“Hi.” Her mind slipped from foggy to fuzzy. His hand trailed her spine, melting the strength from her legs.
“Did you get my note?” he asked, distracting her with feather-light kisses along her exposed collarbone.
A knock on her classroom door shot ice through her veins. With a weak muscled shove to Ryland, she skidded behind her desk. “Come in.” Her voice sounded low and husky to her ears.
The door cracked open and Principal Jamison banged through the threshold. Toddling into the room on ill-placed cowboy boots, he made an unforgettable cross-section of authority and cartoon. He stood nearly a foot shorter than Ryland. His partially bald head reflected the harsh lights of the room and his wide painted tie flopped to the side of his rounded belly. “Hey Tessa.” His full lipped smile was filled with warmth. Swiveling, he nodded to Ryland, lifting a single eyebrow. “Coach Jessup.”
“Principal Jamison.” Ryland shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Ahem. I was hoping to talk to Miss Tarrington for a few minutes.” He turned to Tessa. “This is your free period, right?”
“Yes, sir. Coach Jessup was just down here… ummm…” She lifted her gaze to Ryland.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, Ryland snatched a folder from the top of her teetering stack. “Miss Tarrington has been working with my daughter. I was stopping by to see if she was still available to help Emma tonight.”
“Oh, well that’s nice.” Jamison said, resting a hip against the front corner desk. “I didn’t know you had an interest in elementary education, too.”
“Not specifically. Emma is a unique talent. She is helping me with a children’s book idea.”
“Splendid.”
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I need to be on my way,” Ryland said.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Of course, Miss Tarrington. Counting down the minutes until we say hello again.” The twinkle in his eye sent shivers racing under Tessa’s skin. She struggled to shift her focus from his exiting form to Principal Jamison’s knowing grin.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jamison, what can I do for you?”
“Well, as you know we hired you as a long term sub for Mrs. Monahan based solely on her recommendation. I was leery, I admit. You have zero high school teaching experience.”
“I was a TA for two years in one of the best English Lit programs in the country.”
He waved a hand. “College and high school are like China and Australia. The main two things they have in common is they are both on the planet and have human inhabitants.”
“OK…”
“Regardless, we trust Mrs. Monahan, and she was once again perfectly in tune with what her students needed. After a bumpy start, you’ve managed to gain the trust and near admiration from your students.”
“Thank you?” Tessa glanced at the clock on the far end of the hall. Fifteen minutes before the next bell.
“Yes, well, you don’t need to thank me. We keep track of the student-run message boards, and since the first incident, you’ve received nothing but praise. Match that with some of the assignments I’ve read from your students and you’ve made amazing strides.”
“How did you read what my students wrote?”
“Skimmed through your files while you were out this past weekend for that wedding. Good stuff. Well written. Much improved from what I read before Mrs. Monahan went on leave.”
“OK…” Tessa slid onto her chair, lacing her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, well, as I said, Mrs. Monahan was right in guiding us to hire you short term. Now, I’d like to make the offer more permanent.”
Tessa sat straight. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Monahan has decided to retire. Her hip hasn’t healed quite as well as the doctors would like. They’re afraid she won’t be able to handle the intensity of standing most of the day teaching. She has forty years in so she’s well past the retirement qualifier. With her out, we have an opening in the English department. I’d like to offer you first crack at the job.”
“But I’m not a certified teacher.”
He waved his hands. “Yes, I know, but if you sign up for the accreditation courses beginning this summer, you should be able to complete your certification by the end of the next school year. You’d need to be probationary until then, but I’ve little doubt you’d be able to complete all of the work necessary for us to make the position official.”
Tessa stared at Jamison. Teach fulltime? Move to Gibson’s Run permanently? Wasn’t that what she was daydreaming? She, Ryland, and Emma—one happy family. Her stomach churned. Acid percolated. “Mr. Jamison, I’m flattered. But aren’t there already qualified teachers who’d want this position?”
He shrugged. “Sure. But they don’t have a rapport with the students. They don’t have credibility. They also don’t have a relationship with the coach of the football team.”
“Principal Jamison!”
“Hey,” he raised a hand to her. “I have two eyes and two ears. Nothing gets by me. You two have been in a gaga relationship for the last month. Hearts are flying overhead every time I see the two of you together. If I can secure you here, I’ve a better chance of locking Jessup into a multi-year contract. There are some schools up in Columbus sniffing around. Offering him the moon to come and coach their teams. But I can’t have it. Nope, he took the Grizzlies to the state playoffs for the first time since he donned the uniform. There’s a bunch of money in football in this state. I won’t allow any of it to seep in to Columbus if I’ve a say about it.”
“Mr. Jamison, this seems a little like blackmail.”
“Naw, just a little friendly push in the right direction. I wouldn’t offer you the job if you weren’t an excellent fit for our students. You’re a good teacher, Tessa.” He tossed a stack of papers on her desk. “Read through the contract. It’s all pretty straightforward. Let me know if you’ve any questions.”
She reached for the papers, the weight of the moment beginning to seep through her spirit.
“But there’s an expiration date on the offer. Monday morning. If you’re not interested I need to begin a search for Mrs. Monahan’s replacement.”
“OK.” She flipped through the pages—the black words blurring in her vision.
“Monday, Tarrington.” Jamison said over his shoulder.
Monday. Forty-eight hours to decide if she wanted a life in Gibson’s Run—forever closing the door on New Orleans. If she taught full time, what would happen to her writing career? Would she be happy teaching students the same poetry and classic literature year after year? What if Ryland didn’t see a true future for the two of them? What if his feelings were like Joey’s and he was only pursuing a high school crush? What if she wasn’t really a good teacher?
The class bell rang over the loudspeaker launching the countdown for her decision.
Stay or go?
32
“I’m home.” Hip-checking the front door closed, Ryland dropped his oversized nylon duffle to the floor and kicked off his shoes. Padding toward the kitchen, the spicy aroma of marinara wafted to him.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Emma launched into his arms, her tiny weight thrusting the wind from his lungs.
“Hey, E-train. How was school today?” Cuddling her to his chest, he inhaled the subtle scent of girlhood—a mix of watermelon soap, peanut butter, and play-dough.
“School was greats.” Emma leaned back in his arms, continuing to play with the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. One day too soon, he’d call up this memory because his grown daughter wouldn’t want to be in the same room with him, let alone cuddle after school.
“We learnt all about some turtles and how they swims in the waters and walks on the ground. Theys called them rep-styles. I think I needs a turtle. Don’t you think we needs a turtle?”
“Reptiles.” He kissed her forehead. “Last week you wanted a dog because you read a book about puppies. Remember? From what I hear, you begged Miss Jane’s niece to
keep her puppy when you were at the Grey’s farm with G-ma playing with their grandchildren on Saturday.”
“Well,” she paused, wiggling to be released. Climbing onto the barstool, she rested her chin in her upturned palms. “Gordie—the puppy—sure seemed to like me best of all the kids. Even better than Lizzie. I think he really wanted to come homes with us. And Miss Janie’s niece is super busies with school. I just knows Gordie needs me. I could tells by all the kisses he gave me.”
“Emma, just because someone or some dog likes you doesn’t mean they want to come and live with you.”
“So does that mean Miss Tessa doesn’t want to come and live with us? She likes me real good.”
Waves of uncertainty crashed into growing mountains of love with the thought of Tessa. He hoped the path they were walking led to permanency. He was walking that way, but was Tessa on the same path? “It smells like Mabel almost has dinner ready. You better go upstairs and wash your hands.” He glanced at her white t-shirt with a giant pink sparkly bunny in the center. “Why don’t you change your t-shirt, too?”
“But I loves my bunny shirt. I wants to wear it e’ry day till Easters.”
“Well, if you don’t want it splattered with red dots from the spaghetti and marinara Mabel is making, you should put it in the hamper and pull on one of your old play t-shirts.”
Her eyes doubled in size. She slid off the chair and scrambled up the stairs, using her arms for leverage.
“How was your day?” Mabel asked as the echo of Emma’s footsteps receded down the back hall.
“OK. I’m having trouble convincing some of the schools around Columbus to come to the baseball tournament in April. They seem to think the caliber of competition isn’t as high as what they would find closer to home.”
“That’s silly. The boys around here are great ballplayers.”
“I know. We’ll get it worked out.” Grabbing a water from the refrigerator, he leaned against the counter by the stove. “Are you certain you’re fine with babysitting tonight?”
Mabel’s lips curled at the corners. “Of course. I love the idea of helping your romance chug along. I must say, I’ve been pulling for you two since the first moment she came to the house. She’s a special young woman.” Patting his cheek, she continued. “You’ve had enough heartache. It does this old woman good to see the sparkle of little hearts swimming in your eyes.”
“Ugh, Mabel. I’m still a man. Please don’t reduce me to a greeting card image, or a made for TV movie.” He shoved away from the counter and started down the back hallway towards his bedroom.
With a shrug, she turned back to her sauce and stirred. “You had a phone call today.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Someone from the Dispatch calling to confirm a story on The Tattler Zone.”
“What did the reporter ask?”
“Confirmation on the details surrounding Macy’s relationship with that quarterback, Everett Tanner.”
~*~
Tessa swiped bronzer over her cheeks. The contract, dog-eared and highlighted, lay to the left of her make-up bag. She’d read every word after Jamison left. And again during the essay test she gave her seventh period class. And again when she arrived home and found Daddy locked in his study.
Dropping the brush with a clink on the glass surface, she reached for the contract. With a flip of the pages, her gaze landed on the signature line. By signing she would be sealing her fate—at least for the next few years. She would officially have to move.
Leave New Orleans. Leave her friends. Leave her career. Leave. Leave. Leave. That one word flashed like a neon sign. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Dear Lord, please let the answer be crystal clear. Help me to know Your will in the midst of my own confusion. Help me to not run away simply to find safety, but guide me toward the path of Your choosing even if the journey is filled with twists and turns of uncertainty. Amen.
Calm washed over her. The decision of whether to stay and teach or keep her life in New Orleans didn’t need to be determined tonight. She had forty more hours before Jamison required an answer. Tonight would be filled with learning more about Ryland and if his intentions matched his ardor.
Her eyes fluttered open; her gaze landed on the pink and white confection masquerading as a dress. She’d bought the tiny, tulle laden, little number on a shopping spree in Chicago two weeks after Lily Mae’s engagement. At Lily Mae’s insistence, she’d purchased three lovely dresses during the journey along Miracle Mile, and had worn exactly zero. Tonight was one of the few times she was ridiculously thankful she’d listened to her crazy friend.
With one quick zip, she turned to the mirror taking in her full length. Swirls of pink in varying shades twisted around her body flaring just above her knees. Thin strips of dark pink satin edged the top, middle and bottom of the dress. She slipped into three inch nude pumps and reached for a rich, platinum cropped cardigan layered in bugle beads. The cardigan transformed her outfit to subtle modesty with a hint of glamor. Her long blonde hair was lose around her shoulders—touched with slight waves.
A swipe of clear gloss on her lips and she was ready. Her first official date with the man she loved. Trembles rippled through her body. Part excitement. Part nerves. Tonight would be perfection.
~*~
Ryland hesitated.
The muted voices of the Friday evening news wafted through the Tarrington front door. He’d dreamed of standing in this spot most of his years, a fistful of wildflowers in his hand, sweat pouring down his neck. Deep breaths in and out before finally knocking on the marred oak door with a burnished cross blazoned in the center; a calling card of the household: “Beware: we love Jesus.”
He’d imagined every moment from the first knock to the good-night kiss under the porch light. In a thousand daydreams his heart was never freshly bruised nor did his stomach burn with acidic anger from his former wife’s indiscretions. But here he was. Standing at the doorway to his dream, a passageway quickly transforming to a gateway to his most dreaded nightmare.
The reporter digging into his and Macy’s past riled every part of his protective instinct. Macy hadn’t been the wife of his dreams, but her memory deserved to be left untarnished, if not for her, then for her parents and Emma. He’d returned the phone call with the sole intent of simply saying, “No comment” but what he discovered was beyond his imagination.
The reporter divulged that a tell-all gossip novel about Macy’s former boyfriend, quarterback Everett Tanner was in the works. Ryland had cut the call off in under two minutes, but it was enough time for the reporter to share some of the key points that would be published about Macy’s carelessness. A book, the reporter shared, to be published by Evanston & Evanston, Tessa’s former employers.
His blood boiled and his stomach burned with rage. How could anyone be so cruel? Macy’s death was nearly two years ago and yet some sick need for gossip was going to drag his daughter’s mother’s name—and by proxy his daughter’s—through the muck and grime of tabloid magazines and reprehensible talk shows.
He released a slow sigh, lifting his fist to knock. Before his knuckles wrapped against the wood, the door whipped open and the pain aching in his heart soothed with the glorious sight.
Draped in what appeared to him to be a giant tutu, Tessa shined. Her hair was loose and long against her shoulders. Standing nearly four inches taller thanks to teetering heels, her sparkling green eyes met his gaze—requiring the barest of head tilts. “Hi,” she whispered.
With a thick swallow, he stepped through the doorway, closing the gap between them. “Hi.”
“Hello, Ryland.” Pastor Tom’s deep voice splashed him and chilled better than a bucket of ice water.
Sliding back, he glanced over Tessa’s head. “Good evening, Tom. How’re you tonight?”
“Just fine, son. Where will you and Tessa be going this evening?” The once formidable pastor, whose illness seemed to age him overnight, stood tall and strong behind his daughter. Gone was the w
iry, misshapen hair and untucked wrinkled shirts of the past several months. Tonight he was once again the bigger-than-life preacher who’d caused a seven-year-old Ryland to tremble with the sound of his voice. Pastor Tom tugged his reading glasses from his the bridge of his nose and tucked them in the chest pocket of his roll-neck cardigan. “Not too far, I hope.”
“Up to Columbus.”
Tom nodded. “Do you have any students this Saturday?”
“No. Fortunately we’re in the prime time of spring try-outs for baseball, track, and tennis. Miraculously, during try-outs, the students are often on their very best behavior.”
“Who’s watching my little Emma this evening?”
“Mabel. They’re having spaghetti.”
“Emma’s favorite. I’m sure she’s tickled.”
“Why don’t you join them?” Ryland suggested.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition. Mabel always makes double what the three of us will eat—even with my appetite. She’ll have plenty. I’m certain Em would love the surprise. If you haven’t already guessed, you’re her favorite person on the planet. Kind of hurts my ego to have another man trump me so early in her life, but if I had to be pushed over, I’m glad it is by you.”
Tessa laced her arm through her father’s. “Dad, why don’t you go? You don’t have any plans tonight expect practicing your sermon. And what I’ve heard so far needs no additional tweaks. Emma asks about you every day I’m at the house.”
“Well…I do miss spending time with her. She’s quite the rascal.” The slight lift of the corner of his lips warmed Ryland’s heart. “Do you really think Mabel will have enough?”
“I’m certain.”
“Well, it sounds as if I have a date myself.”
Tessa lifted her gaze to Ryland. The love reflected in her eyes tripped the beats of his heart. “Sounds as if you do.”
33
The decadent aroma of chocolate crème brûlée billowed around Tessa and seeped into the deep dessert recesses of her brain, miraculously creating room after the three course dinner she and Ryland lingered over for as many hours. With a gentle tap of her spoon, the crystalized surface cracked revealing the dark creamy texture of the custard. She dug her spoon into the stiff pudding, scooped a heaping bite. Closing her mouth around the velvety indulgence was bliss. For a moment, she didn’t see Ryland or have the nagging question of staying in Gibson’s Run or returning to her career in New Orleans or wonder what was next—she simply melted into the dark lusciousness of silky chocolate goodness.
Life on the Porcelain Edge Page 23