“I guess I have.” Meg smiled, thankful that Grams reminded her of the girl’s name. Cammy.
The choir began to sing with enthusiasm. Afterwards, the pastor made his way to the pulpit and began delivering his sermon.
Meg suddenly recalled a time when she was about Cammy’s age. She was visiting Grams, and the two of them sat on the sofa. Grams had her large, brown-leather Bible in her lap. She had read several passages and talked about sin and hell and death. Everything ugly in the world. Then she told Meg about heaven and peace, love and joy. All things so beautiful that no one could even come close to imagining them. To Meg’s little girl’s ears, it sounded like a Cinderella wonderland where Jesus Christ was the King. She wanted to believe it was all true—and she did believe, at the time. Then Grams said a prayer that Meg repeated. It had something to do with asking Jesus into her heart. To this day she remembered that unique connectedness she felt to Grams—and to God afterwards. Amazing how a remnant of that special feeling still remained.
Of course, she knew now that there was no Cinderella wonderland, and peace, love, and joy were questionable.
The service ended and a wave of embarrassment hit Meg when she realized she’d daydreamed during most of it. Everyone stood, and after a final musical number, the pastor dismissed the congregation.
Cammy rolled her wheelchair and blocked the end of the pew before Meg could make her exit. “Hi, Miss Jorgenson.”
“Hi.” Meg was tickled by the glowing adoration on the child’s face, and she hoped all her students would react this way. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine.” The little girl continued staring.
“Well, Cammy, you have a pretty name.”
“Thanks.” A slow smile crept across her small face. “I know your first name is Meg. Is that your nickname?”
“Yes, and I’m surprised you remembered it.”
Cammy seemed pleased with herself. “I remember lots of things.”
“I can tell, and to answer your question, Meg is short for Meghan.”
“That’s a pretty name, too.”
“Thank you.”
Meg watched as Cammy inspected her outfit. It was one of the better ones Meg owned: A turquoise and cocoa zigzag-patterned sleeveless dress with a coordinating short-sleeved jacket.
“You wear nice things,” Cammy said in a voice so soft Meg almost didn’t hear her. The little girl’s gaze traveled down Meg’s legs and landed on her brown ankle-strap pumps. “Someday I’m gonna wear high heels, too.” She lifted her blue eyes and stared into Meg’s face. “Daddy said ladies can’t walk so good in high heels, but I know I will. Just like you walk good in ’em.”
For a few seconds, Meg felt dumbstruck, but soon she recalled from her studies in college that it wasn’t uncommon for physically challenged children to pretend and imagine what life would be like for them without their disabilities.
Cammy opened her mouth to say more, but her father appeared beside her. Meg recalled meeting him on Friday night at the Depot Restaurant, but she’d been a bit overwhelmed and couldn’t recall his name.
Victor? Vaughn?
He gave her a polite nod. “I hope Cammy hasn’t been talking your ear off.” He seemed a tad embarrassed.
“Oh, no, we had a lovely conversation.” Meg smiled at Cammy again.
“Maybe I can sit next to you in church next week.” Eagerness lit her blue eyes.
“If I’m here, sure. That’d be fine.”
“Goody!”
“There was an ‘if’ in Miss Jorgenson’s reply.” He pulled his daughter’s chair back, out of the way so Meg could slip out of the pew. “Just keep that in mind.”
“I will, Daddy.”
He looked at Meg and, as if he sensed her struggle, stuck out his right hand. “Vance Bayer.”
“Vance.” She placed her hand in his. “Good to see you again.”
An awkward moment lagged before Grams took hold of Meg’s elbow.
“My, my, June Hatfield is out of the hospital.” She glanced at Vance. “Please excuse us. I want my granddaughter to meet one of my dearest friends.”
“Don’t let me keep you.” He inclined his head in a polite fashion.
“I might as well sit back down,” Tom muttered. “Once you and June get to gabbin’, it’s hours till yer finished.”
“Now, Tom, I promise I won’t be too long. Just rest your bones a little longer.”
With that, Meg found herself being propelled toward the front of the church.
With Cammy secured in the backseat, Vance pulled out of the church’s parking lot. He’d taken a good tongue-lashing from Nicole Foster just minutes ago, and he was still stinging. She’d seen him talking with the new teacher in town after the service and had accused him of “dumping” her for Meg Jorgenson. Good grief! He and Meg had exchanged no more than ten words. But Nicole had plenty of choice words for him anyway—even after Pastor Wilkerson’s message this morning. Of course, Vance never meant to hurt her, and he tried to explain that he had no designs on Meg Jorgenson. Why couldn’t Nicole see that their relationship just wasn’t going anywhere? The breakup was for the best.
“Daddy, do we have to go to Aunt Debbie’s for lunch?”
“What?” Vance snapped from his musing.
“Aunt Debbie. Do we have to go to her house now?”
“Yep. I promised we’d be there.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked us to come and we’re family.”
“But I heard old Mrs. Jorgenson tell young Miss Jorgenson that they were going to the Cracker Barrel in Danville. Why can’t we go there, too?”
“Because it costs money for gas and more money to eat out, and that’s not in our budget. Besides, I told your aunt Debbie that we’d go to her house for lunch.”
“Oh, phooey, phooey, phooey.”
Vance grinned at his daughter’s exclamation.
A few moments of silence lapsed, and Vance could practically hear the gears turning in her eight-year-old mind.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Who?”
“Miss Jorgenson. Do you think she’s pretty, Daddy?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“I think she’s pretty, too. And guess what? She has the nicest ankles I ever saw on a lady. And no stockings, just bare legs.”
The image that flashed through Vance’s mind caused him to loosen his necktie and unbutton the very top of his dress shirt. “Man alive, I hope Debbie made something go-od for lunch,” he drawled, steering the subject away from Meg and her shapely, bare legs. “I’m starved.”
“And, Daddy, Miss Jorgenson’s bare feet were in the prettiest high heels with pointy toes.” Cammy released a long sigh. “Boy, I sure do love high-heeled shoes.”
“Pointy toes? High heels? They sound painful. So, what do you think Aunt Debbie made for lunch?”
“I don’t know.” A pause. “So you think she’s pretty, too, huh?”
“Who’s that, punkin?” Vance grinned. “I can’t imagine who you’re talking about.”
“Daddy!”
Vance laughed, hearing Cammy’s exasperated sigh.
“Miss Jorgenson.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, like I said, she’s very pretty.”
“Prettier than Mrs. Foster?”
Vance peeked at Cammy in his rearview mirror. She might look innocent enough, but he knew a set-up when he heard one. He returned his gaze to the road ahead. “Everyone’s pretty in their own special way. I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“I think Miss Jorgenson is the prettiest lady in all of Kentucky now that she moved here.”
“Hmm…we’ll see if you feel that same way after your first math test.”
“I hate math.”
“I know.” Vance chuckled again.
“I bet Miss Jorgenson will help me with my math. I’ll probably be her best student.”
Vance prayed his little girl wasn’t setting herself up for a terrible dis
appointment. Cammy had a lot of competition for the Teacher’s Pet title. Lots of smart kids in Fairview Academy. He wondered if Meg Jorgenson was experienced enough to avoid favoritism in the classroom.
Reaching his sister’s ranch-styled home, he drove his van into the driveway and parked. He noticed Debbie’s boyfriend’s pickup truck on the street, and Vance wondered if his sister was serious about the guy.
He hopped out of the van and slid open the side door. He released the security straps that held Cammy’s wheelchair in place and then leaned on the switch near the door. Soon, both his little girl and her wheelchair were being lowered to the ground on a custom-made platform.
“All set?”
Cammy nodded and pushed herself toward the door. After closing up the van, Vance wheeled her chair the rest of the way into the house. Once inside, Cammy maneuvered herself toward the spare bedroom in which she kept a few toys for whenever she visited. Cammy was no stranger here, as Debbie babysat her a couple days a week.
Entering the living room, Vance greeted his sister’s current boyfriend, Gerry, with a nod. “How’re you doing?”
“All right.” The stout man with a wide midsection got up off the couch and extended his right hand. “How’s business?”
“Can’t complain.” Vance clasped Gerry’s hand in a friendly shake.
“I saw there’s a motorcycle in front of Hank’s that’s for sale.”
“Yep. Engine’s rebuilt.” Vance lowered himself into the armchair.
“You repair it?”
“Part of it.”
“Bet it’s worth the price then.”
Vance sat on the sofa and relaxed. “Definitely worth the price.”
An announcer’s voice suddenly drew Vance’s attention to the wide-screen TV in the corner of the room. Gerry had tuned in to one of the sports channels, and Vance soon found himself distracted by the ballgame. The topic of the conversation shifted to sports, and Vance decided it felt good to not have to think or make decisions about who was prettier, Nicole Foster or Meg Jorgenson. All he wanted to do was relax and let the aroma of onions and frying beef that wafted from the kitchen whet his appetite.
At long last, his sister announced that supper was on the table.
Vance trailed Gerry into the kitchen. His gaze immediately found Cammy. “You doin’ all right, punkin?”
She nodded and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
Her expression put Vance on the alert.
Debbie crossed the room and set a plate of thickly sliced meatloaf on the table beside a bowl of mashed potatoes and another serving bowl filled with tossed salad.
She straightened and blew several strands of white-blond hair off her perspiring brow. “I hear there’s a new, single teacher in town who’s quite the fashion statement.”
Vance caught his sister’s emphasis on the word “single.”
“You heard right.” He hoped he sounded noncommittal as his gaze returned to his daughter. Instinct told him something wasn’t quite as it should be. He drew his brows together and frowned. What was different about Cammy?
Then he realized it: Gone were her white kneesocks that matched her frilly printed dress. Her long, thin legs were bare right down to her white patent leather shoes. Vance could only guess whom she was emulating, and he quickly deduced that his sister had been Cammy’s accomplice.
He kneaded the back of his neck while his sister’s laughter rang through the room. Next he watched as Cammy’s cheeks turned pink.
Suddenly Vance had a hunch that he was up against a force far greater than he ever dreamed: Miss Meghan Jorgenson’s influence.
Chapter Seven
“Well, Retta, you done a good job showin’ Meggie around these last couple weeks,” Tom said as he lit the tobacco in his pipe. “Ever’one knows her now.”
“And?”
“And half the town is smitten with her and the other half’s so envious they’re as green as Martians.”
Sitting across from him at the picnic table while her clean laundry flapped in the morning breeze, Loretta paid him no mind. “Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as Martians.”
Tom guffawed, releasing a cloud of smoke.
She smiled at her own retort. “Seriously, Meggie’s going to do just fine. I think she’s perking up some, too.”
“I reckon she is at that.”
“The poor thing. She had a rough time through the years, particularly with that awful man in Chicago. She had thought he’d end up a great poet like Carl Sandburg, but he turned out to be nothing but a two-timing bum.”
“Now, Retta…”
“It still riles me, Tom, when I think of how that crude man hurt her. Hmph! Wants to be a college professor, one of those long-haired uppity types.”
“Meggie admitted to making bad decisions where that boy’s concerned. Important thing is she’s learnin’ from them and movin’ on.”
“I’m so proud of her.”
“You are? A body’d never tell from the way you act.” Tom sent her a wink.
Loretta waved her hand at him and his sorry attempt at humor. “Well, the best thing is Meggie’s away from that scoundrel. Now he’ll have to figure out how to support himself. About time, I’d say.”
“Ever’ man has his rough edges. Takes the love of a good woman to smooth ’em out. Meggie ain’t that woman in this instance. God knows it’s a right good thing she found it out at her young age. She still has a full life ahead of her.”
“And that’s just what I’m saying.”
Tom puffed on his pipe, and Loretta suddenly thought about her dear departed husband, Jeb, gone for nearly two years now. She felt her smile grow as the memories of him and their life together took shape in her mind. He’d certainly had some “rough edges” when he was young, but he never cheated on her like Meggie’s boyfriend. ’Course they never cohabitated, either. Folks just didn’t do those sorts of things back then unless they wanted a scandal. Regardless, Jeb had always been faithful, even while they were courting.
The memory of him faded, and, looking at her dear, prune-faced neighbor now, Loretta recalled that once upon a time he’d had a few rough edges too.
At first, she could barely stand living on the farm next door to the rowdy newcomer from out West, until she became acquainted with him and his young daughter, Eugenia. Tom hadn’t ever married, and when Eugenia’s mother died, the poor dear came to live with the daddy she’d never even met. What a shock for both of them, but mostly for Tom, since he’d been a drifter most of his life. Settling down hadn’t been easy, but he managed, thanks to Jeb. Jeb and his firm, albeit soft-spoken, ways.
Loretta breathed in deeply of the sweet country air, made sweeter still, somehow, by the rich, masculine smell of tobacco from Tom’s pipe. “Those were the days,” she murmured.
“Sure were,” Tom replied, as if he’d been right there, riding beside her down Memory Lane. “Sure were.”
Meg stapled the last brown cardboard letter onto the bulletin board in what would be her classroom this school year. She stepped back and admired her handiwork.
WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION.
She tipped her head, inspecting the stapled words. Hardly original, but she hoped her third graders would find it fun to write a short essay about their experiences these last few months. In reading them, Meg imagined that she’d learn something special about each of her seventeen students.
She glanced at her wristwatch. Twenty minutes until the teachers’ luncheon in the school cafeteria, followed by a meeting with the principal.
Meg walked to the bank of windows at the back of her recently constructed classroom. The school had been built only a few years ago, and everything still felt new—including the central air conditioning. The classrooms seemed bright and cheery, so unlike the dismal brick structure in which she’d taught in Chicago. How glad she was to have left the city behind.
She peered outside to the playground and spotted a couple of girls, perhaps high school a
ged, sitting on the swings, gabbing and giggling. At first look she thought they were smoking, but she soon realized that they had candy suckers in their mouths. She almost couldn’t believe her eyes; the girls seemed so innocent compared to the youth she worked with last year. Had she helped any of her former students? She’d probably never know.
A wave of gratitude filled Meg as her gaze traveled beyond the teens and the play yard to the rich, green countryside and gently rolling foothills. This small town was out of a storybook, and she felt lucky to be here. She hoped Grams was right about everything having a purpose.
“Looks like things are coming together in here.”
Meg startled and whirled around to find a skinny brunette standing in the doorway.
“I’m Leah Lawton,” she drawled. “I’m the fourth grade teacher.”
“I’m Meg Jorgenson.”
Leah’s thin eyebrows drew together. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Formerly of Chicago, Illinois.”
“I thought I detected one of those Midwestern accents. Kent Baldwin, the new gym teacher, has one, too. He’s from Minneapolis.”
“I haven’t met him yet.”
“Well, you can’t miss him.” Leah strode slowly forward. “He’s a big strappin’ fella with an all-over tan,”she drawled, “and he’s wearing a yellow polo shirt and navy blue shorts that go down to his knees.” She paused and glanced over one slim shoulder before adding, “He’s got the finest legs I ever saw on a man.”
Meg bit her lower lip to conceal her mirth. She couldn’t decide which was more humorous, Leah’s remark about the new phys ed teacher or her chatty, Kentucky accent.
She swallowed a laugh. “I’ll watch for him at lunch.”
“You do that, but like I said, you can’t miss him.” Leah tucked several strands of her long, woodsy brown hair behind one ear. “Are you married?”
Meg shook her head. “Very single.”
“Ah.” Leah nodded. “Me, too. Kids?”
“None.”
“Me, neither.” She walked the rest of the way into the classroom and sat down on the edge of Meg’s large wooden desk. “I’ve been corresponding with a guy in the military who’s over in the Middle East. I email him every day, you know, try to keep up his spirits and all.”
Love Finds You in Miracle, Kentucky Page 6
