Just Between You and Me

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Just felt like talking.”

  “Another nightmare?”

  I close my eyes and see the water. “Yes.”

  A few seconds pass before I hear his voice again. “Want to hear about crazy Mr. Jasper’s ferret collection?”

  “Connor, I would love nothing more.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The rest of the weekend was filled with more of the same—visits from Connor, angry comments from Riley, and waiting on my surly father hand and foot.

  Monday morning I survive the car-rider line without hurting anyone or demonstrating that the crazy gene didn’t exactly leave me alone either. After dropping Riley off, I head home, check on Dad, then open my Bible. I had to miss church yesterday, and surprisingly, it felt weird. Like I had missed an important meeting. That church has burrowed its way into my heart. I mentally add it to the growing list of things I’ll miss when I leave Ivy.

  I open my daily devotional and read the selection for the day. As my eyes pore over the words from 1 Thessalonians, six simple words reach out and tap me on the shoulder. He who calls you is faithful . . .

  God, obviously you brought me back to Ivy to take care of some business. But why do I keep feeling like I’m not done? Coming back home every four to six weeks is the only possible solution. I have a home. Friends. I have a career that’s taking off. Please help me stay on track, get things done, and get back to my life. I know it won’t ever be quite the same. I’ve learned I need to try harder with my father. And I’m going to be a constant presence in my niece’s life. And as for Connor . . . I’m so grateful for our time together. It was the last thing I ever expected—and like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But I’m not girlfriend material. And I know he deserves more. Oh, but please don’t let it be Danielle Chapel. That would make me barf continuously every day of my life.

  Jesus, you’ve called me here. I’m trusting your word—that you’ll be faithful to help me see this through.

  My cell phone rings, interrupting my quiet time. I check the screen and groan. “Hello?”

  “I’m calling from Ivy Elementary. Your niece has been in some trouble, and you need to come down here right away.”

  I fall back against the pillows. “I’ll be right there.”

  I repeat the Bible verse over in my head until it becomes my mantra for the morning. When I see Riley sitting in a corner seat in the school office, my mind empties of anything holy.

  “What happened?”

  Danielle Chapel sticks her head outside her door. “Please come into my office so we can talk.”

  “Let’s go.” I help Riley to her feet.

  Danielle shakes her pretty brunette head. “Just the two of us.”

  I stare her down. “No, this concerns Riley. And she will be participating.”

  The principal hesitates for only a moment. We follow her inside, and she immediately opens that supersized file.

  “Riley started a fight yet again.” Danielle shoots my niece a look meant to reduce a rule breaker to tears. Riley shrugs and picks at the neon polish on her thumbnail.

  “Your niece only shoved the girl this time. But same child as always, and it will not be tolerated. We have a strict policy on bullying and do not take it lightly.” She reaches in her desk and pulls out a DVD. “This is a video on how to parent a child who harasses others. I really recommend you watch it.”

  I turn to Riley. “What happened?”

  “I said she pushed a child and—”

  I hold up a hand. “I’m talking to my niece. Riley, tell me in your own words what happened.”

  “Why?” She flicks away more polish. “No one believes me.”

  I unclench my jaw. “Try me.”

  Her cheeks billow with a sigh. “Megan was making fun of Sarah again. Sarah started crying, and I asked Megan to stop. Then she and her friend went to making fun of me. Calling me stupid.” She turns her bitter face to the principal. “I don’t really care if they say that because I have a higher grade in math than them now.”

  I nod in support. “Go on.”

  “Then they went back to saying mean things about Sarah. Said her house was so bad she lived with rats. And she was so poor she couldn’t even get her clothes washed.” Riley tells this in a monotone, like she’s said it all before. And no one listened. “I asked them to back off. They were all in her face. I asked them. And they didn’t. So I pushed Megan.” She looks at me with unfiltered disgust. “I know you said to get a teacher if it happened again, but there wasn’t any time. And I couldn’t let them talk to Sarah that way. She can’t help how she lives.”

  Said from a kid who knows. “And you asked them to stop?”

  “Yes, Maggie.”

  I turn to Danielle. “Well then, I guess that’s that.”

  “Yes, indeed it is. Megan and a few other girls absolutely deny this. And once again, little Sarah went along with them. I’ll be suspending Riley today and she will not be allowed to participate in the class play.”

  “If my niece says that’s how the story went, then that’s how it went.”

  Riley and Danielle speak at the same time. “What?”

  “She said the girls were harassing Sarah. I believe her. If there’s anything I’ve learned from our reading lessons and nightly homework sessions, it’s that Riley is a very smart girl. And she wouldn’t be dumb enough to keep repeating the same story over and over if no one believed her the first time.” I slide the DVD back to Mrs. Chapel. “Maybe you want to give this to Megan and the other girls’ parents?”

  “My punishment still stands.”

  I glance down at the girl who’s looking at me like she’s about to bet money on my odds. “Riley, go sit outside while Mrs. Chapel and I finish our conversation.”

  She scrambles out, grateful for the freedom.

  I press my palms on the desk and lean down. “Danielle, I know you don’t like me.”

  She smiles coolly. “On the contrary, when you drive off and leave Ivy, I’ll like you more than you know.”

  “When I drive off and leave Connor, you mean.” Honey, you’re not his type either.

  She lifts a shoulder beneath her tailored jacket. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “My niece is telling the truth. She may be trouble, but she is not a liar. And somewhere in that cold heart of yours, you know I’m right. Now I want this ridiculous prison sentence reduced. And I want her back in the play. Because no one can play a horse’s butt like my niece can.”

  She taps her red nails on her pen. “In school suspension for one day. And no deal on the play.”

  This is so ridiculous. “First of all, you’d just be hurting Mrs. Ellis, who’s going to have to find a replacement on short notice. And second, consider it a parting gift to me by letting Riley remain in the production.”

  “One more misstep, Maggie Montgomery, and I call the state department and have them investigate your home.”

  I find my first genuine smile of the day. “Oh, you do that. I’d love to hear their assessment.”

  Later, I walk out into the main office. My niece sits in an ugly blue chair, her hands fisted in her lap. “The good news is you have the day off.”

  Her eyes drop to the floor. How many times can the world reject a kid before she just gives up? “What’s the bad news?”

  “There’s not any.” I wrap my arm around her narrow shoulders as we walk. “There’s the even-better news. And that is that you still have your part in the play.”

  “I’m still a horse’s butt?”

  “You are indeed.”

  Her grin grows like a flower under the sun. She doesn’t speak again until she’s buckled into the Focus. “Thanks . . . and stuff.”

  I start the car and flip down the visor. “For what?” I shouldn’t make her say it. But I am.

  Riley takes a long study of the Ivy scenery before providing an answer. “For taking up for me.” She rubs a pattern on the armrest. “No one’s ever done that.”

&
nbsp; My heart nearly folds in on itself. “Well then, it was way past time!” My voice is as perky and pity-free as possible. “But we can’t keep going on like this. Obviously your friend Sarah is afraid to take up for herself—or you. What we need is a plan.”

  Riley nods. “I’ve been thinking about making a stink bomb.”

  “Did you have a plan B?”

  “Putting worms in their P.E. clothes.”

  “I do like your creativity. But maybe we should go with my idea.” I drive toward Beth’s neighborhood. “It involves a little acting. Are you up for that?”

  Her chin lifts a notch. “Look, I got robbed in the class play. Because I can totally bring it.”

  “Well, good.” I park the car behind Beth’s pizza delivering minivan. “This part’s got Oscar written all over it.”

  Riley and I just get seated in Beth’s living room when my phone chimes with a text. Connor.

  U+Me=Date 2nite.

  I text back and remind him I’m currently Florence Nightingale.

  I smile at his reply.

  U underestimate me. Mom babysitting Riley and the grumpy patient.

  “Girl, you have the biggest, dreamiest grin on your face.” Beth ties off the hem of a small presidential costume.

  I slide my phone back in my purse. “Just Connor.”

  Her brown eyes twinkle with laughter. “Mmm-hmm. So what are you going to do about him?”

  I clutch a throw pillow and run my fingers through the fringe. Probably a pillow of Beth’s making. “Nothing as long as I’m here. But when it’s time to go back, we’ll have to part as friends.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “It’s the right thing to do for the man. He’s not going to accept a part-time relationship.”

  Beth snips the thread with her orange-handled scissors. “I said, is that what you want?”

  I become aware of my niece taking in our every word. “So how are the costumes coming along?” For a lot of them, Beth had cut out the patterns and sewed just enough for a thankful parent to take over and finish. With the help of some iron-on bonding stuff from the craft store, even I had been able to complete quite a few while staying home with Dad.

  “Y’all are boring me.” Riley stands up. “The swing set is calling my name, and I must answer.” She lets herself outside, her shoulders a little straighter than yesterday.

  “The costumes are basically done as of this jacket.” Beth holds up a small blue blazer. “But what’s got me on overdrive are the orders your friend is sending me for bridal dresses.” Beth shakes her head. “I had to take off two nights from delivering pizzas just to get some sewing done. In fact, I’ve got Mark cutting out the material just so I can get ahead.”

  “Sounds like a great problem to have.”

  My old friend looks at me, her eyes glistening. “The Lord is working in a big way in our family, Maggie. And if you hadn’t been faithful to come to Ivy, that wouldn’t have happened. I can’t thank you enough for hooking me up with your friend Carley.”

  Uncomfortable with the raw emotion—hers and mine—I wave it away. “It was nothing. You’re an awesome designer, and they’re getting their dream gowns for a fraction of what they’d pay in a boutique.”

  Beth whistles low. “Those prices you told her. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at night getting that kind of money for my sewing.” She tosses back her head and laughs. “But aside from two kids in the bed, I slept like a baby.”

  Beth and I talk about Web site updates, her ideas for a line of chic, unmotherly mother-of-the bride dresses, and how she’s teaching her husband to sew. After some iced tea and Oreos, the conversation winds down. “Now you better tell me what you stopped by for before Dalton and Delilah wake up from their naps and my peaceful living room becomes a war zone.”

  I quickly fill her in on Riley’s ongoing problem at school. “So I wondered if maybe Josie would like to get in on the preshow entertainment.”

  Beth drags in a breath as she considers them. “It’s a little deceptive.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Kind of the kink in it all.

  “And it’s a little risky.”

  “That too.”

  “And it’s not the most honest way to handle this.”

  “I completely understand if you don’t want Josie to be a part—”

  “Are you kidding? I’m in.” Beth holds up her hand, and I high-five it. “Megan Oberman’s mom has been a thorn in my P.T.A. side for years. Her child can do no wrong, and it’s time somebody gave her a little enlightenment.”

  That evening I stare at my face in the mirror and brush blush over my cheekbones. Just as I reach for the lip gloss, my phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Maggie Montgomery?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “This is Ted Phillips from National Geographic.”

  I sink onto the bed, my breath catching in my throat. “Hello, Mr. Phillips.”

  “We were really sorry you couldn’t make it to the interview for the producer position, but we understand there was a serious family emergency.”

  “Yes. I hated it that I missed the interview.” Why is he calling? It’s definitely not to get an update on my dad.

  “Maggie, we were very disappointed in the pool of applicants we had. None of them compared to your work or your résumé. None of them came with your stellar references.”

  “Wow . . . um, thanks.”

  “The committee met today, and if you’re still available for the job, I’d like to have the privilege of interviewing you again.”

  My heart jolts in my chest. “Sure . . . when?”

  “How about now?”

  An hour later, Connor stands at my door holding not flowers, but a bag of convenience store candy. I ignore him and immediately stick my head in the bag. The bounty there I see has tears stinging my eyes.

  “It’s so . . . perfect.” I hold up the chocolate minidonuts, the cheap kind—my favorite.

  He kisses my cheek. “Nothing’s too good for you, Maggie.”

  I hand the bag off to Riley and lean toward her ear. “If I come back and the SweeTarts are gone, I will make your life miserable.”

  She rolls her eyes. “What are you gonna do, make me eat your cooking?”

  Mrs. Blake pops in behind her son, a giant beach bag on her arm. “Hello!” She hugs me, then her son, and finally Riley. “We’re going to have so much fun. I have games and movies.” She pats her bag. “And homemade cookies.” She glances at my dad in his recliner. “And I hear you need to eat something healthy.”

  He nods and shoots me a look. “I just want to eat something I can recognize.”

  “Oh, you guys are too funny. I’m bowled over by your loving support.” My brain spinning with anxiety and my heart completely weighed down, I pull Connor toward the door and lead him outside.

  By the time Connor turns down Main Street, I can see a restaurant is not part of our destination. “Where are you taking me?”

  He laces his fingers with mine, resting my hand on his knee. “My house.”

  I sit at the granite-topped island in the kitchen while Connor comes in and out checking on the steaks. The aroma that seeps in through the open door should make my mouth water. Instead, it has me wishing for a double shot of Pepto-Bismol.

  Connor talks about the vet clinic as he gets me started making the salad. I vaguely remember eating salads before I came back to Ivy. At least this is something I can make without messing it up.

  One and a half chopped tomatoes later, he’s holding my hand under the faucet. “It will stop bleeding in a second.”

  “There’s just nothing domestic about me,” I sigh. “Why do I even bother?”

  He turns his face to mine. “You’ve come a long way, Maggie. Give yourself some credit.”

  My eyes linger on his lips, and automatically I lean forward to kiss him. Then back away, vetoing the idea. “Thanks.” I remove my hands from the water. From his grip.

  Without a
word, Connor disappears down the hall and returns with a Band-Aid. He brushes my fingers away, and with his deft hands, presses the bandage around my thumb. His eyes hold mine for a moment. He says nothing. And neither do I. Yet the room seems to be filled with millions of words anyway.

  Connor lets my hand drop, then goes to the oven and removes the bread. “Why don’t you get our drinks and bring them outside to the deck?”

  Puzzled, I bring two lemonades to the one of the tables outside. Where we have a perfect view of the lake. “We’re eating out here?”

  He shoots back inside, only to return carrying the salad. “Nice night out.”

  I glance toward the water. It sits in the distance, but it’s there all the same. Nothing nice about it.

  “Do you need me to cut your meat?” Connor asks. “I don’t want to interrupt dinner by having to sew a finger back on.”

  I pick up my fork and push some potatoes around. “I’m good.”

  He prays for our food, then hands me some French bread. “All right. Spill it. What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He doesn’t speak until I meet his gaze. “Maggie, if you’ve got something to say, then just say it.”

  I bristle at his toneless voice. It does nothing for my frayed nerves. “I . . . I got a surprise call from National Geographic this afternoon. It’s the funniest thing. They couldn’t fill their producer job and gave me a phone interview.”

  A hawk circles overhead, its cry piercing the sky. Below us two squirrels scurry through some leaves and scamper up a mighty oak.

  “When do you leave?” He moves the butter knife deftly over his bread.

  “It’s not a done deal yet.” I swallow twice. “I go in and meet the team. Do another quick interview, and if I pass the test, I’m in.”

  “When do you leave?” he asks in that same neutral voice. Is this really all he has to say?

  “I wanted to be here for Riley’s class play, so I told them Wednesday.” In less than a day and a half.

  Connor leans back in his chair, his muscular arms crossing over his button-down shirt. “Are you seriously going to take this job?”

  I blink at the force behind his words. “Yes.”