by Jeannie Watt
She probably wouldn’t get a chance to teach again after tonight.
When it was her turn, she walked up to the podium, climbed the two steps, took her award, faced the audience. And then she nodded at Willie and the big man got to his feet.
“I want to thank you for this award,” she said. “But it’s not mine.” She pulled in a breath as the audience went silent. “I discovered that the lessons that won me this award are not my property—according to Manzanita Prep, anyway. I am being sued for their return, even though I prepared them on my own time and paid for the materials myself. And it all came out of here.” She touched her head.
There was a low muttering in the audience. Ella sat stone still almost directly in front of Layla, staring straight ahead, unaware of Willie coming up behind her, carrying a heavy box. It probably was good that Sam had sent her big friend instead of coming herself.
“But,” Layla continued, “I have to prove that, and frankly, I don’t have the funds for a legal defense. Therefore—” there was a loud thud as Willie placed the box on the table between Ella and Dillon, then dusted his hands and started back to his seat “—I am returning the lessons to Manzanita Prep, where I hope they get good use, and perhaps someone else can win an award for them. I’d also like to note, for the record, that the materials have been returned by the required date set forth in the legal documents sent to me.” She smiled and held up the award. “I’ll also see that Manzanita Prep gets this, too, since they’ve done so much to deserve it.”
JUSTIN WAS WAITING on Layla’s porch when she got home, accompanied by her giant escort. She stopped dead in the middle of her sidewalk when she saw him, pressing a hand against her chest, and Willie instantly moved around her, lumbering toward him in a menacing fashion.
Justin scrambled to his feet. He hadn’t foreseen this and it sounded like the guy was growling.
“Willie, I know him.”
The big man stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, but do you want him here?”
Layla nodded wearily. “Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”
Justin adjusted his lapels as Willie turned back toward Layla. Justin might not have been able to take him in a fair fight, but he could have outrun him.
Layla solemnly put a hand on Willie’s shoulder. “I now declare you released from whatever hold Sam has over you. Thanks for helping me tonight.”
“Cool.” Willie clapped Layla on the shoulder in return, then lumbered to his car, humming “Yellow Submarine” under his breath.
And then it was just the two of them. Facing one another over a long length of concrete sidewalk, Layla near the gate, Justin near the porch.
“I told my sisters,” he finally said.
“And?”
“It was emotional.”
“I can imagine.”
She drew in a soft breath, momentarily dropping her gaze. “Or maybe, in all honesty, I can’t. But I’m glad you did it.” She looked up at him hesitantly. “Do you want to come in?”
“Yes.” More than she could say.
Layla gave a slight nod, then turned to silently unlock the door.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked once they were inside. “After…everything?”
“Better than I have been.” He reached out to take the coat she slipped off her shoulders, draping it over the back of the basket chair. “I will never be Brent’s dad. But I know he’s safe and happy with parents who love him. That has to be enough.”
“Can you let that be enough?”
Justin nodded. “I’m not saying it will be easy, but…whole or not…I have to form new relationships. Or bolster up the old ones in my life.”
“Yeah?” she murmured.
“So anyway, I thought I’d come tell you that.”
Her eyes flashed, letting him know that he could breathe. All would be well. “Thanks for the update,” she said stiffly.
“And that you were great tonight.”
Her mouth fell open. “Great…?” She cocked her head. “You were there?”
“Yep. I guess you might be getting that master’s in psychology now?”
“I narrowed my options with that stunt, but you know what? I don’t care. I like psychology.”
Justin took a few slow steps forward. “And you’re pretty damned good at it.”
“Really?” she asked softly.
He stopped in front of her and reached out to touch her hair, then trail his fingers down her cheek. Her eyes drifted closed momentarily as she leaned into the caress. “I think you know you are.”
“Anything else?” she asked as she put her hand over his.
“Only that I haven’t had a real relationship since Rachel. Not one that was headed anywhere.” He caught her fingers in his. “I want to try to make a relationship now. If you haven’t given up on me.”
“Justin…” She shook her head, holding tightly to his hand. “I can’t say it hasn’t been tempting, but try as I might, I haven’t been able to do that.”
He kissed her then. Touched her lips slowly, gently—that was the plan, anyway. But the kiss got away from him as heat flared between them. They were both a little breathless when he finally lifted his head.
“It isn’t like I didn’t try to help.”
“You did make a good effort.” She leaned back to look up at him. “But it wasn’t good enough. Somehow, for some crazy reason, I still love you.”
EPILOGUE
BRENT’S TREE WAS almost two feet tall. Justin had planted it as the smallest of saplings, so small that he didn’t know if it would make it, but it had weathered the Nevada heat in Reggie’s backyard along with the trees she’d planted for each of her two children. Now, midwinter, it was once again a bare little twig, but he could see the neophyte buds already formed, ready to burst forth next spring.
Layla had helped him pick it out—an apple tree—and together they’d prepared the spot, planted the tree.
Justin told her that when they had children, they’d plant another. And another. And another.
She’d laughed and told him not to buy too many trees.
He’d sent Kyle, Brent’s father, one last email, telling him how much it meant to him, knowing his son was happy. Kyle had sent back a brief response, thanking him for the heads-up about the ramp—a message Justin had printed out and tucked into his favorite cookbook.
Rituals seemed to be the key, because now he was coping. And Layla was by his side, coping with him.
They’d made one promise to each other the night he’d come back—issues would be confronted instead of buried—and Layla was now pursuing her psychology degree with a vengeance. Justin never thought he’d spend so much time quizzing someone, but that was how he spent many of his evenings. Either that or with Layla perched on the stool in the catering kitchen, studying while he worked on his cakes, offering the occasional suggestion.
And for the first time in over a decade, Justin felt at peace with himself, at peace with the world.
Funny what love could do to a guy.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459221116
Copyright © 2012 by Jeannie Steinman
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