Breaking the Rules

by Melinda Dozier

  Colin leaned toward him and whispered but Jason ignored him and walked tall to the front until he stood before the entire room.

  Hope’s heart jumped. She stood and smiled at Jason. “You don’t have to do this, Jason.”

  He nodded at her, all serious. It broke her heart. “Yes, I do, Ms. Robinson. Please let me do this.”

  She looked at Colin, who had moved forward and stood in the middle of the rows. He shrugged and then made his way to her side.

  “None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for me,” Jason said earnestly. “I’m the one who said something and Mrs. Morales heard me at the dance.” He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “All this talk about Ms. Robinson and my dad is right. They were … I dunno … seeing each other. I thought it was really cool.”

  Colin reached over and squeezed Hope’s hand. She squeezed back.

  “My dad had been sad for a real long time until Ms. Robinson came along. When Ms. Robinson was around, my dad laughed more and it was really cool to see him like that.” He shrugged. “Not that we didn’t laugh, but it wasn’t the same since my mom died, you know.”

  Colin twisted in his chair and whispered in her ear, “Should I stop him?”

  She rubbed his arm. “Let him get it out.”

  “One thing I learned about once my mom died was that we need to find happiness somewhere and somehow, and Ms. Robinson is the one who brought that back to our family. Now there are people who are trying to stop that and it makes me sad.”

  When tears started to fall down Jason’s face, Colin stood and went to his son. “Jas, you don’t need to go on.”

  “Yeah, I do, Dad. This is all my fault.” He cleaned his nose with his sleeve and looked at Mrs. Morales. “Yeah, I got into trouble. I was stupid. But, Ms. Robinson suspended me. I also had other consequences at home. But that doesn’t make her a bad principal. She’s the best. She knows how to talk to me and make me see what I did wrong. She goes to our swim meets and celebrates our victories. She plays in the sports games and has fun with the students. She’s a real person and that’s what makes her a great principal. All this talk about her clothes and stuff doesn’t even make sense. If clothes makes a person who they are, then we should all take a look at what we’re wearing.”

  He paused and Colin reached around to tug his shoulders. “Okay, good job, Jas.”

  Jason shrugged his dad off. “No. I’m not done. Dad, you and Ms. Robinson belong together. Now that you’re not, all you do is mope around the house. It sucks. Plus, I miss her too, Dad. She makes us happy. Please. Don’t let this stop you two from being together, because it’s too cool to pass up.”

  Hope stood and walked to his side. “Jason, thank you so much for speaking for me.” She hugged his shoulder. “It means the world to me. But this is a whole different situation.”

  “It’s not, Ms. Robinson. I know what I’m talking about ’cause I lost my mom. I need my dad and I need you. So, can you two get back together already?” He walked to Mr. Stently. “And all this stuff about her not being a good principal is just a bunch of crap — sorry for the word. Do you remember Principal Morris last year? I saw him sleeping at his desk once. Ms. Robinson would never do that. She cares about her students, she cares about me, and I think that’s what it’s about. People.” He took a deep breath and gave a final nod.

  “Well, thank you, Jason. On behalf of the board, I can say we appreciate your words. It takes a lot of courage to stand up in front of a crowd to tell us what you think.”

  “What I think is that Ms. Robinson and my dad should be able to … you know … . see each other, date, marry, whatever while she continues to be the best principal. I promise not to get into any more trouble.” He turned to Colin. “I promise, Dad. No more trouble.”

  “Jas,” both Colin and Hope said his name.

  Mr. Stently stood. “In light of all that’s been said, I would like the board to discuss what we’ve heard and reconvene in ten minutes.”

  The room spiraled into an uproar. Several parents shook Jason’s hand. Others thanked Hope for her service. Colin stood to the side, and when Hope caught his eye, a smile creeped up on his face.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m so proud of Jason. I mean, wow.” He tried to shrug off his emotions but didn’t succeed. She caught the glint of a tear. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

  Jason had sat down next to Kelly, enjoying the spotlight. “He’s something.”

  “Listen, Hope, no matter what happens, Jason’s right.”

  “Absolutely right.” She nodded.

  “It’s about the people in our lives.”

  She nodded again. “He’s a smart kid.”

  “I need you, Hope. We need you, apparently.”

  “Were you really moping?”

  “Like a basset hound.” He reached out and pulled her by the waist. “I don’t care what all these people think. We belong together. It’s obvious you’re the best principal for the school, no matter who you date … or marry.”

  “Marry?”

  “I love you, Hope. God, I love you.” He touched her cheek.

  Her heart leapt for joy. She beamed at him and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Before she could say anything, the board members marched back into the room.

  Colin whispered in her ear, “I’m not done yet.” He grabbed her hand, walked her to her place, and sat next to her.

  Mr. Stently stood tall. “Ladies and gentlemen, we needed no more time for our decision. In light of all that was said, the board feels there are no clear reasons to suspend our current principal. Ms. Robinson is reinstated.”

  Applause arose around her. Warmth radiated throughout her body and she held tighter onto Colin’s hand.

  “And we also would like to point out that a new board member position is open and will be voted on at the next meeting. Mrs. Morales has stepped down and will no longer be at our services.”

  Applause broke out again and someone shouted “About time.”

  Colin leaned closer and whispered, “Congratulations.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Ms. Robinson, we hope that you want to stay on as principal. As you probably know, there is no written rule that staff cannot have a relationship with a parent of a student. We figured it wouldn’t happen with our professionals at our school.”

  Hope bit her lip.

  “But this relationship is different and the board feels it is not a hindrance to your position.”

  Hope sighed in relief.

  “And Jason, it was a big thing you did, getting up and speaking to us. We’re proud of you, son. Now, convince your dad and Ms. Robinson that it’s okay with us if they … what did you call it? Date each other. We want to see you laughing more, boy, and if that means these two adults get together, then so be it.”

  Applause erupted and someone shouted, “Kiss her.”

  Colin stood and motioned for everyone to be quiet. He reached down and grabbed her hand. “In light of all this, I’d like to say … thank God.” Laughter arose. “Really, thank you all for your support. You have a brilliant principal on your hands. And if she’ll have me, I’d like to continue what we started.”

  Her face warmed as he pulled her to stand in front of him.

  “Hope, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Colin.” She shyly looked around at the people in the room.

  “No, I mean, I really, really love you.” Colin nodded to Jason. “We love you.”

  “I love you both, too.” She smiled at Jason.

  “Well then, let’s just do this. These past two weeks have shown me I can’t live without you. Life is too short to pass up what is good and right. I’ve learned that the hard way. You and I are meant to be together. I feel it right here.” He patted h
is heart. “I know you feel it too.”

  She nodded as tears fell down her cheek. “I do.”

  “Say that again.”

  “I do.”

  “Marry me, Hope. Be my wife and Jason’s mom — and principal — and make us smile again.”

  She jumped into his arms and let out a laugh. “Of course I will.”

  He threw her around in a circle while she giggled. “I bet this is on that bucket list of yours, isn’t it?”

  “Is that why you asked me to marry you?”

  “Not at all, but if we can cross it off the list, then why not?”

  “I have another thing we can cross of the list. Let’s go home — Your home, our home, and figure out what that is.”

  “Let’s go.” Colin reached in his back pocket and put on his cap.

  “You have your hat?”

  Colin winked. “It’s my lucky hat. Look what I got out of it.”

  “A happily ever after.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

  About the Author

  Reading romance has always been at the top of Melinda’s favorite past times. That’s why her careers are devoted to reading and writing — an international middle school teacher by day and a sassy romance writer by night. She lives in Guatemala, Central America, with her husband, three boys, and German Sheppard, Bella. She enjoys being the queen of her household and dreams of being pampered fully by her boys once they are grown. Melinda loves reading, reality TV, traveling, blogging, and playing Draw Something.

  You can find Melinda on Twitter at www.twitter.com/melindadozier or at her website www.melindadozier.com

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  (From Georgie’s Heart by Kathryn Brocato)

  Georgeanne Hartfield stayed at her desk and kept on working. She had hoped skipping lunch with her coworkers would buy her some peace, but she feared she was about to be proven wrong. Worse, her stomach grumbled and complained because she hadn’t expected to miss her lunch today, so she hadn’t brought along a sandwich.

  She bent over her work as she heard the back door to the Gant Medical Clinic open. If she was lucky, they had discovered some new topic to discuss.

  “Listen to this.” Nurse Denise Devereaux appeared and laid the hardback book she held down flat on Georgeanne’s desk with the air of one about to reveal a secret of the universe.

  Georgeanne grimaced at the sight of the book her friend held so reverently. “I have work to do, Denise. I’m not getting paid to hear Fritzi Field’s sexual advice.”

  “You aren’t getting paid to miss your lunch, either,” Denise returned. “Now pay attention, Georgie.”

  “That’s telling her, Denise.” Redheaded Angela Porter joined Denise in leaning over the counter in front of Georgeanne. “The rest of us would love being paid for listening to hints on improving our sex lives.”

  “Quiet, y’all.” Sandra Whitney, a tiny blonde pixie in her starched nurse’s uniform, joined the group and leaned over Denise’s shoulder to study the book. “I want to hear this. Simply everyone is talking about that book.”

  Georgeanne gave up. She smiled upon the other three women and propped her chin on one long, shapely hand. “Go ahead, Denise. I can see I won’t be able to get a thing done until you’re through.”

  Georgeanne prayed Dr. Gant or Dr. Baghri would come in, even though she knew they were out for a long lunch. Whip-cracking doctors never came around when the clinic receptionist needed them to maintain order among the staff. The Gant Medical Clinic, which was located in the rural southeast Texas community of Fannett, usually stayed too busy for such frivolities as book readings.

  Denise, the chief nurse at the Gant Clinic, drew in a deep, dramatic breath. She was a beautiful African-American woman with skin the color of milk chocolate and a figure fit for a Playboy magazine centerfold. “‘If your husband makes your life miserable and blames you because you can’t have an orgasm on demand, he has no right to complain if you resort to a little acting every now and then.’”

  “She’s got a point.” Sandra leaned further over Denise’s shoulder, her pale blonde hair brushing Denise’s black pageboy, and peered at the book.

  “Why all this uproar over a book on how to fake an orgasm?” Angela, the clinic’s lab technician, wanted to know. “I don’t have that sort of trouble.”

  Her tone implied Why would anyone have a problem, unless she’s a psych case? Georgeanne looked thoughtfully at the tall, slender redhead.

  “Neither do I,” Sandra interjected, flushing. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with Fritzi Field. Some women probably do have trouble. I mean — ”

  “Then they should read The Sensuous Woman,” Angela interrupted. “Instead of wasting time learning how to fake it, they could be learning how to experience the real thing. Why all this uproar over something that’s completely natural?”

  Georgeanne never ceased to be amused at the rapid defensiveness of modern women when the subject of orgasm came up. Either every woman she knew experienced orgasm instantly, or every woman she knew lied. According to her friends at the Gant Clinic, sexual desire and orgasm behaved like an electrical switch. When you flipped the switch, lights turned on. Period.

  “Childbirth is perfectly natural, too,” Georgeanne said, “and look at all the books out on it.”

  “Faking It isn’t about having an orgasm,” Angela argued. “It’s about faking an orgasm. There’s a difference.”

  “Fritzi isn’t talking about normal men,” Denise said. “She’s talking about complete jerks. I should know. I was married to one. Listen to this. ‘Why let your marriage be destroyed, when it’s so easy to give him what he wants?

  “‘Many a man thinks a woman ought not to need foreplay. He thinks she ought to be ready the minute he touches her, as if the very thought of sex with him is all that’s needed. Any suggestion that this may not be the way it works sends this man into a frustrated shouting and blaming fit.

  “‘Who needs that?’”

  The women looked at each other a moment in silent agreement when Denise finished reading that passage aloud.

  “Who, indeed?” Georgeanne didn’t look up from her current task of comparing a column of hand-written numbers to a copy of the column in a printed report, but she knew her cheeks glowed with telltale red her thick fall of shoulder-length brown hair might not entirely hide.

  One would think that a twenty-eight-year-old woman who had been married to a man who resembled a young Robert Redford would have stopped blushing when she lost her innocence. But that wasn’t the way things went with her face, Georgeanne thought with resentment. If anything, she blushed even more these days. Fritzi Field’s incredible and unexpected popularity, both nationwide and inside the Gant Clinic, kept her cheeks flaming. Maybe she should claim a sunburn. Or a medical condition.

  “That’s what I say,” Sandra declared. “A man like that deserves whatever he gets.”

  Angela snickered and flipped her red hair off her shoulders. “Are you kidding? He’s getting a heck of a lot more than he deserves. Anyone following Fritzi Field’s instructions will have the idiot thinking he’s God’s gift to womankind.” She stretched out long, white polyester-clad legs and leaned back on Georgeanne’s desk. “Fritzi Field is going around telling women to award those stupid men some sort of bad-behavior prize if you ask me. She ought to be ashamed of herself.”

  Georgeanne bit her full lower lip. A strange, empty feeling attacked her heart, almost as if she had stepped off a porch and found no step where one should have been.

  How ridiculous. Not even she agreed with everything Fritzi Field said, so why should she feel upset when someone else didn’t either?

  “That isn’t what Fritzi is saying — ,” Denise began.

  Georgeanne heard with horror the respectful ton
e in which Denise said “Fritzi” and rushed into speech. “Fritzi Field isn’t trying to say anything. She’s interested in creating a controversy, because controversies sell books.” She added, in a barely audible voice, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fritzi Field turns out to be a man.”

  “Boy, is she — or he — selling books,” Denise agreed. “They’re trying to line her up for all the talk shows, but her agent says she wants to remain anonymous. If I had written Faking It, I’d go on every single talk show that would have me.”

  Guilt, liberally mixed with fear, attacked Georgeanne like a battering ram to the solar plexus. She paled and stared down at the report in her hand.

  Angela grinned. “Oprah Winfrey, here we come.”

  Denise picked through the book and opened it at another marked spot. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of writing Faking It first. I know I am.”

  Georgeanne suppressed a gasp.

  “Yeah,” Angela said. “You’re right about that much.” She folded her hands behind her frizzy red hair and gazed at the ceiling. “Do you know what I’d do if I had all that beautiful royalty money pouring into my scrawny little bank account? I’d buy myself a green Mustang convertible. That’s what I’d do.”

  “With that red hair and pale skin of yours?” Georgeanne looked up and focused on Angela’s milky, freckled skin. “You know what Dr. Gant said to you about getting in the sun ever again in your young life.”

  Angela ignored this comment. “I’d lose five pounds, and I’d buy a tiny black bikini with those high-cut legs, then I’d go cruising down the beach highway with the top down.”

  “Four walls and a roof,” Georgeanne said. “That’s the kind of sunscreen Dr. Gant told you to use.”

  “If you ever made that much money, you’d gain five pounds celebrating at the nearest bar, Angie,” Denise countered. “Do you know what I’d do? I’d buy myself a lot and build a beach cabin in the ritzy section of the beach. Then I’d lose five pounds and put on my red bikini with the high-cut legs and get a tan out on my own deck.”