by Kim Law
She giggled at that, and the sound made him smile. He leaned in toward her.
“You need to come to Friday night’s game, Ms. Bird.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Everyone in town shows up for the games. If you aren’t there, they’ll all wonder why not.”
“I didn’t go last night.”
“And you can bet they’re already talking. Wondering what you have against football.”
“I have nothing against football. I just don’t care for it.”
Gabe straightened. “Who do you think you’re kidding? I know what town you’re from. And aside from Birch Bay, they’re best in the state.”
“They are the best.”
Her cheeks deepened with color once again when she realized what her words had given away.
“Not a fan, huh?” He looked her up and down one more time. “I’d be willing to bet that if someone handed you a cheerleading outfit right now you’d be right back on the sidelines.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her best teacher look. “My cheerleading days are over, Gabriel Wilde.” Then a twinkle appeared in her eyes. “No matter how good I might still look in a cheer uniform.”
The blood suddenly left his brain. She’d had her high school uniform tucked away in her closet back in the day, and there’d been a time when he could talk her into that outfit on a regular basis.
Of course, she’d had no intention of appearing at football games while wearing it. Most cheerleaders didn’t take the field sporting no underwear.
“Erica,” he began, his voice having dropped to a growl while at the same time he had no idea what he intended to say.
She said nothing, herself. Just looked back at him. And Gabe could see that her thoughts had followed his. Her breaths came deeper now—and the green in her eyes darkened.
Then the sound of much-closer barking reverberated through the air, and Gabe forced himself to tuck his memories away. He pulled back from Erica as Mike let out another, closer, woof, and Gabe found his daughter standing with her dog just on the other side of the road. Her brow had drawn into a frown, her full attention directed at Erica.
“Hey, Jenna,” Erica said. “How are you today?”
Jenna didn’t reply.
“Come over here,” Gabe said. After making sure no cars were coming down the road, he held out a hand toward his daughter. “Say hello to Ms. Bird. She’s our neighbor now.”
His daughter turned an accusing glare on him. “Why do we have to have a neighbor?”
“Don’t be rude, Jenna.” He nudged his head toward Erica. “Come say hello.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin.
“She doesn’t have to,” Erica murmured beside Gabe.
“She’ll be fine,” he murmured back. “Jenna,” he warned.
Mike whined and dropped to a sitting position at his master’s feet, but still, Gabe got nothing from his daughter. He hated when she acted like this.
“Be polite to Ms. Bird,” he forced out, trying to maintain his own politeness, “and if you do, we’ll go into town after unpacking your bedroom, and you can pick out whatever candy you want.”
Jenna immediately looked at Erica. “Hello, Ms. Bird.”
The words came out saccharine sweet, but as soon as they passed her lips she returned a glare to Gabe. Then with an air of superiority that was far too reminiscent of her mother, she turned with a haughty swirl and stalked toward the house. Mike trotted along behind her, while Gabe bit his tongue, embarrassed to his core. He looked like a damned fool, but he couldn’t very well stalk away like Jenna had. He had an audience. He turned back to Erica, intending to apologize on behalf of his daughter, but was taken aback at the scowl directed his way.
“You just offered your daughter candy to be polite to me?”
“Yeah. Because it works.”
“Right.” Her expression remained incredulous. “Because that was the epitome of nice.”
“Come on. Give me a break.” He groaned then, unable to stop himself, and dragged a hand down over his face. “I do what I have to do, okay? She used to be such a sweet kid, but lately, she’s so . . .”
He sighed. She was so her mother.
“She’s still a sweet kid.” Erica touched her fingers to his arm. “She just needs time. Divorce doesn’t only affect the parents.”
“Trust me, I’m fully aware of that.” Irritation held Gabe’s jaw tight as he looked back at the house. Jenna and Mike had disappeared inside, the front door slamming behind them, and Gabe blew out a breath. He wished like hell that his daughter’s sweetness wasn’t currently trapped beneath a layer of hurt.
“Anyway,” he mumbled. He moved toward the road. It was time to go. “It was good catching up. Let me know if you need anything,” he tossed out, not looking back. “I may be new to the school, but I know the town. I can provide names to who or whatever you might need.”
“Thank you. That’s a good resource to have.” Her words grew quieter as he moved farther away, and as his foot landed on his porch, she added, “Take care of yourself, Gabe.”
He slipped inside his new house without responding, and leaned back against the closed door. He would take care of himself. As well as Jenna. He’d pull her through this period of her life, he’d make her happy again, and somehow—some way—they would both turn out okay.
Erica came out of her back room the following Friday afternoon, her hands dusty from the cleaning she’d been doing in the storage area. The regular teacher kept the space decently organized, but after all the kids had disappeared for the day, Erica had decided to add to Mrs. Watts’s efforts.
And no, her decision had nothing to do with the fact that the entire world seemed to have plans for the weekend, while she had what? A button to sew onto a blouse? A new exercise routine to try out?
She dusted her hands off on her khakis and headed for the shelves running the length of the back wall. There’d been a faculty meeting after school, and as the group of teachers chatted, it had hit her that she was one of the few without plans for the holiday weekend. After everyone attended the football game tonight, each and every one of them would kick the long weekend off with either a fun family trip or a quick adrenaline rush. Given the many outdoor activities offered in the state, adrenaline rushes weren’t hard to come by. And with beautiful weather in the forecast, Erica couldn’t blame them.
But she also hadn’t been able to stop herself from being jealous.
She had her sister coming, sure. And that was a far cry better than sitting home alone. But the fact was, she and Bree would probably still sit home alone.
Additionally, she hadn’t been able to keep from wondering what her ex and Lindsey might be up to that weekend. Because she knew how JC liked to pack the days with excitement. The Bird family sponsored an annual community picnic on Labor Day itself, but JC had never been one to sit around and do nothing during the Saturday and Sunday preceding the holiday. Erica had tagged along with him and his friends once upon a time, trying to keep up. Until she could no longer work up the pretense. She’d rather spend her weekends at home. Preferably with a good book.
But not Lindsey.
Erica’s college roommate had always been up for an adventure. Especially if it involved ones that allowed her to steal another woman’s husband.
Her cell dinged at the front of the room, and she shot upright from her squatting position in front of the shelves. Her heart raced. It wouldn’t seriously be JC texting her again, would it? She hadn’t heard from him since the first day of school when he’d “simply wanted to see how the first day of her new job had gone.” She hadn’t replied to his text, so she’d hoped he’d gotten the message to leave her alone.
Of course, it could just as easily be Bree. She checked in with her regularly.
Only, JC was the one who’d always liked to reach out on Friday nights.
Sourness turned her stomach as she thought about the woman she’d let herself b
ecome over the summer.
Almost become.
The cell dinged again, a reminder when she didn’t clear it in time, and she rose and crossed the classroom with a determined stride. No point hiding from a text message. How ridiculous would that be? But when she snatched up her phone, instead of anxiety wracking her body, relief washed through it. It was neither JC nor Bree. It was from a number she didn’t recognize, but one she thought she might know the owner of.
Tonight’s game? Yes? You’ll be there?
Was the message really from Gabe? Several of the other teachers had asked if she planned to go tonight. It could be one of them reaching out.
Another message came in.
This is Gabe, btw. I got your number from the paperwork in Jenna’s backpack.
Erica bit her lip as she punched out a quick reply.
That is *not* the reason I shared my phone number.
Worked out in my favor, though, didn’t it?
A smile broke out. He could be very arrogant when he wanted to be; she remembered that well about him. But she still wouldn’t be going to the game.
Sorry. I can’t make it tonight.
There was that button she needed to sew on.
Of course you “can” make it. The question is “will” you?
She started to type out a reply, but stopped, thumbs hovering, when a feeling of being watched swept over her. She looked up to find a dark-haired, very teacher-ish-looking Gabriel Wilde standing on the other side of her door, his face peering in through the window at her.
He pushed open the door. “Will you, Erica? You know you don’t want to be the only person in town not there.”
She wanted to say yes if for no other reason than that he’d asked her. But she hadn’t been to a football game in two years. Intentionally.
JC had been the star quarterback in high school, while she’d cheered him on from the sidelines. They’d always been at games together. Heck, they’d met at a football game years before they’d ever started dating, and after they’d married, it had been assumed that Mr. and Mrs. James Christopher Bird the third would not only attend all home games together, but they’d be front and center in the crowd. After all, going to high school football was tradition in their town. Just as it was here.
Only, two seasons ago JC had changed all that.
Gabe crossed to her desk and peered down at her. He shot her a pleading look. “Be there so if I blow this game, too, I’ll know I have at least one person in the stands not wanting my head on a platter?”
That made her laugh. “Gossip about last week’s game has been pretty rough.”
“Tell me about it. It was a bloodbath.” He shuddered. “Mortifying.”
When his hip landed on the corner of her desk, Erica’s gaze dropped, hanging on the medium-washed jeans he wore. They looked fairly new, and were definitely in far better shape than the frayed pair he’d been wearing Saturday afternoon. His hair was also better tamed.
He dipped his head and caught her gaze. “You can’t go home and grade papers on a Friday night, Ms. Bird,” he chided. “That’s not allowed in Birch Bay.”
Grading papers was first on her list after she’d taken care of that button.
“How about if I promise to listen to it on the radio?” she asked. “Then I’ll be able to both join the gossip around school next week, as well as be there for you if everyone else in town is ready to burn you at the stake.” She soaked in his blue gaze. “All you’ll have to do is walk across the street.”
He seemed to contemplate the suggestion—while she imagined him with his Wilde-boy swagger walking across the road toward her.
“Or you could just be in the crowd,” he suggested again.
A gust of desire suddenly filled her, but not solely for Gabe. More like for living. She was tired of sitting at home by herself every night. Tired of not being able to call up a friend just to hang out.
But she didn’t go to football games anymore. JC got that in the divorce, as well.
“I really am sorry.”
He sat up straighter then, a look of defeat on his face, as well as a hint of disappointment. “Your loss, Ms. Bird.” He stood and moved from her desk. “The whole town will be talking about you, and there won’t be a thing I can do to stop them.”
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been talked about.
She eyed him as he crossed the room, the idea of watching Gabe in the position of coach stirring up a funny feeling inside her. She could picture him on the sidelines being the man in charge. And she liked that picture.
When she realized where he was headed, she stood and followed. “She doesn’t sit there anymore.”
Gabe looked back at her.
“The kids got to pick new seats today,” Erica explained. She pointed out Jenna’s desk for the coming week. “They picked in order of who had the most check marks for helpful behavior.”
His eyes went to the whiteboard at the side of the room. There was a list on the board encompassing each of the students’ names. Beside his daughter’s was one single check mark, and Erica couldn’t miss the way his chest deflated as he scanned over the remainder of the list.
“She’s still giving you problems?” he asked.
“Not as much. She actually got a check mark this week. That’s better than last week. And she’s talked a bit more, participated in class a couple of times.”
“What was the one check mark for?” He moved to Jenna’s new desk.
“For writing out Tuesday’s math assignment on the board.” She showed him where his daughter’s carefully printed words remained.
Gabe pulled a red folder from the desk, keeping his gaze downcast as he dug through the other items crammed into Jenna’s personal space. “I shouldn’t have pushed back at you last weekend,” he said. “But she and I talked about it afterward. About her trying harder in class.” He glanced up. “About her being nicer. She sees a counselor twice a week. I set that up when she first started acting out. Months ago. What I’m saying is that I’m trying. That she’s trying.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “At least most of the time she is. Other times”—he shook his head—“she can just be a jerk.”
He’d finished in a mumble, and Erica nodded in understanding. “It sounds like she’s on the right track. But keep in mind that sometimes she simply needs to be a jerk. And that’s okay. She’s going through a lot, and she has to be able to push back once in a while. I’m an easy target.”
He quit sorting through Jenna’s books, and the lost look on his face pulled at Erica. “But no one should have to be a target.”
The way he said the words had her wondering if there was even more to the story.
She crossed to him and pulled out the math book that went with the red folder. Jenna might have conceded to being helpful by writing the homework assignment on the board, but she’d held her ground when she’d refused to take that very assignment home with her. “It doesn’t change the fact that I am,” she told him. “And that’s okay, too. Don’t push her too hard, Gabe. She needs time.”
“I’m giving her time.” He waved Jenna’s book in the air. “I don’t plan to chew her out for this trick, and given what you just told me, you and I both know she left it here on purpose.”
“I know she did. I watched her do it.” She pictured father and daughter in front of her house last weekend, facing off across the street. She understood the type of anger inside Jenna. The need to have control of something in her life. Erica had felt for the little girl in that moment.
Gabe’s jaw hardened as he looked at her. “Are you telling me that you saw my daughter leaving her assignment here, on purpose, yet you didn’t correct the situation?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Why would you do that?” He looked at her as if she’d grown two heads.
“Because taking home her assignment was her decision to make. And one you should let her make,” she added, her voice dipping dangerously close to
rude.
Gabe shoved everything else back into Jenna’s desk, his movements jerky, then he once again picked up the math book. Anger brewed in his hard glare, and Erica couldn’t help but be a little taken aback at the severity of it. “You’re her teacher,” he ground out. “It’s your job to see that she takes her work home with her.”
She stood her ground. “And you’re her dad. It’s your job to do what’s best for her.”
Fire rolled from his ears. “Are you saying I don’t do what’s best for my daughter?”
She’d realized her misstep the second the words left her mouth. She shouldn’t talk to any parent that way, even if she had once dated him. “No, Gabe. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that at all. I’m just cranky because it’s been a long week.” And because she had a pitifully boring existence. “I do things a bit different from you, that’s all I’m saying. And I shouldn’t have implied—”
“I’ve put my daughter’s education into your hands,” he interrupted, his voice unnaturally calm. “And you seem to have no concern for it whatsoever.”
“Now that’s not true at all.” Erica held her hands up in front of her. She really did feel like a heel for her comment. She’d never talk to another parent that way. But heel or not, she wouldn’t let anyone stand there and call her out on something that wasn’t true. “I care for your daughter’s education, Gabe. More than you realize. Kids mean the world me. But I don’t feel it’s helpful to take away their right to make their own decisions. That’s all I’m saying.”
He scowled at her, a muscle ticking at his jawline, and after several seconds he simply turned and headed for the door. The door slammed against the wall as he yanked it open, and he left without saying a word. After watching until he’d disappeared, Erica slowly returned to her desk. Her mind whirled as she retraced through the argument. She’d messed up, she knew that. She had no right to talk to any parent that way.
But at the same time, she was pretty sure she’d just been given an insight into her angry young student. Her daddy didn’t let her mess up. And clearly, he didn’t let her make her own decisions. Which would totally play into her poor attitude.