by Tanya Hanson
His heart sang. “Yep. Already did. At the Fourth of July picnic.” Now was the time. He set down his sandwich, and leaned toward her, hand gentle on her chin, and touched his mouth to hers. A summer sweetness tingled even as the autumn air chilled around them. Against his lips, hers mumbled a sigh.
“Scott.” Then her arms rose to tighten against his neck and draw him close. When the heat of their bodies fused, her heartbeats rang in his ears, and a deep longing surged through him. Her giggle was soft, affectionate. “I just never would have imagined this.”
“This what?”
“This kiss. This moment. This everything.” She pulled away just a bit, eyes searching his. “It’s almost too good.” The sun dashed behind a cloud, and she shivered, her eyes dimming.
“What is it?” If he had his druthers, he’d suspect tears weren’t long off. Why, he didn’t know. So far things had been wonderful.
“I don’t know. Um. That Keith Murphy, I guess. I just can’t let it go.
“Let what go?”
She flushed. “That, somehow, he’s not done with me yet.”
“I can help with that one. Kind of a family motto.” He pulled her close again. “Let go. Let God.”
6
It was already midnight. Mary Grace tried to follow Scott’s advice, knowing it was God’s advice as well, letting go, letting God, but the bedtime prayers hadn’t worked. True, God had led her here, but already she felt abandoned. She’d had the perfect opportunity to share Creighton with Scott at their picnic. His sense of love for disabled kids was real and true. Yet she’d chickened out. And now, alone in the dark, she was held hostage by Keith Murphy. He hadn’t been just another rowdy kid. He’d been downright cruel, and she didn’t have a defense against that.
Mary Grace smashed the pillow with her fists. How could one kid make everything so miserable?
Then again, how could one small mutation in a chromosome cause so much trouble? A defect in the next gene over would have given Creighton one blue eye, one brown. But Angelman Syndrome…
How could one kid make everything so wonderful? Her heart swelled with love for her boy.
She punched the pillow again. At supper, she’d told Kenn everything had gone fine with his classes. No need to trouble a man who required his strength to recuperate and who was missing his wife. At least tomorrow’s quizzes would keep the kids quiet. Even Keith Murphy wouldn’t dare cutting up and risking an F in his advanced placement class.
Or would he?
Instead, in the mealtime chatter around her, Scott, Kenn, and Bragg Martin had mercilessly teased their mother about Doyle Calhoun.
“Which one of us is gonna be best man at your wedding?” Scott had smirked.
“I am too old to marry again,” she’d snorted although her round cheeks had pinked like ripe peaches. “But having a beau is no disrespect to your pa. Not one single bit. He liked Doyle himself. And it might be fun for me. So there.” Then she gave Mary Grace a very significant wink as if her mentioning a beau and Scott using the word wedding had something to do with anything.
After supper, Scott had busied himself with brochures on therapy riding he’d printed out from the CETR website, the Cowboy snoring at his toes. Even with her own personal interest in the agenda, Mary Grace had too much note taking to do for tomorrow’s lectures. And she should have told him about Creighton. But right now, she didn’t have the strength. Disappointment creased the corner of his eyes when she excused herself to her room, so she’d thrown a subtle kiss.
Leaving the room was like leaving part of her behind. But she had work to do, nerves to calm. Prayers to submit.
Maybe the weekend would hurry up. Even after just one day of teaching, she needed a breather. Goodness, was it like this with every teacher? Then her breath caught. The weekend was the time she’d planned to introduce Creighton and Scott. Frayed nerves mended. Of course they’d get along. Scott’s affection for Heather was already obvious. It was she herself who had blown it today.
In the morning, she tried to conceal her dark-circled eyes, hoping Scott didn’t see her or he’d run screaming. Grabbing a travel mug of coffee would be more than enough filling for her stomach. But her heart plummeted when she didn’t see him at the breakfast table anyway.
Plummeted to the point she almost panicked when she saw her car hemmed in by a truck she didn’t know.
As if by magic, Hooper’s voice came over the crisp morning air. “Truck’s Jason’s. He rushed off with Pike to an emergency at the Bar R. But I’m taking Ella to school right now. Give you a lift to the high school?”
“Well, thanks.” She wasn’t sure what to say because a truck was the last obstacle she’d expected. “But I don’t know. I’d need a ride after school, too.”
Hoop’s smile was so kind her heart skipped a different sort of beat. “No worries. Somebody or other has errands in town every day. We’ll get you.” He shrugged then gave her a sly smile. “Likely Scott needs computer ink or a jewel case or something. The mercantile has no choice but to have a decent little electronics department.”
The way he said his brother’s name let her know what was burgeoning between her and Scott was obvious. She had to admit liking the idea.
Liking the idea a great deal.
“OK then. You’re on. But know in advance I’ve got a criminal coming in for detention. I won’t get done until three-thirty or so.”
Hooper howled with laughter, and Ella’s chatter on the way to town let Keith Murphy slip farther and farther off into bad memories. As the pretty red-brick town of Mountain Cove came into view through a tunnel of pine trees and an arch of elk antlers, Mary Grace poured out more prayers, beseeching God to guide her so that the day would go well.
In a kind of afterthought, she offered up a petition for Keith Murphy. Whatever bugged the kid, maybe God could ease his mind. Shame crisscrossed her mind. She should have thought to pray for him long before now.
As Hooper paused at the elementary school, Ella howled with delight at seeing classmates gather around her teacher. She paused to kiss her daddy’s cheek before dashing out of the truck.
“How’s Mallie doing?” Mary Grace asked as they proceeded down the main drag to the high school, just to be polite even though she recalled the woman’s prayer from the other day. “Although please, I don’t like being nosy.”
“Her remission’s going well. So far, the Lord’s timetable is a good one. And we enjoy every day He gives us. No wasting time.”
“Well, I…”
“I know.” His smile was kind, his hand warm.
No wasting time. The phrase hung at the edge of her consciousness after Hooper dropped her off. It was time, time to tell Scott. About Creighton. Today. He’d been so comforting, so understanding about her run-in with Keith Murphy. Somehow she knew he’d always be by her side. She could count on Scott’s compassion. His feelings for her, and hers for him, would go a long way.
Those very feelings had her toes tingling as she walked into the classroom. Her classroom, at least for now. No unruly boy was going to take that from her.
Becky Ahearn was first inside the door; she bore her friendly smile and a fresh cup of coffee. “I heard about Keith Murphy. What he said to you. He’s a jerk. Don’t pay him any never mind.”
Easier said than done. Mary Grace wanted to say the words out loud, but she was the adult here. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not,” Becky said, resolute. “He just can’t get over it.”
“Get over what?”
Becky leaned close. “His ma kicked his dad out when he was little and dragged him here to Mountain Cove. She makes it real hard for them to see each other. You know. It’s not a happy story, but he isn’t the first one it’s happened to.”
For a moment, a compassion of her own ran through Mary Grace’s veins. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of something similar, when Scott said Mrs. Murphy was a single mom? But maybe Keith didn’t know the whole story. Still, it grated a little
, a divorced dad who actually fought to see his son.
“Well, thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. But your business is none of his. We kids know that. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
The girl’s words gladdened her to her bones. “Why, I won’t, then. You’re a good person to have around, Becky.”
Becky beamed. “Now let me help you with attendance.”
After homeroom and the two periods of well-meaning, affectionate freshmen, Mary Grace’s confidence returned with a vengeance. God was at work after all, in the person of a perky little cheerleader. During nutrition break, she headed to the faculty room to say hello to colleagues.
Principal Scovell waylaid her. “I’ve heard some rumor about Keith Murphy.” His eyebrows twitched. “You should have come to me.”
Mary Grace shrugged, not wanting to relive yesterday. “I can’t deny it was an ugly moment, and not my finest hour. But I reckoned I needed to sort it out myself. To show him, and the other students, I can handle things. He’s assigned a detention this afternoon. I can talk to him then, maybe. One on one.”
“He’s not normally a troublemaker, but his family history…”
“I know.” Mary Grace nodded. She didn’t want to relive that either. “If I do need you later on, though, I will let you know. I promise.”
With a grim but relaxed smile, the principal sauntered on, and Mary Grace’s lecture on Thoreau went so well that her confidence burgeoned. She thanked God... He was at her side after all. And today, today she’d tell Scott about Creighton.
If Mary Grace could face down Keith Murphy without a qualm…which she managed to do all through fourth period, she could do anything. It was time to let Scott into her life, her complete life. In fact, Keith Murphy slunk to his seat and never looked at her once.
“Detention today, Keith, remember?” She called out after the bell rang, and he nodded, again without eye contact.
Lunch time in the faculty lounge bustled like she remembered, teachers stopping by just for a few minutes as they made their way to the copy room or a parental phone call. But even though busy and distracted, all shared good wishes, and one or two did recall her from her brief stint on the faculty of Mountain Cove High.
Today’s turkey and avocado sandwich went down easily, and Scott’s text that he’d be picking her up about three thirty excited her. Not much left for her to want. This might not be love—yet—but she was close. Everything about Scott, his lifestyle, his family, wrapped her in a soft cocoon where she longed to stay forever. And after lunch, with two hours until detention, she got all the vocabulary quizzes graded, all the journals checked, and all notes taken for tomorrow. That meant she didn’t have to hole up in her room at the ranch tonight and get things done.
She and Scott could, well, not exactly have a date night but they could make it to Bible study and afterward, enjoy the fireplace.
A sullen Keith Murphy joined her in her classroom at the precise time she expected, and she had to give him a brownie point for that. “First off, please clean the dry erase boards. I’ve got a special cleaning spray. Then you can collect the trash stuffed in the desk wells. Then clean the desk tops.” She showed him a small cupboard of supplies. “After that, please straighten the dictionaries, and make sure all the classroom classic novels are arranged alphabetically by authors’ last names.”
Of course she could have tended to these classroom tasks herself, but this way, the boy had something productive to do.
He grabbed an eraser but didn’t offer a word or a glance. Mary Grace wondered what to say to him. Or if she needed to speak at all.
“Mr. Murphy, about yesterday.”
“Yeah?” He wiped a board for a few seconds, then looked at her. At least she didn’t detect a sneer.
“Mr. Scovell heard about it and wonders why I didn’t report you to him.”
“I expected you to.” He shrugged. “I would have gotten a Saturday DT. Which means eight hours. And I’d miss the game. So I guess I ought to thank you.”
“I’d rather you apologize,” she replied evenly.
For a moment, he stared. “I can’t help how I feel. But if you think I was rude, I apologize.”
“Rude and cruel. You have no idea what went on between my ex-husband and me. For your information, he left me. And it hurts every day.” Maybe she was baring too much soul, but if he knew the truth, maybe he would accept that not all women were at fault for a broken marriage.
He lowered his lids and shrugged again.
“You can continue your cleaning.” She returned to her desk, smartphone in hand, to reread Scott’s text one more time. I’ll get you at three-thirty. Ice cream after at Butterbean?
In her opinion, ice cream was a date.
She tingled from head to foot. In a much better mood, she fiddled with the egg timer on her desk and took off five minutes of Keith’s penalty. “When you hear the ding, you’re free to go.”
A short time later, she jumped at the alarm even though she expected the sound. Keith set down his cleaning materials and stood square in front of her.
“What’s your kid’s name?”
“Creighton.”
The boy nodded. “I’ll go now.”
She used Becky’s term, paying him no never mind at all, as he bounded out of the classroom. Lost herself in a daydream about Scott. Then Scott stood portraited within the door frame. Crisp blue shirt. Well-worn jeans, hard-worked muscles. Eyes bright and welcoming as his gaze grazed her from beneath his brim and invited her closer.
****
Hot, living blood ran through his veins. Scott rushed to her, she to him. They met in front of the teacher’s desk, and he wrapped her tight in his arms against his beating heart.
“Aw, Mary Grace,” he mumbled into her hair.
Desire stabbed him straight in the gut, rich searing feelings that surged into love and made him tremble. OK, he could admit it now. Love. He could say the word inside his head. Love. Soon he’d get courageous enough to tell her out loud. He’d been smitten last summer, but these past days with her in his life, at his ranch, at his side whether on horseback or discussing the therapy program finally merged the physical with the emotional, and he knew full well what it all meant.
Scott Martin was in love. In love. Reaching down, he took her face between his palms and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips closed over hers as if he was breathing in a new kind of life, and her mouth nibbled against his. Heat raged but turned to contentment as he cuddled her close to rid her of her shudders. “Oh, you are so beautiful.”
“I can return that compliment,” she murmured, their lips still one. “I didn’t like not getting to say goodbye this morning,”
“I didn’t like not getting to say goodbye last night. I missed you.” His arms tightened and they stood melded, both holding the other upright as Scott willed his love to wash over them both.
“Ooooops. Sor-reee.” A whine split the air.
Startled, they broke apart like a quick sword had sliced between them.
“Oops. Sorry,” Keith Murphy repeated, not looking the least abashed. He made a big show about bobbing his head and peering closely at Scott. “Hey, you’re Scott Martin, right? You did my mom’s website for the mercantile.”
Mary Grace ran her hands through her hair to tidy it, cheeks glowing with a furious, beautiful flush. “I told you you’re dismissed, Keith.”
“I just had one last question, Ms. Gibson.” He waggled a smartphone at her. “How come Grant Gibson’s website doesn’t say a thing about Cray-ton? It says he lives in Florida with his second wife Marla and their three kids Morse, Mason, and McKenna. You sort of get alluded to, a first wife, I mean, if there’s already a second. But not your so-called son.”
He stood insolent, his sneer so wide Scott held back a swat. Beside him, Mary Grace’s flush turned snow white.
“I said you’re dismissed, Mr. Murphy.” Her voice shook with what Scott heard as pain.
“Yo
u heard her.” Scott was a good eight inches taller than the boy and rose to full height. “You’re dismissed.”
“Hey, man. Just had a question.” Keith Murphy gave one final bleat and shuffled from the room, his pants too baggy and beltless to portray a true man of the West.
Breathing hard, Mary Grace stumbled to a student desk and collapsed in it.
“What was that, sweetheart?” He didn’t hesitate or mind at all, using the endearment. Her chalky face alarmed him. “What was that about?”
Bleak eyes bore into his before she looked away, arms crossed against her chest. “Scott, I…”
He read the body language loud and clear, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Obviously she didn’t crave his touch. Confusion flamed inside his head. Creighton’s own father didn’t acknowledge him? What was going on? Was Grant…not the father?
Scott’s skin crawled with unhappy suspicion. Yet the possibility of infidelity on her part breaking up her marriage was absolutely impossible. He knew that deep down. But something wasn’t right. Would she trust him enough to say? “Mary Grace?” He pulled Kenn’s leather desk chair and sat next to her. “What is it? What did Keith mean? About Creighton...and Grant?”
“Are you asking if Creighton is truly Grant’s child?” Hot pink dots splotched her white cheeks.
“No. Not at all. I’m just confused. Is Keith just being a troublemaker again?”
Looking away, she shook her head. “No. I mean, Keith probably wants to make trouble for me, but the truth is something I should have told you before now. Biologically, Grant is Creighton’s dad, but he doesn’t acknowledge him. Oh, he pays the bills and on time. Or I should say his attorney does. But that’s all my sweet boy gets from his father.”
“I don’t understand. I know divorce can be problematic. But Mary Grace?” He wasn’t sure what to ask, but now her hand flapped in her lap like a dying bird. She finally looked at him again. The chair squeaked as he reached over to wrap the cold fingers with his.
“Oh, Scott. I was going to tell you. I promise you.” Her sky-bright eyes blurred with tears. “And you and Creighton, well, I’d planned for the two of you to meet this weekend. Honest. Believe me.”
