by Lyn Cote
“What did you see, Jack?” Annie leaned toward him, her head cocked.
“I saw myself in that kid. He was willing to cause all kinds of chaos just because he was angry with his dad.”
“Well, after meeting Dr. Dunn,” she said, “I can imagine the kind of father he is.”
“Yeah, the kid was so resentful, so angry.”
Silence.
“Annie, when we talked last night you wanted me to make up with my dad. When I went there tonight...” He looked to her. Help me put it into words, Annie.
“I understand.” She slid forward till her knee touched his, the swing rocking gently under them. “You’ve been angry with your dad a long time. Finally, now, you saw that you were still acting like this kid. Your dad did wrong, but that doesn’t mean it should wreck your relationship with him forever.”
“Or with you.” He took the plunge and wrapped his arms around her softness. He clung to her as the swing swayed back and forth. “You’re right. I’ve buried my head in my work and pushed away practically everyone else, even you.” His mother’s words came back to him, Annie’s in love with you. “Do you love me, Annie?”
She withdrew from him.
“I said that wrong, I know. Wait.” He rolled words around in his mind. He paused, trying to sort out what he was feeling, thinking, groping for words. “I’m no good at saying things, you know that .You always help me...”
“You have to say this, Jack. I can’t say it for you.” She pushed against the floor with her bare foot and the swing moved forward and back.
“Will you give us a chance?” Jack stopped the swing by putting his foot down. “I’ve pushed everyone away because of my resentment toward my dad. But I can’t lose you, Annie. I’m in love with you.”
She opened her arms.
He moved into them and rested his cheek against hers. “Oh, Annie.” He drew her closer against him in rhythm with the swing.
“I never thought you’d love me,” she whispered. “I’m not special like Melissa—”
“Don’t ever say that again.” He pulled her head back to look her directly in the eyes. “You are the most wonderful, special woman in the world. And anyone who argues with that, even you, will get an argument from me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Then I know you truly love me, Jack.” She kissed him.
He responded in kind, a long sweet exchange. When their lips parted at last, more words, important words came to him. “You are special, Annie.” He made the swing sway gently. “It’s not just because I love you. It’s true. Just ask anyone who knows you. Annie, you’re one in a million. If you love me, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Annie leaned against him, her joy flowing with sweet tears. “I love you, Jack. Forever.”
“Forever,” he agreed. Lord, help me make her happy.
Epilogue
Mike, in a black suit, and Sandy, in a silvery party dress, held hands at the front of the small chapel. The glass-covered candles at each window along the sides of the room were decorated with sprigs of holly and purple advent ribbon to reflect Christmas, only ten days away.
Only family and close friends had been invited to the intimate wedding. These included Melissa and Troy, who were back together, and Gloria and Cliff, who were planning a spring wedding. The longtime neighbor Mr. Pulaski had walked the bride up the aisle. Jack stood beside Mike as his best man. Annie, as maid of honor, held Sandy’s red rose bridal bouquet.
As the minister directed the exchanging of rings, Annie gazed across at Jack, so handsome in his black suit. Their wedding would be a winter one also. But they had put it off until Valentine’s Day.
As she heard her dad say, “With this ring, I thee wed,” her heart swelled with love for him, for Sandy, for her mother who must be smiling down on them from heaven, and for Jack. My beloved.
Tears misted Annie’s eyes.
Then footsteps pattered up behind her. She glanced down to see Austin and Andy, in their first suits, pushing in front.
“We wanna see the rings,” Austin said in a quiet, awed voice.
“Yeah,” Andy agreed, “everybody’s in our way.”
Muted chuckles rippled through the wedding guests. Annie heard Melissa moan with embarrassment. But Mike and Sandy showed the boys, the rings. Then Jack reached for the boys and pulled them to stand by him. Jack stroked Andy’s blond hair and laid a hand on Austin’s shoulder.
He would never make the mistakes that Cliff and Dr. Dunn had with their sons. Annie’s heart turned over. Thank you, Father. All good gifts do come from above.
* * *
Dear Reader,
Thanks for taking the time to get to know Annie and Jack, true opposites. Do you know a couple like them? I do. In fact, my husband and I are the prototypes for the well-organized take-charge woman and the quiet man who thinks in numbers. No one would have put us together, and we have celebrated over thirty years together.
This story was written earlier in the 2000’s and I’ve updated it from flip phones to smart phones, etc. I researched internet security then and hope it’s still right. If not, please forgive me. I am not the “numbers” person in the family. I’m the “words” person! :-)
The next book in this “Opposites Attract” series will take Patience Andrews, Annie’s cousin, to her new teaching job in a small town near Chicago. If just teaching school were all she had to do, she’d be fine. But a month into the school year, Patience will be called to jury duty and run up against the local district attorney. What will he say when he finds out she’s the one responsible for his hung jury?
I hope you've enjoyed Jack and Annie's story, a story of “Opposites Attract.” If you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider posting a review online to help other readers decide whether they’d like to read it too.
If you’d like to download my free contemporary short story collection, titled, “Two Seasons of Romance, click here, https://dl.bookfunnel.com/xt4jx5afi8
NOT FOR SALE ANYWHERE
“Opposites Attract” series: Four unlikely couples find opposites do attract even in the shadow of mystery~
These are the titles in this series:
Only Your Heart, Book 1
The Heart Hopes, Book 2
Two Hearts Denied, Book 3
Heart of Stone, Book 4
Here’s an excerpt of the next book in this series, The Heart Hopes.
A disgruntled DA and the woman responsible for his hung jury-what could unite them? A little boy in need of love?
Chapter One
On a golden early-October afternoon in a small town west of Chicago, Patience Andrews sat at her desk, her head down but her eyes roaming her first-grade classroom. She only wished she had more experience.
Last year’s student teaching was a far cry from being on her own with twenty-five six-and-seven-year-olds, but it had taught her a few things. For instance, within five minutes on the first day of class, Patience had recognized that Jackson Montgomery would be “the challenge” in her first year of teaching. Now she had to figure out how to change this, turn the boy around.
Jackson’s kindergarten teacher had labeled him on his student file as a “behavior problem—needs social worker evaluation.” Patience refused to fall into that mindset. Too often children lived up to what they were labeled. Therefore, the label should be a positive one.
That much she’d learned from Uncle Mike and Aunt Mary. “And I’ll always be grateful, Lord,” she murmured aloud.
With his chocolate-brown bangs and eyes to match, maybe Jackson just needed extra attention.
A bouquet of bright yellow and bronze marigolds in a jelly jar, a gift from a student, graced her desk. She touched one soft petal. Then a nattering sound from the window sill made her glance over. Outside the window, noisy squirrels were busy gathering acorns. They raced up and down the nearby oak tree.
By contrast, inside the classroom, everyone was copying their spelling list for the week, or trying to in spite of t
he activity just outside their windows. The children glanced from the words on the chalkboard behind her to the paper on their desks and back again. Many had their faces twisted with intense concentration and gripped their large pencils with pressure-whitened fingertips.
One brave reddish-brown squirrel scampered onto the concrete sill of one of the classroom’s open windows and chattered louder than the rest. The children kept glancing at it and then back at their papers. Patience looked at Jackson again. She was right. Jackson needed extra attention.
And he needed it—right now.
Unlike his fellow first-graders, Jackson, sitting three seats back on the window row, wasn’t copying his spelling words. Not a surprise. He was staring at the brave and chatty squirrel. As she watched them both, he half rose from his seat. Was he going to the window?
“Class!” Patience spoke up.
Jackson froze en route.
“Time for a stretch! Everybody up beside their desks!” Patience jumped from her seat and stood beside her desk. “Now, everyone stretch your hands high!”
The class grinned at her as they popped up to follow her example.
“And bend down low.” Folded in two, Patience made eye contact with Jackson. Did he realize she’d been watching him, anticipating him? “Now up high again.”
To her eyes, he looked confused. Good. If I can just keep one step ahead of him...
“Very good, class.” Patience let her arms drop. “You may be seated again.”
The boys and girls settled back into their seats with some giggling and chatter. The bold squirrel at the window still sat on the sill of their open window, appearing intrigued by the class. This surprised Patience. Why hadn’t the sudden activity scared the squirrel back into the tree?
“Spelling words, please,” she reminded sternly. “We don’t want to have to stay in during recess on this gorgeous day to finish them, do we?”
Murmurs of agreement preceded the resumption of intense copying. The pleasant silence of busy students blanketed the room, a sound that warmed her teacher’s heart. Patience checked and saw that Jackson had finally picked up his pencil. Good. Maybe now he’d get busy with his work.
In the cheery silence, from the hallway came a sudden yelp and thud. Patience jumped up and ran to the doorway. Down the hall, a silver-haired woman, the school librarian, lay sprawled on the linoleum. She groaned.
Patience hurried forward. “Are you hurt?”
The librarian struggled to rise. Patience took her arm and helped her up.
“There must have been some water on the floor by the drinking fountain,” the woman gasped. “I lost my footing—”
Sudden shrieks broke over them, echoing off the cement-brick walls. Patience spun around and raced back to her room—just in time to see Jackson chasing the inquisitive squirrel around the room.
D.A. Gil Montgomery forced himself not to fidget on the straight-backed chair as he faced Mrs. Canney, the Oakdale principal. It didn’t help that she had been his principal, too. “I don’t see how a squirrel in a classroom could cause such a furor.”
“That’s hardly the attitude we would like you to take as Jackson’s father.” Mrs. Canney looked at him over her half-glasses.
Right. He scrambled for an acceptable excuse. “I have a case I’m preparing.” And it’s more critical than whatever's happening in a first-grade class. ‘‘I fail to see why you insisted I come here now. It’s not Jackson’s fault if a squirrel got in through an open window.”
‘‘The whole class agreed that Jackson enticed the squirrel inside.” Her lips drawn together like the wrong end of a prune, Mrs. Canney folded her hands on the desk and gazed at him. ‘‘Jackson went to the window when Miss Andrews had left the room to help our librarian who’d fallen in the hallway. Your son got out of his seat and put a piece of candy on the inside of sill to entice the squirrel inside.”
“I don’t get it. Squirrels usually run away when a human approaches them. Why didn’t the squirrel just scat?” Gil let himself frown at her. I’ve got too much on my mind for something petty like this.
“You’re right. This particular squirrel has grown up on the school grounds and I’m afraid children have fed it over the past few years. This makes it behave differently than your average wild squirrel.”
“So it really wasn’t Jackson’s fault.”
“You’re missing the point, Gilbert.” Mrs. Canney shook her head at him, the loose skin under her neck swaying. “Jackson or some other student could easily have been bitten. And I don’t think you’d like him or any child to have to go through the series of rabies shots if that had happened and we hadn’t been able to find the squirrel.”
Gil realized he was gritting his teeth and relaxed his jaw. “But he didn’t get bitten. No one did.”
“Jackson is too young to be doing this type of stunt,” Mrs. Canney snapped. “This is a fourth- grader prank, not a first-grader prank.”
This stumped Gil. Was that a compliment or an insult?
“Now, I want you to take Jackson home and talk to him about wild animals and why contact with them should be avoided.” Mrs. Canney pressed the button on her intercom. “Please send Jackson in.”
Jackson, his head down, opened the door and edged inside the room. A tall willowy blonde entered behind his son. Gil noticed that she had rested her hand on his son’s shoulder. Was she restraining Jackson or comforting him? Gil rose. He couldn’t stop himself from running his gaze over the woman. Very attractive. Very young. Very unsettling.
“Gil, this is Miss Andrews, Jackson’s teacher,” Mrs. Canney introduced them.
Miss Andrews offered him her hand.
He took it—so light and delicate—in his. The unusual sensation made him break contact. He tried to read the teacher’s expression. He failed.
Mrs. Canney shot Jackson a stem look and then extended it to include Gil. “Jackson, I’m letting your father take you home now. But starting tomorrow, you will spend recess sitting in my office and you will have to stay after school and clean chalkboards for Miss Andrews for the rest of the week.”
“No recess,” Jackson muttered, jamming his hands into his pockets.
Gil squeezed his son’s shoulder. “No back talk. Apologize to Mrs. Canney for making trouble.”
“I’m sorry.” Jackson stared at the gray carpet.
“I’m sure—” Miss Andrews looked to Gil. “—Jackson didn’t realize that a squirrel might be a danger to the other students.”
“Now he does.” Mrs. Canney picked up a paper from her desk, dismissing them. “Thank you for coming in, Gilbert.”
Gil mumbled something, preoccupied with his own thoughts. Miss Andrews’s voice had caught Gil by surprise. What could make a voice that rich and low?
He let Miss Andrews and his son precede him out the door. The three of them walked down the shadowy, empty hallway. The teacher held herself very straight, and was tall enough to be just inches beneath his own height. He tried to keep his eyes forward, but they kept tracking right to her profile.
An awkward situation. Gil tried to think of something to say to make her speak again, to hear her voice again. But he could come up with nothing. He didn’t want to talk about Jackson’s indiscretion until he’d had time to speak to his son in private. And every other thought in his mind referenced the Putnam case, the case he was working on.
They reached the main school entrance. He started to say goodbye but stopped.
Miss Andrews had lowered herself to sit on her heels, her nose only inches from his son’s. “Jackson, I know you didn’t mean to do something that might hurt you or someone else. But you’ve got to start thinking things out first, okay?”
“Are you mad at me?” Jackson asked in a little voice.
“No, I’m not mad. I’m sad.”
“Why?” Jackson looked up for the first time.
“Because you ended up frightening that little squirrel when you chased him—”
“I was just trying to ca
tch him so he could get back outside. I didn’t think he’d come in for the candy...”
“You must think before you do things. The squirrel didn’t deserve what happened, to be terrified, did he?” Miss Andrews touched Jackson’s cheek with the back of her hand.
Gil felt the phantom of this touch on his own cheek. What would it feel like to have Miss Andrews speaking to him nose to nose? Stupid question. And it caused his face to warm. He remained in the shadows, a step apart, made mute by this stranger’s compassion to his son.
“Does terrified mean I scared him?” Jackson’s voice quivered and he moved an inch closer to Miss Andrews.
“Yes. The poor little squirrel didn’t deserve to have people screaming at him and chasing him. Just think how little he is and how big we all looked to him. It was like putting him in a scary movie with huge monsters, only it was real.”
‘‘I didn’t mean to scare him.” Jackson’s voice vibrated with true regret.
Gil realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled.
“I know you didn’t. But next time, think first.” She ruffled Jackson’s hair and then rose in one swift fluid movement that again caught Gil off guard. She offered Gil her hand again. “Goodbye.”
He closed his own over her slight hand, still unable to think of a thing to say. “Thanks” didn’t seem adequate.
She turned and he watched her walk back up the dim, cavernous hall. The feminine swing of her body captured his attention. He couldn’t break away until the shadows obscured her from his view.
His son tugged on his hand. “Come on, Dad.”
“Right.” He let Jackson lead him out into the molten sunshine of late afternoon, forcing himself to keep his face forward. And hiding his eyes behind his light-sensitive glasses.
On her walk home, Patience paused at the corner and sighed. The afternoon gossip group lounged on Mrs. Honeycutt’s front porch where Patience rented the upper flat. No way out. She’d stop and chat a few moments, avoiding any gossip and then head upstairs. On such a warm day, she had only one compelling thing on her mind: taking off her school clothes and slipping into shorts. That would be heaven.
