by Megan Kelly
Scott looked helplessly across the room to where Ginger directed one of the boys with math he hadn’t finished. The poor kid still got to eat his cupcake, but he had to work through the celebration, while the other children either hung around Shelby or talked to each other at their seats.
Were kids always this unkind? Had Jean’s attitude rubbed off on Shelby? He didn’t like his daughter hanging around with mean girls.
Shelby finished reading the poem and smiled at Jean. “I like your card. Thanks for the poem. But I liked Maria’s artwork, too.”
Scott nodded. His daughter had some rough edges, but in her young heart lurked a thoughtful and loving girl. Parenting by himself had him second-guessing everything.
Throughout the half hour he stayed in the room, he noticed Ginger keeping away from him for the most part. He understood; a school classroom was inappropriate for necking. He grinned to himself. It was public and children lurked everywhere. Especially his.
Then the school bell signaled the end of the day and the children left, including his, as he had to get back to work. Shelby thanked him with a sticky, sweet kiss for bringing the cupcakes and left for the bus to the Wee Care.
“This was great,” Scott said, throwing away napkins. “I can help wipe up the tables or sweep or something.”
“Sure.” She crossed to the cupboard and brought him back a spray bottle and several rags. “When your rag gets disgusting, put it in the plastic bag I have on the doorknob. That’s laundry.”
“You wash these rags? Why doesn’t the school do it?”
“They’re mine. I use a spray mix I make at home for sanitizing. It’s environmentally kinder and my sensitive kids don’t have a problem with it.”
“Harry and Ron?” he guessed.
“And others. It’s better for all of us.”
She turned away and he caught her elbow to turn her back. “Hey. I’ve hardly gotten to talk to you.”
“I’m at work, Scott. This isn’t the place or time.”
Frustration bit him. “Then name a place and time. I want to be with you.”
Her expression grew guarded.
“I don’t mean just for that.” He hesitated, unable to say sex in their current setting, still echoing with the sound of children.
“Scott, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“You’re sorry that you can’t? Or you’re just sorry and you can’t? Because there’s a difference.” Something like panic or betrayal welled in his throat. “Do you want to be with me? Start a relationship? See where things progress from the start we have?”
“It’s not as simple as what I want. You have to understand.” Her eyes misted. “I loved our night together.”
“That doesn’t clarify anything.” He threw his hands up. “What do you want from me? I can’t understand what you won’t say.”
She pulled away. “I’m sorry, but no, I can’t be with you.”
Icy crystals splintered in his chest, piercing and cold. Tossing the rag on a desk, he walked out of her classroom.
His hopes for starting a new life remained behind.
Ginger watched the door close behind Scott and put an arm across her belly, hugging herself. It hurt to let him go.
She had to pull herself together. A pregnant woman named Fiona Rawlings wanted to find a home for her baby and had set up an interview at her lawyer’s office in thirty minutes. Her own lawyer, Preston Fields, cautioned against setting too much store on this encounter. Fiona had interviews with two other families that afternoon, and she’d planned to make her final decision. But the two lawyers had conferred and offered Ginger’s information, and Fiona had agreed to meet with her.
Ginger swallowed down nerves as she left the building. Could this be the day she became a mother-to-be?
Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up. She chanted it to herself on the drive over. The woman’s lawyer had offices in Independence, and Ginger would just make the meeting in time if traffic wasn’t too bad. Fortunately, the day was clear and the roads were dry. On an empty stretch of road, she brushed her hair. At stoplights, she reapplied her lipstick and patted on some powder to reduce the day’s shine and freshen her appearance. It wouldn’t do to come across as too worn out to care for an infant.
Fiona stood five foot nothing in heels. She couldn’t be more than legal age, if that. Although she wasn’t undernourished, Fiona’s belly stuck out from a frame of small bones stretched with thin skin. Ginger wanted to feed her. She feared the woman/girl would shatter if the wind blew too hard. At least she knew from the medical reports that the girl was healthy. She was just too young to be pregnant.
After the greetings, the lawyers spent a few minutes reviewing Fiona’s health care updates and Ginger’s finances.
“Are you in a relationship?” Fiona asked after ten minutes passed.
Ginger managed to keep her expression calm. Why did that have to be the first question? Would it disqualify her in Fiona’s mind or count as a benefit? “No. I’m divorced. So I’ll be able to devote all my time to the baby.”
“But you’re not seeing anyone seriously? Like going to get married or anything?”
Ginger shook her head and the girl’s expression shifted. Right then, she feared she’d lost her chance. She went for broke. “I can’t conceive or carry a baby to term. Adopting is the sole solution for me, my only opportunity to raise a baby.”
The meeting went smoothly, but Fiona had her heart set on a family. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If only single women were interviewing, I’d pick you. I like the idea of a teacher being around to help my little guy or girl with her homework. But I want my baby to have a daddy, too. I’m so sorry.”
Fiona’s eyes welled with tears. Ginger felt the same and excused herself after wishing the girl luck.
“Ginger,” Preston called. “Wait.”
She pulled herself together and turned to face him on the landing. “I’m fine, Pres.”
With over twenty years behind them, having met on the playground in kindergarten, he took her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that much of a lost cause. She never stipulated only two-parent applicants.”
“It’s okay. You warned me not to get my hopes up.”
He cocked his head. “But you did anyway.”
She shrugged. “It’s going to happen soon. I feel something good is near. I believe that. This just wasn’t it.”
“You’re not giving up?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to be a mother. I just know it. It feels…right.”
He smiled. “Womanly intuition?”
She punched his arm playfully. “You just wait. We’ll see who’s laughing then. I bet you a quarter that I’ll be a mom by the end of the year.”
“A quarter?” He laughed. “Don’t know that I can afford your wager, lady, but I’ll be glad to come up with the dough. For once, I hope I lose.”
“You will, Preston. You will.”
SHELBY APPEARED BESIDE her desk on Tuesday. “Ms. Winchester, my dad made me ask you if you’ll come help us with Horace.”
Ginger clamped down on her lip to hold back her laughter. The girl’s wording needed improvement. She’d have to learn to hide her feelings.
“What’s wrong with Horace?”
“Nothing, but we can’t train him to do anything. Dad says he has something called add.”
“Ad—? Addictive personality?”
Shelby shook her head.
“Adorableness?”
The girl laughed, caught off guard. Then she seemed to remember herself and closed off again. “That’s probably it. Horace is pretty cute, even when he’s eating my socks. But Dad said it stood for something.”
“Oh, ADD?”
“Yeah, Dad spells it, too.” She shrugged. “It spells add, though, right?”
“Right. You’ve heard it called ADHD.”
Shelby looked across the room and back. “Oh. Like Simon?”
Ginger nodded. The class knew o
f his disorder, as he experienced disastrous days when his clueless parents decided he didn’t “need” his medication. The kids had seen the repercussions.
“Horace doesn’t have medicine, though. And he doesn’t act out, except for eating things he shouldn’t. He just doesn’t do what we’re trying to train him to do.”
“I think your dad means Horace can’t concentrate on one thing long enough to learn it. It’s pretty unrealistic to ask Horace to learn a behavior in a week.” She grinned, knowing the answer to her next question. “What’s your dad trying to teach Horace?”
“To go to the bathroom outside.”
“Tell your dad to buy a book.”
“So you won’t come to dinner? Okay.” Shelby turned away.
“Whoa.” Ginger glanced at the other kids, busy drawing maps of the United States. With economic cutbacks in the district, she’d become their art teacher, as well. Today she combined geography and art, having the kids concentrate on the size of each state in relation to the others, trying to teach them about proportion. Tomorrow the class would learn about watercolors and add features like mountains and rivers, once again studying geography while learning an art technique.
No one paid any attention to her and Shelby; still, she lowered her voice. “Are you sure your dad invited me to dinner?”
“He said it would be payment for you helping us train Horace. But I’ll just tell him you can’t come.”
The girl seemed more than happy with the outcome. While Shelby wasn’t disrespectful, she’d never warmed up to Ginger the way most incorrigible students eventually did. After three weeks in her class, she might as well be marked off as a lost cause. Shelby could sense the chemistry between her father and her teacher, even if she didn’t understand it. She’d seen them together on several social occasions. The girl probably saw her as a threat, trying to replace her mother. If only Ginger could explain it to Shelby, but she had trouble explaining it to herself.
She wanted Scott, ached to be in his arms again and experience the magic they’d shared the month before. If he didn’t have children, she’d pursue him, working up the courage to gamble that he wouldn’t reject her. His children had a mother, though, and Ginger didn’t want to be anyone’s second-best.
Since she’d turned away from him the week prior, after Shelby’s party, she couldn’t believe he’d risk asking her to dinner. Even in this roundabout way.
Guilt ate at her. She owed him an explanation.
“Shelby, tell your dad I’ll be there around six-thirty.” Ginger ignored the girl’s crestfallen expression. “If the time doesn’t work for him, just have him call me. I’ll bring dessert.”
At six-thirty, Ginger knocked on the Matthews’ door, greeted by deep woofs. The door was opened by Serena, her two hands wrapped around the knob. Her big eyes shone a welcome very different from Shelby’s usual animosity. Hair stuck out of her reddish-brown ponytail. Once again Ginger had to restrain herself from brushing the girl’s tendrils into place.
The door swung wider to reveal Scott in the background, holding the collar of the wriggling black mass. He struggled to contain the dog’s enthusiasm. Horace’s barks welcomed rather than warned.
“Hi, Serena. Why’s your dad holding the puppy?” She hung her coat on the hooks drilled into the wall.
“He jumps, but don’t worry, he won’t bite.”
Ginger almost smiled. Horace might not. Scott, on the other hand, did bite in a most delightful way. Wait. Jump? She jerked toward Serena and frowned. “Has the dog knocked you down?”
“He doesn’t mean to. He’s just a puppy and don’t know better.”
The girl couldn’t be three feet tall, and the puppy was almost two feet tall now. She could be seriously hurt. Her yellow sweater had mud spots on it that appeared to be paw prints.
Ginger squared her shoulders and held out the container of brownies. “Will you take this into the kitchen for me?”
Serena nodded and moved off with the dessert but turned in the doorway to watch.
“Hi,” Scott said, voice raised over the barking. “He’ll calm down in a minute. If not, I’ll put him in the mudroom.” He grinned. “I installed a Dutch door this weekend so we can see him while he’s contained. That’s where he stays during the day.”
“Good idea. Now, let him go.”
Scott shook his head. “Not a good idea. I’ll walk him over so you can pet him. That’s what he wants. A little attention.”
She cocked her head. “Do you want me to help you with Horace or not?”
The puppy woofed upon hearing his name. This dog wasn’t untrainable, but the family needed to take a firm approach.
“With housebreaking. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“I have an idea. Let’s give it a try.” When Scott hesitated, she nodded once in a decisive manner. More than the puppy needed instruction. “Scott, let the dog go.”
Scott released him and, as expected, Horace bounded toward her. Ginger held up one hand, palm out at waist level, and took a step forward. “No.”
Horace skidded across the polished wooden floor toward her, scrabbling for purchase. His chest and chin bumped the ground, but he sat up and cocked his head at her. She bent and petted him. “Good dog.”
She glanced past Scott, who stood with his jaw dropped, to locate a beaming Serena behind him. “Do you have little dog bone treats?”
The girl nodded. “I’ll get him one.”
“How did you do that?” Scott’s eyes were wide with amazement.
Ginger smiled, still laving attention on the puppy. “I saw it on TV. The theory is you step into their planned arc and it throws them off. So they have to not jump while they reconfigure their launch and landing.”
“That’s amazing. And so simple.”
“Simple if you know it already. Just step into his path. Tell him no in a firm voice.”
Horace whined in response.
Scott grimaced. “Oh, I’ve been saying no in a firm voice quite a lot this week. It just hasn’t had much effect.”
“Well, my work here is done.” She straightened, hiding her amusement. “Thanks for inviting me. Enjoy the brownies.”
He laughed. “Hold on there. You can’t leave. One, we haven’t had dinner and you’ve definitely earned it already. Two, you haven’t taught him the most important trick of all.”
“Voiding outdoors is a behavior, not a trick. If you think of it that way, you’ll realize it’s going to take longer to train him. I’m sure the girls didn’t learn in a week.”
“They wore diapers. I’ve got to get that dog potty trained or I’ll wind up buying so much cleanser, I’ll go broke.”
Scott patted his jeans pocket, demonstrating its emptiness. Horace bounded over and placed his paws on Scott’s stomach.
“Get down, you stupid dog.” He took hold of Horace’s front paws and put him on the floor, getting a slobbery kiss in the process. Scott made a disgusted sound. “You fool.”
Ginger laughed. “He’s amazing.”
“Amazingly stupid. I think he has ADD. Do they have doggie meds for that?”
“Scott, you’re missing the point. He came when you called.”
“I didn’t call. Oh.” He glanced down at Horace, who stood with his tongue out, drooling with pride. “Patting my pockets? Huh, I guess I did.”
“And yes, they probably do have all kinds of medicines for dogs, given that people treat their animals as children. But Horace doesn’t need Ritalin. Did you expect him to learn not to jump after one time?”
“Well, no.” He shot her another grin. “But I sure hoped for it.”
“Don’t. It sets you both up for disappointment.” She looked to the empty living room with its comfortable orange twill sofa and brown leather love seat. “Do we have time to sit down or should we go in the kitchen? I brought a book for you in my purse.”
He checked his wristwatch. “We’re good for another fifteen minutes.”
The three of them walked
over to stand by the couch. Ginger set the book on the coffee table. “Is this safe? Or will he eat it?”
“He hasn’t shown an interest in books yet.”
Serena came in with a dog biscuit, and Horace leaped forward.
“No,” Scott and Ginger called at the same time. Horace’s impetus carried him into Serena’s side, bumping her arm with the treat, although Ginger thought he swerved at their command. The treat went flying, and Horace flew after it, making his action look planned. But since he came back and sniffed around Serena for more snacks, not cowering as though he’d done wrong, Ginger gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“Are you okay?” she asked the girl.
Serena shrugged, petting Horace. “That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t fall down that time.”
“Serena.” A frown formed between Scott’s eyebrows as he looked around the living room. “Where did you put the pillows?”
Her gaze shifted to the floor. “They’re in my room.”
He glared at the dog. “What condition are they in?”
Serena ducked her head.
“It’s okay,” Ginger said. “Your dad is upset with Horace, not you.”
“But I don’t want him to go away,” she appealed.
“We’re not going to send him away, pumpkin.” Scott sat and gestured her over. She cuddled into his side. “He’s part of the family.”
Ginger’s knees went weak and she sank down on the cushion beside him. The tender scene stole her breath away. His words made her melt inside. He was decent and loving and gentle and kind.
She wanted him bad.
“Now, can you finish up in the kitchen while Ms. Winchester tells me what to do about Horace? Since we’re going to keep him, we’ve got to be good to him. And I bet he doesn’t like making a mess inside.”
Serena’s nose crinkled. “Or being home all day and stepping in it and walking it all over the floor.”
“Yeah, I’m not fond of that, either.”
Ginger suppressed a giggle at his dry tone.
“I’m almost done, Daddy. I just gotta spread one more bit of garlic butter.” She bounded off.
Horace rose, but Scott grabbed his collar. “Not a chance, buster. You stay out of the kitchen when food is within reach.” He frisked under the dog’s chin. “And everything seems to be within your reach, doesn’t it, you big monster?”
