by Annie Rains
The man shook her hand and then took Micah’s. “Wow. You were right, Principal Chandler,” he said, directing his attention to the after-school group.
“Please, call me Kat.”
“Kat. This place is amazing.” The Gumby-like man pulled a pen out of his chest pocket and started writing feverishly as Kat and Micah told him about the club, and how several of the kids who’d been assigned time after school were still here, because they wanted to be. They told him how the kids’ efforts would be feeding the wounded Marines this weekend to show their appreciation to them for serving their country.
When they were done walking the premises, the reporter stopped and stared at the wall of latest graffiti. Stanley had been home sick over the last week and couldn’t get to it. She wished she’d removed the paint herself.
“Kids will rebel everywhere,” she said, turning to Mr. Todd. “It’s what you do to handle it that makes the difference. No kid wants to misbehave. They want to be loved. They want to know they’re worth something. That they’re worth a lot.” Kat was getting all misty-eyed and tight-throated just talking about the Friendship Club. This was something that mattered, and it made a difference. She knew it did.
Micah’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Then he pushed his mirrored sunglasses up on his head and shook the reporter’s hand. “I can’t wait to read the article.” There was a tone laced in the comment. A tone that said it better do the school, and its principal, justice.
The reporter nodded. “And I can’t wait to write it. When I spoke to your assistant principal about the club the other day, she led me to believe this would be more of a sidebar article.”
“Mrs. Burroughs?” Kat queried.
“I ran into her at church on Sunday. Can’t hardly go anywhere in a small town without running into someone you know. I asked her about the club.”
“And what did she say?” Micah asked, still standing beside her. Kat could almost hear his muscles tightening in her defense, and she loved that about him. Even though she didn’t need rescuing, she liked the fact that he had her back.
The reporter shrugged. “I believe she said your little club was temporary. That traditional methods of punishment were more effective in changing kids’ behaviors.”
It was no secret that Mrs. Burroughs thought Kat was too young and inexperienced to be the principal at this school. But she never thought that Mrs. Burroughs would intentionally undermine her efforts to help the kids. This club wasn’t temporary and it had made a difference. Dora Burroughs was supposed to be her partner here.
The reporter placed his pen back in his front pocket. “After seeing it for myself, this is definitely front page material. The town will eat this up.”
“Thank you.” Kat shook his hand one more time, then watched him walk away.
“What are you going to do?” Micah asked, when their interviewer was out of earshot.
She shook her head, watching the kids maneuver a water hose to spray the plants. “I don’t know. It seems like my assistant has resisted every decision and action I’ve made since I became the principal here last year.”
“I can talk to her if you want me to,” he said.
This made Kat smile. Yeah, she’d love to see how Micah would handle that confrontation. But it was her battle, not his. “I don’t think so,” she said, resisting the urge to lean into him. “Maybe it’s just like with the kids. Maybe no adult wants to rebel, either.” She chewed her lower lip. “Maybe we could force her to dig holes and drop seeds. Perhaps that would fix her.”
Micah laughed softly. “Adults are a whole different story. I think your assistant doesn’t like the fact that someone half her age is telling her what to do. And I think that some part of her might want to see you fail.”
“So what do I do?”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re already doing it. You’re standing up for yourself, showing the world how wonderful you are. And you’re not failing.”
“Right.”
“I know I’m proud of you,” he said.
Kat tilted her head and looked up at him. “You are? That means a lot to me.” They held each other’s gaze for a beat, and then she shrieked as cold water drenched the front of her blouse.
The kids in the Friendship Club roared with laughter.
“Water the plants, not the adults,” Micah said, feigning temper. She knew him better than that, though. Under his tough Marine exterior, he was gentle. The kind of guy who’d make her a backyard oasis in the middle of the night.
She watched, laughing as he pretended to chase the kids for the hose.
“I’m going to get you guys,” he said playfully, moving much slower than she knew he could. Even Ben was wheeling his chair across the ground as fast as his right arm would push.
So the group still had a little rebellious streak. At least they’d kept up their angelic appearances for the Seaside Daily News reporter. She wouldn’t have wanted this water fight to end up on the front page tomorrow morning. Although that probably would’ve made Mrs. Burroughs happy. An assistant principal who wanted to see her boss fail wasn’t good for anyone, and the school couldn’t thrive with that kind of leadership.
Micah finally grabbed the hose and pretended to turn it on the kids, who shrieked with delight.
She’d talk to Mrs. Burroughs tomorrow, and try to come to a truce. If that didn’t happen, then she had a decision to make: continue being undermined or let her assistant principal go.
—
The following Saturday, there were more than enough fresh vegetables to feed an army on the table in front of Micah. Or a crew of hungry Marines.
“How long did it take for your aunt Clara to clean and cut all these things?” Lawson asked, dropping the last box on the table.
“I didn’t ask, but she’s a saint.” Micah glanced over the food proudly. “A hot, home-cooked meal is good for the soul. And after what these guys have been through, they deserve it.”
Lawson nodded, and they both grew quiet a moment. They both knew good men and women who’d lost far too much in the desert. They’d risked their lives, all of them. Some came home with wounds that couldn’t be seen—some called those lucky. And others had wounds visible for the entire world—the not-so-lucky.
“Put us to work,” a broad-shouldered Marine, Donny, said as he walked into the room. “We might be Marines for life, but we’ll be damn good cooks for a day.”
Lawson grinned, giving him and the other Marine who’d walked in a shove. “I don’t think so. You’re on cleaning duty.”
Donny’s smile faded. “Seriously? I thought I’d get some action behind the stove.”
“Have you ever had any action behind a stove?” Micah asked, tossing a glance over to Donny, a tall, lean Marine with a blond buzz cut and a California tan.
“Not exactly,” Donny brooded.
“That’s what I thought. We cook it and you serve it. The pretty ones always serve,” Micah said.
This comment spawned a deep frown from Donny. “Men aren’t pretty.”
“Tell that to Brad Pitt,” the other Marine, Mark, said, patting his buddy’s shoulder.
“Well, if I’m pretty, then you’re a damn Playboy bunny,” Donny told Mark, waggling his eyebrows. “Let’s call Hugh Hefner.”
When they were gone, Lawson dropped some chopped vegetables into a pan of hot oil, stepping back when it hissed loudly. “Don’t think I forgot about ribbing you on that spring in your step. I’m planning to finish that up later,” he teased.
Micah’s gaze trailed out into the banquet hall where Kat and Julie were walking in, lugging jugs of sweet tea. He smiled to himself. “And I’ll be ribbing you about checking out Kat’s sister later, too. Whether you admit to checking her out or not.”
Lawson straightened. “I’ll admit it. I’m a man and I do have eyes in my head. She’s hot.”
Micah pretended to glare at him. “You better keep your eyes and thoughts to Kat’s sister,” he gr
owled. Because Kat was his.
He walked down to the center of the room and helped the two sisters with the jugs. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Kat. “Beautiful day to feed some Marines.” He bent and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted sweet, like she’d just taken a sip of that tea she’d lugged in.
“Ben’s not coming?” she asked, looking around the room.
“No, he’s with my aunt. He’d get bored with us old folk, and I wanted to focus on the guys today. And you. I thought I might focus on you.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of rose. He liked that about her, how she blushed too easily. It made him want to say more things to make her body flush. But Lawson was in the room, and Micah had no doubt he was taking notes so he could tease him mercilessly about it later.
“I promised Ben a father-son day tomorrow, so he’s happy about that.”
Kat met his eyes and smiled. “That’s sweet. Who’d have thought? A big, tough, sweet Marine.”
Frowning, Micah shook his head. “Don’t throw that word around too loudly. The guys are already teasing me.”
Val stepped up beside them and unloaded a box of homemade pies.
“Did you make those?” Micah asked, peeking inside. Lawson and Donny were beside her now, too.
“Those look like my grandmother’s used to,” Donny said, staring up at Val, who waved a dismissive hand.
“No big deal. There are three pineapple and two pecan in there.”
“Pineapple pie?” Donny and Lawson both said at the same time. They looked at each other.
A frown settled on Donny’s lips. “My grandmother never made pineapple pies.”
Val shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the attention. “I have to get the rest of my stuff out of the car.”
“I’ll help you,” Donny said, stepping up beside her, and causing Micah and Lawson to laugh. Donny didn’t volunteer for menial jobs. He usually had to be coaxed into doing jobs that no one else wanted to do—like serving instead of cooking.
Val ran her gaze over him and released a tired sigh. “Fine,” she said and started walking toward the door.
“That’s how she treats people she likes,” Kat said, when they were out of ear range.
“Charming,” Micah said, then howled when Kat’s elbow tapped his rib cage.
An hour later, there was a long line of men and women snaking through the room, stopping at each table to put a healthy serving of real, home-cooked food on their plates. Some were in wheelchairs, others limped or showed evidence of their wounds some other way. They all sported a smile today, though, and for that Micah was proud. The Veterans’ Center had a volunteer band made up of veterans who liked to play at the community functions, and their music filled the room as people ate, laughed, and enjoyed the day.
“A success.” Micah nudged Kat, who’d been standing behind her table and watching the contented crowd for several minutes. A small smile played on her lips. “Another success for Kat Chandler.”
“Thanks to you. It was your idea,” she said.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You made this happen. And the Friendship rebels, of course.”
“Friendship Club,” she interjected playfully.
“Right. Maybe now that they know they did something to make a difference, they’ll want to do more. That’s how you change the world. One good deed at a time.”
“There you go being sweet again.” Kat leaned in to him. “How about doing a good deed for me, Sergeant Peterson?”
Hooking his eyebrow, Micah didn’t need to ask. He knew exactly what she wanted, and screw being teased by his guys. He didn’t care. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, dipping to brush his lips against hers. “That’s the sweet version,” he said, pulling back. “You get the dirty version later,” he promised.
Chapter 23
The next morning, Ben was already dressed and seated at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him when Micah emerged from his bedroom.
Micah glanced around, half expecting Aunt Clara to be nearby. She wasn’t.
“I did it myself, Dad,” Ben said, seeming to read his thoughts. “It wasn’t that hard.”
Micah smiled. “When did you get to be so big?”
Ben shrugged, scooping Frosted Flakes cereal into his mouth. “You said it would be just you and me today. What’re we doing?” His eyes were wide with excitement, no doubt expecting nothing less than the grandest of adventures.
Micah hadn’t even thought this far ahead. He scratched his chin, then rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. The fresh growth was definitely against military regulations, but it was his day off.
“Dad? We are having a father-son day, right?” Ben asked, concern lowering his shaggy brows.
“Yeah, buddy. Of course we are. We’re, uh, going fishing.”
Ben’s expression dimmed as he clutched his spoon. “Fishing?”
In all their time together, they’d never been fishing. And fishing was the one thing that Micah’s father had ever done with him that hadn’t involved preparing him for the military.
“How am I supposed to go fishing? My chair—”
“If you can get yourself dressed and fed, you can go fishing,” Micah said, convincing even himself. It’d be easy. Ben’s chair had locks on the brakes. They’d settle down on the banks of one of the creeks and toss their lines in. He could adapt the pole to hook onto Ben’s chair, that way he only needed one hand to reel when he got a nibble. “It’ll be great.” Just thinking about it made his chest lighten. He hadn’t been fishing in one of North Carolina’s spindly creeks in ages.
Ben bounced in his chair. “Cool. Can we eat what we catch?”
“Well, what would be the fun of catching if we couldn’t eat ’em?”
Ben squealed with delight, making Micah’s heart lift a little higher. He’d do anything for this kid. Including getting out of the Marines and breaking his own father’s heart. Not that he was fully convinced that the elder Peterson actually had a heart to break.
Micah gestured toward the laundry room. “Let me go get the supplies and we’ll be on our way.” He squeezed his son’s shoulder as he walked past, resisting the urge to tell him to take smaller mouthfuls. Ben was growing up and needing less supervision, which meant that Micah would have to start stepping back.
Half an hour later, father and son were in the Jeep and heading toward a spot that Lawson had told them about. A secret, magic spot, Micah told Ben, adding to the spirit of adventure. He scoped out the flattest area of the creek’s bank and settled there to prevent Ben’s chair from rolling toward the water. It was shaded by pine trees, and a gentle breeze carried around them, reminding Micah of his childhood days. Not all of his memories with his father were bad. There were times when he’d actually looked up to the man. The memories ached in Micah’s chest.
He rigged up Ben’s wheelchair with the reel positioned right beside his good arm, and gave a thumbs-up sign. “Let’s catch us a big one.” Then Micah tossed his own line in the water and smiled to himself as he watched Ben from the corner of his eye. Ben’s eyes were wide and his little body leaned slightly forward, as if he was sure that something was going to launch out of the water and swallow his line any minute. They watched and waited for nearly half an hour before Ben said anything.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, bud?” Micah started to reel his line in, deciding to toss it in a different location.
“Why hasn’t Mom called me since she’s been gone?”
Micah paused for a long second, then continued reeling his line and tossed it further out. “I’m sure she’s been busy, little man.” He offered what he hoped was a relaxed smile. Ben didn’t need to worry that Jessica couldn’t take care of herself out there. She damn well could. It was taking care of others that was her weakness.
“Don’t you guys get phone calls over there? You were able to call me all the time when you were deployed last year.”
Micah nodded. Yeah. H
e’d made Ben a priority, whereas Jess had never considered her son anything more than a burden. There was no good answer to give. “She’ll be home in eight months.” This was just a guess, because she’d never actually told him when she was coming back. Or if she intended to see them at all when she did.
There was another long beat of silence. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” Micah focused on the red and white bobber in the water, praying for a distraction.
Grab the bait, little bastards.
“Do you think Principal Chandler will stick around?”
Micah’s eyes slid over, as he remembered his discussion with Clara earlier in the week. Kat was loyal. He could trust her with his son’s heart. “I’m not sure, son. But if she doesn’t, it means your dad screwed something up. Dads do that from time to time.”
Ben considered this, still watching him intently. “Even your dad?”
Micah glanced over. “Uh-huh. Even Grandpa.”
“Well, why don’t you like him very much? I hear you and Aunt Clara talking.”
Birds chirped in the background as Micah tried to find yet another hard answer. “I do like him. It’s just hard to be around him sometimes.”
Ben returned to watching his bobber. “I’ll always want to be around you, Dad. No matter how much you mess up.”
Well, damn. Leave it to a kid to say just the right thing to kick you in the balls and make you want to hug them at the same time. “Yeah? Thanks, bud.”
Ben nodded, that wide grin that Micah loved spreading through his cheeks.
“I can learn a lot by spending time with you. You know that?”
“We should do a lot more of it then. And maybe Principal Chandler can come with us next time. I like her a lot.”
“Me, too.” He hadn’t wanted to like her a lot, but he did. He’d moved past just liking her a long time ago.
“You should try really hard not to mess things up with her, Dad,” Ben added, glancing over again. “But even if you do, I think Principal Chandler is a lot like me. I think she’ll keep wanting to spend time with you no matter how much you mess up.”
