Lowering her gaze, Meg suspected that Cammy’s disability deepened her level of sensitivity toward others. Instead of feeling angry or bitter about her own disability, she was happy-go-lucky and willing to lend a hand to children like Abby. Meg felt impressed.
“‘Some of the other kids like Abby live in an instooshin.’”
“A what?” Meg looked up and frowned in confusion.
“A instooshin.”
“Hmm.” Meg cupped her chin. “I’m not sure what you mean, but keep reading and perhaps I’ll figure it out.”
“Okay.” Cammy found the place where she’d left off. “‘I don’t belong in one of those instooshins even though Mrs. Foster told Daddy to send me there.’”
Prickles of unease climbed Meg’s spine.
“‘She wanted to get rid of me so she could marry Daddy and so one of her kids could have my bedroom. Michael said he’d tear down my Hannah Montana posters and paint it a barfy blue. But that won’t happen because Daddy doesn’t go on dates with Mrs. Foster anymore—’”
“An institution? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Cammy bobbed her head. “I heard Mrs. Foster tell Daddy that and Michael said it lots of times.”
“Who’s Michael?”
“Michael Foster. He thinks he’s so cool cuz he’s twelve and older than me.”
“Ah.” He sounded like a bully, but Meg carefully guarded her reaction since she didn’t know the full story. “Keep reading.”
Cammy stared back at her page. “‘—and that was the best part of my summer. Now Daddy and me can live happily ever after. The End.’”
“Well, Cammy…” Meg didn’t know quite what to say.
The little girl watched her, awaiting approval.
“You wrote a very detailed and interesting essay. You’re a good writer.”
“I write stories all the time. I draw pictures for my stories, too.”
“You’re aware that your essay isn’t supposed to be a story that’s made up in your imagination. It’s supposed to be the truth.”
“My essay is the truth. Honest!”
“All right. I just wanted to be clear about the assignment.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I hand it in now?”
“Don’t you want to show it to your dad first?” Meg wanted to be sensitive about the information her students shared with her, and she felt Vance should be aware of his child’s candidness. “The part about Mrs. Foster and your dad might make him feel bad. You may want to rewrite that portion.”
“My dad doesn’t feel bad. He said he didn’t love her.”
“Well, maybe you should let your dad read your essay just to check your spelling and grammar before you hand it in. All right?”
Cammy gave a roll of her shoulders. “Okay.” She slipped the loose page into her folder and leaned over to lift her backpack off the floor just as Vance entered the classroom.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hi, punkin.” He placed a kiss on the top of Cammy’s head before nodding a greeting to Meg.
“I personally made sure Cammy ate lunch today.”
“Miss Jorgenson sat at my lunch table.”
“I’m sure you enjoyed her company.” Vance mouthed the words “thank you” over Cammy’s head. Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, he pulled her wheelchair away from her desk and turned her around.
“Bye, Miss Jorgenson.” The little girl twisted the upper half of her body around and waved.
“Bye, Cammy.”
While Tom sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, Loretta listened to Meg relay her dilemma about the new gym teacher’s invitation to dinner. Clearly she didn’t want to go out with the man, but he hadn’t given her much of a chance to politely decline.
“It’s only the second day of school, and already this guy has gotten me in trouble with one of my students’ parents.” She let out a groan. “I wish he’d go back to Minnesota.”
“Can you speak with Earl about it?” Removing a cookie cutter from the utility drawer, Loretta began cutting out rounds of biscuit dough and laying them on a pan. Biscuits and beef stew were on the menu for dinner; it was a good day to turn on the oven. Rainy, chilly, and bone-achingly damp. “Earl’s always been a fair-minded man.”
“I need to talk to Kent first. If the situation doesn’t improve, then I’ll get our principal involved.”
“Very wise decision,” Loretta said, feeling proud of Meggie.
“I think Kent’s a reasonable guy. I hope.”
“I don’t think the school district would have hired him if he wasn’t. And every unattached female in Miracle has stars in her eyes over him.”
“Not this unattached female.”
Tom grunted out a laugh at Meggie’s retort.
Loretta glanced at her granddaughter in time to see displeasure cloud her countenance like the gloomy skies outside. “Meggie, you could ask Mr. Baldwin to stay to dinner here at the house. There’s plenty of food, and I could hold off on the biscuits until he arrives.”
“Why would I do something nice like that? I have a mind to tell him off when he comes to the door.”
“No, no.” Loretta shook her head. “That’s not polite.”
Meggie laughed. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about Southern hospitality and all that.”
“You’ll get the hang of it.” Loretta suppressed a smile. “But, seriously, if you ask Mr. Baldwin to stay for dinner, you’ll have the chance to discuss the matter of his boldness without being placed in any sort of awkward position.”
Loretta could see that Meggie was considering it.
“Grams, are you sure?” she said at last. “I really don’t want to go out to dinner with Kent, and since it’s not ‘polite’ to tell him off at the door,” she said with a teasing light in her blue eyes, “then inviting him in would solve everything.”
One glance at Tom and Loretta knew he was enjoying Meggie’s pluck.
“Of course I’m sure. He’s welcome to stay for dinner. Besides, I love to entertain. Don’t do enough of it.”
“Your grammaw’s in her element, cookin’ and feedin’ folks.”
“Had a lot of practice,” Loretta added.
“All right, I’ll ask him to stay.” Meggie’s tone did not sound enthusiastic. “But I feel it’s only fair to warn you, Grams. He strikes me as a man who prefers wining and dining and the glitter of nightlife to a cozy supper around the family table.”
“I’ll consider myself fairly warned.”
“Reckon if he doesn’t want to stay, Meggie, then you’re off the hook,” Tom said.
“One can only hope.”
Tom replied with a snort of amusement.
“You know,” Meggie began on a more serious note, “I thought about this during my drive home from school. Kent’s the sort of guy my mom tends to fall for.”
Loretta looked over and saw Meggie tuck several strands of hair behind one ear.
“Once, Mom lived with a guy she met while she managed a fitness center. He was a weight lifter and totally into himself. I used to eat my breakfast while he’d point out various muscles on his arms and chest that he was pumping up.” Meggie rolled her eyes.
“During breakfast?” Loretta grimaced. “How ill-mannered.”
“Manners? That guy didn’t know the meaning of the word.” Meggie’s voice was thick with disgust. “Another time, Mom moved us in with a construction worker who was really buff.”
“Buff?”
“Built, Grams. Muscular.”
“Oh.”
Tom hooted while Loretta tucked the word “buff” into her memory bank. She tried to keep up with the trendy vernacular of her grandchildren, but he thought it always sounded rather funny when she tried to repeat it.
“So this guy liked to work out on his off days, and eventually he became abusive to Mom and me. He’d lose his temper with zero provocation. Months later, Mom discovered the guy was injecting steroids. We moved out as soon as we found another apartment, b
ut we had to leave when he wasn’t around. We couldn’t let him know where we were going because we didn’t trust his temper. I was actually really frightened by that entire situation.”
Loretta’s heart felt tight in her chest. She had had no idea. “Oh, Meggie, I’m so sorry you had to live like that. I wish I would have known. I would have sent for you myself.”
“It’s not your fault. I actually thought I was pretty happy back then, if only because I didn’t know better. In fact, I thought Mom’s lifestyle—the boyfriends, the continual moving—was normal until I got to college and started meeting friends who had two stable parents living under the same roof.”
Loretta shook her head while a sea of regret flooded her heart. “Maybe that’s why you find Mr. Baldwin unappealing—he reminds you of that life.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Meggie strode to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Diet Coke. Loretta had bought a twelve-pack of bottles after discovering the beverage was Meggie’s favorite. “But it goes even beyond that. The way I see it, Kent dates women like it’s a sport. I, on the other hand, am looking for something real.” She shook her honey-blond head and laughed. “Actually, I’m not even looking.”
“Well, you might give the feller a chance,” Tom drawled.
“I don’t know. What’s the point?”
“Perhaps Mr. Baldwin isn’t looking to date at all,” Loretta pointed out. “Maybe he’s in need of a few good friends, seeing that he’s new here in Miracle.”
Meg looked skeptical. “I think Kent’s looking for a good time. He doesn’t strike me as friend material.”
An instant later, Loretta chided herself for being naïve. Back in her day, nice men didn’t look for a “good time,” and the ones who did wouldn’t pay any mind to a fine girl like Meggie.
“You really think Kent’s all that?” Loretta found the idea ever so disappointing.
“And then some.” Meggie grinned before setting down her bottle of cola. “But I’ll be polite and ask him to stay for dinner. You and Tom can make up your own minds about him.” She blew out a breath of resignation. “Guess I’d better freshen up a little bit before he arrives.”
Chapter Twelve
“Daddy, guess what?”
“What, punkin?” Vance scooped a small portion of the scrambled eggs he’d made for supper out of the frying pan and onto a plate.
“Miss Jorgenson doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“How do you know that?” He scooped out a larger portion onto a second plate.
“She told me.”
“Just came out and made the announcement, huh?”
“Well—”
“Sounds fishy to me.” Vance opened the oven and removed the frozen Tater Tots he’d baked to go with the eggs. After sliding some onto Cammy’s plate, he took a good number for himself. “Miss Jorgenson doesn’t seem like a teacher who’d blabber on about her dating life.”
“Well, I did sorta ask her.” Cammy’s cheeks pinked with the admission.
“Mmm-hmm. I thought maybe you did.” Vance set the meal on the table.
“She wasn’t mad, Daddy.” Cammy looked at him with her huge blue eyes, rimmed with dark lashes. “She just came out and answered my question.”
Vance took a seat at the dinner table. “It’s not nice to ask people personal questions like that.”
“But how else are you gonna know?”
“I don’t have to know—and neither do you.”
“But, Daddy—”
“Let’s say grace so we can eat. I’m starved.”
Cammy pressed her lips together, and Vance bowed his head and asked God to bless their food. He also placed a silent request for patience and wisdom where his well-intentioned daughter was concerned.
“Please pass the ketchup.”
Vance set the bottle within her reach and watched her glop some onto her plate. “Daddy, don’t you like Miss Jorgenson?”
“Sure, I do.” He salted and peppered his eggs and Tots. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you, a little girl who should not be asking her teacher personal questions.”
“I just wondered if she had a boyfriend cuz I can tell she likes you.” Cammy narrowed her eyes. “I saw her look at you real funny.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you mean by ‘funny’?” He hated the way his inquisitiveness got the better of him.
“We-ell, when you were packing me up today, Miss Jorgenson looked at you sorta like Evie Mathews looks at Henry Preston—and they’re getting married!”
“You’re makin’ that up.”
“Am not. Miss Jorgenson did look at you like that.”
Vance covered his smile by forking in a mouthful of food. In spite of his teasing, he knew what Cammy meant about those interested glances that passed between Meg and himself. He wasn’t exactly stupid when it came to women; he sensed her attraction and was well aware of his own, especially since the Labor Day picnic. And this morning. But he just couldn’t envision a relationship between the two of them ever going anywhere. A big-city schoolteacher and a widowed, country hick repairman with a high-needs daughter. Right. And what if she decided she didn’t like living here? Why waste time, money, and a whole lot of energy to court a woman who’s likely to move on anyway?
He ignored the tweak of disappointment.
“Daddy, maybe you should ask Miss Jorgenson on a date before someone else does.”
Vance forced a chuckle “Too late. I’m sure she’s already got a string of suitors.”
“Maybe so. Max Bixby’s in my class and he sure is sweet on her.” Cammy giggled. “He picked some flowers out of his mama’s garden, and they were still gobbed with mud when he gave ’em to Miss Jorgenson this morning. Everyone knows Mrs. Bixby’s sure to warm his backside when she sees her flowers missing. But Max didn’t even care.”
“Love’ll do that to a man—makes him take all leave of his senses.” Vance laughed, realizing he’d seen the rather peculiar bouquet on Meg’s desk. Its roots floated along the bottom of the clear glass vase.
“Daddy, how ’bout we ask Miss Jorgenson over for dinner sometime?”
“We’ll see.”
Vance finished his supper and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. The topic of Cammy’s new teacher caused him to eat faster than usual.
Standing, he excused himself from the table and walked his plate over to the sink. As he rinsed it off, he grew uneasy at the thought of Meg coming here to his humble abode. Not that he felt ashamed of his home. Not at all. Except for the old, worn-out chair that had belonged to his father, the place was in decent shape. Angie had fixed everything up so nice and pretty with stencils, borders, and papered walls. Of course, the carpet had been removed and flooring installed once Cammy learned to maneuver her wheelchair. Still, the Bayer home was presentable enough for company, and Vance missed the days when Angie would invite their friends over for dinner or a holiday party. He’d light the fireplace, and they’d laugh and sing while Angie strummed her guitar.
But what would Meg think about it? Nothing better than a shack in her eyes, no doubt. He’d heard she used to live in a fancy penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan. Why she left all that to come to Miracle was beyond Vance’s comprehension.
“Cammy, is your homework done?”
“Yep. . .except, Miss Jorgenson wants you to read my essay and make sure I spelled all my words right.”
“Okay, where is it?” Vance turned from the sink and regarded his sweet-faced daughter. Her eager blue eyes and heart-shaped face resembled Angie’s so much that sometimes he didn’t know whether to smile or shed tears of renewed sorrow for his wife.
A moment later he wondered what Angie would think of Meg Jorgenson.
“My essay’s in my backpack.”
“What?” Vance reined in his wayward thoughts in time to see Cammy pop a Tater Tot into her mouth.
“I said, my essay is in my backpack.”
“Oh, right.” He glimpsed her plate of food. “Girl, you are o
ne slow eater.”
“Well, my stomach is kinda tired of eggs and Tots, Daddy. You still make good dinners. It’s just this one.”
“You’re sick of my specialty?” Vance teased her, well aware that cooking wasn’t his strong point. The kitchen had always been Angie’s domain.
“Sorry, Daddy, but it’s true.”
He wondered if Meg could cook. Then he wondered why in the world the woman kept pervading his thoughts.
Once again, he forced his mind to shift gears. Cammy’s essay. He located her Hannah Montana backpack in the dining room, unzipped it, and pulled out the pages in question. He’d seen Cammy working on the assignment last night.
He began reading about his little girl’s summer vacation, enjoying Cammy’s spunky style. However, he took an immediate dislike to the description of Debbie’s babysitting methods, the yelling and the daytime soaps. He found a few misspelled words and felt proud of Cammy’s benevolence at day camp. But when he came to the part about his relationship with Nicole and figured out what Cammy meant by the word “instooshin,” he could hardly believe his eyes. He had to read the last part of the essay again.
“Cammy Ann Bayer!” Horrified, Vance stormed into the kitchen. He took a deep breath, taming his rising temper. “How could you write something like this? And show it to your teacher!”
His daughter looked back at him with an expression of baffled innocence. “It’s not made up. It’s the truth.”
“But you made Nicole, your aunt Debbie, and me look like monsters.”
“Oh, no, Daddy, you’re not a monster. You’re the best daddy in the world. But sometimes it’s hard at Aunt Debbie’s all day with nothing to do, and you already know why I don’t like Mrs. Foster.”
“Look, you have to be careful what you tell people.” Vance pulled out a chair and sat down. “I think you’re correct when you write in your essay that you watch too much TV at your aunt’s house. From now on, there’ll be no TV on school nights.”
“But, Daddy—”
Love Finds You in Miracle, Kentucky Page 11
