Just to See You Smile

by Sally John

  Anne stared at her, slack-jawed.

  Britte gave her a quick synopsis of events leading up to the superintendent’s ultimatum. “Basically, he threatened him.”

  “Oh, Britte!” She burst into laughter and hugged her. “It was just a warning. Don’t worry about it. You can both handle a little gossip. And besides, anyone who knows you knows you’re a Miss Goody Two-shoes. Now go home and go to bed. Get better. The girls will need you in tip-top shape tomorrow night.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She shivered again and doubted she’d ever truly feel in tip-top shape again.

  Fifty

  Early Wednesday morning Britte sat at her desk, staring at nothing in particular. Like airy cobwebs in the corners of her mind, pieces of last night’s dream clung.

  There had been a field in it. Dried bits of stalk blew about. It must have been after the harvest, late fall. Eric was holding her hand as they ran toward a horizon that never drew near. He squeezed tightly until the engagement ring cut into her flesh. She cried out, but he didn’t let go. The pain increased until she could scarcely breathe. And then he was gone, leaving her stumbling forward at breakneck speed.

  Then somehow, as only happened in dreams, she was on the roof of the sunroom at the farm house. Brady was on the ground, calling to her. And Joel…there was a glimpse of Joel behind her, begging her not to do it. She went to the edge—

  “Britte.”

  She jumped, startled out of the reverie.

  Joel was standing directly across the desk. “Sorry. I thought you heard me come in.” He smiled. “Where were you?”

  If only he wouldn’t smile… “In some crazy dream. It reminded me of the time I followed Brady out to the roof of the sunroom. It’s flat, so that was no big deal in itself. But he shimmied down the drain pipe and called me ‘chicken’ when I wouldn’t do it. So, of course, I did it.” The moment of falling rushed back to her, and she caught her breath.

  “You fell.”

  She nodded. “Not far. I only broke some ribs instead of every bone. I couldn’t breathe for…” That was it. She couldn’t breathe without excruciating pain. Like now.

  “For weeks, probably. I know how that feels.” He slid into a nearby student desk. “Britte, I’ve been thinking—”

  “I have, too.”

  For a long moment they looked at each other. Then he said, “I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night.” His tone was cautious. “Locally. Waverly didn’t forbid—”

  “I think he did. I think he didn’t want people talking about us any which way. If we’re seen together, it will give credence to whatever gossip that woman spreads. I think we should just cool it.”

  The “General’s” countenance returned in a flash, making Joel’s expression unreadable. “It’s not like you to run from a threat.” He spoke softly. “I have a childish desire to call you chicken, Miss O.”

  Each breath was sheer torture. “Well, I guess maybe I am chicken when it comes to jeopardizing your job.”

  “My job. That means it’s my decision whether or not to jeopardize it.” He shut his eyes briefly. “This isn’t the time to talk about us.”

  “There isn’t anymore to talk about. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “A little quickly, I’d say. Two nights ago you seemed awfully interested in a relationship.”

  “That was before your job security came into play. I said my mind is made up!”

  “And it’s closed to my opinion?”

  She clenched her jaw at the glimpse of pain that crossed his face. “It won’t change anything.”

  He stood abruptly. “I suspect there’s something else going on here. I can take a hint.” He turned and walked out.

  So, that was that. Goodbye. It had been inevitable. Now worked as well as later. Actually it worked better than later. There were less heartstrings tangled up at the moment.

  Joel fumed all the way down the hall, across the commons, through the all but vacant main office, and into his room where he slammed the door shut. He tore it back open and barked, “Lynnie, I’m unavailable.” He pushed it closed again. The loud clicking of its latch resounded in his head, silencing the roaring there of indefinable emotions.

  That was rude.

  He opened the door. “Lynnie.”

  She looked up from her computer monitor.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem, boss.” She picked up a pencil. “Just give me your next of kin’s phone number so I don’t have to dig it out of the file when you have your stroke.”

  He glanced around the room. Two students stood at the counter with another office worker. A teacher stood at the bank of faculty mailboxes. They were all quietly looking at him. “I’m fine.”

  “You look like a red balloon stretched to its limit and ready to pop.”

  Kind of how he felt. “If I’m not out in ten minutes, call the paramedics.” He went back into his office and shut the door in a civilized manner.

  He walked over to the window and stared through it, unseeing.

  “Okay, Lord. You’ve got my attention. What is it you want from me? I’m head over heels for this woman, and she just said the feeling’s not mutual. Loud and clear. Cool it. Not let’s take a step back, but just cool it. Zap it. Nip it in the bud. Pulverize it.”

  How could she say that? How could she turn off her emotions as if they were controlled by a spigot? She was fooling herself if she thought she felt nothing toward him. The romantic attraction between them was palpable. She wasn’t the type to go around kissing someone she cared nothing about. Besides that, they were friends, something he would not have imagined possible with a woman. She cried over him. Good grief, he had cried in front of her! He admired her and respected her opinion and enjoyed just hanging out with her. If she didn’t care for him, she wouldn’t be concerned about his job. So what if he lost it in the process of courting her? He could easily get a job somewhere else—

  Somewhere else.

  His shoulders slumped. What had she told him about splitting up with her fiancé? The guy was going to work in his family business somewhere else, not in Valley Oaks. And she was not leaving Valley Oaks.

  But that was years ago. Surely she wouldn’t be opposed to leaving now if it came to that?

  Fragments of scenes rushed at him. Britte and her family. Christmas. Brady’s wedding. Her going to her parents’ house after being attacked. Her living in her great-aunt’s house, carrying on a tradition. A former high school player, coaching in the same gym where she grew up. The memories she must have in the building, in the town!

  Of course she would be opposed to leaving.

  Lord, if it’s from You, then what we have between us is stronger than anything else. Everything else like where we live and work is nothing more than street noise and will be taken care of, right? I ask that You will take care of it because, Father…I love her.

  Yes, he loved her. He smiled to himself. It felt pretty good to admit that.

  You’re not getting off that easily, Miss O.

  Britte stood in her darkened living room near the warm register. The furnace churned heat waves upward as she stared through the window. She could make out the bare sycamore branches spreading across the star-studded sky.

  Jesus, sit with me tonight?

  Earlier, before the evening’s game, the girls had prayed for her. For her. Their custom was to bow heads and one of the girls would say a brief prayer, asking that they’d play their best and be good sports. Tonight three girls prayed. Hands had touched her shoulders as the girls asked for God to grant Coach health and wisdom. They had told God how much they appreciated her.

  Unprecedented.

  They had played well. She had coached well. They had won. She had discerned a role for Jordan where she could help and do little damage. Trevor had made the first eye contact with her since she had brought him on board. Joel had cheered from across the court, wearing school colors, and kept his distance. After the game, Anne walked with her through the pa
rking lot.

  Britte knew she would be all right. Perhaps by tomorrow even the pain would diminish, the pain that stabbed with each breath she took.

  Fifty-One

  Britte stood outside her classroom door between third and fourth period classes, watching two girls approach. Julie and Rachel giggled all the way down the hall. It was amazing how much chitchat could fly during the four minutes of passing from one room to another.

  “Miss O,” Rachel called out, “we just saw Mr. Kingsley and he says ‘hi.’”

  Britte clenched her jaw, hoping to stop the flush from spreading.

  It wasn’t the first time a student had delivered a greeting from the principal. The first time occurred a week ago, the day after the Bruce Waverly ultimatum. Britte had thought the student’s so-called “relayed message” must be a joke. Until it happened again with a different student. And then again. All in the same day.

  The notes added credence. They began arriving the next day. At least once a day since then she had found a hand-written note in her office mailbox, on her desk, or taped to the locker room door for all to see. Saturday the note arrived in her Valley Oaks post office box. Sunday it was stuck under the wiper on her car in the church parking lot. “Have a great day, Miss O.” “Good luck in tonight’s game, Miss O.” “Thinking of you, Miss O.” “You look especially striking today, Miss O.”

  All of them were signed “the General.”

  Now the two girls stopped before her. Julie whispered, “We think he has a crush on you!”

  Rachel added, “He never used to smile.”

  They sauntered into the room, their giggles lingering in the empty hallway. The bell rang, but Britte stood still, trying to shake off conflicting emotions. He might be smiling, but she certainly wasn’t. The man was not playing fair!

  “Psst!”

  She turned and saw Joel peering around the corner.

  “You’re late for class!” he called out in a stage whisper, a smile softening his square jaw.

  “Oh!” She swiveled on her heel and strode through the doorway.

  It wasn’t the first time for that either.

  And then there were the other incidents. Last Thursday he had interrupted her sixth-hour lecture just to say hello. Friday he entered the gym in the middle of practice. Dribbling a basketball, he wound his way between the girls on the court and made a layup. He then grabbed the ball, focused in on her, grinned, and slowly, deliberately winked. By the time she came to her senses, half the team was rolling on the floor and laughing hysterically, Anne loudest of all.

  Evidently Mr. Kingsley was not going away.

  The following day it was Cal Huntington who interrupted her class. He arrived first hour wearing his sheriff’s uniform, gun and all. In spite of his fuzzy brown hair that begged to be ruffled and the protective appearance of his wide shoulders filling out the leather jacket, he did not exude what Lia called his “teddy bear” demeanor. Britte involuntarily shuddered, hoping he wasn’t after one of her kids.

  “Can we talk?” He pointed over his shoulder toward the hall.

  She followed him out and shut the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Britte, but I wanted you to know. I picked up Gordon Hughes about two this morning. He was in your front yard, just standing there cursing up a storm.”

  She leaned against the lockers.

  “That put him within 100 feet of you. He broke the restraining order. The judge won’t let him go this time. Are you okay?”

  Her breakfast cereal was doing a gymnastics routine in her stomach. “I didn’t really think he’d do anything.”

  “He was intoxicated. He even passed out before I got him to the station. I don’t think he could have managed to break in. Sober, I don’t think he’d ever have the nerve to try.”

  “Still.”

  “Still,” Cal agreed. “But it’s over now.”

  “Can you keep it out of the newspaper?”

  “Yeah, I’m trying. His kids don’t need this kind of publicity. How’s Trevor doing?”

  “He’s doing well. He’s a big help, actually, and starting to talk to me directly. The girls all treat him like a favorite little brother.” She blinked away tears.

  “Good. You’ve shown us how you’ve forgiven him, but keep your eyes open, okay? If he were to get angry, blame you for his dad…” He shrugged again.

  “Okay. Thanks for coming by, Cal.”

  “You’re welcome. Now you don’t need Joel to spend the night with you.” He grinned. “Unless you want him to, Miss Goody Two-shoes.” With that he was striding down the hall, laughing rather loudly.

  At a particular juncture near the end of the season, Britte usually lost all sense of connection with anything unrelated to her team and basketball. However, that wasn’t happening. And the funny thing of it was, the girls were winning. They won the regional tournament, hands down. Their first sectional tournament game would begin in three hours.

  “Ethan.” Britte was sitting in his classroom Thursday afternoon when she should have been down in the commons waiting with the girls for the bus and feeding them enthusiasm. “I don’t get it. It’s tournament time and the fire-breathing coach is taking a nap.”

  “Ah.” Her friend’s feet were up on his desk; he leaned back in the chair, hands locked behind his head. “Your heart is otherwise engaged.”

  She blinked. “It is not.”

  “Would you recognize it if it were?”

  “It’s basketball season. My heart can’t be anywhere else.”

  “But Joel Kingsley has never been present during the season.”

  “And he probably won’t ever be again.”

  “Meaning your heart shouldn’t be occupied with him? You are much too practical, Miss O. Hearts don’t work that way. Why don’t I give you some good literature to read that’ll teach you something about the ways of the heart? Get your mind off two plus two.”

  “I know enough about the ways of the heart. I know that I don’t want to mess with a broken one again.” Although her relationship with Eric had happened a long time ago, the pain had left an indelible mark.

  “You’re counting on something that may not even happen.”

  “Hey, two plus two equals four. I’m staying and he’s going.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Way too practical and way too stubborn. What did he give you today?”

  “A few notes.” She paused. “And a flower. A red rose.”

  The English teacher smiled. “Only one?”

  She nodded.

  “You realize only one means ‘I love you’?”

  She glanced away. No, she didn’t know that. Would an ex-Marine know that? “Says who?”

  “Someone unconcerned with two plus two. What did the card say?”

  “Good luck at sectionals.” She bit her lip. “Princess.”

  Ethan’s smile stretched into a broad grin. “I’d say the guy is hooked.”

  The guy who was supposedly hooked on her didn’t even show up for her game that night.

  Like I could care less.

  The bus sped through the night. While Britte huddled against a window and chewed a thumbnail, her assistant coach whooped it up with the girls in the back. The sophomores, finished with their own season, were permitted to ride along to attend the varsity tournament games. It was a crowded, noisy place.

  Anne plopped beside her now on the bench seat and roughly nudged her with an elbow. “Hey, Coach. Smile. You won!”

  Truthfully, it hadn’t been that tough of a game.

  Anne leaned around her until their faces were inches apart in the dark. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Britte, this isn’t you. Come on, let it out. This is a crucial week, and I have to know what’s going on with you. Else how can I be your surrogate mom and assistant coach?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice, those strong vocal cords that so effortlessly carried words across a basketball court, was whining. “Joel wasn’t there
.”

  “He’s in Chicago. Didn’t you know? A family emergency. He left school right after lunch.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I asked Alec at halftime why he wasn’t around, and he heard it in the stands.”

  Why hadn’t he told her? That was obvious! She hadn’t exactly talked with him in over a week. Why would he leave in the middle of the week? Nicky! “Did any of our guys in Afghanistan get hurt today?”

  “I haven’t listened to the news since I started working.” She put an arm around her shoulders. “So you admit that his absence bothered you.”

  “It always did.”

  “But that was because you thought he was unfairly favoring the boys. Now it bothers you because, face it, Miss O, you’re falling in love with the man!”

  Early Friday morning Britte went into the school office. Anne’s words from last night’s bus ride home were still ringing in her head, which flustered her. Britte Olafsson did not fluster. A fact which, of course, flustered her all the more.

  “Lynnie.”

  The secretary looked up from her desk. “Morning, Britte. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. Is Joel still gone?”

  She nodded. “He plans to be back tomorrow, in time for the sectional championship game.”

  “Is it his cousin?”

  “Yes. He came home.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “He’s all right. It was an unexpected, short leave.” Lynnie smiled. “I imagine the florist will be stopping by again today. You know, because Joel can’t be here himself to leave notes.”

  Intense heat flared inside of her, reaching even the tips of her ears. Does everyone know? She opened her mouth, expecting a reply to automatically roll off her tongue, but none came. She clamped her mouth shut, waggled her fingers at Lynnie, and walked out.

  “Miss O.”

  Britte peered around the huge floral bouquet that occupied half of her desk. The thing simply had to go. “Yes, Trisha?” she asked the student who addressed her.

  “You don’t want Mr. Kingsley to get fired, do you?”