at least give her some direction. Rachel strolled over and greeted her friend.
“Out for walk and a little fresh air?” Hannah asked.
Rachel shrugged, struggling to summon a smile.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Hannah’s kindness and interest in N.C.Y.T. had won Rachel’s trust and friendship, so she plunged ahead. “I had a run-in with Cam.” Her throat suddenly felt thick, and a weight seemed to press down on her shoulders. “I’m afraid he’s going to ask us to leave.”
“Oh dear. What happened?”
Rachel related the story, even confessing how she’d spoken her mind a little too freely. “I don’t know what it is about that man. I just can’t seem to keep a lid on my temper when he’s around.”
“He seems to have a powerful effect on you.” Hannah’s eyes twinkled.
“Oh, there’s nothing going on between us. I wouldn’t even call us friends. Our relationship is more like the explosive reaction you get when you mix vinegar and soda.”
Hannah chuckled. “Sounds exciting!”
“Seriously, Hannah. I think I pushed Cam too far today.” Why had she unloaded all her frustration on him? If she’d held her tongue, or at least apologized after she’d blown up, things might have worked out differently.
“I wouldn’t worry too much. Cam may seem all rough and bristly on the outside, but he has a good heart. He’ll cool off.”
“I still don’t understand why he was so upset. It was just a little noise and a small puddle of water. Why is he so antagonistic toward my kids?”
The amusement faded from Hannah’s eyes, and she patted Rachel’s arm. “Come on. Let’s walk. I want to get in a few more minutes of exercise before the rains come.”
“Okay.” Rachel set off, matching Hannah’s brisk pace.
“Cam has his reasons for being sensitive about children.” The older woman’s voice softened. “He lost his wife and son a few years ago in a terrible car accident.”
Rachel nodded. “He told me.”
Hannah’s steps slowed. “He did?”
“Yes, I saw their photo at his house.”
Hannah cocked her head, a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “He invited you to his house?”
Warning bells rang in Rachel’s head. Here was another opportunity to lead someone on with a little bit of truth. But she didn’t want to make the same mistake this time. “He did invite me in, but only because I’m renting his upstairs apartment.”
Hannah’s eyes danced now. “Really?”
“I’m just the tenant. That’s all there is to it.”
“Okay. If you say so.” But Hannah’s smile said she suspected a budding romance between her and Cam.
“So you think having my drama kids around reminds Cam of the son he lost?”
“Yes. That’s part of it.”
“And what’s the other part?”
“I think he’s afraid of getting involved and risking that kind of loss again. So he puts up this gruff front to keep people at a distance, especially women and children.”
Rachel turned that idea over in her mind. It made sense, considering everything she had observed about Cam in the past few weeks. Suddenly her irritation with him seemed trivial, even petty. Regret burned in her throat. How would she cope if she had suffered such a great loss?
<
br /> “God and time have a way of healing old wounds,” Hannah added, sending her a brief smile. “Maybe that’s why you’re here.”
Rachel laughed softly. “I doubt my coming to Fairhaven is going to play a part in Cam’s healing. All I seem to do is irritate him.”
“Maybe so, but helping him over the hurdle of being with children every day could be an important step forward for him.”
Rachel bit her lip, pondering that thought. Could she and her kids really be part of God’s plan to help Cam overcome his grief?
“Are you willing to put up with a little fuss and fluster from him?”
Rachel grimaced. “I suppose so. What choice do I have? There’s nowhere else for me to go.”
Hannah gave her a teasing poke in the side. “Well don’t look as if it’s going to be such torture. It might turn out to be good for both of you. Cam has his good points.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Well…he does a fine job managing his shop and the co-op. He’s got a good head for numbers, and he’s a skilled craftsman. People come from all over Bellingham and pay top dollar for his framing. But more important than that, he’s loyal and caring, and he watches out for all of us.” She slipped her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and smiled. “He can actually be quite charming when the mood strikes.”
“That, I would like to see.” As her teasing words faded into the wind, she remembered how he’d helped her move into her apartment. He’d worked all day, carried in more loads than she could count and never once complained. And that night, when they sat in her new kitchen and shared pizza and stories from their lives, she thought they’d truly connected.
A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled how he thought Josh was her live-in boyfriend. His confession had touched a soft place in her heart, and she’d sensed the possibility of a friendship beginning.
But that was last week—before their argument.
Rachel shook her head and released a soft sigh. Why had she been so defensive? Not only had she damaged her chance to gain Cam’s support for N.C.Y.T., she’d put another roadblock in the way of them becoming friends.
And that was what bothered her most of all.
Chapter Eight
Cam gripped the hoe and attacked the weeds that had sprung up between the rows of tomatoes and peppers in his garden. Grumbling to himself, he continued whacking away at the nasty intruders while he replayed his quarrel with Rachel.
She was wrong. There was no way around it. She should’ve kept an eye on those kids even if they weren’t her students. He couldn’t let that go. It was his responsibility to oversee the Arts Center. If he didn’t, his business as well as his friends’ would suffer.
But he shouldn’t have come on so strong. He didn’t need to blow her out of the water just to make his point. Why hadn’t he stopped when her face turned ghostly pale and her warm brown eyes hardened to cool slate?
Pitching another weed on the pile, he huffed. If he hadn’t been so hardheaded maybe she wouldn’t have run away from him with that painful look of betrayal in her eyes.
He’d wounded her with his words, and that was much worse than any damage those kids had done.
Kneeling, he grabbed an obstinate weed and tugged it out of the ground. If only he could uproot his own selfishness and pride. Perhaps then Rachel would care about what he had to say.
Tires crunched on the gravel driveway as a car rolled to a stop on the other side of the tall wooden fence. His stomach took a nosedive. That had to be Rachel. He stood and brushed the dirt from his hands.
The trunk latch released, the car door slammed, and he heard her footsteps. The gate squeaked open. She stepped through carrying four plastic grocery bags, her computer case over her shoulder and a red umbrella clamped under one arm. She turned and gave the gate a kick, slamming it closed.
He strode across the lawn toward her. “Let me give you a hand with those.”
She swung around, her eyes wide. “Oh. I didn’t see you.”
“I was working in the garden.”
She looked past his shoulder, obviously avoiding eye contact with him.
“Can I help you carry those upstairs?”
“No thanks.” She sent him a cool glance, adjusted her hold on the bags and walked away.
Regret swamped him. “Rachel, wait.”
She slowly turned around, the challenge still evident in her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened today.” He shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets and rocked back on his heels. He hated to admit he was wrong, but that was the only way to straighten this out. “I made a big deal out of something we could’ve easily worked out with a little discussion.”
Her wary expression softened a little. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for us to talk it over.”
He shrugged. “That’s true.”
She stared at him for a second. Then she seemed to realize he was teasing. “Okay. I’m ready to listen to whatever you have to say.”
A grin tugged at his lips. “Wow. That’s all it took?”
“Well, that and a talk with Hannah on the Taylor Avenue dock.”
He cocked his head. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.” She set down the bags. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. And I’m sorry I was so defensive, but I felt…”
“Attacked?”
“Yes.”
“I guess I did come on a little strong.”
She lifted her brows, sending him a meaningful look.
“Well, I suppose I was more like a bulldozer at a construction site.”
“A little.” The light returned to her eyes.
“Do you want to sit down?” He motioned toward the round table and four chairs shaded by a large green umbrella. “Maybe we could talk for a while.”
She hesitated and glanced across the patio. “Okay. But I need to run upstairs and put some ice cream in the freezer.” She bent down to grab her bags.
“Whoa, did you say ice cream?”
She looked up and nodded.
He peaked in one of her bags. “What flavor?”
“Moose tracks.”
“Wow. That sounds good. What do I have to do to convince you to share?”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin for a moment, then her teasing expression faded. “How about promising you’ll give me another chance?” The sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable.
He nodded. “If you’ll do the same for me.”
Sunday afternoon Cam followed Ross through the crowd gathered in Fairhaven’s historic district. The number of people packed into the eight-block area for this year’s festival was definitely higher than last year.
The sun shone down, warming Cam’s shoulders and lifting his mood. He didn’t normally like crowds, but this one seemed focused on enjoying the day, so he didn’t mind mixing with them. Live music from a band on the Village Green stage filled in the air with a lively, upbeat sound. The mouthwatering scent of grilling meat floated past, teasing his nose.
Earlier that day, he and Ross had watched several kayakers race to the shore, run up the hill and ring the bell, signaling the end of their team’s efforts to make it from the top of Mt. Baker to Bellingham Bay in the annual Ski to Sea Race.
The community festival, celebrating the end of the race and the beginning of summer, was a favorite with people from all over the Bellingham area. As Cam made his way through the Memorial Day weekend crowd, he agreed it was worth the hassle of finding a place to park and feeling like a fish swimming upstream against the flow.
“Why didn’t we sign up for a booth?” Ross pointed to the line of tents filled with all types of artwork. “We could’ve all gone in together and put up a great display.”
“File that idea away for next year.” Another whiff of something barbequed floated past. Cam’s mouth watered, and he glanced at his watch. “Let’s grab something to eat.”
“Okay. Just a minute.” Ross lifted his camera, adjusted the settings
and snapped another photo. “Maybe I can sell some of these to Entertainment News NW or the Bellingham Herald.”
“Don’t they send their own photographers to big events like this?”
“Sure, but if I get a great shot…” He clicked off another series of photos. “…maybe they’ll buy it.”
Cam nodded, though Ross was still viewing the festival through his camera lens.
“Hey, there’s a great subject.” Ross grinned and continued clicking away.
Cam glanced across the street in the direction Ross had pointed his camera. Rachel and another young woman with long red hair stood in front of a booth displaying used books, movie posters and records.
Cam blew out a deep breath and frowned at the sidewalk.
Ross glanced at him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Cam folded his arms across his chest and looked back toward the Village Green.
“I thought you worked things out with Rachel.”
Cam’s face grew hot. “I did.” He hated that Ross could read him so easily.
“So what’s with the face?”
“I just feel a little weird around her, that’s all.”
Ross cocked his head. “How come?”
He shrugged, feeling like an awkward adolescent instead of a thirty-three-year-old man.
“Well, I think Rachel’s one of the nicest people I’ve met in a long time. And she’s certainly easy on the eyes.” Ross glanced at Cam as he adjusted the strap on his camera. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about asking her out.”
Cam pulled back. “No way. You’re not.”
“Yeah. I am.” Grinning, Ross pushed his dark frame glasses up his thin nose.
“But…she’s not your type,” he sputtered.
“Sure she is. We’re both fun-loving and creative. I think we have a lot in common.”
Cam shook his head. “You’re too young for her.”
Ross laughed. “I’m twenty-seven. She can’t be much older than that. And a few years age difference doesn’t bother me.” He wiggled his dark brows. “Besides, older women have more experience, and that’s a plus in my book.”
Carrie Turansky Page 6