Trouble Me: A Rosewood Novel

by Laura Moore

  Ned cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve got that question settled, how about Miss Jade grabbing her breeches from her bag so we can get a spot of work done before the day is over?”

  “An excellent idea, especially since I want to do Jordan’s brownies justice. Who do you have lined up for me to ride?” She had a moment of nostalgia for her beloved gelding, Aspen, the first horse she’d trained, the first horse she’d had to sell.

  It had taken saying goodbye to Aspen to understand why Margot broke down whenever it came time to load a horse they’d sold into the van.

  But Ellen, the girl in Chicago who’d bought Aspen, was really nice, with soft hands, a good seat, and a heart as big as the dark-bay Thoroughbred gelding. Watching Ellen fall in love with Aspen the second he nuzzled her outstretched palm made parting with him somewhat easier. Knowing the two would be good equestrian partners helped too. Aspen was a horse with enough talent and scope to carry Ellen for years to come.

  This wasn’t an easy business—raising, training, and selling horses. It demanded time, care, and love, and really good judgment, the last especially important when the day came to sell the horse you’d raised from a wobbly-legged foal. Luckily, no one at Rosewood would ever part with a horse simply to make money. Rosewood Farm’s horses went to the very best owners they could find, which made laying that last goodbye kiss against the velvety muzzle of a horse you loved a tiny bit easier to bear.

  “Ned and I were thinking you might like to work with Cosmo and Valentine,” Travis told her. “We’d also like you to take over Carmen’s training.”

  “You’ve begun entering her in some three-day events, haven’t you?” Like Valentine and Cosmo, Carmen was a five-year-old.

  Ned nodded. “That’s right. We think she’s got the talent and scope to be a top competitor. She’s a real firecracker. Just your speed.”

  “Sounds good.” She turned to Owen. “You sure you’re willing to trust me with Cosmo’s training?” When Owen and Jordan got engaged, Ned had somehow convinced Owen that, in addition to three young stepchildren, he needed the beautiful young colt in his life. To everyone’s delight, Owen had agreed.

  Owen grinned and lifted his shoulder in an easy shrug. “Jade, I can use all the help with Cosmo I can get.”

  “Don’t believe a word he says, Jade,” Margot said. “Owen’s doing great with him. Travis has him riding Cosmo at least twice a week so they get to know each other. And yesterday Owen jumped a pretty tricky course on Mystique.”

  “Yeah, he did super-well,” Kate added. She always paid attention when it came to how the horses were ridden.

  Owen mouthed a “Thanks, Kate,” to his eldest stepchild. “Mystique is very forgiving.”

  Margot nodded. “She is, isn’t she? And in a year or two it’ll be Cosmo taking you over the same jump course.”

  “Both Cosmo and I need a lot of work before that happens. I’ve seen you train the youngsters, Jade. I’d be really grateful if you could help bring Cosmo along.”

  “Nothing would make me happier. And, Owen, I love the cottage.”

  They’d managed to herd the kids back outside and direct them up the drive toward the barns and the house. The day had turned hot, but the humidity was still relatively low, so it wasn’t too unpleasant. The birds were singing and the kids were chattering excitedly, debating who would ride Archer and who’d get Doc.

  The combined effects of driving a good eighteen hours in the last twenty-four and passing a near-sleepless night should have left Jade feeling ragged around the edges. Instead, there was a spring in her step and, if they hadn’t been marching up the graveled drive, she might have been tempted to do a cartwheel simply because she could.

  Life was very good.

  Extending her arms wide, she smiled up at a sky as dazzling a blue as the stranger’s eyes had been. She sent a silent thanks to him, whoever he was and wherever he was, for providing a most excellent night of restorative sex.

  “That’s some happy face,” Miriam observed. “Care to share?”

  Jade lowered her face but didn’t bother to erase her goofy smile. Nothing wrong with feeling good. “Thinking about a guy.”

  “A Florida guy? They can be hot.”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “Not a Florida guy. I met him last night. We danced and stuff …” Her smile stretched like taffy. She had a feeling the memories he’d given her would be making her smile for a long time to come.

  “And stuff? As in good hot stuff?” She elbowed Jade in the ribs playfully.

  “Shh! Pipe down!” Jade stole a glance at her sisters. Luckily, they were fielding questions from Max and Georgie about whether an ice cream trip to the Shake Shack was in the foreseeable future. “This wasn’t just good. It was superlative hot stuff.”

  “Nice. Did you get his number?”

  “No, why should I? I’ve got way better things to do with my time than call guys up—unless they happen to be balding, adorable men of the cloth.”

  Miriam gave a laugh. “I guess the Rev will do in a pinch.”

  “Stuart’s been bragging he can match my four-bagger.”

  “Wait. What’s that one mean again?”

  It was Jade’s turn to elbow her friend. “Miriam, please, you’ve got to keep bowling terms straight. A four-bagger—aka a clover, and sometimes referred to as a hambone—is when you bowl four strikes in a row. A strike is when your bowling ball hits all the pins. Don’t you dare ask what a pin is or I’ll break down and cry.”

  “And Stuart thinks he can throw a four-bagger-clover-hambone whatever?”

  “So he claims. I know he’s God’s BF, Miriam, but I’m going to have to take the good Reverend Stuart Wilde down a couple pegs.”

  “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. But, Jade, I’m worried that bowling is a poor substitute for getting superlative hot stuff. You sure you don’t want to check out what some of the available men in Warburg have to offer?” Miriam teased.

  “Thanks, but no, thanks.”

  ON MONDAY afternoon Jade was seated in the office of Ted Guerra, the Warburg Elementary School principal. She’d been in her fair share of principals’ offices before—usually for disciplinary reasons—and Guerra’s office was a nice departure from the usual ho-hum decorating scheme. It had lots of books, puzzles, and student art. Paintings and drawings covered the walls, and there were even some clay sculptures adorning the bookshelves. On his desk were photographs of his wife and children, the youngest of which looked to be in his late teens.

  “Here you go, Jade.” Ted Guerra handed her a stapled sheaf of papers. “Just sign the last page of the contract and we’ll be set.” He lifted a ceramic coffee mug that read Teachers are heroes and offered her one of the ballpoint pens that filled it.

  Taking the contract and pen, she flipped to the last page, signed her name where he’d indicated, wrote in the date, and capped the pen. “It’s that easy? Nothing more to it?”

  “Not a thing,” he replied with a shake of his head. “As soon as Sandy Riley called me with the news that she wouldn’t be able to teach this fall, I made immediate arrangements to offer you the temporary appointment. Nothing is more confusing to students than opening the school year without a head teacher. Luckily, we had all your relevant documentation, since you’d applied for a teaching position. In addition, I’d already run a criminal background check on you. Happily, you don’t have a record.”

  Jade answered his smile with a weak one, while inside, her stomach knotted in anxiety. Ted Guerra had moved to Warburg only recently; he wouldn’t have necessarily learned about her delinquent past and that the reason she didn’t have a rap sheet was because her brushes with the law had all occurred when she was a minor.

  But Warburg had more than its fair share of tongue-waggers, so she was more resigned than surprised when he cleared his throat. “I have, however, heard some stories about your high school years. Is there anything you’d like to clarify?”

  She liked Ted Guerra. Lik
ed his open, freckled face and the intelligent hazel eyes, liked that his receding hairline made him seem boyish rather than old. Above all, she liked that his expression hadn’t gone sour with self-righteous disapproval simply because he’d heard about her unhappy and out-of-control teenage past. The fact that he was giving her a chance to explain told her a lot about his sense of fairness, an important quality in a principal.

  Still, this was hardly her favorite topic of conversation. Taking heart that he’d broached the topic of her previous misdemeanors after she’d signed the contract—a pretty sure indication that whatever he’d heard wasn’t bad enough to prevent him from hiring her—she said, “When my parents died, I went through a dark period. I was really angry and scared and made a lot of stupid and reckless decisions.”

  He’d probably heard the rumors surrounding her mother’s infidelity too, but there was no way she was going to address them. Instead, she said, “Luckily, my sisters, Margot and Jordan, were there for me, and with their help I was able to straighten myself out. Getting in trouble with the Warburg police was a darned good wake-up call too,” she added wryly. “Mr. Guerra, I promise that since my last run-in with them at age seventeen, I haven’t had so much as a parking ticket.”

  Ted Guerra nodded. “When the stories about you came to my attention, I looked again at your file. Your academic record and your letters of recommendation are outstanding.” Noting the blush that warmed her face, he said, “Really, outstanding is the only way to describe someone with a double major in anthropology and education whose thesis received highest honors and who graduated at the top of her class. I’m impressed by the fact that you overcame your difficult adolescence. Not everyone manages to do so—or to do it as successfully. Moreover, I think your past experiences will serve you well as a teacher.”

  It was a good thing he didn’t appear to expect a response, as she would have contradicted all the glowing things he’d said about her by sounding like a total twit, babbling her gratitude.

  Instead, he continued, all brisk and businesslike, “Now, I’ve drafted a letter to the second-grade parents, explaining that you’ll be taking over for Sandy until she can come back after winter break. I’ll of course highlight your credentials and experience as a student teacher, but I thought it might be nice if, along with my letter, you could write one to the children telling them a little bit about yourself. Nothing too involved, just enough to make them know how pleased you are to be teaching them.”

  “Sure. That’s no problem.”

  “I called Sandy Riley to let her know you’ll be subbing for her. She’s delighted—she knows your sister Jordan. She said she’d be happy to lend you her lesson plans from last year if you think they’d be helpful.”

  “I’d love to look them over, perhaps use them as a springboard for my own plans,” she replied.

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “I’m going to drop by and see how she’s doing. I’ll collect the materials then. Let’s see, what else do we need to cover?” He paused to consult a handwritten list. “Oh, yes, your classroom. I’ll take you to see it so that you can figure out what you want on the walls. We’ve got some visuals in the supply room you can use. There are also some math manipulatives, puzzles, and flash cards. Most everything else you’ll have to buy on your own. You’ve got a three-hundred-dollar budget. After that, expenses and supplies come out of your pocket. A lot of the teachers write a letter to the parents to send in basic supplies like Kleenex. You can draw up a list and put it in your letter or save it until parents’ night—that’s scheduled two weeks after school opens.”

  “Okay. And what’s your policy on animals in the classroom? Can I buy some fish for the class? It’s a good way to get the kids observing nature.”

  “Sure. Tricia Creighton, who’s teaching the other second-grade class, has a terrarium with turtles and lizards. Your room has a southern exposure, so you can have plants in there too.”

  “Sounds good.” Great, in fact. Anything that could turn a blah, ho-hum institutional space into one that excited the imagination was a huge plus. If none of the kids had allergies, perhaps she’d buy some gerbils too and devote a whole corner of the classroom to nature. But no birds. She couldn’t bear the sight of a caged bird.

  When a phone call for Ted momentarily interrupted their meeting, Jade took the opportunity to compile a mental list of the things she’d be buying in the coming weeks. As shopping lists went, it was a great one. Topping it were the four new ponies she needed to buy for her riding classes. Just below the search for suitable school ponies was a trip to buy a colorful school of fish. She was pretty sure that tetras and cyprinids could live in a tank together. She’d check and then drive to the pet store located on Route 50 and see what fish they stocked. The pet store was next to Screamin’ Susie’s—a punk hair salon and an old haunt. God, she’d have to pop in to Susie’s and say hi to the gang. The trick would be walking out of the shop without having her hair dyed lime green and chopped à la Sid Vicious. It was going to break Susie and co.’s hearts to hear that those rocker days were long gone.

  Also on her list was a pilgrimage to Steadman’s Saddle Shop to pick up pony tack. Then somewhere, sometime, before the first day of school, she had to squeeze in an outing to buy clothes that weren’t jeans, breeches, or didn’t come off a fashion designer’s rack. She’d ask Margot and Jordan to accompany her as wardrobe advisers; they’d get a major bang out of dressing her like a schoolmarm.

  Ted Guerra hung up the phone. “Sorry about that, Jade. I’m trying to get a company to donate microscopes to the school. So, let me give you your class list and then we’ll head down to the classroom and take a quick tour of the school so you get a sense of the layout.” He picked up a folder that was sitting on top of a pile of papers. “Here,” he said, passing it to her. “This has your class roster and your students’ evaluations for kindergarten and first grade. Being a local, you might already know some of your kids.”

  Curious, Jade flipped open the manila folder to see whether she indeed recognized any names. Warburg was a small town, and the children were close in age to Max and Olivia. The list was in alphabetical order. She scanned it, past Chris Alden, Rosie Baxter, Jay Blount, Deirdre Cerra, Hayley Cooper, Patrick Faherty … Her gaze stalled, then jumped back to Hayley Cooper.

  A choking panic seized her. She coughed to clear her throat. “Um, Ted, this Hayley Cooper …” She swallowed. And coughed again. Violently. “Which Cooper is she related to?”

  “Do you want some water for that?”

  She waved a hand and shook her head, so Ted continued. “Her dad’s Rob. He’s on the police force here. Do you know the Coopers?”

  She must be cursed. Really. Wasn’t it only the day before that she’d been crowing to herself about how great her life was, how smoothly things were falling into place, and now this had to happen. She had RoboCop’s kid in her class.

  Why, oh, why, was her luck so lousy? And she’d just signed the contract; she couldn’t bail now. Wouldn’t either. She wasn’t some wimp to be intimidated by the fact that she’d be teaching the child of the guy who had busted her ass not only once but twice. She wasn’t a juvie anymore. But still, damn it all to hell, she thought. This promised to be a truly awkward situation.

  Jade swallowed the thick lump of dismay that was threatening to choke her and tried for a fairly normal, nonhysterical voice.

  “Yeah, I kind of know Rob Cooper.” The Coopers were a bit like the Radcliffes in that both families had their specialty. The Radcliffes bred and trained horses; the Coopers raised cops. Practically every male in that family had served or was serving on Warburg’s police force. But she’d dealt only with Rob—aka RoboCop—and she would have been happy if she never had to lay eyes on him again.

  “Oh, good,” Ted replied with a satisfied nod. “As you’ll soon discover, Hayley’s a sweet kid. Bright and eager. Rob’s doing a marvelous job parenting.”

  She tried to smile at the enthusiastic endorsement, but it w
as hard to reconcile her memory of him—the quintessential hard-assed cop—with Ted Guerra’s description of Rob Cooper as a first-rate father.

  “Actually, Jade, Hayley was one of the reasons I thought you’d be the perfect hire. You can relate to what she’s going through, having lost a mother yourself.”

  Ted Guerra’s comment caused Jade’s brow to furrow. She was fairly certain she’d never heard anything about Rob Cooper’s wife dying. If she had, she must have stored the memory in some far recess of her mind. Avoidance was key in dealing with anything pertaining to Officer Rob Cooper. Heck, she even made elaborate detours whenever she was in town so she wouldn’t pass the police station and perhaps catch sight of him in his scary mirrored aviators and unsmiling face. She had this unshakable fear that if she so much as jaywalked, he’d catch her at it. It was absurd, but, hey, wasn’t that the definition of superstitions, that they defied the rational?

  But the news that he’d lost his wife made Jade feel a pang of sympathy for him and his motherless daughter. How rough for both of them. “Uh, I don’t think I’d heard about his wife.…” Her sentence dangled as she tried to remember if she knew the wife’s name. Nope, a total blank.

  “Rebecca,” Ted supplied.

  “When did she die?”

  “It was several years back. As I said, Hayley’s a great kid, extremely well adjusted. But at this stage of development, issues can arise unexpectedly. I think you’d be the right person to help her handle any emotional problems that might occur.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me.”

  And, really, wasn’t this why she wanted to teach in the first place? She wanted to help kids, share with them the things she knew and had experienced. That Ted Guerra believed she had the potential to help a child made her more determined than ever not to freak just because the little girl’s dad had been as frightening as any bogeyman to Jade’s teenage self.

  But she was no longer that unhappy teen. When she saw Rob Cooper again, she’d probably laugh herself silly over how utterly non-intimidating he was. Heck, he’d probably developed a gut from a steady police-officer diet of donuts.…