by Lois Richer
“I’m not concerned about gossip.” She frowned.
“Then it’s working together that bothers you.” Zac rubbed his chin. “I thought—hoped that after so many years we’d be past that and able to concentrate on what’s best for the kids, but—”
“It’s not the past, either,” Brianna sputtered, frustrated that he kept butting in.
“Then it’s me. I understand your hesitation.” He leaned forward, face earnest. “Forget about it. I’ll manage.”
“But—”
“No, if you have hesitations, you should say no.” He sat there, silent, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.
“Actually I was going to say yes,” she said in her driest tone. “But I think you just talked me out of it. I mean, if you no longer need me—”
Zac’s eyes widened. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he gulped. He blinked. “Pardon?”
“I said I would help you. If you want me to.” His attitude confused her and she hated feeling confused. “Are you regretting asking for my help, Zac?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly.” His carefully blank expression irritated her.
“I know you think I let you down—before.” She met his stare. “I won’t do that again. I promise.”
“This isn’t about the past,” he murmured.
“Maybe not, but our past certainly weighs into it.” She needed to get the guilt out in the open, to deal with it and maybe, finally, be free of it. “You can’t deny we have a history.”
“I’m not denying anything.” His head went up and back, his shoulders straightened. “We made plans.” He shrugged. “They didn’t happen.”
“No. They didn’t.” Because he and her mother had spoiled that. Suddenly it seemed pointless to discuss the past. “So?” Brianna poured herself another cup of tea just to keep her hands busy. “Where do we start?”
“With Homecoming?” He pulled forward a blank pad and wrote the word across the top in his scratching script. “It would give us the most bang for our buck if we announced a new plan at the Friday-morning assembly. Some parents will probably show up for that so this way they’d learn about our plan at the same time as the kids.”
“Whatever our plan is,” she added in a droll voice.
“Yeah. Maybe we could put a float in the Homecoming parade.” He doodled on the pad.
“A float? We only have a week to organize it. And why a float? What’s the purpose?” Brianna didn’t mention that her brain had been whirling with ideas ever since he’d asked her to help, because it was also whirling with confusion at how he’d pushed everything they’d shared into the past. Was it so easy for Zac to forget that he’d once said he loved her?
“Forget about the time left.” He leaned back in his chair. “Forget about everything but that some kids need your help. Now, I know you’ve been thinking about this because you couldn’t help yourself. You’re compelled to get in there and nurture these kids to do better.” He grinned. “So how shall we start?”
They brainstormed ideas. It was slow going at first, but gradually Brianna relaxed enough to let her thoughts roam freely. Finally the idea that had been hidden at the back of her brain burst out.
“Your world.” She stared at the scribbles he’d made on the paper, then lifted her head to stare at him. “It’s called ‘Your World.’”
“Okay.” He wrote that down then waited. “Meaning?”
“How do you want your world to look?” She smiled as his face tightened. “That’s straight from your lips, Zac. Get kids thinking by giving them a glimpse of what could be, beyond Hope, beyond what is now.”
“Good.” He tapped his pen. “How do we start?”
“First we need board approval. And a budget. You’ll have to get the teachers on board with this, too,” she warned.
“I can do that.”
She was surprised by how easily Zac accepted her ideas, but she didn’t stop to think about it because thoughts kept mushrooming in her head. “Remember Billy Atkins?”
“Billy. Sure, I remember.” Zac nodded. “He runs the local newspaper.”
“And he’s still a phenomenal artist judging by the mural on the side of his building. I think you should have the entry wall, the one you see the moment you enter the school, painted a startling white.” She grinned. “And then ask Billy to paint a globe on it with the words Your World across the top. Dad could probably help if we needed him.”
“Okay.” Skepticism filled his face. “What do we do with this globe?”
“This is where you have to be flexible, Zac.” She paused, inhaled, then told him the gist of her idea. “Every kid gets a chance to write what he wants to see in his world on that wall.” She didn’t stop even though his face blanched. “If this is going to work, the students have to believe someone will listen to what they write, listen to what they want. You and the staff must accept their ideas, whether or not you agree with them. You have to be genuine. I will not be part of this if you or the board intend to veto the suggestions they make.”
“There are certain things we can’t allow,” he said stiffly.
“Of course.” She nodded. “So you say that to the kids. No vulgarity, no cursing, no inappropriate remarks about teachers. But don’t get hung up on the negatives. You want genuine responses that the students are willing to work to achieve.”
“And if we get the other?” he asked.
“You have that painted over and wait for a new suggestion.” Brianna paused to watch his face. “Be prepared, Zac. It might not go as well as you hope at first. But I think, if given a chance, students will have some remarkable ideas about the way they want their world to look. Some ideas may be quite easy to achieve. But nothing can be discounted just because you think it’s too difficult or too far out,” she warned. “Every idea deserves consideration.”
Zac wrote as fast as she talked, nodding from time to time. When he finally looked at her, a glimmer lit his eyes.
“It might work,” he said in a dazed tone. “It just might work.”
“It will work, but only if no one judges or criticizes. Your World is all about possibilities.”
“What do we do once everyone has contributed?” He laughed and shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say. Start working on them. Right?”
“Yes. We’ll need a committee of students who are willing to prioritize and a teacher or two who will agree to sit in on their meetings. Sit in on,” she repeated firmly. “Not run. This is an initiative by the students.”
“Maybe you can think about doing that,” he suggested.
Brianna shook her head. “I’m here only to help brainstorm ideas.”
“Any more of them?” Zac asked, one eyebrow arched.
“I’d forget about announcing anything at the rally.”
“But—” He stopped, looked at her and said, “Go on.”
“This might be hard to do in the short time left before Homecoming, but if the board agrees to the plan and you can recruit some people, I think a float in the Homecoming parade is a good idea.” He didn’t interrupt so she continued. “A great big globe with the words Your World—How do you see it? floating down the street will get a lot of attention. No explanation. Nothing. You, the teachers, the board—you all remain silent until the plan is announced on Monday. By the time Monday comes and the wall is ready, everyone in the entire town will be talking.”
Zac nodded, jotted a few more things on his paper. By the time he leaned back in his chair, he’d lost the tense air she’d seen when she arrived.
“This is exactly what we need. A little excitement, a little mystery, something out of the ordinary.” His eyes met hers sending a little tingle down Brianna’s spine.
She was not prepared for his next question.
“Would you be willing to be the spokes
person for Your World at the board meeting?” Zac held up a hand to interrupt her refusal. “You think on your feet. You’re good at public speaking. You can present this idea in a way that will grip the board far more than anything I say. They’ll listen to you, Brianna.”
“They won’t listen to you?” She frowned. That didn’t sound like a good start.
“Yes, they would. But I’d rather present the information about drugs and the threat to our schools.” He met her stare. “I want them to have a clear picture of what could happen if we don’t initiate this program.”
“You’re the negative, I’m the positive, which will make them more inclined to see this as a solution, a way out,” she mused. “Good idea.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Not so fast. By presenting this, I’m the one who’ll take the heat if something goes wrong or if the plan fails.” She paused. “Or is that the point?”
“I never thought of that, but it works for me.” He chuckled at her dark look. “You won’t take any heat, Brianna. I’ll make sure of that. Anyway, I have a feeling they’re going to embrace this idea. It will give everyone a kick start to make changes.”
“When’s the board meeting?” Brianna asked.
“Tonight.”
“What?” She gulped. “Zac, I need time to prepare.”
“No, you don’t. You always excelled at speaking off the cuff. I doubt that’s changed.” He stacked his papers together. “Be here at seven. I’ll rework the agenda so our plan will go first.”
“Zac, I—” Brianna panicked. What was she doing? She hadn’t been back in Hope that long. She didn’t even know who was on the school board. What business was it of hers to make a suggestion like this to people who’d probably see her as an interloper after so many years?
“Brianna.” Zac’s hand covered hers and sent a shockwave up her arm.
“Yes?” She refocused. His dark eyes gleamed with something—hope?
“This is for the kids—for Cory.” His fingers tightened against her skin. “Don’t think about anything else. Concentrate on the kids.”
Her free hand lifted to touch the outline of her ring lying under the collar of her blouse. The old Zac, the one she’d remembered, had smiled like that and made her think of possibilities, and infused her with courage when she most needed it.
The tingling in her arm magnified. Brianna drew away from his touch. What was it about this man that he could still get her to react with nothing more than a smile and a touch?
“You can do it, Brianna.”
There it was again, that encouragement she remembered so well.
“They’re just people,” he said quietly. “Parents like you who want their kids to succeed. We can help them, if we work together. If we get the town working together.”
How many years had she prayed, begged God to let her help kids, to give her the knowledge and grace to make a difference in the world? Her old job had denied her that opportunity. She’d felt useless, a cog in a machine that ground up and spat out those who didn’t conform. She’d done her best to help, but this would bring her the chance she’d longed for every time she’d pushed herself a little harder to finish her doctorate. This was why she’d clung to Zac’s ring and savored his past words of encouragement even when he was no longer in her life. Now he was telling her she could make a difference in Hope.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” Her nerves evaporated.
“Thank you.”
“On one condition,” she added.
“Brianna.” Zac sighed. “What condition?”
“Just listen.” She had to stand firm on this. “I have Cory, my mom in the nursing home and my dad healing from his heart attack. I also have my work. All of them take my time, time I’ll have to cut back on to help you. So I want your agreement that if and when you see a time and place where you can get involved with Cory, you will.”
“Cory? But what would I do?” Clearly Zac was not enthralled by the prospect.
“I don’t know. But there must be something.” Brianna leaned forward. “Cory’s on the wrong path and I need help to turn him around before his appointment with the judge at Christmas. I’ve agreed to help you out, Zac, now I want your promise you’ll do what you can to find some common ground with Cory.”
“I don’t know what I can do,” Zac murmured.
“You’ll think of something.” Inside she was desperately afraid he’d refuse, but she stood firm. “That’s my condition, Zac. Take it or leave it.” She waited, hoping he’d say yes because she really wanted to be a part of Your World, to make a difference, to see lives changed because of something she’d helped create.
“All right. If there’s something I can do, I’ll try.” That was all Zac said, but it was enough.
His secretary paged him then, so Brianna left. As she drove back to work, she realized Zac’s project was her opportunity. If she could just find the right words, share her vision with the school board, maybe she could finally help kids as she’d longed to since she’d left Zac—and this town—so long ago.
“Please don’t let me screw this up,” Brianna prayed.
Chapter Four
“Dad, why is Mom so insistent I revive her store? It’s been closed for years.” Fresh from a disastrous visit at the nursing home, Brianna flopped into a chair. “I don’t understand her obsession with that place.”
“Nor did I until last year.” Hugh Benson sank into his easy chair, his face sad. “I learned the whole story after a private investigator visited us. You see, your grandfather passed away last year. According to his will, his assets were then distributed to his descendents—Anita being his daughter.”
“A grandfather? In Iowa? But you never told me—” Brianna frowned at him.
“I never knew. Your mother told me when we were married that her father was dead. That’s all I ever knew until last year when your mother told me her father inherited a furniture store from his father. Anita grew up there. She worked in that store from a very early age, loved it and learned every facet of what went on. You know how adept your mother is at business. As an only child, she expected to one day run the family business herself.”
“Of course.” Brianna recalled her mother’s keen business sense. “She’d have been very good at it. She always had a flair for interior decor.”
“Yes.” Her father looked grim. “Well, Anita stepped in to manage the place when her dad had his first heart attack. She was only eighteen and did well, except she made a mistake. Her error cost the company money and her father was furious. A little later, when he was forced to retire, he refused to give Anita any control because of that mistake. He said she wasn’t smart enough or capable enough to carry on the business he’d inherited from his father.”
“Poor Mom. That must have hurt.”
“Yes, even more because he put some distant cousin in charge and made Anita one of the hirelings. The cousin made bad mistakes but no matter how Anita pleaded, her father wouldn’t recant. Anita was desperately hurt and left Iowa after her mother died. Her father told her not to come back so she didn’t. She never spoke to her father again. The bequest he left her was the smallest in his estate, smaller than the least employee’s. He punished her to the end.”
“So to get back at him, Mom created her own business to pass on to me,” Brianna guessed, glimpsing the past with wiser eyes. “That explains so much. But why didn’t she ever tell me?”
“Would it have made a difference?” her father asked, his face grave.
“You mean would I have given up my goal of psychology?” she asked. “No. But at least I’d understand why she was so determined that I stay. She was ashamed and embarrassed and determined to prove her father wrong by building her own business. Except I couldn’t be part of it.” Hindsight explained a lot.
“So now you
know.” Hugh Benson’s pencil flew across the page, his caricature of Cory coming to life. “You said you came back to Hope to help kids. So that’s why you’re helping Zac present this Your World plan tonight?”
“Yes.” Brianna sighed. “I’m not sure about working with him, though.”
“Because?”
But Brianna could not, dare not answer that. Not until she’d sorted out the miasma of conflicting feelings that took over whenever Zac was around.
Outside, a short beep of a car horn sounded.
“That’s Jaclyn. We’re going out for a quick supper before I go to the board meeting. I know you’re going back to see Mom. Cory’s eating at his new friend’s house but he’s supposed to be back in a couple of hours.” Brianna grabbed her bag and her jacket. As she slipped her feet out of slippers and into her sandals she felt her dad’s stare. “What?”
“I thought—hoped you might stop by the nursing home later tonight. You know the truth now. Maybe you two could make up.” There was no condemnation in his quiet voice but that didn’t stop Brianna feeling a ripple of guilt.
“It’s too soon for that, Dad.” She grabbed the doorknob. “Mom was pretty upset today.” She winced, remembering her mother’s angry diatribe.
“Brianna.” Her dad’s firm tone insisted she hear him out.
She inhaled and waited.
“Your mother had a stroke.” He sounded angry. “She can’t do the things she wants to do and her temper flares. She gets uncertain mood swings and frequently can’t express herself the way she wants. Cut her some slack, will you?”
All the past hurt, all the angry words and bitter remarks she’d endured came flooding back. Brianna couldn’t stop the rush of anger.
“I’ve been cutting Mom slack my whole life, Dad. I figured that maybe, after all these years, she might have learned to do the same for her one and only daughter. But I guess I still embarrass her.” Stung by the chastisement in his eyes, she left, quietly but firmly shutting the door behind her before she walked to her friend’s car.