by Sally John
“Umm.”
He lowered his foot and glanced sideways at her. “You’re not going shy on me, are you?”
“Oh!” It was a loud, exhaled syllable. “Oh.” That one sounded more like a whimper. “I am. You tell me first. After all, you’re the oldest.”
“Don’t remind me. I feel like I’m robbing the cradle.”
“How old are you?”
“Nine years older than you.”
“How do you know—?”
“Personnel file. You’re 29.”
“I see. What else did you learn from that thing?”
“College. GPA. Honors and extracurricular activities. Reviews. Johannah.” Her middle name. “That’s gotta be a family name.”
She laughed. “My great-grandmother’s.”
“And then there was the negative stuff.”
“Holmes.” He was one of her former principals.
“He didn’t like your attitude much, did he?”
“He didn’t like me period, though he stood by me a few times. Actually, he helped me become a better teacher. He was the perfect example of what I did not want to become.”
“You’re ruthless, Miss O.” He squeezed her hand. “Oh, sorry. Does that hurt?” He inspected her palm. The scrape wasn’t as raw.
“It’s fine.”
He curled his fingers more gently round her hand and gazed into the fire for a few moments. “I hate that this happened to you, but the silver lining is I’m holding your hand. I don’t know if I would have been otherwise. Not yet, anyway. I mean, the incident allowed you to be vulnerable.” He looked at her profile in the firelight. “You’re not a very vulnerable female. You’re even a tad bit intimidating. Are you aware of that?”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know what would have gotten your attention.”
She turned her face toward him now. “Were you trying to get it?”
“Not consciously.” He dropped her hand and reached over to touch the sapphire necklace at her throat.
Her breath caught and she sat up, surprise in her raised brows. “It’s from you.”
“Took you long enough.” He grinned and straightened, turning sideways to face her. “I don’t like shopping. I guess this is what I mean by not consciously trying to get your attention. I had drawn your name, and I knew I was to buy something appropriate. The megaphone caught my eye on the Internet. That was appropriate.”
She giggled. “And the necklace? You obviously didn’t catch the ‘cheap’ part of the guidelines.”
“Uh, no. I was at the mall, buying my mother a Christmas gift. It’s a tradition to give her a special piece of jewelry. I saw the necklace there, and I thought, hmm. That looks like the school color Miss O always wears. I’ll throw that in with the megaphone.”
She laughed out loud. “You’re right. That’s not conscious. So when did it become conscious?”
He hesitated, wondering if he should stop this unchecked flow of revelations. Then he remembered the kiss in the snow. “Well, it tried to get into my conscious mind at the dance. I mean, when I held you, it was practically kicking down the door. But I successfully ignored it…until that morning when you chewed me out.”
“Oh, no,” she groaned.
“You were wearing the necklace that day.”
“I was?”
“Yes. And as you were leaning across my desk it kind of dangled and the light caught it. I realized it matched your eyes. I also finally admitted I could get lost in those eyes, if I wanted to.”
She blinked.
“Last night, after I left your house, I admitted I want to get lost in them.” He smiled. “Your turn.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Oh, Joel,” she whispered. “I want you to get lost in them!”
It felt as though something inside of him burst. Is this what joy feels like?
“Nah, on second thought,” a tiny smile tugged at her mouth, “you’re way too old for me.”
He sighed and shook his head in disbelief, even as he reached for her and encircled her waist with his hands. “I liked you better when you were speechless and shy.”
She grinned, sliding her arms around his neck. “I’m not finished.”
“Excuse me.”
“You may be too old, but there’s this big brass band playing somewhere inside of me.”
“What’s it playing?”
“Something like, ‘Whoa, Nellie! Hold on to your hat!’”
He burst into laughter and drew her close. She laughed with him, her head against his shoulder. As their chuckles died away, a wave of emotion washed through him. “Britte, I’ve never been here before.”
“Me neither.”
“Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Well, I don’t think you’re talking about this house.”
“Got any words for what it is?”
She shook her head.
“Me neither.”
He kissed her then for the second time that night, and when he did, he knew that the “it” was something beyond words. As if he’d landed on Mars, he didn’t have a clue what to expect in such strange territory. “Brady hasn’t called. The roads must be passable—”
“Joel,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear, “you talk too much.”
“I should go home.”
“Mmm, late hours are kind of tough on old folks.”
On second thought, maybe it wasn’t time to go home just yet.
Twenty-Seven
Alec wasn’t sure what it was his wife wanted, but he was sure she wanted something. The black rim of her irises obliterated any gray.
It was the day after Christmas. He sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee, while Anne spread peanut butter on bagels for the two of them. She was dressed in a sweater, skirt, and boots, ready for work. He had cleared last night’s snow from their long driveway with the blade on the lawn tractor. The car was warming up. He needed the van today.
“Annie, isn’t this weird? Me staying home, you leaving for work.” His company always shut down the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
“Mm-hmm.” She pushed aside some dishes on the counter and set down a paper plate with his bagel on it.
“Thanks. Your whole face sparkles with those earrings.”
She gave him half a smile and bit into her bagel.
“I knew you’d look beautiful in them.”
“But the money—”
“I told you, I’d saved most of what they cost. I wanted to treat you extravagantly for a change.”
“Well, you did that.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before replying. “Do you see anything out of place in the kitchen?”
He glanced around. It appeared to be more cluttered than usual, but they had been gone most of yesterday at his in-laws’. Not to mention that it was the holiday week. Things were hectic!
Anne pointed to the stack of china and the soaking casserole pans.
He grimaced. “We’ll get to it today.”
“Before or after skiing? Before or after Drew’s practice?”
“You know, we could go skiing tonight instead, so you could join us. Drew and Jason could drive out after their practice.” It was a family tradition to ski the day after Christmas with the Masseys if there was snow. Today he was taking all six kids by himself. Anne and Val were working; Kevin was out of town with his new friend.
“Alec.” She bit her lip.
“Annie, what is it?”
“The thing is, what’s bothering me is the fact that this kitchen situation isn’t bothering me.”
“Huh?”
“I just don’t care.”
“That’s good. Spic-and-span is insignificant.”
“It’s not good, Alec. I just said that I don’t care. I don’t care what any room in this house looks like. I’m not Superwoman and I don’t want to be. I was Superwoma
n from the day I took this job until yesterday. Superwoman only has a life span of two weeks. Where’s my coat?”
He saw it on the family room couch and retrieved it for her. As he slipped it onto her arms, he said, “Are you saying you don’t like the robe?”
“I don’t like the robe.” She buttoned the coat and pulled gloves from the pockets.
“You’re just tired. Things won’t look so bad after the holidays.”
“I’m not all that tired today, and things don’t look bad at all. They just look different.” She gave him a quick kiss and strode across to the back door. “I’ll be late tonight. There’s some end-of-the-year inventory stuff I need to help with. And I think I’ll run over to the mall and get my hair cut.” She held up her ponytail and smiled. “Show off my new earrings better. Bye.”
Alec stared as the door closed behind her. The heavy scent of her new perfume, a gift from her mother, lingered.
Who was that woman?
Twenty-Eight
The squeak and thud of rubber-soled shoes hitting the hardwood floor resounded through the gym. The girls were running sprints back and forth on the court, their breathing an audible huffing and puffing. It was Tuesday, the day after Christmas. Although there were no classes, sports continued unabated. The gym remained open nearly 365 days a year.
Britte yelled encouragement, but she was pushing them hard. They were out of shape. Maybe she shouldn’t have given them three days off.
At last she blew her whistle. Some of the girls collapsed on the floor, moaning. Sunny Taylor, one of her seniors, shouted, “Mr. Kingsley! You should fire this coach!”
Britte turned and saw Joel seated at the far end of the bleachers, halfway up, and called over her shoulder. “Take a lap, Sunny.”
“Co-oach!” It was a whine.
“Two. Your mouth still has way too much flapping energy.” The girl obediently took off. Britte climbed the bleachers to Joel, wondering how long he had been sitting there watching.
He smiled as she approached. “You know, if you ever decide to leave coaching, you have a promising future as a Marine drill sergeant.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.” She grinned and sat down a short distance from him. “They are dragging today. Too much Christmas, I think.”
“Or more likely,” he murmured, “too much hanging out with their boyfriends until all hours.”
Yet again at a loss for words in his presence, she turned to watch the girls gather their things and begin to trickle out the door. Some called out goodbyes. She simply gave them a thumbs-up. Sunny cut a corner; Britte chose to ignore it. The guy had such a bizarre knack…
Joel interrupted her thoughts. “I was going to apologize for not getting in here sooner to give you a hand. From the looks of things, you didn’t need it.”
She glanced at him. He wore khakis and a forest green Vnecked sweater. It would bring out the green in his eyes, but she didn’t look for it. What was wrong with her? The tips of her ears felt warm, and her throat was closing up. She had thought about him through the short night, first thing in the morning, and all day until practice at one this afternoon when at last the matter at hand took precedence over that other, whatever that was. Adrenaline…a crush…a moment in the snow…Christmas magic…
He reached across the distance between them and squeezed her shoulder. “Miss O, you look like a deer caught in headlights.”
She’d heard that one before!
“If it helps any,” he said, “my deer’s wearing a mask.”
She turned toward him at last. He was smiling his rare smile; the one that diminished the ever-present military aura, the one that tricked her body into believing it was on a roller coaster, on the whooshing down side of the steepest climb. “I was trying to chalk it up to Christmas magic.”
“Me, too.”
The roller coaster careened around a curve.
“Coach!” Sunny stood at the bottom of the bleachers, panting, the whine gone from her tone. “Is practice at the same time tomorrow?”
Britte found her voice. “Taylor, if you don’t know the answer to that, you’d better take one more lap. See you tomorrow!”
The girl lifted her hand in a discouraged wave and trudged off.
Britte called out, “Hey, Captain! Good workout.”
Sunny threw her a smile and left the gym.
“Britte, you are great with the girls.”
“I don’t know.” She settled back against the bleacher and looked at him. Good, safer subject. “I miss Anne, not so much for the physical part of running a practice, but her sense of balance. She’s my anchor. I’m still feeling a little unbalanced.”
“How’d the girls handle your bruises?”
She smiled. “I think they made allowances, until they realized I’m still—as my friend Isabel calls me—the fire-breathing coach.”
“Apropos title. Will Anne be around at all this week?”
“No, not with her new job. Practices and the tournament are scheduled for during the day. Tanner’s available for the tournament games on Thursday and Friday, though. That’ll help.”
“Cal called today. He wanted to make sure he had your correct game schedule. He plans to be there.”
“In Twin Prairie? It’s two days of a drawn-out round robin. And his wedding is less than a week away!”
“Well, he said he’ll be there.”
“I hope he’s not going to interview parents!”
“He mentioned he only wanted to sit in the stands and keep his ears open. He’ll take Chloe with him and make it appear a natural outing.”
Chloe had been attending most of the games with Lia. It would appear natural. “I hadn’t thought of the guy, the…assailant, sitting in the stands, watching me. But of course he would be, wouldn’t he? If he’s…one of the dads or students.”
“But you won’t be alone for a moment. Tanner will be there, and Cal. Of course I plan on coming.”
“Joel, you’ll have a building full of people here.” Valley Oaks was hosting a holiday boys tournament at the same time.
“I can slip away for a while. The ladies are just as important, you know.”
“‘Ladies,’” she repeated. “You’re getting pretty good at that, General.”
“Thank you. I’m trying. I wouldn’t want a certain math teacher reading me the riot act again.”
“Oh, I think you cured her of that tendency.” Nuts. They were back on it again. She looked out at the empty gym.
“Britte, I’ve been thinking. I’d like to have dinner with you.”
She felt a delicious tingling sensation. But… She turned toward him. The furrowed brow told her he was thinking along the same lines she had been. “But…it’s Valley Oaks.”
“So my thoughts are valid?”
She nodded. “Someone would see us at a restaurant, even in Rockville. If I cooked and you came to my house, someone would know. The gossip would start. I don’t know if we want to get that going.”
“Not just yet, anyway.”
Not yet?
“Britte, we don’t really know each other very well. Once you get to know me, you may not even want to have dinner.”
“And vice versa.”
“Then all that good gossip would have been wasted.”
She smiled. “People would be sorely disappointed.”
“We’d lose our way-cool points.”
“And we definitely don’t want to jeopardize those!”
He chuckled, and then he grew somber. “So, we’re in agreement? We’ll...” He held up a palm.
“Go slow,” she finished his sentence, thinking that if he kept looking at her in that way, they wouldn’t need to be seen at a restaurant in order for the gossip to begin. Because at the moment, Joel Kingsley resembled a deer caught in headlights.
That evening Joel sat in his condominium at the large, Lshaped cherry desk and stared at the phone. He tapped the eraser end of a pencil on a pad of paper. On the top sheet was a
scribbled phone number.
The girl had reduced him to hesitancy. Wavering. Vacillation. He felt as if he needed to go back to boot camp and learn all over again. Magnetic blue eyes did not override the brain.
Should he call her? That wasn’t against the guidelines they had informally agreed upon, was it? Valley Oaks couldn’t witness a phone call. Unless she had guests. He could call under the pretense that he was concerned. Was she in for the night? Was she safe? And then, if she was alone, they could talk.
On the other hand, he should probably disengage now, until a more suitable time. She was preoccupied with basketball. He was preoccupied with making necessary changes at the school, of making them palatable to the board and parents. Emotions such as those which Britte threatened to ignite always complicated things unnecessarily. They interfered with clear thinking. Life required clear thinking. His walk with Christ required clear thinking. He had never met a female who understood that. If any such woman existed, she would resemble Britte.
The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Joel.”
“Mom?” They had talked yesterday. He detected a new anxiety in her tone. “What’s up?”
“It’s Nicky. Aunt Julie and Uncle Nick never heard from him yesterday.”
His heart jumped into a double beat. “That’s normal. I didn’t call you every Christmas.”
“Six out of eight times you did! They haven’t even had a note from him in three weeks.”
He’s in the middle of a war! Joel wanted to scream the words.
“Please, Joel. Call your aunt. It’ll help.”
“All right. I will. Is the sun still shining down there in Florida?”
They each talked about their day for a few minutes before disconnecting.
By then, the dull thumping in the back of his head had started.
Dear God. Give me the words. With shaking fingers, he punched in his aunt and uncle’s number. They weren’t much older than he was. He had practically grown up with his Uncle Nick, his father’s youngest brother. The families were all close.
His aunt answered the phone.
“Julie.”
“Joel?”
“Mom told me you haven’t heard from Nicky.”
Through tears she talked about her 24-year-old son.