by Megan Kelly
The bell sounded at last, and Ginger rushed the children on their way. Just a quick tidy-up and she had to go, too. This interview might change her life. She couldn’t let herself think otherwise. She’d lost Scott and the girls. A baby was her last hope for a family.
Ginger doubted she could endure one more difficulty in her life, but the next time she looked up from scrubbing glue off a desk, fate decided to test her.
Cindy Grady loomed in her doorway, a cruel gleam to her smile. “I hear you’ve been seen out in public with the dad of your new student.”
Ginger clenched her teeth against the urge to scream at the woman. It was just too much. But she restrained herself. “I saw your sister. I figured she’d come tattling to you.”
“It’s not tattling if it’s true.”
“Yeah, Cindy, it still is.” Ginger ran the rag across the art table, satisfied. She would not be goaded into an argument.
“My sister would never engage in improper conduct with a student’s father if she had your job.”
“Just what did she claim we were doing?”
Cindy’s lips tightened. “You were on a date.”
Ginger shook her head. “Nope.”
“Yes, you were. She saw you together.”
“She saw Scott, and she saw me. We did talk to one another.” Ginger smirked. “Does that constitute a date in your sister’s book? She must not get out much.”
“Don’t talk about her that way. Everyone saw you at the skating rink. There’s no use denying it.”
“Then I won’t bother. It doesn’t happen to be true, but you and your sister don’t care about truth. Or decency.”
Cindy sucked in a breath. “What did you say? You’re using the word decency? After the way you’ve behaved since your divorce?”
“Is it ‘decent’ to try to oust someone from her job? To spy? To spread rumors about the coach, when you had no idea what the truth of the matter was? Is it ‘decent’ to make up lies?”
“My sister doesn’t lie. It’s no wonder Kyle left you. I know him, and—”
“You know nothing. Not about me or my marriage.”
“But I know what you’ve been up to since it ended.”
Ginger doubted it, and she’d had enough of Cindy’s fishing. “And just what is that?”
“Sleeping around.”
“Prove it.” Sheer bravado pushed her on, especially since Ginger’s heart was racing, but Cindy didn’t know that. “Names? Dates? Photos? What have you got?”
“I wouldn’t stoop so low.”
Ginger dug her nails into her palm to keep the relief from showing. “That’s a surprise. You’ve done nothing but ride me for two years, even before my divorce. I’m not responsible for your sister losing her job, and she can’t have mine. So get off my back.”
Silence pulsed in the room. Ginger waited for the explosion.
Cindy sneered. “Maybe we’ll just see what Mr. Bushfield thinks about you dating the father of a student.”
“Since I have never been on a date with Mr. Matthews, Cindy, you go right ahead and tell him. I’m tired of you hovering like the Grim Reaper, waiting to end my career. We’ll see what Mr. Bushfield thinks of a teacher with no regard for the truth. You know how he feels about being role models for the students.”
The other woman went pink.
“And,” Ginger continued, “while we’re on the subject, there’s nothing in our contracts that says we can’t date the single fathers of students. So I’d advise you to walk carefully back to your own room, Cindy, before I have you brought before the principal on harassment charges.”
Cindy stepped back, then turned on her heel and marched to her own classroom. Ginger felt as though she’d shed twenty pounds of stress.
The irony didn’t escape her, though. Now she could date Scott without worrying about Cindy, and he didn’t want her.
SCOTT MET DYLAN AT JESSE’S, the bar in the James Brothers Hotel. It wasn’t seedy, as Dylan had joked a few days before. It was expensive and no TV in sight. He wouldn’t have expected this to be Dylan’s kind of place. If the guy preferred refined, one-hundred-year-old-plus oak surroundings over a loud sports bar, who was Scott to judge? The beer tasted the same.
Walking in the hotel reminded him of the night he’d met Ginger at the Christmas party. They hadn’t come to the bar then, just the ballroom and one of the guest rooms.
He missed her.
“Are you happy here?” Dylan asked.
Scott looked at the man who was his boss as well as his friend seated on the bar stool next to him, and wondered which was asking. “We’re settling in. The girls are making friends.”
“How about you? Are you making friends?”
Scott tapped his beer bottle against Dylan’s. “Other than you?”
“I haven’t heard you talk about anyone except me and Joe. And Ginger.”
“Low blow, sneaking her into the conversation like that.”
Dylan shrugged.
“You know how to harvest a peach?”
Laughter and curiosity lit Dylan’s face. “Can’t say that I do.”
“First you wait. If you pick it too soon, the fruit is hard and not very juicy or sweet.”
“The pits.”
“Exactly. If you shake the tree, like you would with pecans, the peaches get bruised and mushy. Also not good to eat.”
“Okay. So wait and don’t shake the tree.”
“Right.”
Dylan laughed long and loud. “Are you telling me you’re a peach?”
“I’m telling you, as your new friend, if you want information, you should wait until I’m ready to tell it. Don’t push me or shake me down.”
“Got it.”
Scott drank from his beer, embarrassed at his vehemence but gratified to have made his point.
“So how’s it going with Ginger?”
Scott eyed his friend. So much for making a point. “It’s not.”
“That’s a damned shame. She’s a fine lady. Can’t understand why her husband left her.”
“Not my story to tell.”
“Wouldn’t want you to,” Dylan agreed. “Just hoped you wouldn’t be the same kind of horse’s ass.”
Scott coughed out some beer with his laughter, caught off guard. “Gee, thanks. Ginger would probably claim I’m a different kind of ass.”
“I’m counting on you to do the right thing by her.” Dylan took a long pull of his beer. “Do you know why I pushed to hire you?”
“I was desperate and would work for peanuts?”
“Other than that.”
Scott shook his head, curious.
“I’m hoping you’re trainable to be my second. Fill in for me.”
Scott’s eyebrows shot up even while his heart sank. “You’re going somewhere? I thought you were a partner? I can’t take on any financial obligations right now.”
“I am and I’m not.” Dylan grinned and shook his head. “I guess I should say, I’m not and I am.”
“Do I have to shake a straight answer out of you?”
“Hey, I’m no peach.”
Scott smirked. “You shake the pecans.”
“Well, I’m not a nut, either. I’m not leaving R&R. However, I just got married. I have two kids and we’re looking at having some more. I can’t be travelling off-site to troubleshoot for long periods anymore.”
Scott shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong man. I’m sorry. I can’t leave my daughters for long periods, either.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. I still need someone here as my second anyway. We’ll have to find someone else to travel.”
“Charley?”
Dylan frowned. “She has kids, too. We’ll work it out. Even if you can’t travel, I’m thinking you might fit as an assistant manager.”
Surprise shot through him, gratified at having proven himself so soon. “Thanks, Dylan.”
“I haven’t had an assistant before, but we get along well. We think the same.
I’ve been watching your solution process when you hit a snag. I think you’ll do fine at handling my job. Joe’s thinking of doing the same thing, getting an assistant, and actually Charley might be better with him, though I’d hate to lose her from Development.”
“I don’t know everyone as well as you do, of course, but I’ll keep an eye out. And I hear what you’re not saying. Nothing’s official yet, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“That’s true, but it’s not all I’m not saying.”
Scott drained his beer, sure he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“I’m also not saying you need to stop being an idiot. Figure out a way to make that relationship work with Ginger Winchester. She’s going to give you the stability you need to raise your children.”
Scott was right. He didn’t like hearing it. Not from Dylan and definitely not from his heart.
He drove home, thankful to have Tara’s neighbor watching the girls. Kim was seventeen and wanted to be an elementary school teacher. He often considered setting her up to talk to Ginger, to get the lowdown on the behind-the-scenes, nitty gritty aspects of teaching. Since Ginger didn’t even talk to him these days, nor had he contacted her since their last talk, he didn’t see that meet happening.
Another thing to feel guilty about. He should just give his babysitter Ginger’s number. But he was holding back, he admitted. Maybe he’d use Kim as an excuse to call Ginger. Just to hear her voice, to make a connection.
He missed her. Every day. Every night.
He opened his front door, met Horace halfway and bent down to pet him. The dog hardly ever jumped anymore. Ginger’s influence again.
“Daddy.”
Scott looked up in time to see—and catch—Rena as she launched herself toward him from the fourth stair up. His heart pounded with fear until he had her in his arms. “Don’t do that, pumpkin.”
He gave her an extra squeeze and set her down. He’d have to enroll her in some gymnastics class to funnel her energy. “Did you have dinner?”
She nodded. “Kim made chicken. But Shelby wouldn’t come eat it.”
He raised his eyebrows at the teen coming into the room. Today her spiky hair was tamed into black and orange curls. What did his mama call them? Pin curls? Like Shirley Temple’s only skinnier. He wanted to grin but wasn’t sure how Kim would take it. “I left money for pizza, Kim. You didn’t have to cook. Thank you, by the way, for picking up the girls after day care.”
She grimaced. “No problem.”
Scott waited, as her face and words sent different messages. No doubt more was coming. And no doubt it had to do with his absent daughter who wouldn’t eat Kim’s chicken.
“Shelby’s in her room,” Kim confirmed as though reading his mind. “She was unhappy about something the entire evening, right after she got off the phone, but when I tried to talk to her, she was disrespectful.”
“She told Kim to shut her big mouth,” Rena clarified, swinging back and forth from the newel post. “Then she wouldn’t say sorry.”
“I sent her to her room, Mr. Matthews. I didn’t know what else to do with her.”
“She was screaming,” Rena added.
“That’s enough tattling, Serena. What does she mean, Kim?”
“She was swearing at me.” Her gaze went to his little girl. “I’d rather not repeat what she said.”
“Swearing? Shelby?” He’d never heard it from her and instantly felt guilty. He knew where she must have learned to swear—straight from him.
He took off his coat, grim clear down to his boots. “Can you stay, Kim? Until I can talk to Shelby and get her calmed down. I’ll have her apologize to you.”
Kim nodded. “But I do have an eleven o’clock curfew.”
Scott stopped midstride then glanced back over his shoulder. It was ten to seven. Kim’s grin had him smiling. Kids were so darned resilient. He’d probably get upstairs to find Shelby lost in a book, all former misery forgotten.
But when he got to her room and jimmied open her lock, she was gone, a note propped in the arms of her old teddy bear.
She’d run away.
Chapter Twelve
Scott read the note for the fourth time. It still didn’t make sense that Shelby would run away. What did she mean nobody loved her? Which friend would hurt her so deeply? Even if she didn’t have friends, she had him and Serena. She’d probably talked to that mean girl, Jean. And the bit about wanting to go back to Georgia? “Back home” as she called it. He swallowed down panic. She wouldn’t be trying to make it to some kind of transportation center, would she? She knew full well how far away “home” was. Hell, they didn’t even have that house anymore. Where did she think she was going?
Kim and Rena were in the living room, crying. He’d grilled the babysitter on everything she could remember, any hint Shelby might have given since leaving day care.
Everything Kim related sounded normal. “Shelby was quiet on the ride home. She was on the phone then came downstairs in a bad mood.”
“I think she was crying,” Rena put in.
They both looked at her. “Why do you think so?”
Kim’s forehead furrowed. “I didn’t notice. Are you sure?”
Rena nodded. “Her eyes were red and sad.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Kim asked.
“Shelby and me cry a lot. Our mommy died before we moved here. It makes us hurt inside.”
Scott swallowed his guilt. He’d known, but he’d hoped it would ease. Crying was part of the grieving process, so he hadn’t wanted them to feel they shouldn’t. Maybe moving the girls away from both sets of grandparents had been a mistake. Despite his talk with Dylan earlier about becoming his assistant, he might have to move his girls back to Atlanta.
He’d have to think about that later. Right now, he had to find Shelby.
“Shelby said mean things to both of us,” Kim continued, “then stomped upstairs to her room. About twenty minutes later, she came down to take Horace out again, even though I’d taken him out when we got home.”
“She said,” Rena inserted, “it was her job and at least Horace loved her.”
“At least?” Scott questioned.
The teenager wiped away her tears and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews. I thought it was normal. She’s never happy to have me over because that means you’re gone. I get that a lot with kids.” She shrugged, looking helpless. “I didn’t put any added importance on it today.”
They hadn’t seen Shelby since nor had she responded to calls for dinner. Her door was locked; her music turned up.
Kim blamed herself. Scott tried hard not to.
He needed a plan. Tearing through papers on his desk, he searched for the phone number list of her classmates. Jean. Maria, or was it Marie? Harry and Ron. Who would she turn to? Who did she know?
And God, how would she get there? He swallowed, picturing his little girl in the dark, in the cold, walking alone. Please, Lord, let her still be alone. Safe somewhere.
Terror seized every muscle and organ in his body. How long before he called the police? Would they act before twenty-four hours passed since she was so young?
Remembering he’d left the phone list in the kitchen while making plans for the Valentine’s Day party a couple weeks before, he surged into the room, trying not to look as frantic as he felt. No need to scare Rena or Kim as much as he was scared. He yanked open the junk drawer, thumbed through the file he kept on Shelby’s school. Finally spotted the paper sticking out of the residential phone book where he’d highlighted the numbers of her friends that he didn’t want to lose.
His cell phone rang, and he snatched it from his pocket, heart pounding. Let her be found. Let her be safe.
“Shelby’s here.”
Scott’s knees buckled on hearing those words and recognizing the voice. He closed his eyes and sank against the counter. Ginger. “Thank God. What is she doing there? Where are you? Home? School? I’ll come right away. I’m putting on
my coat.”
He matched action to his words in an instant, flying to the front door. With a hand over the speaker, he turned to Kim and Rena. “She’s okay. She’s with a friend.”
Kim’s tears tracked mascara down her cheeks in black rivers. She hugged Serena close, rocking them both as they cried out their relief.
“Wait,” Ginger’s whisper came in his ear.
“Wait? What are you talking about? I can’t wait. Why would I? I’m coming right now. To your house, right, not the school?”
Considering the time of night, he’d go to Ginger’s whether she confirmed or not. It was closer anyway.
Wait? What kind of B.S. was that?
“Don’t come yet,” she urged, still in a whisper. “I wanted to let you know she’s okay. She’s in the bathroom, so I only have a minute.”
“Ginger, that’s just not going to happen. I’m on my way.”
“I’m trying to get her to tell me what’s going on. Why she ran away. I don’t want her to do it again, so if we can get to the bottom of it now, when she came someplace safe, maybe she won’t run away again. And if she does, she’ll know she can trust me.”
He closed his eyes, processing. He wanted to deny her logic, wanted to rush over and get his baby girl in his arms.
He put his forehead against the front door, ignoring Horace’s whine at his side. The important thing was Shelby was safe. That’s all he wanted. He took a deep breath. “How long?”
Ginger’s breath whooshed through the phone. “I don’t know. It would be best if she called you, but if I can’t get her to do that, I’ll call you myself. No more than an hour.”
“Forget that. I’ll give you half an hour, but then I’m on your porch.”
“Whatever you think is best for Shelby.” She disconnected.
He scowled at the phone before putting it back in his pocket. That last shot was underhanded.
And probably smarter than his plan. Not that he had a plan, per se, other than driving over and holding Shelby so tight he’d likely crush her. Then spanking her to within an inch of her life—did parents still spank kids? He didn’t think so. She was definitely grounded forever. First, of course, he had to give her something to be grounded from other than school and lessons.