by Abby Tyler
Despite the women being so close, and no doubt with eagle eyes, Ginny snuck a peek at Carter. A good coach recognized when he had an opportunity. She assumed he would let the quarterback keep holding onto the ball. It was the only way the team was getting any headway.
But no, for the next several downs, the quarterback shunted the ground play to other carriers who were instantly tackled, or tossed the ball to receivers who couldn’t break free to get a clear catch.
Despite the quarterback’s gains, they ended up punting.
Ginny wondered why Carter wasn’t continuing what was clearly working. Was he worried about the quarterback getting hurt?
She knew a fair amount about football. Her father was a huge Seahawks fan, and they spent a lot of Sundays dissecting the coach’s calls. A quarterback keeper was a powerful play if a team had someone who could do it well.
She would ask Carter about it. Surely he had his reasons. At the end of the third quarter, Gertrude and Maude complained about the cold and left. A lot of the stands had emptied out. The Eagles were losing fifty-four to nothing.
Natalie didn’t want to ditch her alone, but Ginny told her it was fine if she was done. Ginny wanted to see if the quarterback would get any more yards on his own.
“No, I’ll stay,” Natalie said. “I want to hear about what you’ve been doing with the football coach. Every unattached girl in Applebottom tried to catch his eye when he got here,” she said. “Nothing ever got past the third date. Not so much as a kiss. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but we were not it.”
“Did you go out with him?” Ginny was a little afraid of the answer.
“No, he never asked me. Not for my lack of trying. But I’m at the elementary school, and he’s over at the high school. We didn’t cross paths a whole lot.”
Ginny wondered if that meant she thought she still had an opportunity.
Natalie went on. “Julia Hampton, the French teacher, did manage to snog him. But she was drunk on frozen margaritas and forced herself on him at the faculty retreat last summer. It didn’t go well for her.”
Ginny followed Carter as he walked along the sideline. She shouldn’t ask questions, but the way Carter had left things after they cleaned the closet made her painfully curious.
“How so?”
“He wouldn’t even talk to her after that. I don’t know, maybe there’s something wrong with him. He’s been three and out with every girl. He got jilted in college pretty publicly. Nobody really blames him for being gun shy.”
“What happened?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows. “You have to tell me what’s up first.”
Ginny shrugged. “I have hung out with him a little.”
“Tell me everything.”
“I thought everybody knew,” she said. “The owner of the dog bakery forced him to come help me with my dog. Roscoe is too big for me to control, and I’m trying to train him.”
Natalie deflated a little. “Oh. Yeah. Carter is always taking on projects like that. You can absolutely ask him to help clean out your garage, or plant some trees, or haul a load out to the dump. But if you want to get up close, it’s just not gonna happen.”
“So about that public jilting?”
Natalie’s eyes flashed. She was a natural gossip. “Carter was seeing this girl in college. You know the type. Perfect, pretty, rich. She had her eyes set on him because she thought he would go pro in football.”
“He didn’t get drafted,” Ginny said.
“Exactly,” Natalie said. “She dropped him like a hot potato. Carter had set up this marriage proposal thing on camera. When she realized he wasn’t signing, she gave a little huff and took off. It made a bunch of the sports news shows. You can probably find it on YouTube.”
“That’s pretty terrible.” Ginny hadn’t thought to search for Carter online. Maybe she should. “He must’ve really cared her about to propose.”
“Who knows,” Natalie said. “She looked like a gold digger to me. But maybe he couldn’t see it.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” she said.
Natalie nudged Ginny with her shoulder. “So there is something there. Well, good luck with that. Maybe this dog thing will be exactly what you need to get up close and personal.”
The last seconds of the clock ran down, and the teams met on the field. The stands were virtually empty. The band played a song, and the cheerleaders, considerably less energetic than they had been at the beginning, shook their pom-poms.
Ginny watched Carter shake hands with the other team’s coach. The band struck up the school song, and he turned to face them, his hat over his heart.
And that’s when he spotted her. Their eyes locked. Ginny gave him a little salute and a thumbs up.
He returned her greeting with a slow smile.
“I saw that,” Natalie said. “If there were a leaderboard for the Applebottom football coach, you’d be right at the top.”
Chapter 9
On the Monday morning after the football game, Ginny found another handwritten note in her faculty mailbox.
Mrs. Humphries, the secretary, gave Ginny a sly nod as she passed. Clearly, she knew about the note.
The first half-hour of the school day was always quiet as the teachers settled their students before moving any of them down to occupational therapy. Ginny sat on one of the bouncy balls and pulled out the note.
* * *
Ginny,
I know we exchanged numbers, but I sort of like being old-fashioned. Thank you for staying at the football game all the way to the bitter end. It mattered to me. You’ve earned your Eagle wings.
I’ve been thinking about that Titanic Museum you mentioned. I haven’t been in a long time, and I would be happy to take you. Perhaps this weekend? It’s not too crowded if we go in the late afternoon, after the tourists leave. Let me know.
Carter
* * *
Ginny wanted to let out a huge squeal, but at that moment, her door opened and an aide brought in the first visitor for the day—Caleb, a second grader with balance problems.
Ginny quickly thrust her mail into a drawer and called him over. They walked the balance path and practiced crossing his midline to help his brain pass a motion from one hemisphere to the other.
But even as Ginny worked with Caleb, correcting him and praising what he did well, the back of her mind stayed on Carter. He had asked her to go to the museum. Was it an actual date? Or more of a friend-zone thing? Would she only get three chances like Natalie said? And if that were true, should she hold off? If they got to the three dates, and he tried to throw her over, did that mean that the dog lessons would end also?
“Miss Ginny?” Caleb tugged on her shirt.
“I’m sorry, Caleb. My brain was somewhere else.”
Caleb laughed. “How did it get out of your head?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go catch it.”
They ran over to the circle of uneven padded mats, pretending to snatch her brain. Caleb almost fell a couple times, but Ginny was there to catch him and right him again. He had already made progress since the beginning of the school year.
As long as they worked with him as he grew, he would master this balance problem over time.
At the end of his twenty minutes, Ginny escorted him back to class.
When she returned, she quickly pulled out the note and read it one more time. What should she do? Accept the offer and worry that her clock was ticking? Or turn him down, which might mean they would never progress past simply training her dog?
How much stock should she put in what Natalie had told her at the game?
She needed advice.
During her short lunch break, Ginny sought Carly, who sat at her desk, twisting her blond hair into a high bun.
“Coming to lunch?” Ginny asked. “Maybe we could sit outside today?”
Carly surveyed the leaves blowing past her window. “Are you looking for some privacy for girl talk?” She opened one of her drawers an
d pulled out her lunch box. “Because I’m totally game. But maybe we could stay in here? You realize we’re in the middle of a cold spell.”
“Yes, I was trying to avoid the faculty lounge.”
“I have to be quick today,” Carly said. “Lisa has a substitute, so I’m watching some of her kids to reduce the load on the sub.”
Ginny sat in a student chair at a nearby table and opened her lunch. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”
Carly moved to sit opposite her. They squatted on the little chairs like giants. “Mum’s the word.”
Ginny’s words came in a rush. “Natalie told me at the football game on Friday that Carter has gone three strikes and out with everyone he’s dated.”
“I’m not sure that’s completely accurate,” Carly said. “But I wasn’t on the market, so I may not know the gritty details.”
“Okay, well, the thing is, he asked me to go to the Titanic Museum. I can’t tell if it’s like a date-date, or like a friend-date, because I mentioned that I really wanted to go there.”
Carly aimed her sandwich at Ginny. “That’s totally a date-date.”
“Are you sure? Because everything we’ve done together has been very friend-like. So I could see him just saying hey, let’s go to this museum.”
Carly shook her head. “No way. The Titanic Museum is romantic. There’s a giant staircase. The story of Jack and Rose. The tragic ending.”
“That’s what I’m trying to avoid!”
Carly laughed. “Ginny, it will be fine. If it’s three dates and out, then that just means it wasn’t meant to be.”
“But I would hate to lose his help with my dog.”
Carly got thoughtful, tugging the top crust of her sandwich. “That’s true. If you guys burn out on the dates, then you don’t get to see him at all.”
“See? Does it make more sense for me to try to keep the dog thing going, and maybe he’ll get more comfortable with me? Maybe then we could avoid the three and out.”
“I’m still not confident that it’s a three-and-out situation. And you have to consider what message it sends him if you turn him down.”
Ginny stuck her half-eaten sandwich back in its container. “I wish there was some way I could say no without actually saying no.”
“Women have been doing that for ages,” Carly said. “I have to wash my hair. I’m on my period.” She laughed. “Don’t say that.”
“I guess I could just be busy and maybe put it off. That way I could say yes, but not do it yet. Buy me some time.”
“That seems like a viable strategy.” Carly glanced up at the clock. “Oh crap, I have to go. She shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and put her box back in the drawer. “I guess this is good for the diet,” she said around the mound of bread. “Nice chat. Tell me how it goes.”
Ginny picked up her own lunch to take back to her room. She knew what to do now. Hopefully, as she bought more time, she and Carter could figure out if they were indeed compatible without having to go through the third and possibly final date to find out.
Chapter 10
Ginny stayed after school that day to put together a handwritten note, just like the one Carter had sent. This method was possibly too romantic for what she had to say, but in many ways, it was also a safer bet. With a note left in a slot, they wouldn’t start a back-and-forth conversation that could trip her up as she tried to delay the date.
She balled up three or four versions before finally coming up with one. She told him that going to the museum was an amazing idea, and she really looked forward to it. But could they postpone? She had a crazy weekend ahead, and she wanted to really take the time that they would need to see a museum of that magnitude.
Hopefully that would work.
Just in case there were prying eyes, Ginny folded the paper up and sealed it in an envelope. She wrote Carter McBride on the outside in a plain simple script so that there would be no funny ideas that this might be a love note.
Truly, it wasn’t. Technically Ginny was turning him down.
By the time she finished, most of the staff was gone, and Ginny realized she would need to drive the note over to the high school in order to make sure he got it before they saw each other at the park the next day.
By the time she walked home, let Roscoe out for a little while, and prepared to drive up to the high school, it was well after five. Since the high school let out at four, there was a real risk that she wouldn’t be able to get into the building at all. She decided to go early the next morning instead.
As the evening wound down, Ginny almost gave in to the temptation to send Carter a quick text message. But the fear that he might immediately ask what’s happening next weekend held her back. She didn’t want to lie.
Ginny started her day extra early to drive by the high school before the elementary bell. She was through the front door and in the office before she realized she had no clue where the teacher boxes were at the high school. When she arrived on Fridays, she always went straight to the gym.
The high school started an hour later than the elementary, so the rooms were silent and empty. Ginny wandered the administrative wing, glancing around. She passed offices for the assistant principal and the counselor, and two copy machines.
Then she found it—a small space with rows of cubbies.
Names were stickered below each one. They were not alphabetical, but seemed to be arranged by subject matter. After a moment, Ginny found the cluster for the coaches, and spotted Carter’s name.
The turn of her heart upon seeing it made clear that she was feeling more attached to him than she had admitted. But after getting caught touching his nameplate in the athletic offices, Ginny didn’t risk stroking this one and embarrassing herself.
She stuck the envelope in his cubby and turned around, almost crashing into a man in a tweed jacket.
“Oh!” she said. “I’m so sorry!”
“Not a problem,” the man replied. He was older, but not terribly so—probably late thirties. He had a friendly expression and crystal blue eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m the occupational therapist. I work here on Fridays.”
Ginny desperately wanted to escape, fearing this man would figure out what she had done. The cubbies were mostly empty, and she felt as though the lone envelope sticking out of Carter’s box was flashing like a neon sign.
“I’m Andrew McCallister,” he said, holding out a hand. “History teacher.”
Ginny shook it awkwardly. Andrew was dressed like a stuffy 1950s professor, with his tweedy brown jacket and bow tie. She vaguely remembered someone talking about him in connection to some secret messages on the cakes you could buy on Town Square. Not that Ginny had bought one. She avoided Town Square completely.
“Nice to meet you,” Ginny said. “I’ve got a race back over to the elementary school to start my day.”
“Have a good one.” His eyes scanned the boxes, and once again Ginny worried that the single envelope in Carter’s cubby stood out. It was probably just her. There were loose papers in some of the other slots.
Maybe this romantic plan of handwritten notes wasn’t such a great idea after all.
She resisted the urge to pluck it out and left the office.
By lunchtime, Ginny regretted her decision to write a note. Had he seen it yet? Did he think she was making excuses?
Ginny was so distracted, it was hard to focus on the students. She kept picturing Carter at his mail slot—his brown hair, that chiseled face, his strong shoulders in a school sweatshirt. She had to work diligently to make sure she gave her full attention to the students.
It didn’t help that it was a lighter day than usual, as one entire grade had gone to a field trip, leaving gaps of empty time for her to obsess.
Of course, there was always the possibility that he wouldn’t even get the note before they met for the dog lesson tonight. If he’d already checked his box early that morning, he might not look again until to
morrow.
Ginny would think of that now.
“I really am just a teenage girl at heart,” she muttered as she rearranged the stability balls in their perfect circle.
“What was that, dear?”
Ginny turned to the door, her stomach flipping from the surprise. The school secretary, Mrs. Humphries, stood there holding a folder.
“Just talking to myself,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“You’re getting a new student tomorrow. New to the district. He’ll be in third grade. The coordinator thought you should review this before you saw him the first time. The teacher wasn’t sure when she would bring him by.”
Ginny walked across the room and took the folder from her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be sure to go over it before tomorrow.”
Mrs. Humphries glanced around the room. “I love what you’ve done in here. It looks amazing.”
“It’s going well,” she said.
“Enough to make you feel like a teenage girl?”
Ginny’s face burned. “Something like that,” she said.
Mrs. Humphries raised her eyebrows, as if she knew that her work had nothing to do with her mutterings.
Small town life. On days like this, Ginny sort of wished she’d moved someplace as big as Chicago.
Chapter 11
Carter parked his truck in front of Ginny’s house just before five o’clock. Her note to him sat on the passenger seat. He killed the engine and picked it up with a frown.
He didn’t know what to make of it. She had been so fired up to see the Titanic Museum, but this note felt a lot like a brush off.
Maybe she wasn’t feeling it.
He shoved the note in the glove compartment and got out of the truck. He’d get a feel from her tonight, one way or the other. If she wasn’t interested, then that was that. He definitely wouldn’t press.
