by Sydney Logan
Lucas seemed to agree. “I taught in the inner city. Our students had everything. E-readers. Laptops. You name it. But they also had to walk through metal detectors to get past the armed guards at the front door.”
“It’s not enough,” I whispered, my hands shaking slightly as memories of that horrible day flooded my mind. Suddenly, I could hear the sirens roaring in my ears and the terrified shouts of the students as they fled the cafeteria.
Bile rose in my throat, and I hastily jumped out of my rocking chair, holding onto the porch railing for support.
“Sarah?”
I closed my eyes and took long, steadying breaths. When I opened them again, Lucas was by my side.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I murmured unsteadily, gripping the wood a little tighter. “The casserole just isn’t agreeing with me.”
He slipped his arms around my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
Leaning against him, I let him lead me back toward the living room. I collapsed against the sofa, and Lucas kneeled on the floor at my side.
“Sarah, you’re shaking. Are you cold?” He quickly pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around me.
“Will you . . . get my purse? It’s by the stairs . . . and some water . . .”
He was gone and back in a flash. I desperately tried to control my breathing as I dug for my medication. My shaking hands made it nearly impossible to get the bottle open, but the lid finally cooperated. Placing the little white pill against my tongue, I took a long drink of water and swallowed it down.
“I think we should call a doctor.”
“On a Sunday?” I laughed weakly as I leaned back, resting my head against the arm of the couch. I hated taking the medication. Absolutely despised it. But sometimes, it was necessary. “I’ll be fine, really.”
He sat down on the floor and gently swept my hair away from my face. The palm of his hand drifted across my forehead, and the sweet gesture made me smile. We stayed like that for a while—him caressing my face, and me struggling to bring my heart rate back to normal. The medication made me so tired, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I fell asleep.
The look on his face was heartbreaking.
“I’m fine, Lucas.”
“You keep saying that.” His voice was soft and soothing. “Say something else.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me what you love about Sycamore Falls.”
I snuggled deeper into the couch as his hand continued stroking my face.
“I love the seasons.” The warmth of the blanket and his tender touch made it difficult to keep my eyes open as my body finally began to relax. “The county fair comes every August and summers are spent fishing or swimming in the river. Fall comes, and everything that was so green in the spring turns to red and yellow and just blankets the mountain. Winters can be brutal but spring always comes back, thawing us out and making everything green again.”
It was a struggle, but I forced myself to open my eyes. His expression was soft and sweet as he gazed at me.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Lucas whispered. His fingertips traced my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.
“You’ll love it, it’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
It was a faint murmur, and it was last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep.
The soft plinking of piano keys echoed in my ears, and when I opened my eyes, the room was shrouded in darkness.
How long did I sleep?
I blinked rapidly, forcing my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the living room until they were able to focus on the man sitting at my piano.
“What time is it?”
Lucas turned around on the bench and smiled at me. “Just after eight. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” I pulled myself up, keeping the afghan wrapped protectively around me. “I shouldn’t have slept so long.”
Lucas rose to his feet and joined me on the couch. “Are you feeling better? Are you hungry? I could fix something.”
“I’m okay.” Several quiet moments passed before I finally stated the obvious. “You stayed.”
“I stayed.”
I was stunned. My ex-boyfriend had never stayed.
“Why?”
“Because you were sick, Sarah. I was worried about you.”
“I wasn’t sick, Lucas. Not physically, anyway.”
“Then what was that?”
I stared into the darkness and pulled the afghan a little tighter around my body.
“I have panic attacks,” I replied quietly. “It was a mild one, though. My therapist would be proud.”
“You have a therapist?”
“In Memphis, yeah. I check in with her by phone at least once a week.”
I had no idea why I was telling him this. Maybe it was because he’d witnessed it and I felt he deserved some sort of explanation. Maybe it was because he honestly looked concerned and was ready to call a doctor.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he’d stayed.
“Sarah, will you tell me what happened back in Memphis?”
It wasn’t a secret. Anyone could do a search on the Internet, and the story would be right there on the computer screen. There would even be pictures. The news coverage had been extensive, especially in the state, and it would be easy to find news story after news story describing the events of that day. What couldn’t be found in those stories, however, was how my life had completely changed, and those were the details Lucas would want to know.
“Someday,” I promised him with a whisper. “Will you tell me what happened in New York?”
His sigh was resigned and tinged with a hint of relief.
Maybe sharing war stories would help us both.
“Someday,” he agreed.
Chapter 6
Monday morning arrived, bringing with it the warmth of the country sunshine and a busload full of football players who were far too energetic for seven in the morning.
“Good morning!” Tommy sprinted onto the porch as his team descended from the bus. The players were wearing their green hoodies with Sycamore Panthers stamped proudly in white on the back. “Guys, say hello to your new English teacher!”
A few of the players waved at me. From somewhere deep inside the huddle, there were even a few whistles, which Tommy promptly brought to a halt with the threat of gassers.
“What’s a gasser?” I whispered.
“It’s a conditioning drill where they have to run from sideline to sideline. They hate ‘em. Some are even puking by the time they’re finished.”
My eyes widened. “That’s . . . disturbing.”
“That’s discipline.”
Tommy had just started barking out orders to his team when Lucas drove up with Aubrey following close behind in her car. Lucas offered me a wave as he ran over to Tommy and the buckets of paint, while Aubrey stepped onto the porch with gigantic aluminum pans in each hand.
“There are more in the car and it probably still won’t be enough to feed this bunch,” Aubrey said before turning toward the team. “Tommy! Tell those boys to take off those new hoodies before they get paint all over them!”
The coach yelled out instructions while Aubrey and I made our way into the kitchen. Minutes later, some of the guys—now wearing their Panthers T-shirts—brought in the rest of the food, and we tried to make room for it in the refrigerator.
“Where’s the baby?”
“With my folks. We knew he’d just want to stay outside with his daddy all morning, and Tommy needs to focus on his boys. I just pray they don’t turn your house into a Kindergarten art project.”
“I have faith.” Besides, it couldn’t look any worse than it did now.
“Speaking of faith, what did Lucas think about our church?”
I carefully contemplated my words while leading her toward the living room.
“He thought it was very hi
gh-spirited,” I said, curling my legs beneath me as we collapsed onto the couch.
“You mean he thought we were loud.”
I laughed. “A little bit. He liked the sermon, though, and he said everyone was very welcoming.”
“Everyone was so happy to see him there. You should come.”
“Maybe.”
I didn’t mention his invitation to go to church. Instead, we started talking about school, and how we’d be sitting in classrooms at this time next Monday.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love teaching,” Aubrey said. “I just really wish I could stay home with Daniel. The first football game is next week, which means I won’t see much of Tommy except at school. Pray your future husband hates sports because being a coach’s wife can be the pits.”
I smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We spent the rest of the morning talking about the faculty, many of whom had been teaching at Sycamore High when we were students. We’d occasionally hear Tommy growling out orders, and his team would grunt some sort of response, making us both laugh.
“He’s very motivational, isn’t he?”
Aubrey grinned. “He can be, yeah.”
Lunchtime arrived, and the team was happy to sit along the wrap-around porch while devouring their ham and cheese sandwiches. Tommy took the time to introduce me to his players. I recognized the quarterback as the bag boy from the grocery store, and he ran right up to me, pulling me into a hug.
“You remember me, right?”
“Of course. How are you, Matt?”
“I’m good. Hey, we have to get you guys Panthers sweatshirts. The first game’s Friday night, you know.” He smiled at Lucas. “You have to bring her with you, Mr. Miller.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucas laughed, and I rolled my eyes. Even the kids were trying to play matchmaker.
It wasn’t long until the sandwiches were devoured and everyone was back to work. I felt a little guilty that everyone was working on my house except me, so after cleaning up the lunch mess, I told Aubrey I was going to change clothes and grab a paintbrush.
“I think I’ll go get the baby,” she said. “I only have a week left with him before I go back to work.”
We hugged, and I thanked her for feeding the crew before I rushed upstairs to dig through my closet. After changing into a sweater and a tattered pair of jeans, I pulled my hair into a ponytail before making my way out onto the sidewalk.
“Wait!” Lucas yelled, running toward me and placing his hands on my shoulder. “This requires a slow reveal so you’ll get the full effect. Close your eyes.”
Giggling, I did as I was told, and he gently pivoted me toward the house.
“Ready?” His mouth was close to my ear.
“I’m ready.”
I opened my eyes, and I gasped.
“I think Rocky Mountain Sky Blue was definitely the right choice,” he whispered.
“It’s nearly finished!”
I couldn’t believe it.
Lucas laughed. “Not quite. This is just the front, and it’ll need a second coat.”
“I’d like to help. I mean, I’ve never really painted a house, but—”
“I could teach you,” Lucas offered. “The guys have set up a scaffold on the back. We could start there, if you’d like.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
“I’m making a mess.”
Lucas had been so patient, even when I accidentally dumped a gallon of the paint and he’d had to mix more. “You’re doing fine. Just remember to roll it from side-to-side.”
I sighed heavily and tried to keep a steady hand as the paint roller moved across the siding. He was standing beside me on the scaffold, using a brush to smooth out the places where I’d applied too much. We talked while we worked, but he never mentioned yesterday’s panic attack, and I was thankful.
“So,” Lucas said, dipping his brush into the bucket. “What do you think about Friday night’s game? Should we go?”
The roller became slightly unsteady in my hand, but I was careful to keep my voice casual. “We could go. The new kids on the block should probably stick together when it comes to school functions.”
“You’re not exactly new,” Lucas reminded me with a grin. “But yeah, we should do that.”
“Okay.”
It’s not a date. It’s a school function.
This would have to be my mantra for the rest of the week.
“Sarah, you’ve got—” Lucas motioned toward my face.
“What?” Blindly, I swiped at my nose, which caused him to laugh even harder.
“Your roller is dripping!”
I looked down to find my fingers covered in Rocky Mountain Sky Blue. I groaned in frustration as he handed me a towel.
“Stop laughing at me!”
This only made him laugh harder, so I grabbed his brush out of his hand and gently swiped his cheek, creating a lovely streak of blue from his ear to his chin.
I couldn’t stop laughing. “Now we match!”
His laughing subsided just long enough for him to take a step closer and slowly lift his hand, carefully touching the tip of my nose with his finger.
“Now we match.” Our laughter faded as he took another step closer. His eyes flickered to my mouth, and I held my breath when he leaned closer.
Suddenly, Tommy’s voice rang out, causing us to jump away from each other. “There you are! What are you guys doing back here?”
Lucas mumbled something about avoiding interfering people, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I dipped the brush back into the bucket.
“You two have more paint on your faces than you do on the house!”
“All my fault.” I was more than happy to take the blame.
Tommy looked at Lucas and then back to me before exploding with laughter.
“Don’t you have something to do?” Lucas shouted down at him, clearly annoyed.
Tommy just smirked.
“Actually, we have practice in an hour, so the guys are cleaning up. We’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early.”
“Thanks, Tommy.”
Lucas gathered our supplies while I carefully climbed down the scaffold. When I reached the ground, I looked up to admire our handiwork.
“We really do have more on us than we have on the house.”
“Told ya,” Tommy said with a grin, “although I have a feelin’ neither of you mind too much.”
Tommy winked at me before running toward the front of the house. By the time Lucas and I walked around, the boys were already packed on the bus, waving excitedly with their heads stuck out the window.
“Thanks, guys!”
The team cheered wildly, causing the bus to shake before it finally rumbled away, disappearing in a thick cloud of dust.
Late that afternoon, I decided to take a drive around town. Not much had changed at all on Main Street, but there were a few new shops, including a sporting goods store with Sycamore Panthers sweatshirts displayed in the window.
I bought two.
I had to guess at his size, but Mabel, the elderly saleslady behind the counter, had apparently gotten a good look at Mr. Miller at church on Sunday, and she promised me a medium would fit just fine.
“He’s a very nice young man,” Mabel said as she handed me my receipt. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, reminding me a little of my grandma.
“Yes, he is.”
After promising to come again, I headed home. On the way, I decided to take a detour—taking a left at Jackson’s Pond and continuing on the old dirt road that led to the river. I’d practically lived there when I was a kid, and as teenagers, we’d hike the trail and camp close to the waterfall. It was nearly twenty feet high and one of the most serene places I’d ever known.
I wanted to show it to someone who’d never seen it. Someone who needed a little serenity in his life.
Grabbing my cell phone, I was amazed to find I had a signal. I had never called Lucas, but we’d exchanged numbers th
e day we met at the hardware store. I quickly gave him directions, and half an hour later, we were standing together at the trailhead of Sycamore Falls.
“You do remember I’m a city boy,” Lucas said quietly, his eyes wide as he looked toward the woods.
“I remember, but I really want you to see the waterfall. It’s a short and easy hike, I promise.”
He didn’t look convinced but followed me anyway. The trail was flat but rocky, and when I stumbled, Lucas quickly grabbed onto my hand. He didn’t let it go, not even when we reached the riverbank, and I pointed across the water.
“Wow,” Lucas whispered.
The sight of the waterfall took my breath away. I hadn’t seen it in years, and back then, I’d been just a kid, viewing it with innocent, adolescent eyes. I’d loved this place, but I didn’t fully appreciate it.
Not until now.
“This is really beautiful, Sarah.”
“I know.”
We sat down on the sand, listening to the roar of the falls and watching as it flowed into the current below. The river was a little low, making the jagged boulders visible above the rushing water. Sycamore trees—still bright green and full of life—majestically surrounded the water. It wouldn’t be long until the leaves traded their emerald shade for the pretty colors of autumn.
“I bet this place is gorgeous in the fall,” Lucas said, reading my mind. “We’ll have to come back when the leaves change.”
I smiled.
Yes, we would.
The rest of the week was busy as our summer vacations came to an end. Painting the house continued until mid-week when Tommy and Lucas decided they would finish the trim work while the team began renovating the wrap-around porch. In the afternoons, the Panthers would head off to football practice while Lucas and I went to school to prepare for our first week of classes. Mr. Mullins, the principal, finally provided me with a curriculum, and I spent my evenings creating lesson plans. I also learned I would be teaching a Creative writing class, which excited me a little more than it probably should.
