More Than Words, Volume 7

by Carly Phillips

  “No worries. It was my pleasure. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

  She glanced away from him. “Well…I better get inside. Another long day tomorrow.”

  “Me, too.”

  They faced each other, and Verna was sure Ronald felt as awkward as she did.

  “I’ll see you this weekend?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She didn’t work weekends, but if it meant seeing him, she’d make the sacrifice.

  “Great. Well, good night.”

  “Night.”

  Ronald turned away and walked to his car.

  Verna went up the steps to her front door. When she got to the top she glanced over her shoulder and saw Ronald looking up at her. Her heart thumped. He waved again and got in his Honda. She stuck her key in the door and for a moment she wished she’d asked him to come in for coffee…or tea or something.

  The Honda peeled away from the curb, and the moment and Ronald were definitely gone.

  “Morning,” Nichole said, sidling up to Verna in the kitchen. She reached for her mug, dropped in a tea bag and poured in the hot water.

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Now that we have the inspection behind us, I’m great.” She leaned her narrow hip against the counter and peered at Verna. “You okay? You seem kind of…distracted.”

  Verna turned halfway toward Nichole. “Um, remember when I told you that I met someone at the conference who seemed interested in volunteering?”

  Nichole nodded.

  “Well, he came by yesterday. You were already gone.”

  “And?” Nichole took a sip of tea.

  “We, uh, went to dinner last night.”

  Nichole’s brows shot up and she grinned in delight. “Get out! Is he cute?”

  “Very.” Verna bit back a smile and couldn’t meet her friend’s steady gaze.

  “Well, don’t leave me in suspense. What happened?”

  “Let’s talk in my office,” she said, looking around as sounds of the building coming to life filtered into the kitchen.

  Nichole hooked her arm through Verna’s and headed down the hall to her office.

  “Tell, tell,” Nichole said, settling down in a chair.

  “Not much to tell. He wants to volunteer. Really nice guy.” She fidgeted with her mug.

  Nichole waited, but Verna didn’t offer any more information. “I know you didn’t bring me in here to tell me he’s a nice guy.”

  Verna felt uncomfortable. “It’s just…strange.”

  “Strange how? What does that mean?”

  “From the time we met there was this…connection.” She suddenly found it difficult to express herself.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it means to you,” Nichole gently coaxed.

  They’d known each other for years, Verna thought, but this was about as close as she had ever come to revealing anything really personal about herself.

  She glanced toward the window. “What it is, is ridiculous. I mean, I don’t know the man. Not really. He’s great to look at, he’s funny, intelligent, loves his job.”

  “Doesn’t sound bad so far.”

  “I know,” Verna said, her voice strained. “It’s been a while since…well…since I’ve been involved with anyone.” Even to her own ears, Verna sounded as if she was exaggerating the whole thing. She sat up straighter. “I’m being silly and totally getting ahead of myself. It was just dinner. Two colleagues.”

  Nichole leaned forward and covered Verna’s hand. “Sweetie, it’s really okay to be attracted to a man. It proves you’re human and not superhuman.”

  That made Verna laugh and the tightness in her stomach slowly eased.

  “So tell me about him?”

  Verna smiled. She told Nichole about meeting Ronald at the conference and how it had felt to see him again.

  Her friend shrugged. “I don’t see the problem. You’re both adults. Take your time and see how it goes. From what you’ve told me it sounds like he’s just as interested in you as you are in him. He’s here on the weekend and you don’t work weekends. If it’s something worth pursuing, you’ll both have to make an effort.”

  “True,” Verna said. “The main thing is that we have a new volunteer. Heaven knows, we could use the help.”

  Verna had been mentally castigating herself for her babbling confession. That was so out of character. She’d always made it a point to keep her personal life away from the job. Not that she had much of a personal life. But she wasn’t one to share her feelings, her hopes and fears with someone else. Her life had been filled with people who didn’t stay. By the time she was ten she knew she could never depend on anyone to be there. She could not share her secrets or talk about her future because that would mean getting close to someone. Getting close always brought hurt. By the time she was twelve she’d grown tired of being hurt one time too many. So she had to find a way to protect herself. And she did. She stopped opening herself up to anyone. It was safer that way.

  Ronald went to work the day after his dinner with Verna feeling oddly renewed. Inspired. No challenge was too big. He could handle whatever was thrown at him. He slid into his seat behind his cluttered desk and the simple organization of Verna’s work space came to mind. He glanced around at the stacks of folders. His habit was to review folders, make notes and set them on a pile on the desk. That stack had overflowed to the chair, which he always had to clear if a student or teacher dropped in. But that was going to change as of today.

  He began sorting and organizing and two hours later his office looked as if it belonged to someone else. He laughed out loud at the transformation. He’d even found the pocket calculator that he’d lost.

  A knock on the door drew his attention.

  “Hey, Cara.”

  “Wow.” The assistant principal put her hands on her hips and looked wide eyed at Ronald. “Did you hire a cleaning service or what?” she teased.

  “Very funny. And the answer is no.”

  “You do have a chair!” She crossed the small room and sat down, bracing her arm on the clutter-free desk.

  “You’re full of jokes today, I see.”

  “What brought all this on? Who are we going to tease in staff meetings now?” She ran the tip of her manicured finger across the desktop and it came away dust free.

  “You’re going to have to find someone else to pick on. And to answer your first question, I…guess you could say I had an epiphany.”

  “Really?” She looked skeptical. “Board of Health?”

  “No.”

  “Department of Education sanction?”

  “No.”

  “Mary, the cleaning lady? She threatened you, didn’t she?” Cara said, leaning forward to press her point.

  Ronald tossed his head back and laughed from deep in his gut. “No. None of the above. And I’m wounded you would think I needed threats or professional intervention.”

  “Okay, okay, I give up. Who is she? Because only a woman has the power to change a man.”

  Ronald couldn’t help grinning.

  “It is a woman!” She pointed a finger at him in triumph. “Well, it’s about time. Who is she? Come on, tell me,” she demanded, not giving him a chance to respond. Her voice rose to a hoarse whisper. “Is it someone from here?”

  “Cara…” He got up and went to the file cabinet, leaning against it. “Must you know everything about my life?”

  “Yes,” she said with all seriousness. “That’s what nosy best friends are for.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. He and Cara had met in grad school while they were both studying education and counseling. They became fast friends. Their classmates used to call them the odd couple. Cara was barely over five feet and Ronald topped six. They were always arguing over some point the professors made, but they were inseparable. And it was pure chance that they wound up at the same school, Ronald as a guidance counselor and Cara as an assistant principal.

  “If you must know…yes, it is a woman.”

  “I kne
w it!”

  “We met at that conference I went to a couple of weeks ago. She was the presenter.”

  She snapped her fingers, trying to conjure up the name. “Um, Scott. Dr. Scott. She runs that facility in Bedford-Stuyvesant for troubled teens.”

  “Right. Someplace Like Home.”

  Cara crossed her legs and settled back to listen.

  Ronald talked about her inspiring presentation and their meeting afterward and how uncanny it was that they simply seemed to hit it off. “Like a vibe. Know what I mean?” he said even as he struggled to make sense of it himself.

  “I know exactly what you mean. I married my vibe, remember. So then what happened?”

  “I went to take a tour of the place and…well, I was hooked. It’s phenomenal.”

  “And apparently so is she.”

  “It’s something I can’t put into words.” He crossed the room and sat down. “To make a long story short, I volunteered to work at Home on the weekends.”

  Cara looked at him for a moment. “Now, is that because you’re really passionate about the program or because it will give you a chance to see more of Dr. Scott?”

  He exhaled slowly. “To be honest…a little of both.”

  “Wow. She must be special.”

  “I think so. But I really am looking forward to the work. I met some of the kids, saw what goes on there, and it’s something that I want to be a part of.”

  Cara leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. “If there’s one thing that I’ve always admired about you, Ron, it’s your passion for helping kids. They’re lucky to have you.”

  He grinned. “Thanks.”

  Cara pushed up from her seat. “Be careful you don’t overdo it. We still need you here at one hundred percent.”

  “I know. I figure a couple of weekends a month. Just to help out.”

  “Hmm.” Her murmur echoed the skepticism in her eyes. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  She turned to leave, glancing back at him, then around at his transformed space. “Amazing,” she murmured on her way out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What are your plans for the weekend? I’m having some friends over for an all-girls brunch tomorrow,” Nichole said as they finished up for the day.

  “Actually, I was going to come in tomorrow.”

  Nichole looked at her curiously. Verna never worked weekends, so this would only reinforce her friend’s belief that this guy must be something special.

  Verna ignored the real question in her eyes. “Ronald Morris is coming in tomorrow. It’s his first day. I thought I should be here.”

  “Isn’t Brad on duty tomorrow?”

  She shoved a folder into her soft brown leather briefcase. “Yes, but I thought it was only right that I be here, too.” She zipped the bag closed.

  “Sure that’s the only reason?”

  “What other reason could there be?” Verna asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “The fact that you want to see him again, for one.”

  “Oh, no,” she insisted. “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Sure it is. And it’s fine. Just take your time, feel him out, see how it goes.”

  Verna exhaled slowly. “I feel like a kid,” she suddenly admitted, her words laced with bewilderment. “I’m anxious one minute. Determined not to let it matter the next. Honestly, I can’t wait for Saturday to get here just to see if all this stuff that’s going on in my head is for real or something I imagined.”

  “All I have to say is, you’re long overdue. And if it’s meant to be something more than a congenial working relationship, then that’s what will happen. Be yourself.”

  “Hmm, myself, that’s what scares me.” She took her coat from the rack and put it on. “Actually, it would be great if you were here tomorrow. Then I won’t seem so obviously desperate to see him again.”

  “You may be a lot of things, Verna, but ‘obviously desperate’ isn’t one of them.” Nichole turned off the light and followed Verna out of the office.

  “That’s what it feels like,” Verna admitted as they stepped outside.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all so random and sudden. Took me by surprise, I guess.”

  Nichole patted her shoulder. “That’s the best kind,” she said. “Just go with the flow.” She walked to the curb. “What time is he coming?”

  “Noon.”

  “I’ll come in before the brunch. I’ll be here at eleven-thirty…like I am every Saturday.” She winked.

  Verna smiled. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ronald circled the block about three times before he finally found a parking space. It would look pretty bad to show up late on his first day, he thought as he locked the car door behind him and started walking back toward the house.

  He’d always loved this part of Brooklyn. There was a richness to its historic architecture, and the area had a culture and a rhythm all its own. Over the years the neighboring streets had been populated by Italians, Jews, African-and Caribbean-Americans. Many of the original groups had moved away, come back and been joined by Asians, Hispanics and Arabs, all building their own communities as part of the whole. Walking through the streets of Brooklyn was like taking a trip through a history book. And now with sky-high prices in Manhattan, young professionals were crossing the Hudson and making their own eclectic contributions to the mix. Boutiques and outdoor cafés were springing up, and the place had a vibrant energy.

  This was how the world was supposed to be, he thought as he watched a group of teenagers of different ethnicities hanging out together, laughing at each other’s jokes and simply being kids. Or the interracial couples that sat in the park with their children.

  He smiled and turned onto the street where Home stood. That was the way it should be. He opened the waist-high gate and walked up to the door to ring the bell.

  Moments later a young man with curly blond hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen came to the door.

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Ronald Morris. I’m volunteering. Just starting today.”

  A light smile tugged at his mustached mouth. “Right. Dr. Scott said you’d be coming.” He pulled the door wider. “She’s in her office.”

  He locked the door behind Ronald. “I’m Paul. I work security, evenings and weekends mostly.” He went behind the desk that was situated in the foyer and handed Ronald a clipboard. “If you could just sign in for me—and I’ll need to see a copy of your driver’s license.”

  “Sure.” He wrote his name then dug his license out of his wallet.

  Paul took a cursory glance and handed it back. “I’ll let Dr. Scott know that you’re here. You can wait in the family room if you want. Next door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” He walked down the hall to the room, listening to the sounds of activity in the house—raucous laughter and shouts and the thump of footsteps coming down the stairs. The aroma of something decadently delicious floated under his nose, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten.

  Silly, because he always ate breakfast, yet for reasons that he couldn’t wrap his head around, he hadn’t been hungry earlier.

  “Good morning!”

  He turned to the door and saw Verna. A sensation of warmth radiated outward to his limbs, just the way it did when sitting in front of a fireplace after coming in from the cold.

  They walked toward each other. Ronald extended his hand. “Good to see you. Had a tough time finding parking. Sorry I’m a little late.”

  Verna waved off his explanation with her free hand. “Don’t worry about it. We’re simply glad you’re here. Come, let’s get you settled. There are some people I need you to meet. The weekend staff who you’ll be working with. Brad Lewis is our senior counselor.”

  “Lead the way.”

  They walked down the hall and turned into a room that had been converted into an office. Verna tapped on the door. “Brad.” She poked her head in.

  The counsel
or stood and came out from behind his desk, a smile and a hand outstretched to welcome Ronald.

  “Brad Lewis, this is Ronald Morris.”

  Brad heartily shook Ronald’s hand with both of his. “Good to meet you. Verna tried to bring me up to speed on your background and everything, but we’ll talk.” He swiped his glasses from the bridge of his wide nose and rested them on the top of his head, grinning. “I could sure use the help on the weekends. That’s when all the kids are usually here.”

  Brad Lewis was in his early forties, Ronald guessed. There was a quiet maturity about his presence even before he spoke, and a youthfulness in his eyes.

  “Not a problem. I’m here to help.”

  “Cool. Well, welcome. When you’re ready we can sit down and go over some of the charts, I’ll introduce you to the kids and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ronald said.

  “I’m going to take Ronald around to meet the rest of the weekend crew and then I’ll turn him back over to you,” Verna said.

  “I’ll be here. Speaking of which, I’m surprised to see you, Doc. Didn’t know you did Saturdays.”

  Verna hoped Ronald didn’t notice the mortified look on her face. “Um, just for today. I wanted to, uh, make sure that Mr. Morris got settled.” How silly did that sound? Her face was on fire.

  Brad’s thick brows drew together for a moment. “Oh, sure. Of course.” His eyes darted from Verna to Ronald.

  Verna walked out, for a moment wishing that she could keep going.

  “I get the sense that you don’t work weekends,” Ronald said.

  She turned to look at him for a moment as they headed down the hall to her office. “I generally don’t. I didn’t think it would be right for me not to be here on your first day.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Verna’s heart thumped in response to the low throb of his voice. He seemed to be saying so much more than the words themselves. She opened her office door. Nichole was seated in one of the club chairs reading a magazine. She plopped it down on the table and stood.

  “You must be Ronald Morris.”