by Laura Abbot
She straightened her dress, then walked to the door and flung it open. “Next time, wait to be invited,” she said tersely.
He paused in the entry. “Lib, if Doug is the man for you, I’ll do my best to accept that. But I’m not going to let you go without a fight.” He stood in the doorway, the frigid air having the effect of a cold shower. “I want a chance with you. That’s all. Just a chance.”
“It’s out of the question.”
“Is it? I’m leaving, but not before I make one last observation. I don’t think either of us could call our reactions to that kiss indifferent.” He paused, another shudder of desire coursing through him. “You set me on fire, Lib,” he whispered. “Does Doug do that for you?”
“That would be none of your business.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead with all the tenderness within him. “Think about it. Please. It’s important.”
Then he turned and walked rapidly toward his truck, second-guessing himself all the way. He’d either offended her beyond redemption, or planted seeds that just might bear fruit.
LOIS JETER CAUGHT UP with Libby outside the church the next morning. “How was your weekend with Doug?”
Libby was thankful for the dark glasses she wore, protection from the blinding glare of the bright sun on the snow. Protection also from her friend’s scrutiny. Lois would immediately zero in on her red eyes and the bags that no amount of makeup had masked. “Fine.”
Lois stopped in the narthex, her voice lowering. “That’s it? Fine?”
Attempting a grin, Libby nodded toward the sanctuary. “At least for now. Besides, I wouldn’t want to upstage Ray, would I?”
Ray Jeter was pastor of the church and Lois’s husband. “Don’t worry about that,” Lois assured her. “God does it all the time.”
The two women barely made it into a pew near the back of the sanctuary before the processional began. When Libby slipped off her sunglasses, her friend gave her an appraising glance, but said nothing until the announcements, when she leaned closer and whispered, “You’re not off the hook. Ray has a meeting after church, so you and I are going to the Kodiak for lunch. It’s gut-spilling time, girlfriend.”
When Libby started to object, Lois shushed her and rose to join gustily in the offertory hymn. Libby mouthed the words, then sank gratefully into her seat and turned her attention to the pulpit. Ordinarily she enjoyed Ray’s sermons, which were both pithy and uplifting, but today her straying thoughts were far from spiritual. She had spent the better part of the night after Trent left trying to sort out her feelings, to rationalize her reaction to his kiss. Another chance? He had to be joking.
One of her students, sitting two rows in front of her, squirmed in her seat, then turned around, resting her chin on the back of the pew. “Hi, teacher,” she mouthed, her toothless grin causing a catch in Libby’s throat. She didn’t deserve such adoration. Not today.
She was supposed to be in love with one man, yet she had turned to liquid the moment another had kissed her. You set me on fire, Lib. Does Doug do that for you?
Lust, that had to be the explanation. She wasn’t about to sacrifice her dreams of home and family to satisfy her libido. Besides, lasting relationships began with friendship, didn’t they? No one could ask for a more caring friend than Doug.
But he doesn’t set you on fire. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced around, thankful mind reading wasn’t among the talents of her fellow churchgoers.
Eyeing the altar, she wondered if God would understand what she had just concluded. Heaven help her, against history and reason, she was still attracted to Trent.
It was nearly noon before she and Lois slipped into a booth at the Kodiak Café. Weezer, busy at the register, waved at them. Lois eyed the crowd. “Looks as if half our school families are here.”
Libby, her eyes mischievous, peered over the top of her menu. “Ah, the joys of small towns. You can never get away.”
“Tell me about it. I’m the preacher’s wife, remember.”
“Where are your girls today?”
“They went to a weekend student-government workshop in Bozeman.”
Lois’s teenage daughters were active in almost everything the high school had to offer. When she was with the Jeter family, Libby often experienced twinges of envy. Lucky girls. Lucky parents. “Well, well, so you and Ray had a weekend alone?”
Lois laughed. “Don’t get any big ideas. Saturday nights at our house are reserved for last-minute sermon prep. I’m a whole lot more interested in your weekend.”
Libby gave her the short version of her dates with Doug, then, when she saw the waitress approaching to take their order, made a quick scan of the menu. Both women selected the Cobb salad.
As soon as the waitress departed, Lois folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Lib, where’s the joy?”
Buying time, Libby slowly unfolded her napkin. “What do you mean?”
“On paper, your weekend sounds idyllic. The man is clearly crazy about you. But I don’t hear any excitement in your voice.”
“We were up late. I guess I’m tired.”
Lois laid a hand on Libby’s forearm. “Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with, here? The pastor’s wife. I hear a lot of confidential stuff, so over the years I’ve developed pretty good intuition, and it’s telling me you have a problem.”
Libby looked into Lois’s concerned eyes and knew her friend was offering her a safe place to unburden herself. The temptation was overwhelming. “I do.” She tuned out the din of conversation, the clinking of silverware. “Something’s happened.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
Before Libby could answer, she heard a lively voice behind her. “Look, Daddy, it’s Miss Cameron.” Kylie bounced up beside their booth. “Hi,” she said, smiling up at Libby. “I can ski now,” she announced triumphantly.
“That’s wonderful.”
Trent approached and put his hands on Kylie’s shoulders. Libby turned to Lois. “You know Kylie Baker, of course, from school, but have you met her father? Trent, this is Lois Jeter, our gym teacher.”
Trent extended his hand. “Glad to meet you.”
Lois smiled. “Likewise.”
Libby avoided looking up at him and, instead, turned her attention back to Kylie. “Will I see you in the morning for tutoring?”
“Yes.” She stared down at her shoes before lifting her head again. “I’m still kinda scared.”
“I know. But you’ll soon be fine.” Libby patted Kylie’s shoulder encouragingly. Poor kid. To have fallen behind in reading as a result of her mother’s death was one more blow the girl didn’t need.
“C’mon, Kylie, we have to find a table.”
“Okay, but first I gotta tell Miss Cameron something.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I saw you kissing that man. Is he your boyfriend?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Libby noticed Trent bite his lip. “That’s kind of my secret, isn’t it?”
Kylie nodded her head. “Yeah, but I hope so, ’cause you’re pretty and you need a boyfriend.” She looked up at her father, then back at Libby. “Well, bye, now. We gotta go eat ’cause we’re going skiing after lunch.”
Libby watched them until they sat down. Carefully she pleated the napkin in her lap, doing her best to conjure up Doug’s face.
“Lib?” Lois snapped her fingers in the air. “Hello.”
“Sorry.”
“No more games, honey. You’re as transparent as glass. Who’s Trent Baker really?”
Any lingering shred of appetite fled. Simply by standing there, Trent had accelerated her heart rate. “A man.”
“But not just any man.”
“No. He was my husband.”
To her credit, Lois did not drop her jaw. Instead, she nodded as if her suspicions had been confirmed.
“And you’re not over him, are you?”
Libby gulped. It was the truth she’d lain awake all night try
ing to avoid. “Apparently not.”
“So where does that leave Doug?”
“Oh, Lois, I wish I knew.” Before she could stop herself, Libby confided in her friend. About her affection for Doug. About her need for a family and a man who could give her the children she so desperately wanted. And without going into detail, she touched on Trent’s past disregard for her needs and his desire for a second chance. When she finished, she sat back, exhausted. Just then the waitress arrived with their salads. Libby picked up her fork and made a halfhearted stab at a tomato wedge. Then she added in a forlorn voice, “Lois, I don’t know what to do.”
“Give it time, honey. One day you’ll know. I promise.”
Libby hoped her friend was right, but she was also fully aware that reaching that point would involve painful decisions.
WEEZER INSPECTED the kitchen cleanup, then sat on a stool totaling the day’s receipts. As she counted the money, she thought about Trent sitting at his table doing his darnedest not to look at Libby, but failing miserably. Nor had Weezer overlooked Libby’s obvious tension. Trent had confided nothing when he had returned to the cabin last night. But if she’d ever seen a lovesick calf, he was one.
She’d never known exactly what had precipitated his and Libby’s breakup. Oh, sure, Trent had been a wild hare, but Libby had seemed to enjoy his adventurous streak, maybe even been attracted by it. The two of them had made a handsome couple—Trent with his confident smile and blond good looks; she with her joie de vivre and sparkling eyes. It was clear to everyone back then that they adored each other.
So it had been a complete shock when, out of the blue, Trent had left the area. The next thing anybody knew, they had divorced. Weezer had thought she knew the boy pretty well, but she’d been stunned. His mother, Lila, had been equally mystified, but Trent had made it clear their probing was not welcome.
As the years passed, Weezer figured Trent had moved on. She’d only met Ashley twice. A pretty thing, but vastly different from Libby. More citified. Less earthy. But if Trent was happy, that was all that mattered.
Stacking the one-dollar bills together, she slipped a band around them before beginning to roll coins. Trent had been back in Whitefish only a matter of days, and already the earth was rumbling beneath his feet.
And it was all because of Libby Cameron.
KYLIE WAS TEN MINUTES late for her Monday-morning session. Libby busied herself writing the day’s assignments on the board, but that activity did nothing to corral the butterflies in her stomach. It had been hard enough to face Trent at the Kodiak, but in the quiet of this classroom? The more she tried to forget their kiss, the larger it loomed in her mind—the proverbial elephant in the living room.
And what about Doug? Maybe his mother had already told him about Trent’s return to Whitefish, but it was cowardly to hope Mary had been the bearer of that news. Libby owed Doug honesty. Since her marriage was a subject she avoided, they had never talked much about it. She had seen no reason to dredge up a past that filled her with sadness, and Doug had been patient with her. Libby sighed. Another of his admirable qualities.
“Do I hafta?”
Libby looked toward the door. That sounded like Kylie. Whining.
“Kylie, you like Miss Cameron. She’s helping you.”
“I’m still dumber than the other kids.”
Libby moved quickly into the hall and knelt down to greet Kylie, who stubbornly refused to look up.
“Kylie, honey, that’s simply not true. Did somebody tell you that?”
The girl scuffed her shoe on the tile floor. “Uh-huh.”
Libby held her gently by the arms. “Why do you suppose someone would say something like that?”
“’Cause they hate me?”
“No. Probably because they’re jealous.”
Kylie’s head shot up and skeptical blue eyes met Libby’s. “That’s silly.”
“Not at all. You’re doing fine, much better than many new students when they first move here. And just think. Already you’re learning how to ski, and if you keep working on the reading, pretty soon you won’t need special help.”
Tentative hope replaced doubt. “Really?”
“Really.” Libby stood. “Now go on in and get your book ready.”
After Kylie left, Libby moved down the hall out of earshot, then dared look up at Trent. “What happened?”
He shrugged, lines creasing his forehead. “I don’t know. I suppose it was wishful thinking that she’d be so easily cured of her school phobia. We had the stomachache, the complaining, the whole bit this morning.”
“The move has been tough on her. You have to expect these ups and downs. But with time…”
“With time,” he repeated, then stared at her in a way that let her know his next words were carefully chosen, the double meaning intended. “With time, all things are possible.”
She returned his glance, determined to regain the lead in the discussion. “Just don’t expect miracles.”
“Ah, but I do. With Kylie…and with you.”
She couldn’t have looked away even if the fire alarm had suddenly pealed. There was no mistaking the fervor in his voice or in his eyes, or the ripple of panic that vibrated throughout her body. Chilled, she rubbed a hand over her upper arm. “Let’s concern ourselves with Kylie right now.”
“Fair enough. Do you have any idea how I can help?”
“You could practice her reading at home, of course.”
“I try whenever I can.”
She couldn’t believe her second suggestion. It made all kinds of sense for Kylie—and none at all for her. “The class is taking a field trip next week. We need parents to chaperon. Would you be interested?”
“I’ll check with Chad, but, yeah, I’d like that.”
“Perhaps if you met some of her classmates, showed interest in her school activities…”
“Say no more. I’ll make it happen. Just let me know when and where.”
“Fine.” She glanced toward the classroom. “I’d better scoot. And, Trent?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll come around.”
Yet when she walked toward the reading table, she wasn’t so sure. Kylie’s head was down, cradled on her forearms. When Libby joined her and laid a hand on her shoulder, she didn’t move. “Are you sad this morning?”
Libby barely made out the whispered “Yes.”
“Could you tell me about it?”
Kylie didn’t sit up, but turned, resting her head on her arms so she could see Libby. “Sometimes I just remember.”
“What, sweetie?”
“Last winter. When Mommy was so sick.” A lone tear trickled down the girl’s face. “I prayed and prayed to God for her to get better.” She sniffled.
“But she didn’t.”
“Sometimes, no matter how hard we wish, we can’t have what we want.” Before she could stop herself, Libby realized she had moved a hand protectively over her abdomen. “I think I know how you feel. My mother died when I was about your age.”
Kylie reared up. “She did?”
Settling her arm around the girl’s shoulders, Libby continued. “Like your mommy, she’d been sick awhile. I missed her so much. It’s okay to miss your mother, you know.”
“No-nobody here knows her.”
“You need to talk about her, don’t you?” Kylie lifted a fist to her cheek to dry away her tears, then nodded. “I understand. I’m sure your daddy misses her, too. Can you talk to him about your mother?”
“Not really.”
“Why not, sweetie?”
“It makes him sad. And then he…he quits smiling.”
“What about Weezer?”
“She’s nice, but I don’t know her so good yet.”
“What would you say if you could talk to someone?”
“How Mommy had this soft hair, like a movie star. She let me brush it sometimes. And we liked to go shopping for girl clothes. She made good Rice Krispies treats and…�
��
No reading took place, not after the floodgates of Kylie’s memories broke open. Not that Libby cared. In Kylie’s recital was catharsis—both for the little girl and for herself. She remembered the sad, lost little child she’d been back in Oklahoma, huddled beneath the quilt, listening fearfully to the silence echoing in the huge house. Wondering what would happen to her. Who would love her.
Finally Kylie wound down, then slipped a warm hand into Libby’s. “I told you, didn’t I?” she said wonderingly.
“Yes, you did. And anytime you want to talk, I will always listen.”
“That’s ’cause you’re not just a teacher, right? You’re my friend.”
Not wanting Kylie to see the tears gathering in her eyes, Libby pulled the girl to her, resting her chin on the blond head and inhaling the sweet citrusy scent of her shampoo.
How had this happened? It was hard enough to keep her guard up with Trent. But with Kylie? It was simply impossible.
CHAPTER SIX
FOR THE REST of the morning Libby went through the motions of teaching, her thoughts preoccupied. The low-lying clouds outside matched her mood. How could her carefully constructed life have changed in such a short time? She felt relief when the boys and girls lined up and marched down the hall to the computer lab. Thirty minutes of blissful solitude.
Back in her room, she watered the plants in the science corner before sinking into her desk chair. At Christmas, her future had seemed both simple and assured. Doug’s gradually intensifying courtship and her deepening affection for him would ultimately lead to marriage. Stability. Family.
Those dreams could still come true, but Doug deserved commitment, and that couldn’t happen until she settled things with Trent. Maybe she should agree to see him again. To test her feelings.
Oh, right. Talk about the Queen of Rationalization.
She buried her fingers in her hair, frustrated by the dilemma she faced. She had to tell Doug about Trent.
But tell him what, exactly?
Picking up a red pencil, she began checking a set of arithmetic worksheets. Bart had missed over half the problems, and Rory had left several blank, preferring instead to fill the margins with cramped drawings of fighter planes. The bright spot was Kylie’s perfect paper.
