She smiled. “Me.”
“Figures.”
“Good. Because we can get in the building on Wednesday.”
“Really? I’ll be there as soon as I get out of football practice.” He grinned at her. “You people are turning my life upside down. You know that, don’t you?”
“You mean us Mount Union people?”
“Exactly. You’ve got me jumping through hoops I didn’t even know existed.”
“That’s okay. I’m thinking your life needed a little handstand.”
He opened his mouth, but never uttered a sound because the front door swung open. Carrie stood on the porch and hollered, “Thanks. That was so much fun.” Then she bounded inside.
“Dad! Who’s car...”
She stopped, stared at Brenna. “Miss Sullivan. What are you doing here?”
Thankful Carrie hadn’t walked in when she was drying her eyes on her dad’s T-shirt or when Mike had his arm around her, Brenna rose from the sofa and straightened her skirt. “I... We were talking about the Cultural Arts Center,” she said. “Your dad is going to help me with that project.”
Carrie dropped into a chair. “I heard about that.” She frowned at her dad. “Is there anything going on in this town that you’re not involved in? First football and now this center thing. I won’t be able to go anywhere without running into you.”
“Not true, Carrie,” he said. “You can avoid Alvin’s Garage, where I still have to make a living,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t go there.”
“Did you have fun at the barbecue?” he asked.
“Well, yeah, except for that completely embarrassing thing you did.”
Mike flashed Brenna a here-it-comes look.
Carrie leaned forward in the chair to capture Brenna’s attention. “He actually came up to me while I was line dancing with a bunch of kids. Said I had to leave, we were going home.”
Brenna smiled. “Oh, how awful.”
“Yes, I know! It was so humiliating, and he acted like he even enjoyed it.”
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Brenna said. “Mike, thanks so much for listening to me today. And for your input.” And then to clear up any misconception Carrie might draw, she added, “The center is going to be a great place for enrichment classes and activities for teens.”
“You’re welcome,” Mike said. “Anytime.”
She reached the door, but turned around before leaving. “Just one thing, Carrie.”
“What?”
“I’ve known lots of teenagers, and I can’t think of one who hasn’t complained of being humiliated by their parents. On the other hand, I can’t think of one parent who has ever told me they enjoyed it.” She smiled at Carrie while pointing to Mike. “You might want to give Dad a break once in a while. Just sayin’. He’s a pretty good guy.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AT 3:15 P.M. ON MONDAY, almost an hour after students had been dismissed, Brenna was still in her classroom. She’d already graded papers and was now restocking baking supplies in the kitchen cubicles. This was a task she usually assigned to students, but she wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Not today.
Diana walked by her open door, did a double take and entered the room. “What are you still doing here?”
“Just finishing up some detail work. I’m leaving soon.”
“Need help?”
“No, I can manage.”
Diana walked over to the windows of Brenna’s second-floor classroom. “I’ll just close your blinds then and...”
“No!”
Diana gave her a shocked look. “We always close the blinds before we leave for the day.”
“I know, but I’ll do it.”
Setting her tote on the floor, Diana gazed out the window, taking in the view of the field house and football stadium. Brenna pretended not to notice.
“Oh, I get it,” Diana said.
Brenna wiped down a perfectly clean counter. “What exactly do you think you get?”
“You have a great view of football practice from these windows. The guys ought to be done with their meeting and will come out to the field soon.”
“Oh, right,” Brenna said, not surprised by her friend’s logical conclusion but determined to make light of it. “You know how I love football.”
“I know how you used to feel about football. Something tells me your attitude is changing fast.”
“Don’t be silly.” Brenna hurried to her desk and took her purse from the drawer. “Come on, let’s go. I’m ready.”
Diana parked her hip on the corner of the desk. “Not so fast. I’ve been waiting for the chance to ask you about your car being at Mike Langston’s yesterday. Now seems like the perfect opportunity. It’s just the two of us. Nothing to interrupt our conversation except for a few dozen panting, grunting males about to charge outside—” she pointed out the window “—right over there.”
Brenna frowned. “You saw my car, did you?”
“We did drop Carrie off at home, Bren. Couldn’t very well miss the silver bullet with its dented bumper.” She grinned. “What’s going on? You’d better tell me before I jump to all the conclusions I want to be true.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Brenna said, surprised by the defensively high pitch of her voice. “I went over to tell Mike about the Cultural Arts Center being available to us on Wednesday.” For added effect, she said, “You told me to tell him, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. So the visit had nothing to do with Alex being a pie-eyed dolt and Mike being a truly decent, dependable potential boyfriend?”
“You say that like you’ve known Mike your whole life.”
“I guess. But some people you can just tell are good folks. Like you. I’ve known you for four years, and you’ve only disappointed me once.”
“Don’t start on Alex again,” Brenna warned. “I’m well aware of your opinion of him. And anyway, we haven’t taken anything like a permanent step forward in our relationship.”
Diana shrugged. “Did you talk to Mike about anything other than the center?”
Brenna felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Mike had been consoling and gentle and understanding. She blinked. “Well, sure. We talked about his daughter. And I suggested some courses he could take at the Georgia State branch....” She hadn’t done that yet, but she intended to—practically the same thing.
“What? Hold on. Mike’s going to college?”
“He wants to be a teacher.”
Diana’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t that an interesting bit of news?”
“Fascinating,” Brenna said. “He’ll only be one of about three and a half million teachers in this country.”
“And it takes him right out of that dating pool at Alvin’s Garage.”
Brenna started to defend the crack she’d made the day she and Diana met Mike, but Diana didn’t let her. “I’ll leave you alone to close your own blinds,” she said. “And to enjoy whatever views this fine Georgia afternoon presents to you.” She slung her bag, stuffed with papers, over her shoulder and went to the door. “See you tomorrow, Bren.”
Her footsteps had no sooner faded in the hallway when Brenna heard the shouts and pounding footsteps of Ravens testosterone. The boys were on the field. And so were their coaches. Bobby, with a clipboard in his hand, and Mike Langston, seen for the first time in his coaching gear, tight-fitting navy blue shorts, a gray collared shirt and a matching ball cap.
Brenna sat at a student desk and leaned her elbows on the windowsill. “Carrie might not want to see her dad at school,” she said softly, “but I don’t mind it a bit.”
She could allow herself a few guilty pleasures, couldn’t she? Mike wasn’t her ideal man, but the guy was very admirably muscled. Even a woman with set
goals, such as herself, could appreciate that. And he was turning out to be a very good friend.
* * *
FRIDAY NIGHT, BRENNA smoothed back a curly lock of hair that had come loose from her bandanna and fallen on her forehead. She checked her watch. Almost 8:00 p.m. She still had an hour to clean up before Alex would arrive at her house to take her for a late dinner in Libertyville. She had time for just a few more swipes of the chosen soft beige with the paint roller.
She and Mike and a few other volunteers had been at work in the Cultural Arts Center all three nights since being allowed in on Wednesday. Today, the other helpers had abandoned them over an hour ago, saying something about dinners and movies, shopping and family time. Carrie was with the Montgomerys again, at the pizza place, where Bobby was unwinding before the Saturday night game.
Brenna finished the wall and passed by Mike on her way to the janitor’s closet, where she could put the roller in a bucket of water to soak. He looked down at her from near the top of the nine-foot ladder, where he had climbed to install energy-efficient bulbs in the many overhead light sockets.
An almost audible sigh escaped her lips. When Mike found the right woman, she would be one lucky gal. Loyalty, honesty and sincere caring were qualities any woman would appreciate. “I’m done for today,” she said.
“Okay. I’ll probably stick around for another hour or so. Carrie has a ten o’clock curfew so I’ve got some time.”
As she headed to the closet, she swallowed a gulp of remorse at having to leave him here alone.
“What’s going on in here?”
Boone’s official baritone filled the building entrance. Brenna held up the roller so it wouldn’t drip on the old wood floor. “Hi, Boone. We’re just working on the center.”
Mike came down from the ladder. The two men greeted each other with a fist bump before settling on a traditional handshake. Obviously any hard feelings between the two men the night Carrie had gone missing had long faded. Good. They were about the same age and had many of the same interests. Brenna had heard that Boone never missed a Ravens game unless he was on patrol. He’d been the Ravens tight end—whatever that was—when he went to Mount Union High School and he liked to fish and talk carburetors and stuff. Brenna always hoped he’d find the right woman, who would be good to him and let him lavish her with adoration. Unfortunately, Brenna wasn’t that woman.
Realizing her thoughts had turned romantic, Brenna continued into the closet and set the paint roller in a bucket. When she joined the men, she joked, “Did you think the old library had turned into a crime scene, Boone?”
“Not exactly. I know about the center for the kids, but when I saw a light on in here, I figured I’d check.” He grinned. “Just doing my job, ma’am. You two are working late.”
“I’m about to quit,” Brenna said. “But you can keep Mike company.”
“Wish I could,” Boone said. “But there’s a whole town out there that needs my attention.” He smiled that country-boy grin that let many speeders think he could be charmed into ignoring citations. They were soon set straight.
“Don’t forget to lock up,” he said and left the way he’d come in.
“He’s such a good guy,” Brenna said. “I wish he could find a nice, sweet girl and settle down with a kid or two.”
Mike chuckled. “Then don’t let him talk to me. When he hears my tales of fatherhood, he’ll run off screaming into the woods.”
She play-punched his shoulder, grateful that the past few nights had only strengthened their friendship.
She could have left right then, but she lingered. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt. Alex could wait while she showered.
“The walls look good, Sullivan,” Mike said.
“And your bulbs are bright, Langston.”
“Hey, wait till you see this.” Like a kid with a new toy, he walked to the nearest wall, turned a knob, and the room grew pleasantly dark. “Dimmers in case we need to project something on a screen.” He walked back toward her. “Nice, huh?”
She gave him a subtle grin. “Mike, have you ever been in a darkened room with a bunch of teenagers? Recipe for disaster, my friend....”
“Whoa, hadn’t thought about that.”
The light in his eyes dimmed, too, as if he were thinking about the ramifications now. Or something else having nothing to do with teenagers. He reached up where her mind-of-its-own curl had come loose again and tried to push it under the edge of the bandanna.
“Forget it,” she said. “A losing battle.”
“I can get a pair of scissors and eliminate the problem.”
“Don’t you dare!” She grabbed his hand next to her face and swallowed hard. His gaze settled on her eyes and soon slid to her lips. She felt him inching closer and dropped her hand. “Mike...”
He reached behind her and tugged on the bandanna. It fluttered to the ground. Next he took hold of the old tie in her hair and pulled it loose. Her hair fell around her shoulders just before his hands fisted the unruly strands.
His lips were on hers before she had a chance to back away. Or maybe it was before she tried to. Either way, he was kissing her long and hard and wonderfully. She sighed into his mouth. “What are we doing?” she murmured.
“I don’t know, but I keep wanting to do it.”
The huge, round schoolhouse clock, which had been in the library for decades, ticked loudly, insinuating its presence into the haze of sweetness that had overtaken her. The time. Her date. She took a step back. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“The timing just isn’t right. You’ve been widowed less than a year.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I need this...”
His words sobered her. “I know you do. I understand, but I can’t be the one to meet your needs, Mike. Unless you need me to be your friend. I can do that. I can be there for you. I would do anything for you. I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He drew in a ragged breath before averting his gaze. He seemed to be staring at the old clock when he said, “Lori didn’t...”
There was so much anguish in those two words. Brenna put her hand on his shoulder. “She didn’t what, Mike? What are you trying to say?”
His hand clenched. “Never mind.”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting away with a never mind. Not after I blubbered my guts out to you, not once, but twice in the past week.”
She took his arm and led him to a bench near the old Dewey decimal card drawers. The bench looked about as comfortable as a pew in a pilgrim’s church, but it was the only option. “Sit,” she said.
He did.
“What did you mean when you said ‘Lori didn’t’?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course it matters. It matters to me.” She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she prompted, “I think you meant that Lori didn’t trust you. Is that right?”
He turned his face to stare into her eyes again. “Weren’t you leaving?”
She glanced at her watch. Alex would be at her house in twenty minutes. “I have time,” she said. “I’ll leave when you do. You must be starved. The apples I brought have long since worn off.” She smiled at him. “You’re not getting away without talking to me. So tell me, why do you think Lori didn’t trust you?”
A long breath escaped his lips. His shoulders slumped. “She did trust me. At least I thought she did. For the first years of our marriage she trusted me enough to consult with me on every decision.”
“Even when you were overseas?”
“Especially then. And especially after Carrie was born. We emailed several times a day when I wasn’t in a combat zone. We Skyped. We spoke on the phone at least three times a week. She knew I was staying with the army for as long as I needed to in ord
er to make a nice living for her and Carrie. And so I could finish up a little ahead and maybe start those college classes.”
Brenna was beginning to see where this discussion was headed. She was starting to think of Lori Langston as a caring and kind woman, a woman who didn’t mind giving up her own goals when her husband was such a good man. “Did she talk to you about any problems she might have been having?”
“That’s the strange part,” he said. “I didn’t think she had many. I think now that she didn’t want to worry me with home-front problems. Maybe knowing I couldn’t do much about any situation, she didn’t dwell on anything bad. She said Carrie was a good baby and a bright, healthy child. She included me on the milestones of our daughter’s development. And when I came home, I’d catch up on what I’d missed.”
He sighed. “We were a happy family, at least as happy as any family could be under the circumstances of our quick marriage and my enlistment. When she...” He paused, swallowed. “At the end, I only had thirteen months to go on my last reenlistment. I would have been stateside even sooner.”
Brenna shifted, put her elbow on the back of the bench. “I can undersand why she didn’t want to bother you with her problems. She didn’t want to distract you. That must have been hard on her, but it certainly doesn’t mean she didn’t trust you.”
“But when it really mattered, she didn’t. For five months she knew about that tumor in her brain. She knew it was bad, but maybe she had kept hoping that the doctors could fix it. I don’t know. We went on communicating by email and sent pictures back and forth like we always had. The pictures of Carrie showed a smiling, typical teen. The pictures of Lori ended up being just head shots taken from a distance so I wouldn’t notice the weight loss. You’d think I would have caught on. But I didn’t. She was my wife. I would have thought she was pretty if she’d had a paper bag over her head.”
“Why do you think she didn’t tell you about her illness?” Brenna asked.
“At this point, I can only guess. She knew I’d come home. And I would have. Maybe on days when she didn’t feel so weak, she actually thought she’d get better or at least hang on until my time was up. Maybe the illness progressed faster than she’d thought it would. Or, like you said, maybe she didn’t want to distract me while I was in a combat zone. Bottom line is, she didn’t say a word until the end, and she didn’t let Carrie tell me, either.”
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