by Mia Ross
The mere idea of fielding unexpected inquiries made her queasy. “Do you really think they’re going to ask me anything?”
“I have no idea, but I’ve learned that it’s always better to be prepared in case they do.”
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she cast a worried glance around at the room that was much fuller now than it had been when she arrived. She recognized most of the attendees, which gave her a little boost of confidence. “I know almost everyone here. That should help.”
“That’s the spirit. You handle dozens of kids every day, which I think is much harder than giving a ten-minute talk. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Everyone has their talents, Emma mused, flattered that he seemed to value hers so highly. Many people assumed that working with kids was like playtime, and it was nice to know he respected how challenging her job could be.
Fortunately for her, she was the first agenda item after the usual greeting and the vote to accept the minutes from last month’s session. So she gathered her courage, picked up Rick’s laptop and went to the front of the room.
Glancing out into the audience, she found his steady gaze, and he gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. That small gesture helped her immensely, and she faced the school board with a smile.
“Good evening, and thank you for letting me come in to speak to you.” Shifting her view from them to the assembly, she went on, “Since you can read the agenda on the whiteboard, you all know why I’m here. Unless there are questions, I’ll get started.”
No one asked her anything, but a couple of the board members traded quizzical looks. Instinct told her something was up, but it wasn’t her place to address them, so she put aside her misgivings and cued up the slides that Rick had helped her create. One covered the reasonable cost of the program compared with other after-school activities in the surrounding area. Another detailed the loose curriculum that governed the sessions, to show that it provided the kids with more than pure entertainment.
Finally, she reached the slides that Rick had put into a repetitive loop, showing off the projects they’d decided best showcased the tangible results of the artistic program. This section included sound she’d recorded at various shows she’d organized throughout the past year. They allowed the people there to hear comments from students and their parents about how much they loved the program and would miss it if the school decided not to renew it.
Following her mother’s advice, Emma paused on the final slide—a sixth-grader’s Impressionist-style rendition of Liberty Creek’s iconic covered bridge. It wasn’t Monet, but the boy’s talent was obvious, and she hoped that it would convince the board to continue funding for the program that was so dear to her heart. “So, does anyone have questions for me?”
She fielded the usual ones about whether costs would rise and was pleased to have Rick’s numbers to back up her assurance that they would remain the same. Some wondered how she planned to change the offerings for the coming year, and everyone seemed more than satisfied with her responses.
Except for the board, she noticed.
There were more of those awkward looks, and a woman she’d known her entire life actually stared down at her folded hands while Emma was speaking. She had no idea what might be bothering them, but she returned to where Rick was sitting and picked up her messenger bag to go.
“Let’s stick around,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Just a feeling,” he replied cryptically. “Something’s going on, and my hunch is we’d be smart to hang around and find out what it is.”
The fact that he’d picked up on the same vibe she’d gotten was impressive, especially since he’d never attended one of these meetings before tonight. Then again, Emma thought as she sat down beside him, he’d probably been in hundreds of conferences just like it and had learned to recognize the signs of potential trouble. In his line of work, it must be a handy skill to have.
“And now,” the president announced in a somber tone, “we’ll address something that has unfortunately become necessary in response to our declining student enrollment and accompanying reduction in our state aid. The past few years, staffing at our elementary, middle and high schools has remained steady due to retirements and resignations. This year I’m sorry to inform you that will not be the case, and we have some very difficult decisions that must be made.”
He went on to list the positions that were on the block, and Emma’s heart sank when she realized that some of her colleagues were going to lose their jobs. But nothing could have prepared her for the final item on his list.
“Art teacher, elementary school.”
Emma’s heart stopped. Rick muttered something under his breath, and when she looked over at him, he grimaced in a silent display of sympathy.
Because she was too numb to move, they sat through the rest of the meeting while she stared down at the binder she had clasped in her arms, trying to process what she’d learned. Mercifully, it ended, and when they got outside, she turned to Rick with the one question that was foremost in her mind.
“Why didn’t anyone warn me?” she demanded in a furious whisper. “They let me go up there and waste everyone’s time with that stupid presentation.”
“First of all,” he said in a calm, reasonable tone that he must use with his daughters when they were upset, “it wasn’t stupid. It was very polished and well received.”
“That may be, but it was still a waste of time. Yours, mine and everyone who came tonight.” He gave her a pensive look, and she blew out a frustrated breath to avoid taking out her aggravation on this generous man who’d given up so much of his scarce free time to help her. “You’re way more accustomed to this kind of thing than I am. What are you thinking?”
“You won’t like it, and I could be wrong.”
“Just tell me the truth.”
He hesitated for a few moments, and though she was ready to burst with impatience, she recognized that he was trying to spare her feelings. “Nothing is as bad as fighting cancer, Rick. Whatever you have to say, I can handle it.”
Heaving a sigh, he said, “I’m thinking that since the arts program is so popular, they might be tempted to keep it going.”
It didn’t take a genius to fill in the blank. “Without me.”
“I don’t know any of the board members, so I could be wrong,” he said.
“Is that what you’d do?” she asked bluntly.
“I haven’t seen the figures they’re working with,” he hedged. When she clucked her tongue in disdain, he relented. “It’d be one way to go. They’d save on your salary and benefits, distribute your class load to a couple of other teachers and still have the after-school option for families who want it. They could even charge a small fee to make it pay for itself.”
“So the numbers would work,” she commented quietly.
“I seem to recall learning recently that numbers aren’t everything,” Rick said, offering a compassionate smile very unlike the usual smooth, professional one she’d gotten from him before. “They have till next month’s meeting to solicit comments from the community and come up with another solution. We should take advantage of that time and show them that you’re too valuable for them to lose.”
“But that would mean that someone else would lose their position. Lots of people who work here have families, and their kids go to school here. It would be a lot harder for them to move than it would be for me.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” he told her, his smile warming with admiration. “But it’s not fair for you to lose your job just because you’re single. If you want to fight for it, I’m sure there are plenty of folks in town who’d support you. Your family, for starters, and you can count the girls and me in, too.”
“Thanks. That’s very sweet of you.”
Feeling more than a little overwhelmed, she stared across the campus a
t the redbrick building where she’d attended school as a child and happily worked since graduating from college. She loved that old place, with its drafty windows and cranky heating system that kept her room at sauna temperatures all year round.
The last thing she wanted was to leave it—and her hometown—for some unknown town full of strangers. Beyond that, this was the time of year when schools were actively searching for teachers to fill open spots, and she was far from ready to apply. Funding cuts had required many of them to trim their arts offerings to free up money for academics. Some schools in the area had dropped music and art completely, relying on already overworked educators to fill in the gaps for their students.
Competition for art positions would be fierce, and she might be forced to take on a classroom part-time rather than function solely as an art teacher. Her dual certification enabled her to do that, but she hated the idea of teaching math and writing instead of nurturing budding artists in the bright, sunny classroom that had become her second home.
So, as she’d done when the doctor delivered his heart-stopping diagnosis to her, she squared her shoulders and turned to the man who’d unexpectedly become her champion. “I’m not giving up, but I won’t do anything that will cause someone else to be fired in my place. Can you help me make that happen?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied honestly, easing the harsh truth with a smile. “But I’ll try.”
Chapter Four
“Daddy.”
It was barely light outside when Aubrey’s whisper filtered through Rick’s sleepy fog to wake him. Opening his eyes, he saw her in her floral nightgown, clutching her stuffed rabbit. Silhouetted by the glow of the night-light in the hallway, she had a concerned look on her face. “Hmm?”
“Caitlin’s sick.”
Instantly alert, he sat up and turned his bedside lamp on. His girls weren’t prone to any kind of illness, and Caitlin loved school so much that she often disguised her discomfort so she’d be allowed to go even when she wasn’t 100 percent healthy. “What’s wrong?”
In answer, Aubrey tugged on his hand, and he followed her back to the dollhouse-inspired room that the girls shared. To make the move a little easier for them, he’d given them carte blanche while they’d designed their new room. Then he’d spent a solid weekend following their instructions to the letter, right down to locating the floral drapes they’d chosen in various shades of pink.
When he knelt by her bed, Caitlin’s eyes drifted open and she coughed into her shoulder the way they were taught to do in school these days. “Hi, Daddy,” she croaked, clearly trying to smile.
“Hey there, pumpkin.” A palm on her forehead told him she was running a fever. “Not feeling too good, huh?”
“It’s not time to get up yet,” she pointed out in a faint voice. “I’m sure I’ll feel better by then.”
Rick made a show of looking over his shoulder at the display on the clock that stood on the table between the twin beds. Coming back to his brave little girl, he frowned and shook his head. “I doubt that, but let’s get you some juice and something to bring down your fever. Then we’ll see how you’re doing later this morning. If you’re not better, I’ll take you to the doctor.”
Already, he was rearranging his day, mentally listing things that he could handle from home and others that would have to be rescheduled to another time. As the girls’ only parent, he considered it his responsibility to be home with them when they were sick.
To his amazement, Caitlin shook her head. “No, Daddy, you need to go to the bank and help people. Mrs. Fields can take care of me.”
“And I will, too,” Aubrey assured him, cuddling against him for a hug. “We know what to do, Daddy.”
“You go to work. I’ll be fine,” Caitlin added, patting his hand in a reassuring gesture that felt eerily familiar. It took him a few moments, but when he placed it, his heart nearly stopped.
Those were the last words Sarah said to him the day she died.
The situation with Caitlin was far less severe, but his gut was telling him to stay with her and make her sick day as easy as possible for her. So he forced a grin and pulled rank. “Last time I checked, I’m the dad and what I say goes. And I say I’m staying home to take care of my girl. First on the list—a thermometer and some kid’s aspirin. You stay here and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she agreed meekly, rolling onto her side and pillowing her cheek on her hand.
“Don’t worry about her,” Aubrey told him sweetly as she curled up at the foot of her sister’s bed. “I’ll take care of her, too.”
“That’s my girl,” he approved, ticking the end of her elfin nose with his finger on his way out. By the time he got back, they were cuddled together, both curly heads resting on Caitlin’s pillow. He considered separating them to keep Aubrey from getting sick, then thought better of it. They were together constantly, so chances were good that they’d be sharing this bug the way they shared everything else. If being together made them feel better, he didn’t see the harm in it.
Caitlin was her usual cooperative self, taking the thermometer and grape-flavored liquid without complaint. The fever wasn’t bad enough for a doctor’s visit just yet, but he made a note to take her temperature again in a couple of hours to be sure the medicine was doing its job.
Heading downstairs to the kitchen, he yawned while he canceled the coffeemaker’s timer and manually set a pot brewing. Six o’clock was too early to disturb Mrs. Fields with a call, but he made some toast for the girls and lightly spread their favorite jams over top. Strawberry for Caitlin and grape for Aubrey. After delivering their very early breakfast to their room, he grabbed a cup of much-needed caffeine and went into his office to send out some professional emails and voice mails.
When he reached Mrs. Fields around seven, she clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of the housework while you tend to your girls.”
“I was thinking you might rather take the day off,” he said, surprised by her response. She worked on salary, and he’d assumed she’d be happy to have an extra vacation day while he was home to handle her usual duties.
“Not a bit. If we work together, the day will go much better for everyone. Unless you’d rather not have me there for some reason.”
“None that I can think of,” he admitted, touched by her willingness to help.
While that was nice, it also underscored just how much he and his daughters were missing from their lives. For some crazy reason his memory flashed back to their impromptu dinner with Emma the other night. His eyes went to the formal dining room, which stood empty and immaculate the way it normally did. That night it had felt chaotic and fun, and he found himself wishing that it could be that way all the time.
“Then I’ll see you at eight, as usual,” she said briskly, bringing him back to reality. “Is there anything I can pick up on my way through town? Something from Ellie’s Bakery perhaps?”
“Blueberry muffins,” he replied without thinking. Then, since he’d taken that leap, he added, “And some of those raspberry Danish she makes fresh every morning. They’re the girls’ favorites. And please add in whatever you’d like for yourself.”
“Will do,” the woman agreed with a laugh. “Anything for you?”
He wasn’t a big breakfast person, usually settling for a bagel and coffee at his desk. But today he could indulge a little, and he thought through the menu at the bakery before settling on something called the Minuteman breakfast sandwich that he’d been wanting to try but never had the time for. After adding that to her list, Mrs. Fields said goodbye and hung up.
Rick’s mornings were normally hectic, at best, and he wasn’t sure how to spend the extra time he’d been granted. Outside the kitchen windows he saw that the sun was peeking over the trees in the backyard, and he opened the Dutch door, leaning on the top to admire the view
he seldom had time to appreciate.
Large oak and maple trees that had been around for decades were coming into leaf, their branches shading sections of the yard. In others, the rental home’s owners had planted gardens that were beginning to sprout flowers, and he realized that he was looking forward to seeing what varieties they turned out to be. Perfectly centered at the back of the fenced yard, the rustic wooden playset that had appealed to him online seemed to be waiting patiently for someone to come out and enjoy it.
With the nice weather seemingly here to stay, he hoped the girls would have a good time out there. Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t yet tested the various pieces to make sure they were safe for them to use.
Setting his coffee on the counter, he opened the door and strolled outside. The grass was dewy, and it felt cool on his bare feet as he strolled toward the slide. A few good shakes confirmed that the structure was solid, so he moved on to the monkey bars and ladders to inspect them. Finally, he gave each of the swing chains a firm yank, satisfying himself that they were just as sturdy as the rest.
Looking up, he admired the craftsmanship that had gone into the playset. Someone had put a lot of effort into making it not only fun but also safe for the kids who’d be playing on it for years to come. He wasn’t impulsive by nature, but something prompted him to sit on one of the swings, twisting the chains to spin him in a circle the way he’d done when he was a boy.
Some kind of bird squabble was going on overhead, and he glanced up to find a cardinal squawking at a blue jay who was occupied building a nest in the crook of a high branch. The blue jay didn’t seem fazed by the scolding, and Rick chuckled at the haughty expression on its face.
“I must be seeing things,” a woman’s voice said from the other side of the quaint white picket fence. When he glanced over, Emma Calhoun was leaning on the top rail, grinning into the yard at him. “In my wildest dreams, I never imagined seeing the very buttoned-up Rick Marshall enjoying himself on a swing set.”
