Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys

by Lynnette Austin

  He cleared his throat. “Katie Sara?”

  She took her time and finished what she was writing. She capped the marker and laid it carefully on the tray. Only then did she face him.

  Stunning. His knuckles tightened on the jamb.

  “What are you doing here, Reiner?”

  After several tries, he untied his tongue. “Sittin’ in on a class.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked. Why? God, she was gorgeous. The neutral colors provided a backdrop for her own vibrant coloring and made her eyes sparkle.

  “Reiner?”

  “Huh?” Not a coherent thought formed in his head.

  “Some of the students might be uncomfortable with you here. We’ve finally reached a point where the kids are sharing. I’m afraid having someone new in the room—you particularly—will compromise that.”

  “I’ll sit in the back, Ace, and won’t say a word. Promise. Little mouse in the corner. You’ll never even know I’m here.”

  She opened her mouth to argue the point, but the bell rang.

  As the students filed in, Reiner, true to his word, moved to the back. He did not, however, go unnoticed. Katie Sara had to start class several times before she had everyone’s attention.

  When Felicity slouched in her seat, Katie Sara decided not to notice. Instead, she gave the girl big points for showing up. If her uncle had decided to sit in on her Sex Ed class, not a single doubt in her mind she’d have gone AWOL.

  “Yesterday, we talked about abstinence and the need to claim ownership of our own actions. We ran out of time before we could get into it too deeply. Today we’ll discuss some of the reasons you should refrain from indulging certain appetites.”

  A noise, somewhere between a snort and a bark, erupted from the back corner.

  “Comment, Mr. Broderick?”

  He threw her a killer grin. “No, ma’am.”

  Felicity slid a little farther down in her chair. She’d need a floor pillow soon.

  Katie Sara ignored him as if he were no more important than a gnat. “No matter how strong your resolve, there will be times when you’ll feel pressured to give in. That’s when you need to stay strong. Remember what we’ve talked about this summer. Girls, you—”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re handin’ out the female point of view.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we should listen to your point of view, Mr. Broderick, because...”

  “I’m an expert.”

  “On sex?”

  “Yeah.” His face flushed. “Ah, no. Well—”

  “Maybe you’d like to share your wealth of knowledge with the class, Mr. Broderick.”

  The boys in the class started to chant, egging him on. Reluctantly, he stood.

  Felicity groaned. “Uncle Reiner, you promised you’d be quiet.”

  “I have an obligation, Felicity, to make sure you get this right. There are two sides to this thing, you know.”

  “Arghhh. Ms. McMichaels gives us both sides.” She slunk lower still, till only her eyes and forehead were visible over her desktop. “I’m telling Auntie Belham.”

  “Oh, for—”

  “Uh-uh. School appropriate language,” Katie Sara admonished.

  “You know what?” He glanced at his watch and slapped his forehead. “I hadn’t noticed the time. My agent’s calling this mornin’. As much as I hate to do this, I’ve got to run. Maybe I can take a rain-check on the chat.”

  “Maybe you can,” Katie Sara said.

  “Felicity, I’ll pick you and Beth up later, okay?”

  She mumbled something, and he scrambled out the door.

  Katie Sara looked out over her classroom. “What do you say we start over?”

  Felicity, who had wiggled upright again, uttered a heartfelt, “Amen.”

  He’d made an ass out of himself. Then he’d compounded it by calling his agent while he was in a rotten mood and arguing over his new book contract. He was throwing interceptions all over the field.

  Even Dirk Maverick, the sleuth in his on-going mystery series, wouldn’t behave today. He’d given up trying to write and decided instead to do a little shopping. Nathan had written in his last letter that they desperately needed sunscreen and Chap stick. Might as well use today to put together another care package.

  Auntie Belham said he could get everything he needed in the old Woolworth’s store. Amazing the place was still in business.

  Katie Sara decided to walk down Main Street before heading home. The old Woolworth’s drew her. It had been ages.

  Stepping through the doors was like stepping through a time warp. Dim, overhead fluorescent lights buzzed. The wooden floor, buckled in places, was scarred from the tread of years’ worth of feet.

  Evening in Paris perfume. Rows and rows of silk and plastic flowers. Dishes. Panty hose. Bubbles to blow into the wind. Coloring books and crayons. Doan’s Little Liver Pills.

  The old soda fountain. She glanced at the menu. What the heck? Why not have lunch?

  First, though, she needed to wash her hands.

  An older woman and two young children occupied the women’s room, tucked into a back corner. Katie Sara smiled and moved to one of the sinks.

  The boy, about four, marched to a stall. “This is private.”

  She heard the snick of the lock, the almost instant wail that followed.

  “My door’s stuck. I can’t get out.” Each word a little louder, a little more panic-filled.

  “’Cause you locked it,” said the other child, a girl about the same age.

  “See the little button you turned?” the harried-looking woman asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Turn it again, and your door will open.”

  While Katie Sara watched in the mirror, the young girl beside her at the sink carefully removed both shoes. As the young boy walked sheep-faced out of the stall, the girl’s lower lip trembled, and she started to whimper.

  “What’s wrong, Polly?”

  “I can’t get my shoes on.”

  The woman rubbed her forehead and kept one hand on the boy. “Why are they off?”

  “I had to wash my hands, Grandma.”

  Grandma sighed. “Silly me. Of course.” She shot Katie Sara a look and shook her head. “Be a cold day in you-know-where before I offer to baby-sit for both my daughters-in-law on the same day again.”

  “Can I get my hair wet?”

  Attention diverted, the boy had escaped Grandma’s grasp. Before she could answer, he stuck his head under the faucet and came up shaking like a wet dog.

  “Patrick!”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Katie Sara backed away, laughing, then grabbed a handful of paper towels. “I’ll dry him off.”

  “I’d really appreciate it.”

  After Grandma tied the last shoelace, she stood and combed her grandson’s hair.

  Polly had discovered the sanitary napkin dispenser. Twirling its dials, she asked, “What’s this?”

  “I have no idea,” Grandma lied with a straight face and without a hint of remorse.

  Katie Sara left them, a grin on her face, hopeful Grandma would make it home sane. Polly and Patrick. What a handful!

  And then that yearning for children, a family of her own, rolled over her like a tidal wave. She leaned against the wall for a moment as she took deep, slow, cleansing breaths, willing away the feeling.

  She was okay. Again. Her composure was shaky, but intact.

  “Katie Sara.”

  Snip went that thin thread she’d been holding on by.

  Reiner, of the designer clothes and sunglasses. In Woolworth’s?

  Shopping basket slung over his arm, he did a double take. “Katie Sara, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down.”

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Two excited voices chirped from behind just before she was tackled around the knees and nearly taken down.

  The horror on Reiner�
��s face registered as a second round of “Mommy, Mommy” began.

  She knelt. “Polly. Patrick. Look at you. Shoes on, hair fairly dry. You’re looking good.”

  Grandma came hurrying up to pry them loose. “You little monkeys. What is wrong with you today?”

  The two giggled.

  “Come on. Tell this saint of a lady good-bye. We’ve done enough damage today. Time to go home.” She winked at Katie Sara. “And aren’t you glad about that?”

  Grinning, Katie Sara glanced toward a thunderstruck Reiner. “Actually, it’s been fun. Thanks.”

  She hugged the kids, who gave her noisy kisses on the cheeks. Walking backward, they left the store, blowing more kisses.

  “What was all that? Mommy?”

  Hugging the memory and the feel of the children’s kisses close, she brushed hair from her face. “I haven’t got a clue. Apparently, it’s my day for surprises.”

  “All right.” He set his shopping basket on a pile of yarn and took a deep breath. “Let’s get this out of the way. Since I haven’t yet found a recipe for crow that I particularly like, I’ll eat it plain.” His cobalt eyes met hers dead-on. “I apologize for coming into your class today.”

  “I don’t think it’s me you should apologize to.”

  “I’m not goin’ back and apologizing to the whole class.” He dug in. “I’d OD on that much crow.”

  “Even I’m not that unreasonable.” She shook her head. “I mean Felicity. You owe her an apology.”

  “You’re probably right. But I’m startin’ with you. I messed with your profession, and that’s a no-no. I’m sorry.” His eyes took on the color of stormy seas. “It won’t happen again.”

  “God, you’re good.”

  He grinned, dimples winking. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Forgiven?” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Your apology’s accepted.”

  “I’ll settle for that. For now.”

  She tipped her head at his basket. “Shopping?”

  He explained about his brother’s supply list. “Kind of like school shoppin’. How about you?”

  “I came in for a walk down Memory Lane and decided to stay for lunch.” Argh. She could have cut out her tongue.

  “Have you eaten yet, Mommy, or did the kids keep you too busy?”

  Ohhh, she wanted to lie. Her traitorous lips, though, worked for a government of their own. “No, I was headed there when Patrick and Polly waylaid me.”

  * * *

  Over cheeseburgers and malts, they kept it light. They skirted anything and everything personal and talked instead about fellow classmates and old acquaintances.

  “Question,” Katie Sara said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you come to class today? The truth. No BS. I mean, Felicity really isn’t your concern.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She played with her straw wrapper, folding it accordion-style. “I’d think Belhamina would be the one to come see me if there was a problem.”

  Reiner tensed. “Why would she do that?”

  Tossing the paper aside, she frowned at him. “Because she’s the one directly involved with Felicity on a day-to-day basis.” She swiveled on her stool to face him, readjusted when their knees touched. “I know you mean well, and you probably stop by your aunt’s house as often as you can.”

  She nodded toward the basket at their feet. “Putting a package together for your brother and sister-in-law is wonderful, but you don’t understand what it’s like to be a thirteen-year-old girl. What it’s like to live with one. You—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there.” He held up his hand. “Don’t say another word you might have to eat later. I’ve already had my daily ration of crow. Now I’m gonna do you a favor and keep you from cookin’ up some of your own.”

  “I—”

  “Uh-uh. My turn, professor.” He laid a hand on either side of her, swung the stool directly in line with his, and boxed her in between his knees.

  A trickle of perspiration made its way down her back, even in the air-conditioning.

  “Felicity lives with me, not with Bel.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why I’m here. In Paradox. Why I bought the house. Originally, the plans called for her to stay with Bel, but she’s not as young as she used to be. A thirteen-year-old’s got a lot of energy. We huddled, switched to Plan B, and decided to send in a substitute. That would be me. I’m it until Mom and Dad come back.”

  He said it lightly, but Katie Sara heard maturity, responsibility, and caring in his voice. It rattled her. It shook the cage and messed with the tidy box she’d tucked Reiner in.

  He got Felicity up in the morning? Saw her off to school? He wasn’t playing fair! How could she fight a Reiner who’d willingly left his devil-may-care life behind to play bachelor father? It blew her mind.

  Time. She needed time to analyze this. Reiner had suddenly become very complicated.

  Regrouping, she said, “You might work on Felicity’s clothing choices. Some of her things are a little—”

  “She dresses like a hooker.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

  “I would and, believe me, we’ve had a chat about it.” He drew rings on the counter with the condensation from his glass. “Hey, Katie Sara, I’m doin’ my best.”

  “Keep at it.” She twisted her knees and nudged his thigh aside, then slid from her stool. “Thanks for lunch, Reiner.”

  His hand shot out to cover hers. “How about dinner tonight?”

  “No, thanks. Best not to go there.”

  His jaw tightened. “Maybe not.”

  “And Reiner?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do us both a favor. Regardless of the reason, keep your promise. Don’t show up in my class again.”

  She left Woolworth’s and stepped out into Georgia’s humid summer heat. The whole state had become one huge sauna. If only she could be more like Polly and Patrick. If only she could wrap herself around Reiner and cover him in kisses. But she couldn’t. Never again.

  She’d do them both a favor, and stay far, far away from Paradox’s sexiest bachelor father. Their paths might run parallel, maybe even intersect occasionally, but that was that. No overlapping and no playing house for them.

  Now, she’d go home and feed Chia. Then she and her white ball of fur would sit in the backyard, maybe even try out that new hammock, and write tomorrow’s lesson plan.

  Topic: False Perceptions.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday morning, which meant no work and all play. The smell of brewing coffee teased Katie Sara and drew her back to the kitchen. Her favorite mug, some half and half, fresh coffee, and a date. That first shot of caffeine danced nervously in her stomach.

  “Oh, Chia.” The cat’s internal motor turned on at the mention of his name. Stretching, he roused himself enough to rub his head on Katie Sara’s leg.

  “Why’d I let Rhonda talk me into this? Huge mistake!” She curled up in the window seat with her cat, scratched his head, and took another sip of coffee. “But she’s right. I have to do it. I need to prove to myself that I can be in Paradox with,” she hesitated. “With him and still live my life. Otherwise, what’s the use?”

  Even though the flowers were losing out to the weeds, she feasted her eyes on the backyard and grinned. “My own flowers. My own weeds. My own dirt. There’s nothing better to ground me. Get it, Chia? Dirt, ground? I’ve got to keep busy today.”

  The Persian blinked his big blues, yawned, and started to wash his front paw.

  “Phooey on you, spoil sport.”

  * * *

  An hour later, despite Chia’s help, she finished the yard work, mowing included. Hands on her hips and flushed with pride, she surveyed her small kingdom.

  Impulsively, she snipped a few roses and buried her nose in them, then held them down to her cat. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

  With typical male disdain, C
hia gave them a cursory sniff, then dismissed the flowers with a flick of his fluffy tail.

  “Well, I love them.”

  Inside, she arranged the old-fashioned tea roses in a crystal vase that had been her grandmother’s. Deciding they’d look nice on the fireplace mantel, she placed the fragrant pink flowers between wonderful old silver candlesticks.

  Her gaze caught on the photo of her mom, dad, and herself taken on her sixteenth birthday. Her dad, always so powerful, so confident, had an arm thrown protectively around his girls. But his easy smile didn’t reach his eyes. In them, when she looked closely, she caught a hint of anxiety. How had they missed that? How long had he lived with the fear of losing this family he embraced?

  She thought of the box of ashes in the spare bedroom upstairs. The pulse at the base of her throat throbbed. Flopping down on her new leather sofa, the photo face down on her stomach, she asked herself for the thousandth time what he had valued more than his wife and daughter.

  Purring, Chia burrowed under her arm. She hugged him close and swiped at a tear that streaked down her face, blinked rapidly to stave off more. Her throat and chest tightened.

  When she’d arrived, she’d needed to keep him with her, just awhile longer. But now, even though she still didn’t want to do this, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

  Without getting up, she grabbed a tissue from the end table, blew her nose, then snagged the phone on the table beside her. She dialed Camden, Maine, the residence of Dr. and Mrs. Hayden Channing.

  By the fifth ring, she decided no one was home. As she started to hang up, she heard her mother’s clipped, “Hello?”

  “Mother? Katie Sara, here.”

  “Who else do you think calls me Mother, Katie Sara?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Obviously. How are you? Still working at that dreadful job?”

  Deep breath. “If you mean am I still teaching here in Paradox, then, yes, I’m still working at that dreadful job.”