Valentine Wishes (Baxter Academy Book 1)

by Jane Charles

  “It’s not.” It’s interesting to hear this from him. Especially since I will be teaching high school history and need to remember that each student has their own way of learning and pace they need to set. It’s difficult in a room of 25 kids or more, but it’s something I’ll need to be constantly aware of so nobody falls behind or feels frustrated.

  “Academics in the morning, art classes in the afternoon.”

  “All kinds of art?” I ask, feeding into his dream school.

  “Yeah.” Theo smiles. “Photography, painting, singing, music, dancing, theatre. All of it.”

  “So, you think the campers we get would like a high school like that too?”

  “Yep. We’ve talked about it. At least last year we did, and I’ve already talked to enough of them this year and they’ve also complained about school being a bitch.”

  This surprises me.

  Theo turns more fully toward me and for the first time in a long time I see life in his eyes, like he’s excited about something. I’ll listen to anything he has to say, no matter how impossible.

  “These kids that you bring in from the city aren’t just underprivileged kids. Some of them have real issues.”

  I nod. I already know this. That’s why we have therapists and psychologists at the camp. I don’t know the details of each kid’s life, but none of them have it easy.

  “One month away from reality, with a therapist to talk to, and able to work on the art they’re passionate about, isn’t enough. Once they return home, or foster care, or shelters, or whatever, they’re back to being ignored, or hurt, not really getting any help. Doing the best they can until they’re cut loose at eighteen to figure how the hell they are going to make it.”

  Theo turns away and takes a drag on his cigarette. “For some of them, it’s worse after being here.”

  “How?”

  “Because they are reminded how much their lives suck. None of them want to leave.”

  “That’s why we have so many returning campers?” I just assumed it was because they liked the break and wanted to work on their art.

  “It’s the one time of year they feel safe.” Theo turns and looks me in the eye. “Safe! I can’t imagine that. I hate school and the assholes there, but I’ve never not felt safe.”

  He takes another drag. “Read their files, Jackie,” he says. “You do all the event planning but you don’t know shit about the kids that come here.”

  I pull back, shocked at the intensity of his voice. Almost as if he’s blaming me.

  “You’re going to be teaching in Queens. Some of those kids might be your students. Get to know what’s going on in their head, not how well they’ll do on a test.”

  I had intended on doing exactly that. Theo’s condition, or what I thought it was, had opened my eyes to the fact that students aren’t robots. A lot figures into them doing well at school or not, and a lot of times it has nothing to do with intellect.

  “Read their files,” he says again. “Then you’ll get it. They need, I need, more than a summer of help. It needs to be year round.”

  With that he tossed his butt and gets up and strides back down the path to the camp.

  I’ve never read the files. I’m allowed to. It was the agreement for each kid. The therapist assigned gets to know what’s going on, what issues they could be dealing with, and two supervisors at the camp, in case of emergencies and so we know what kind of kids we were getting. The HIPAA authorizations were signed by their guardians or parents of each kid. I just never looked. It seemed like such an invasion of privacy. Had I, I might have anticipated we’d have a camper who wanted to burn the place down.

  Chapter Twelve

  The small town is quaint and so far, I like it. Older, large yards, a lot of kids. I’m driving slowly, looking at the addresses and Jackie is watching her side of the street. I can’t believe that we had phone sex this morning and now she’s helping me find a place to live. I picked this town because it is thirty minutes away from the office and just over thirty minutes from Jackie. I had been looking closer to Albany, but after meeting Jackie, I don’t want to be over an hour away from her.

  It’s stupid of course. It isn’t like we’ve been dating for months, but I have a feeling that we have a future. A real one, which is crazy since I just met her.

  “There it is.” She points to a two story, yellow Victorian, with an “Open House” sign out front. “I like the porch.”

  It’s white and wraps around half of the house. “That’s the least of my concerns.”

  She blinks at me.

  “Big master. King bed. Remember.” That’s the first reference to this morning’s activities and conversation and her face flushes pink, almost the color of the panties she was wearing yesterday, and turns away from me.

  I just chuckle and pull to the curb and park. We didn’t even go in the first three houses we drove past. From the outside they looked too small, and in need of work and I didn’t even want to know what the inside looked like. One by one we have been checking them off the list. The cheapest ones first and working our way to the pricier ones. I’m not exactly cheap but that doesn’t mean I want to get something I can’t afford either.

  This is a nice neighborhood, or so it seems. A family place. Will that bug me, since I didn’t have a family? Will the neighbor kids be up and outside early on the weekends when I’m trying to sleep? Then again, I’ve had a few apartments when I could hear my neighbors through the thin walls and heard a lot more than I cared to from fights to marathon sex sessions.

  A house is a better option for me.

  I grab Jackie’s hand and we stroll down walk leading to the house. It’s landscaped with different spring flowers and all I can think about is how much work it will take to keep them looking nice. Then there is the lawn, which will need to be mowed. Every moment I spend on a house is less time I have with Jackie. Then again, I still don’t even know if she’s going to take the job in Queens or staying at home with her brother. Why get a house that is between her and work if she isn’t even going to be leaving at the plantation in a few months?

  A young realtor is waiting to greet us when we walk in the door and hands us a sheet on the specifics on the house. “Everything is newly updated, including the roof, wiring, and plumbing.”

  That’s a plus. In an old house, those things are usually the costliest and unpredictable.

  She’s glancing between us. “Newlyweds?”

  “Dating,” I say at the same time Jackie says, “Friends.”

  The smile slips from the realtor’s lips, but she recovers quickly enough. “I can show you around, or wait here in case you have any questions.”

  “We’ll look around.” I take Jackie’s hand and practically drag her down the small hall beside the stairs and into the kitchen. “Friends?” I whisper.

  “I’m not sure what we are and didn’t know how to answer.”

  “I’m the guy who made you come this morning during a phone call.”

  “Shush.” She looks past my shoulder to make sure nobody is around and her face is beet red.

  I pull her back, flush against my body. “We are us. Simple as that.”

  Jackie grins up at me. “Yes, we are.”

  “Now, let’s take a look at this house.”

  It’s a house. A nice one that I wouldn’t mind living in, but it’s not a place I must have. Jackie is saying very little until we get to the master.

  “Lie down on the floor and spread out your arms and legs.”

  “What?”

  “We need to see if a king will fit in here, even though the place already has a perfect kitchen, with a wonderful view of that back yard.” She walks through an open door, which by the tile on the floor I assume is a bath. “And a soaker tub,” she nearly squeals.

  So, that is her weakness. Great kitchen and soaker tub.

  “Good book, glass of wine, and a perfect place to relax. The back even slopes just enough that it’s comfortable.”

&
nbsp; My jaw tightens. Glasses of wine, lots of books, and hours in the bathtub. Just like my mother.

  Shaking my head I turn away. Jackie is not my mom.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So, spill.” Ashley crosses her arms and leans on the table in the diner. Her eyes and face are alit with anticipation.

  “Spill?” I knew what she was asking but I wasn’t exactly anxious to spill about my dates with Brett. I almost canceled our regular Friday morning breakfast just so I wouldn’t have to spill. I’m surprised Ashley didn’t call during the week demanding details.

  Since we both returned from school for the summer, and every summer before that, we always met here, at Johnny’s Diner, at seven-thirty in the morning to catch up, and today was no exception. Despite the hour, the place was packed though most of the customers were truck drivers and farmers sitting around talking and drinking coffee, after a filling breakfast before they start the day. Though for the farmers, this might just be a morning break.

  “You know what I mean,” she ground out. “Your date with Brett.”

  “Oh, that,” I dismiss her and look around as if it was no big deal.

  “Don’t make me come over there,” she warned.

  “It was a date,” I finally say. “He got pizza, we ate it by the lake. That was it.” She doesn’t need to know what happened at the camp.

  Ashley frowns. “I thought you were going to Sullivan’s.”

  At that moment the waitress put our orders on the table in front of us and I’m grateful for the distraction. Maybe Ashley will be too busy eating to ask questions. She’s been complaining that she’s starving since we walked in the front door.

  I glance down at the plate and my mouth waters. This isn’t the healthiest meal, but it’s my favorite. Biscuits and gravy with a side of scrambled eggs. I always get a fruit cup too, so I’m eating at least something healthy. Like a few strawberries, grapes and melon are going to counteract the two biscuits and grease based milk gravy.

  Ashley, on the other hand, is having fruit, granola and one egg white scrambled. Well, she is a fitness and health instructor, but even they’re allowed to cheat on occasion, aren’t they? Not that I’ve ever known her to do so.

  “Sullivan’s,” she says again, reminding me that I never answered.

  “He was too much of a mess after changing his tire.”

  “So, you did go check on him!” She laughs. “At least you had pizza instead swearing off on him because he was late.”

  “Why would I? He called Sullivan’s and called you. That’s all I ask if someone is going to be late.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  She didn’t ask about Saturday or Sunday, which means Brett didn’t tell her anything either. If I tell her that we went to Mama Rosa’s, she’ll read all kinds of things into that date that aren’t true, so I keep that to myself. “Tonight.” And I sure as hell am not going to tell her about our conversation, or looking at houses.

  Her face brightens again. “Where are you going?”

  “I have no idea.” Brett hasn’t told me a thing other than casual and comfortable. “Why don’t you ask him if you’re so curious?” And then maybe she can call me to give me a heads up.

  Ashley shoves her fork into a melon. “He hasn’t been in this week.” She pokes at her fruit as if disappointed. “Wish he worked closer then I could get the information out of him. He answers just to get me to shut up so he a can finish his workout.” She levels her eyes on me. “At least he tells me something, unlike you.”

  And, I’m not about to tell her anything else. At least, not yet. She might be my best friend, but Ashely has a way of taking the slightest tidbit and running away with it. If she learned about Mama Rosa’s, and everything else, she’d have me looking at wedding dresses this weekend. That’s how her mind works.

  Not for herself, though. She’s been dating the same guy for two years and won’t accept his ring because she wants things to move slowly and to be sure. However, when it comes to anyone else, she’s the first to plan an engagement party. Maybe she should be a wedding planner instead of a health and fitness instructor, soon to have her physical therapy degree.

  “Well, I expect details tomorrow,” she says with a grin. “I told you that you’d like him and now you’re going on date two.”

  I lean back and sip my coffee. “Date two.” What a date it was.

  My phone dings and I grab it.

  Ashely raises and eyebrow. “Brett?”

  Everybody’s got a right to some sunshine

  I frown. “No.”

  “What?”

  I close out the message and put my phone away. “Nothing.” This is the fourth text message and they are really starting to bug me. The third one was Sunday afternoon after Brett and I had gone to the open houses. Something like, I would do anything for you. They make no sense.

  I’ve talked to Jacqueline daily since Sunday but haven’t seen her. The conversations weren’t that long, just checking in. Nothing like the one Sunday morning. I asked about the campers and she asked about the job. Did she turn down the job offer, or was she still leaving in August? I haven’t had the guts to ask that question.

  That’s what really bugs me. I want to get to know her better. Spend as much time with her as I can, but what’s the point of really getting involved if she’s going to be leaving? Then again, I am in a new job. I still have a lot to learn, so I’m not exactly in a position for a relationship. Not that I planned on getting serious with anyone at this point in my life, but dating someone, and the benefits that come from being in an exclusive relationship is another thing entirely.

  Damn, it’s so been long since I’ve done this. I dated girls in college, but haven’t been in a relationship since my sophomore year. I’m friends with a lot of girls. Always have been. I’ve never gotten why my friends think they are so hard to talk to or understand. Maybe that comes from having four sisters. Who knows, but girls are easy. Well, for the most part. I’m sure there’s still a hell of a lot to learn.

  Shit! I’m more like the heroines in those damn romances novels than the rakes. Guys like me never win the girl in the end, which is probably why I have so many girlfriends instead of a girlfriend. Shit! If I don’t up my game, I might lose Jacqueline. Not that I actually have her. Then again, it was upped on Sunday. Probably the best conversation of my life. So, there’s something there. I just wish I know what exactly.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I read three of those novels over the past week. I get why women escape into them, but it makes it damn hard for the real, living, mortal men in the world. How can any of us stack up against those perfect lords?

  Maybe that’s why Mom got disenchanted with Dad. Sure, he was gone, a lot. Often working double shifts to put food on the table, gone in the evening a lot of the time, working thirds as his regular shift, sleeping while she was at work. I used to hear them talk about going out and doing something. He was always too tired, or worried about money. Was she comparing the fictional heroes to Dad? Is that why she drew further and further away from him? From all of us?

  I do remember specifically one event mom wanted to attend that dad didn’t want to go to. Some historical society was having a ball. Jane Austen style. She wanted to go so bad. Get a sitter for the kids and just do something for the weekend. Dad said it would cost too much. She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was in her eyes. That’s when she started doing stuff on her own. Without Dad.

  I could try and psychoanalyze her depression for the rest of my life and might never come up with an answer and it served no purpose to dwell on it. The past is behind me. But, Mom’s desire to go to a ball and knowing she and Jacqueline have the same taste in books did put me on a quest. But, for now, I have a date waiting.

  I turn the engine off and get out of the car.

  “Hey you,” Jacqueline calls, coming from the camp area. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a red and white shirt. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes
against the sun, pulling it up enough to see her flat belly. Nice!

  “Nice car! Yours?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Uncle Quinn inherited from his dad. He kept it in storage until they moved here last spring.” I look back at the 1966 Blue Pontiac LeMans. “He thought it needed to get out of the garage now that the weather’s decent.” I really couldn’t believe he actually offered it up after I told him where I was taking Jacqueline. He said a classic date needed a classic car. I didn’t argue because I’ve wanted to drive this car.

  “So, what are the plans?”

  She’s got her hands shoved in the front pocket of her jeans, shoulders up, looking hot.

  “Fishing?”

  Her smile dims. “Okay.”

  “Rock climbing?”

  “Um, if you want.”

  “Hiking into the mountains.”

  An eyebrow arches. “Really, Boy Scout?”

  I have a number of things I can list, but she’ll bolt into the house with an excuse to call me later, and I’ll never hear from her again. “Nah. I was thinking chili dogs.”

  Her grin‘s back. “Whew. I was getting a little worried.”

  I go around to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her.

  After I’m back in my seat and buckled in, I glance over at her. “I do want to do those things, sometime, but I figured I’d better mention it ahead of time instead of just springing it on you.”

  “Want to make a Girl Scout out of me?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Wilderness Girl.” Being out in the wilderness with just Jacqueline holds a bunch of appeal. I was joking about the fishing, climbing and hiking, just to see her reaction, but the more I think about it, the more I want to be under the stars, just the two of us, sharing a sleeping bag in front of a fire. She wouldn’t have to do a thing and I’d see to everything. If she objected strongly to sleeping outside, I know of a few cabins that could be rented.