“It makes things difficult,” the teacher continued. “She stares at the door, willing it to open. She’s distracted every time people go by in the hall. And she doesn’t mix well with the other children.”
“Is she disruptive?”
“No.”
“Annoying others?”
“No. Just...off in her own little world.”
“So she’s having adjustment problems in a new setting, and with a whole new set of expectations from strangers. That sounds fairly normal for a five-year-old.” Rainey might not be licensed to teach, but Sonya’s difficulties didn’t seem out of the ordinary for her first month in school.
“Rainey, I think that sums it up quite well,” Mr. O’Mara said. His tone said he didn’t find the child’s prognosis worrisome. “And I think Sonya will do fine once she gets over her shyness and her fear. But I needed you to hear Miss Patterson’s concerns firsthand.”
“Which I appreciate, Mr. O’Mara. And now, what about Dorrie?” She turned to Mrs. Loughlin, and her hopes plummeted as she read the negative look on the older woman’s face.
Mrs. Loughlin wasn’t a bad person. Her son had wanted to date Rainey in high school and his mother had been against it. Rainey didn’t blame her. Staying away from Rainey’s crowd had been in his best interests.
Now she wished people could see the new and improved woman she’d become. She’d returned to Kirkwood Lake determined to set the record straight. What did she have to show for her first two months? She’d messed up her daughters and eroded the dairy’s customer base, and with the all-important end-of-year sales approaching, she needed to find some way to fix things.
Fast.
“They may look alike, but Dorrie is quite different from her sister in many ways. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, Mrs. Loughlin.”
The teacher listed Dorrie’s negative attributes first, which raised the principal’s brow. “She’s tough, bossy, opinionated, and would take over the class in a heartbeat if I let her.”
That sure sounded like Dorrie. Rainey met Mr. O’Mara’s gaze. “And how is this being handled in school?”
Mrs. Loughlin cut in before he had a chance to respond. “I’ve tried cautions, both verbal and physical. You know, a hand on her shoulder, a warning to slow down and wait her turn. I’ve employed studious ignoring, quiet reminders, and I’m thinking of setting up a sticker program to see if that helps the situation.”
“A sticker program?” Rainey repeated. “A reward program, you mean. Stickers for good behavior.”
“A move like that can be beneficial to all concerned.”
Rainey breathed deeply, considering.
They’d called her on the carpet because one girl was quiet and sad about being separated from her twin, while the other was being a rambunctious, noisy twit.
And they’d drawn Rainey in to let her know they wanted to do a sticker reward program to help encourage good behavior? Or to make the point that her kids were apples that hadn’t fallen far from the tree?
Yes, the girls needed to behave. They needed to learn. But they were only three weeks into the year.
Luke’s words came back to her. He’d said he’d readdress the issues at conference time in November if they still existed. Well, that sounded good to her. “I will be happy to do whatever it takes to reinforce their good behavior in school and at home. Their education is very important to us. And then we can meet again at their scheduled conference in November to reevaluate.”
“Us?” Miss Patterson asked doubtfully. She exchanged a not-so-furtive look with Mrs. Loughlin, and in that moment, Rainey knew she’d never convince these women of her change of heart.
She cleared her throat, mustered a smile and stood. “My family. The McKinneys. We’ll work together to help the girls.”
“Wonderful.” Mr. O’Mara stood and extended his hand. “I knew we could count on you, Rainey.”
His words blessed her. His countenance, too. And the flat look he leveled in the teachers’ direction meant he wasn’t thrilled with how the meeting had gone, but it wasn’t Rainey’s behavior that disturbed him.
It was theirs.
Rainey thanked them, pushed through the heavy, plate-glass door of his office and wound her way back to the front. Bottled energy surged forth now that the meeting was over.
Her heart raced. She had an urge to punch someone, but common sense drew her up short. She knew she’d changed. Others didn’t, so she shouldn’t blame them for living in the ashes of a past best forgotten.
And her heart tipped straight into warp factor when she stepped outside on this beautiful fall day and saw Luke Campbell waiting for her, just as he’d said.
Only she hadn’t believed him. Or even thought of it again until just now, but there he was, heading her way. He raised a hand to his forehead, shading bright blue eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon sun. Short, blond hair edged his deputy’s cap. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, he looked like a modern-day Celtic warrior.
“You survived.” He ambled forward, not appearing too happy. But something in his face—an expression that said he understood what she’d just endured and wanted to help—softened the rapid beat of her heart. The spike in her pulse. The knot of dread that formed in her gut every time someone peered at her and saw the old Rainey...
“Alive, but not unscathed.”
The glint in his eyes said he reciprocated the feeling.
“You waited for me.”
“I said I would.” He flicked a glance at the school, reminding her of his promise inside. “And I’m a man of my word.”
“Why did you wait?”
He fell into step alongside her. “I could tell Miss Patterson was spoiling for a fight. She’ll go easy on me because her younger sister is married to my uncle. I was afraid she might take it out on you.”
“Pretty unprofessional.”
Luke took three long steps before answering. “She lost her parents this past year. I know she’s been struggling. My aunt thought she should take a leave of absence, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Keeping busy might be good for her, but I’m not sure it’s in the best interests of her students.”
What a conundrum. Still, the deputy was right. The kids should always come first. But who was Rainey to judge? She had a host of grave mistakes on her record already. She turned his way as they reached their cars. “We’ll give her time.”
The deputy didn’t look convinced. “I don’t offer a lot of leeway when I’m talking about my kid.”
Add protective and loving to crazy good-looking and a pulse-stopping smile.
Add nothing. He’s a cop. You’re an ex-con. Even with your record expunged, you did time. And then you left your girls.
She had. She knew that. But she’d returned, determined to make things right. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if her return was selfless or self-motivated but that was her personal dragon to slay. “Ex-cons don’t get much leeway, either.”
To his credit, he didn’t pretend otherwise. “True.”
“Life might not offer do-overs, but everyone deserves a second chance.” She aimed her gaze up to his. “Don’t they?”
His face said maybe. Maybe not. From a cop’s perspective, his reluctance to agree made sense. From hers?
His reticence was another chunk in a well-built wall. A wall she needed to scale or break down, one brick at a time. She looked beyond him to the terraced village leading down to the water’s edge. Yellowing foliage blocked the shoreline view. Once the leaves turned completely, they’d fall. The holiday season would be at hand, her first Thanksgiving and Christmas with her girls in years. That was enough, wasn’t it?
Unless you shouldn’t have come back at all. The insidious whisper crawled up from somewhere deep within. The girls are struggling and your effect on the family business ma
y prove disastrous. Who exactly are you helping by your presence in Kirkwood?
Her hands went cool and clammy. A shiver that had nothing to do with the fall weather crept up her spine. “My decision to come home—to fix things—might be more a detriment than a help,” she admitted. “And that’s the reality I wake up to each morning these days.” She turned and moved toward her mother’s car, knowing her past limited her future, but those do-overs she talked about? The ones that weren’t possible?
Oh, how she wished they were.
* * *
A detriment?
Impossible, thought Luke. Not with her face, her hair, those eyes, storm-cloud gray, deep and luminous. Eyes that held a constant mix of emotions. Her life held a blend of misdeeds and misfortune, sure, but everyone had a past, including him, and smart folks knew enough to let it be. Unfortunately, not everyone in town saw things that way.
The urge to protect and defend rose within him, but Luke sloughed it off. He’d loved a woman with issues once, and losing her had nearly killed him. It had killed his faith and a good share of his hope, at least until they’d found Aiden, unharmed. Hope had bloomed that day, within a cloud of sorrow.
Aiden came first, from that point forward. “I’d like to offer you a proposition. About our kids. ”
Rainey looked at him, confused, and Luke smiled. “Aiden loves your girls. I’ve been working overtime since you got back home, and with all the drama at the farm, I knew your family was crazy busy.”
They had been fighting off an eminent domain petition put forth by the town supervisor. For a few weeks, tensions ran high, until the town ruled in favor of McKinney Farms. Still, Luke’s words were only half-true. He’d avoided his friend’s farm because Rainey was back. Coming face-to-face with a woman who’d abandoned her children didn’t make his short list. Fate had decided otherwise today. “Aiden comes out of his shell when the twins are around.”
“Okay...” She drew the word out, as if wondering where he was going. But she was willing to listen.
“I was thinking we could strategize together. Dorrie brings out the adventurer in Aiden when they play together. Aiden brings out the protector in Sonya. And together they help Dorrie think twice before getting into trouble. What if we set up a way to help them help us?”
“You mean playdates?
He shrugged lightly. “Beyond that. Like our own little classes to help reinforce good behavior. Does that make sense to you?”
Rainey paused, thinking. “I can’t give you an answer right off. First, because it sounds good and that means there’s most likely a flaw we’ve overlooked.”
He nodded, but the only flaw he saw was that being around Rainey could prove dangerous to his heart. Luckily, he believed in aspirin therapy and a good diet. Except for nachos on game days. And strawberry-rhubarb pie. He wasn’t opposed to ice cream from McKinney’s Dairy Store, either.
“Second, I don’t wade into unknown waters. I think and pray, and that’s stopped me from doing and saying a lot of stupid things as an adult. Including some of the thoughts that ran through my mind in that meeting.” She frowned in the direction of the school.
Her honesty made him smile. “I concur.”
“Third.” She met his gaze. And while he read the uncertain shadows in her eyes, she proved she had them under control with her next words. “Getting involved with anyone isn’t on my agenda, Luke. So if this is your version of a pickup line, you get a gold star for ingenuity. But I’m not interested.”
Her eyes said the words weren’t quite accurate. She was interested but didn’t want to be.
Well. That made two of them.
Her firm stance said she wouldn’t budge an inch. And that made Luke wonder—for just a moment—if he could convince her otherwise.
He let go of that thought instantly, but it came back to haunt him after they agreed to talk later in the week, and said their goodbyes.
The deal was good for both of them. And he couldn’t pretend that spending time with Rainey would be punishment. Not with that face, that hair, that voice.
He refocused his thoughts on the kids, three rascals who needed time and space to establish their roots. His mother believed good family roots allowed for great wings, and Luke was determined Aiden should have both, even if he’d been reluctant to follow through in the past. Maybe with Rainey’s girls around more often, the three of them could attain more solid ground together.
Chapter Two
Rainey strode down the hall to Miss Patterson’s room on Friday afternoon. Mr. O’Mara met her at the door. “I’m sorry we had to call you in, Rainey, but we’ve got a situation here.”
Mr. O’Mara was the kind of principal that kept his cool. Today he looked exasperated. At her? At the twins? She didn’t know. “How can I help?”
Her words softened his expression. “Come over here.” He walked to a door on the far side of the empty room.
“Where are the kids?” She glanced around the classroom. Bright-toned fall leaves decorated a mural of trees on two walls. Alphabet squares took the place of fruit and nuts among the branches, an inviting way of introducing letters to small children. “Art class? Music?”
“We took them into the gym for playtime so they wouldn’t witness adults pulling their hair out over the antics of two miscreants.” Miss Patterson bit the words through tight teeth, looking none too pleased. Was it Rainey’s presence or the twins’ misbehavior that pushed her this far?
“Sonya and Dorrie, this is Mommy speaking. Come out of there. Now.”
“Dorrie’s not in there.”
A deep voice rumbled from Rainey’s left, and she didn’t have to turn to see the deputy sheriff’s broad chest and shaved chin, he was suddenly standing so close. Warmth emanated from his dark blue uniform shirt. His tie was crooked, as if he’d loosened it, unthinking. He was hatless right now, and his blond-brown hair curled slightly, even cut short. “Aiden and Sonya have locked themselves in the closet.”
Rainey couldn’t resist. “That’s a pretty bold move for a couple of shy kids.”
“But we’d prefer they embolden themselves in a socially acceptable manner,” interjected Miss Patterson, unamused. “Rather than disrupt the entire afternoon lesson with this nonsense.”
Luke shifted slightly. His shoulders rose. His chest broadened. To save them from the outburst she figured was coming, Rainey stretched out a hand. “Give me the key and I’ll open the door.”
Mr. O’Mara frowned. Miss Patterson looked suddenly guilt-stricken.
Luke’s mouth dropped open as realization struck. “You don’t have a key to this door?”
“It appears to be missing.”
“Because I haven’t needed to lock this closet ever.” Miss Patterson’s voice tightened. “Therefore there was no need for a key. Until today, that is.”
“Have you called a locksmith? Doesn’t the janitor have a master set of keys?”
Mr. O’Mara nodded. “We’ve called in a locksmith from Clearwater, but he can’t get here for another hour. And for some reason, it appears that Mr. Gordon doesn’t possess a key to this particular door, either.”
“So you have a door in the kindergarten classroom that locks from the inside, but has no key?”
“As I said...” Miss Patterson drew herself up to her full five-foot-two-inch height, as if posturing would help the situation. “We haven’t needed one—until today.”
“That doesn’t eliminate the negligence of not having one,” Luke offered. His tone was mild, but tension rolled off him. “Right now my son is locked in a closet and we can’t get him out. With Aiden’s history...”
Rainey had no idea what Aiden’s history was, but a giggle from the closet interrupted Luke.
A second giggle joined the first.
Clearly, the two children were m
ore at peace with the situation than the four adults gathered around the door.
“Aiden Campbell, open that door. Now.”
Silence reigned momentarily before being broken by another laugh.
Rainey nudged Luke with her elbow. When he turned, she swept his sheriff’s attire a quick glance. “He’s obviously in awe of the uniform. And your authority.”
Luke sighed and eyed the hinges before shifting his attention to the principal. “Can we pop the hinges?”
Mr. O’Mara shook his head. “They appear slightly warped, so no. We can’t.”
More whispers and giggles from inside the closet weren’t helping the situation, although Rainey was tempted to laugh right along with the two naughty kids. What did that say about her lack of parenting ability?
Miss Patterson’s anxiety was sky-high, and Mr. O’Mara had gone from frustrated to angry with himself. “It’s certainly a situation we’ll rectify now that we’ve been made aware of it. The lack of key and the bad hinges. But in the meantime...” He cast a glance to the locked closet. “We have a problem.”
“Call Dorrie in here,” Luke advised.
Rainey turned, puzzled.
Mr. O’Mara seemed surprised at the request, as well. Miss Patterson rolled her eyes. “That’s a big help.”
“It could be.” Luke’s tight tone said Miss Patterson was skating on thin ice. His grim expression said he found the teacher’s behavior unacceptable. “Dorrie’s got a knack for dealing with these two, as odd as that might seem. Shall I get her?” he asked Mr. O’Mara.
The principal turned on his walkie-talkie. “I’ll have her sent right over.”
Moments later, Dorrie skipped into the room, one pigtail dangled low, half undone. The other still hung neatly in place with a perky purple ribbon. She looked happy, spunky and delightfully normal. “Mommy! Luke! What are you doing here?”
Luke cut straight to the chase. “Sonya and Aiden have locked themselves in this closet. Can you get them to come out, please?”
“Well, yeah. Sure.” She bounced across the room, tapped on the door twice, paused, then tapped twice again.
The Lawman's Holiday Wish Page 2