Autumn didn’t answer, but nodded. Matt looked at Hannah, both of them realizing the problem with this scenario. Autumn would have no problem showing the pictures to the class, but if she wasn’t speaking except when Hannah was around, there wasn’t any way for her to tell about the book.
“Autumn?” Hannah asked.
“Yes?”
“Would it be okay if I came to the story time part on Wednesday and listened to you tell about the book?”
Autumn’s face lit up, then fell. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” Matt asked.
“I think only parents, or maybe grandparents, can come. That’s all that have come to see other kids.”
“When is story time?” he asked.
“It’s at noon,” Maura said, “according to the schedule they sent home. They do story time right before lunch.”
“That’s right,” Autumn said.
“Well, that’s perfect for me,” he said. “I can take my lunch break, grab something quick to eat and then be there for story time. And if she still wants to go, I can bring Miss Hannah with me.”
Hannah smiled at him. “I would love to go,” she said.
“Great!” Matt said, echoing with Autumn’s “Yay!” from the floor.
Maura nodded. “I think that’s a marvelous idea,” she said. “And I feel fairly certain that this will be a story time that Mrs. Johnson will never forget.”
Chapter Seven
Bo Taylor walked toward the Young at Heart room at the church with even more apprehension than he’d felt Sunday morning when he’d entered the lobby upstairs. The last time he’d attended church regularly, he and his wife Dee had been a part of the Middle Marrieds group. Now he’d shot straight into the senior citizens bunch, and he wasn’t sure it was an accurate placement. Was forty-nine really that old? Okay, fifty in a month, but still…he sure didn’t feel senior-ish.
Probably to save electricity, the primary hallway lights were off and small wall lights were placed sporadically along the path to the oversize room. But there was no denying which room would be seeing all of the action tonight. The beam at the end of the hallway burst into his path like a scene from The Twilight Zone. And Bo had the same eerie feeling, like the hall kept getting longer and longer, his goal farther and farther away.
He contemplated turning around and heading back to the world where he was comfortable, back at home sitting in his favorite easy chair scanning ESPN for all things football. But he’d promised Jana that he’d give this a go, and he sure hated disappointing his girls. However, he anticipated stepping into that bright light and seeing a bunch of sweet older ladies who’d wonder what in the world he’d been thinking when he signed up for that scrapbooking class.
What had he been thinking?
“Promise me, Daddy. You need to try new things, meet new people. It’ll be good for you,” Jana had said as she guided him to that sign-up board on Sunday. Bo had peered at the choices. Scrapbooking had seemed the lesser of two evils, since the only other new activity starting this week was quilting. Like that was going to happen.
He should have told Jana that he’d just wait until they started a fishing group. Or golfing. No, he’d never golfed a day in his life, but he’d bet it’d make him feel a lot more manly than scrapbooking.
Bo blew out a breath. All right, God, if this is where I’m supposed to be now, I want You to help me be happy about it. Please, he added, stepping into the glaring light then squinting while his eyes adjusted to the difference.
He’d anticipated four or five extremely elderly women to be sitting at the tables with a bunch of ancient shoeboxes filled with worn photos that they deemed scrapbook worthy. But there were at least forty people seated in the room. And while there were quite a few silver-haired ladies in the bunch, there were just as many silver-haired males. And the room also held brunette ladies and blondes…and one auburn-haired lady who looked up from her spot at a table and smiled.
Thank you, God.
“Bo! Come on over,” Maura said. “I saved you a spot next to me. I hope that’s okay.” She indicated the chair beside hers at a table filled with several of Bo’s friends from around town.
He walked to the table, grinned at the group and then directly at Maura. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Hannah told me. I hope you don’t mind that I signed up too. I’ve been wanting something to do with my time, and when she said that you were going to give scrapbooking a go, I thought it’d be nice to do something with a friend.”
Her words warmed him to the core, and made him smile again. Have mercy, it felt good to smile.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said.
Maura smiled broader. “Wonderful.” Then she looked to the rest of the folks seated around the table. “This is Mae Martin. Her son is Chad, who is little Nathan’s father. And this is Bryant and Anna Bowman. They’re Jessica’s parents,” Maura said, obviously excited to introduce Bo to her new friends. He let her continue the introductions, but exchanged glances with all of his buddies around the table. He didn’t want to embarrass Maura by telling her they’d all known each other for most of their lives. Apparently, her life in Atlanta didn’t lend itself to a culture where everyone knew everyone in town. And she seemed to be having so much fun, well, Bo didn’t want to ruin it.
Unfortunately, Maddie Farmer, intently working on organizing the scrapbooking items surrounding her at the table, didn’t get the drift that everyone was trying to be polite and let Maura do introductions. When Maura got to the nurse, Maddie laughed. “Oh, goodness, we’ve all known Bo for years,” she said with a wave of a marker-filled hand.
Maura’s flushed cheeks said she realized her error, and Bo wondered if she’d be hurt that he hadn’t told her sooner. But then she laughed, a beautiful sound, and shook her head. “What am I thinking?”
“You’re thinking that you’ve met new friends, and you wanted me to meet them too,” Bo said, still touched by her action. “And I appreciate that, even if there’s nothing new about this brood for me. They’re all old as dirt, since they now qualify for the Young at Heart class. But then again, so do I.”
That caused a lot of rumble at the table, but for the most part, they all laughed and agreed. Or told Bo that he was the only one resembling dirt.
Then Diane Marsh, the instructor of the class and owner of Scraps and Crafts, cleared her throat and welcomed them all to Scrapbooking 101.
For the next hour, Bo got an introduction to albums, themes, stamps, die cutters, stencils and stickers. Bo attempted to concentrate on the terms and the supplies scattered around their table, but that was more difficult when sitting beside Maura. She was so absorbed in everything Diane described and so obviously happy to be included with the group that he found himself entranced with her enthusiasm. And with her, period. Their visit at the town square fountain had introduced him to a new friendship with someone who’d also had some rough circumstances in life. Then their continued conversations on Sunday at the church dinner had told him that she was easy to talk to, fun to be around.
But this, tonight, had been a welcome surprise, that she’d considered him a friend and someone she actually wanted to spend time with, scrapbooking of all things.
She reached for a pair of bizarre-looking scissors from the center of the table, picked up a piece of bright turquoise paper and cut around the edges, creating a wavy border. Bo watched her hands turn the square of paper, noticed her nails were painted a shiny pale pink and that there was something very delicate about the way she manipulated the blue square.
Suddenly, her hands stopped and he realized that her attention had turned from the paper in her hand to him. “You aren’t enjoying this, are you?”
He blinked, realized that he’d been so enthralled with watching her that he hadn’t paid attention to the fact that the square-cutting was a group activity. Everyone else at the table, everyone else in the room, in fact, had also picked up a paper and started to cut wavy-
edged borders. “Actually,” he said, attempting to lower his voice as much as possible, “I’m enjoying this very much. I just got so carried away with watching you work that I forgot to do my own.”
Honest was the only way Bo knew how to be. Dee had always claimed him to be honest to a fault, but she’d also said that was the main thing she loved about him. Evidently, Maura appreciated it as well, because she smiled at him so tenderly that his heart warmed at the sight.
“Bo Taylor, I believe that’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered back.
“Well, it’s true,” he said, on a roll now, and quite happy that Bryant Martin was chatting so loudly with his wife that he didn’t decide to rag his friend for getting mushy at the scrapbook table. Bo picked up a piece of red paper and started cutting as well. “There’s no way I can get my hands to move the way yours do,” he said. “That’s what had my attention. It’s so, well, graceful, I guess you’d say.”
She’d been cutting more waves when he spoke, but her hands stopped, and she looked directly at Bo. “I used to hear that often, when I was young, but it’s been a long time,” she said softly. Then she cleared her throat and explained, “I was a dancer when I was young.”
Maura’s words were spoken at a lull in the table’s conversation, and Maddie Farmer jumped on her statement.
“You danced? What kind of dancing?” she asked.
Maura shrugged, a bit embarrassed, but said, “Ballet. Not professionally or anything, but I danced throughout my school years. I loved it.”
“Why did you stop?” Anna Bowman asked.
Maura smiled. “I married when I was nineteen and then had my daughter at twenty-one. Then I simply enjoyed being with her, watching her dance and play and enjoy life. Dancing took a backseat to other things.” Her voice faded as she added, “I always thought I’d like to dance again, though.”
“Well, it isn’t ballet, but there is a ballroom dancing class starting up at the Stockville Community College next month. Several of the other nurses at the hospital have been talking about it. I’d thought about giving it a try and can give you the information about it, if you’d like.”
Maura’s face lit up, and Bo could almost see her in a big room, music playing and her smile beaming as she danced. “I’d like that very much,” she said. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Maddie said, then turned in her chair to peer toward the front of the room, where Diane Marsh held up a completed scrapbook album and discussed themes.
Maura’s attention had returned to her hands, and Bo knew she was thinking about his words. He leaned toward her and repeated, “Very graceful,” then smiled.
“Thank you.” The emotion in her words was undeniable, and Bo was again thankful for his tendency to always say what was on his mind. Who’d have thought that telling this pretty lady that her hands were graceful would so obviously touch her heart? But it had, and Bo was very grateful for the opportunity to make Maura smile.
“Hey, Bo, here’s a topic that we’re more familiar with,” Bryant said, nodding toward the word Diane Marsh had written on the dry erase board.
Bo looked toward the front of the classroom, where Diane drew a line under the word Tools.
Bryant had been subtly poking fun at the scrapbooking instruction all night, but Bo hadn’t missed the fact that Bryant had already withdrawn several photos of his grandson Nathan from his wallet and had made notes on a pad that included a list of potential themes. T-ball, Preschool and Kindergarten headed the list.
“I’m betting scrapbooking tools don’t include table saws,” Bo replied to his friend.
Before Bryant could answer, Maura said, “According to this supply list, the tools include punches, paper trimmers, templates and embossers.” Then she leaned forward and picked up a small football-shaped wood cutout from the sample scrapbooking items Diane had placed in the center of their table. “But I’m betting you could make these types of embellishments with a jigsaw or a coping saw, don’t you think?”
Bo’s jaw dropped, and Maura noticed.
She laughed. “What, you don’t think females know anything about tools?”
He honestly had to think about that question before he answered, “Well, until a second ago, I didn’t.”
That caused quite a round of laughter at the table that was so loud that they ended up apologizing to the surrounding tables.
Maura’s laughter finally subsided and she explained, “My father was a carpenter.” She shrugged. “I enjoyed spending time with him, but he was always in his shop. So I figured the best way to get time with my dad was to learn about his work.”
“You ever help him build things?” Bo asked.
“Sometimes,” she answered, and her face reflected the happiness of a distant memory. “Nothing huge or anything, but he’d let me hold the wood, taught me how to drive a nail and also taught me a thing or two about tools.”
“But not punches, paper trimmers or embossers?” Anna Bowman asked teasingly as she held up the list of scrapbooking supplies.
Maura laughed. “No, I still have a lot to learn about all of those.”
The group continued chatting and enjoying each other’s company until Diane ended the night with a discussion of digital cameras. Realizing his own camera was woefully outdated, Bo took a few notes on that subject and decided he’d shop for a new one soon. He’d need a decent camera to take photos of baby Dee soon.
After the class ended, Bo, Maura and the rest of the group moved to the tables Diane had set up along the side walls that displayed sample scrapbook albums. The themes were endless. Bo found a “Baby’s First Year” scrapbook and flipped through the pages, marveling at the way the book told a story. The first page displayed a young couple in various stages of hugging and kissing with captions about “Celebrating the wonderful news” and “Children are a heritage from the Lord.”
The next pages were filled with photos of ultrasounds that became more and more detailed as the pages progressed, and then the birth announcement, along with the hospital form where two tiny feet had been stamped on the page. Another page had a small bracelet with pink beads that spelled out Emma.
Bo felt his throat thicken. “I believe I still have both of the girls’ bracelets like this. They gave them to all of the babies at Claremont Hospital back then.”
Maura stood beside him and nodded. “I still have Rebecca’s, too. She was born at the Dekalb Medical Center near Atlanta.”
Bo flipped through the remaining pages in the album. “My girls need something like this. We saved pictures, and things like that, but nothing has been organized before. This—this would mean a lot to Jana and Hannah.”
Maura nodded. “Well, now that we’ve started our class, you’ll know what to do to put it together, right?”
He smiled. “I’ll do the new baby’s book right. Go ahead and start at the beginning and make sure she has something special for every memory.”
Maura moved to the next book, titled Kindergarten Memories. “I’ve saved everything Autumn has ever made,” she admitted, “so I’m thinking I can make a good go at saving all of those memories, too.” Her hands moved delicately across the embellished pages of the kindergarten-themed album and again, Bo was mesmerized by the gracefulness.
“You should dance again,” he said.
She stopped looking at the album and turned dark eyes toward Bo. “You think so?”
He nodded. “Maddie said they have that ballroom dancing class starting at the community college soon.”
“Yes,” she said, then waited while Bo got up his nerve.
“I’m thinking ballroom dancing probably is a little easier if you have a partner,” he said.
Her smile gave him all the encouragement he needed.
“And I’m thinking I’d like to give it a try, too, if you’re up to spending time together beyond scrapbooking, that is.” Bo hadn’t felt this surge of confidence in years, that excited feeling when you ask a girl out and yo
u absolutely, positively know without a doubt that she’ll say yes.
And Maura didn’t disappoint.
“I definitely think I’m up to it,” she said, grinning.
Bo felt like a teen again, and it was an amazingly good feeling. In fact, the one-word response that came to mind was awesome, but he reigned in that reply and answered, “That’s great.”
Chapter Eight
Hannah pulled into the Claremont Elementary parking lot at a quarter before noon on Wednesday and wondered if her apprehension was more because she was attempting to help Autumn talk in front of her teacher, or because she was spending more time with Matt. She’d seen him every day since they met, and she found that she looked forward to the moment when she’d see him each day. They hadn’t even been on an official date yet, but he already felt like a part of her life. A very important part of her life.
She parked next to his black BMW, went inside and signed the office registry, then walked to the first grade hall to find Matt standing outside of a classroom. Each class had a felt flag embellished with some type of animal hanging beside the door. The door where Matt stood had a blue flag with a green frog and the words Mrs. Johnson’s Jumping Frogs on the fabric flag.
He wore a blue-and-white-striped button-down and navy pants. His arms were folded and his jaw tense. It didn’t take Hannah but one glance to know that something he saw in that classroom bothered him terribly.
She moved to stand beside him under the frog flag and saw that he was peering through the skinny glass window that composed the right half of the door. The children were inside, gathered at different tables around the room and working on various activities.
Matt looked at her, his face definitely grim. “She’s over there.” He pointed to the table against the far wall, where Autumn and three other children worked on some sort of magnetic ball puzzle. “They’re doing centers.”
“You didn’t want to go inside?” Hannah asked quietly.
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