Country Hearts

by Cindi Madsen

  Lori crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Liar.”

  She always could read him like a book—growing up, it’d landed him in hot water several times. “Fine, I noticed. Doesn’t change anything.”

  “It’s okay to move on.”

  “I have.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Leave it alone, Lori. Just because you’re happily married doesn’t mean we all have to be paired up to be happy. I’m good.”

  She nodded as if she understood, although he suspected she’d bring it up later. “See you on Sunday for dinner?”

  “We’ll be there.” Wyatt gestured to Bailey Rae that it was time to go, and they waved their goodbyes and headed toward the truck.

  He may have also glanced back toward Jemma’s classroom door, but that was just out of habit.

  Chapter Nine

  Dorothy Hembolt had more energy than Jemma had after an Espress-yourself, which was the drink of the week at Havenly Brew. The surprise in that drink was that you wouldn’t sleep at night if you had one too late in the day.

  “And one, two…” Mrs. Hembolt used her conducting baton to bring the kids in on the count of three. Today was the first time she’d pulled out the skinny wand with the bulbous rosewood handle, which had led to several of the kids asking which Harry Potter house she belonged to.

  “The one that gets after kids if they don’t focus, listen, and sing as loudly as possible while staying on key,” Mrs. Hembolt had said without missing a beat.

  Kylie M. had commented that it sounded like Slytherin, and it’d taken every ounce of Jemma’s control to keep the laugh that wanted to escape inside. Then she’d cleared her throat and backed up the music teacher, encouraging the kids to pay attention and work on their song for the play.

  Each time they practiced it, the song sounded better and better, and on cue, Mrs. Hembolt joined a few bars in, as if she couldn’t help herself. No matter how high or low the kids sang, she raised her voice to opera levels, either humming or belting out the words.

  Several times in the teachers’ lounge, Jemma and the other teachers would be chatting during their lunchtime, and the woman would just burst into song, like life was her very own musical and she was undeniably the star.

  “That was marvelous.” Mrs. Hembolt tucked her baton under her arm and clapped. “You all are such amazing singers.” Sure, she pushed the kids, but she also beamed at them while sincerely praising them, which made them work hard to please her.

  Jemma wholeheartedly agreed. There was something incredibly adorable about a group of kids singing about friendship, kindness, and love. The community was going to flip over “Cupid Goes Crazy,” she was sure of it.

  Mrs. Hembolt pushed her glasses up her nose and lifted a paper. “Now, for the parts…”

  Jemma shouldn’t play favorites, and she liked to think she didn’t too much, but she held her breath, hoping Bailey would get the role she wanted. It’d been all she’d talked about, and Jemma liked the idea of switching it up and having a female cupid.

  All week, Bailey had been wearing clothes with hearts on them to prove how committed she’d be to the role.

  “Cupid will be played by…” Another readjustment of the glasses. Jemma could hardly take the suspense. “Bailey Rae Langford.”

  A squeal escaped Bailey as she threw her hands over her mouth, pure joy radiating off her in waves.

  Jemma had to fight the urge to go throw her arms around her and congratulate her. Later there’d definitely be a high-five, though.

  Mrs. Hembolt continued to rattle off the names and parts. Chase was the second lead, the business person who tried to help Cupid clean up the mess she made when she hit wrong target after wrong target, until everyone had been hit with an arrow. Foam arrows for the record, so no one would end up crying instead of being instilled with goodwill.

  It was a perfect fit. Chase had charm for days, and he also read above his grade level. Plus, he’d get to run around the stage a lot throughout the play, which would help keep him from getting as antsy.

  Man, if we could bottle up that kid’s energy, we could sell it and give the energy drink business a run for their money. Jemma had learned that once his fidgeting got to a certain level, he’d been bottled up for too long and it’d burst out of him, usually in the form of something that’d distract the entire class.

  So instead of trying to diffuse the situation afterward, she’d watch for signs he was about to blow and give him a task or errand, one that often involved retrieving something from the library or office. Sometimes she simply made everyone get up and do the “get out the wiggles” dance.

  The last of the parts were given out, and most of the kids seemed happy with their roles. Mrs. Hembolt handed Jemma a copy of the list as well so she could email parents and let them know their kids needed to work on memorizing their lines over the next three and a half weeks.

  Bailey slowed in front of Jemma, who held her hand up for a high five. She smacked Jemma’s palm and grinned, teeth and all, totally unguarded in this moment. “I told my dad over and over that this part was what I wanted more than anything in the world, and I got it. I actually got it!”

  “You did, and you’re going to be such an excellent Cupid.”

  Lips closed over her teeth, but her grin and excitement remained.

  Jemma wanted to tell Bailey how much she liked her smile, but there were too many kids around them, and she didn’t want to draw extra attention or make her feel uncomfortable.

  “Okay, back to the classroom. Form a line.”

  They did as instructed, cheerfully chatting as they walked down the hallway. As long as it didn’t get too loud, Jemma would rather them get out some of the chatter now so once they reached the classroom, they could dig in.

  Camilla was in the middle of the hallway and stepped up to Jemma as she started past. “Do you have everything you need for now to get ready for the play?”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Hembolt just gave out parts—I love her energy and spirit, by the way. As long as she’s directing and taking care of the music, I can easily handle the rest. I’ve also blocked off some extra time in class to practice parts.”

  “Perfect. You just let me know what you need, and I’ll do my best to get it.” Camilla glanced at her watch. “Hey, so I’ve got an appointment with a student and his parent here in a minute, but I wanted to see if you wanted to meet at Havenly Brew after school. No business. I just want to take some time to sit and chat.”

  “That sounds lovely. See you after school.”

  Once again, it felt like things were lining up here. She still missed Randa and occasionally longed for the amenities the city provided—the slew of take-out options and places to shop, and how she could catch a movie without having to drive forty minutes away.

  But she loved the way the school was run here—how the admin knew every single student by name and how passionate the teachers were about their work. Most of the parents were all in too.

  At first Jemma had worried she wouldn’t have any friends for the six or so weeks she’d be here, covering for their former teacher until she felt ready to come back.

  Now she was starting to worry she was already getting too attached, not only to her students, but also to a few of the people in town as well.

  As soon as Jemma and Camilla pushed inside Havenly Brew, the sweet scent of the bakery and the bitter scent of the coffee beans hit her. It was one of those smells Jemma wanted to carry home with her so she could pull it out when she needed a mood boost, only then she’d be disappointed at her bare cupboards and empty mug.

  “How are you ladies today?” April asked, greeting them warmly as she stacked a new sleeve of cups next to her on the counter. She’d worn her auburn hair curly today, and the contrast of it framing her pale skin made her eyes pop more than usual.

  “It’s been a pretty goo
d day,” Jemma said. “Exhausting, but good.” Camilla echoed the sentiment, and then Jemma added, “I just have to tell you how cute you look. I love the curls.”

  “They’re a pain to maintain, but I felt like mixing it up today.”

  April leaned her forearms on the counter, in the narrow spot between the cash register and glass case of pastries. “You gals came in at the perfect time. Usually I don’t reveal my new drink of the week till Sunday, but I decided to unveil it early since the Crowthers just had their baby this morning. A six-and-a-half-pound girl named Joyce, after their grandma, who was also the woman who taught me how to bake and encouraged me to follow my passion.”

  “Am I ever glad for that,” Camilla said, patting April’s hand. “I’ve never had a bad drink here. Even the ones I’m sorta skeptical about turn out to be delicious. What’s this new one called?”

  April straightened and gestured to the chalkboard that held the weekly special. “It’s called Almond Joyce. It’s a cherry Frappuccino made with coconut milk and almond flavoring. Then whip cream, of course, pink sprinkles and coconut shavings, and a cherry on top.”

  “So basically it’s like drinking a cupcake?” Jemma asked.

  April nodded enthusiastically, and Jemma’s taste buds were equally as excited as they imagined that scrumptious-sounding combination hitting her tongue. “Um, yes please.”

  “I’ll take one as well.” Camilla batted away Jemma’s extended twenty-dollar bill, insisting on paying since she’d done the inviting.

  One thing Jemma had learned in her short time here was that there was no fighting the townsfolk’s generosity. She leaned her hip on the counter and studied the chalkboard that now had two specials on it, since the Espress-yourself was still there on the bottom. “I’m already excited about when you’ll unveil your next drink. How do you come up with all the names and flavors?”

  “Oh, they just come to me. I think it helps that I start the day with so much caffeine and sugar.”

  “Ah, the perfect combination,” Jemma added with a smile.

  “Exactly.” April uncapped the lid to a black Sharpie and scribbled their names on two of the cardboard cups she’d just stacked. “By the way,” she asked around the marker lid in her mouth, “have you seen Wyatt lately?”

  Camilla turned to Jemma with raised eyebrows, one dimple flashing in her cheek, making it clear she was curious about the answer as well.

  As Jemma had told the principal before, she’d read in books about how quickly word traveled in small towns and the way everyone was in each other’s business, but every time she experienced it, it still struck her how different life was here. Back in Denver, she used to frequent a cafe near her downtown apartment complex, and although she’d ordered the same thing every time, the baristas had always asked for her order and her name, no hint of recognition.

  Part of it had probably been how big of a hurry she’d always been in. While she didn’t so much want to be the topic of gossip, the genuine care behind their gentle interrogations also made it hard to shut them totally down.

  “Um, he picked up Bailey from the classroom yesterday.” Not today, and Jemma had been slightly disappointed he hadn’t been outside the door waiting. Which was silly, especially considering their initial few meetings. He still didn’t say much—save that night he’d taught her how to start a fire, and even then, he’d been on the quiet side.

  “Look how she went all dreamy.” Camilla gave April a conspiratorial nudge with her elbow. “Whatever thoughts she’s having about him are definitely good ones.”

  Jemma wiped her features clean the best she could without a mirror to see which expression she was accidentally giving. “I was thinking about my sugary drink.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You both obviously want to play matchmaker—”

  “Ooh, good idea,” April said, capping one of the frothy pink drinks and sliding it to Camilla. “We should team up.”

  “So not what I was saying.” Jemma sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. “You ladies are going to get me or yourselves or that cowboy in trouble. Trouble all around. I teach his daughter and we’re on friendly terms, but that’s it and that’s all it’ll ever be.”

  She should leave it at that, but she couldn’t help adding. “I did meet his sister and her kiddos yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes. Lori’s a total sweetheart,” April said. “When she had her first baby, I made a blue smoothie called Bubba Blueberry because he was the biggest baby in the county.”

  “He was a chunk. I barely resisted pinching the cheeks.”

  The hiss from the whip cream can filled the air, and then April poured on a healthy amount of sprinkles and capped it. She extended it to Jemma, who licked the whip cream that had squirted out the seam and was sliding down toward her hand.

  “So, Wyatt and his sister grew up here, right?” she asked, and they nodded. “What about their parents?” She hadn’t heard mention of them, and Wyatt was running the ranch alone, but she hadn’t wanted to be insensitive and ask.

  April wiped her hands on a paper towel. “Raymond Langford passed too young, shortly after Bailey Rae was born. Peggy eventually moved to Florida, where she takes care of her elderly parents.”

  While Jemma didn’t see her parents nearly enough, she hated the thought of them being that far away. Wyatt truly was mostly on his own, and while she didn’t like the idea of that, she was even more impressed at how involved he was in Bailey’s life. She’d had former students’ whose parents were in the same position and had rarely shown up. No doubt it was hard to juggle everything. She didn’t blame them for not being able to make it to myriad school events, but she saw the difference it made in kids’ lives.

  She was about to say that she admired Wyatt, while emphasizing it was only in a friendly way, but she knew when it came to her in-cahoots matchmakers, it would only encourage them more.

  Better to change the subject entirely.

  She took a sip of her drink and couldn’t help the mmm that came out. Then an idea popped into her head—there really was something to April’s caffeine-and-sugar-jolt theory. “You know, I’d love to serve something pink at the Valentine’s Day play. It’d have to be a non-coffee drink, since we probably don’t want to caffeinate the children, especially that late at night, but how hard would it be to make a big batch like that?”

  April tipped her head from side to side as if she were mentally doing calculations. “Not hard. And I’d happily provide a discount for the school.”

  “We’ll make sure to publicly thank you and tell everyone to come visit the shop, although most of the town probably does that already. As long as this is all okay with you, Camilla.”

  Camilla licked whip cream off her lip and nodded. “I think it’s a great idea. We’ll serve it at the end, so the kids are on their way home before the sugar rush hits.”

  They all shared a laugh, and then Jemma and Camilla took their drinks to a table in the corner.

  It wasn’t quite changing the curriculum or the way students learned, but it felt good to feel like she was making a difference. To be somewhere her ideas were actually listened to and considered instead of immediately being shut down.

  In fact, she was going to consider it step one to making her way toward a job in administration.

  Chapter Ten

  Jemma lit the kindling she’d stuck between the perfectly stacked wood.

  As the flame licked at the wood, she gently blew, and the orange glow spread and fully caught. She pumped her fist, feeling all accomplished. Yesterday she’d had to take snowy roads home, but after some bumpy trial-and-error swerves, she’d successfully pulled her car out of a fishtail.

  And now her fire was growing by the second.

  I’m practically a country girl now.

  With that accomplished, she wandered into the kitchen so she could make some tea, Señor F
luffypants hopping behind her. First she’d make an extra-large mug of ginger peach green tea, and then she’d settle in front of the fire to read and relax. It might not be what most people considered fabulous Saturday night plans, but it was her happy place.

  I should probably keep working on being more social.

  Then again, she’d put in late hours this week, and she’d had her second country dancing class a couple of nights ago, which totally counted toward being social. While she still winced at the twangy music here and there, Essie had been right. Most of the moves were similar, although there were a few weird ones with names like “wonky feet” and “penguin tail,” and she’d thoroughly enjoyed the class.

  It helped that everyone was so encouraging, calling out the steps when she faltered. Essie had thrown a complex move at them that had sent Jemma and Camilla stumbling over each other again, and she’d gotten as much exercise laughing as she had dancing.

  A gray haze drifted into the kitchen, and she wrinkled her nose as the scent of smoke hit her nostrils. “I guess that’s to be expected,” she said to Señor Fluffypants. “A little smoke with our fire.”

  She didn’t recall gray clouds filling the air in Wyatt’s living room that night they’d been crouched in front of the fireplace, but she’d been distracted by his nearness and his deep voice, no longer impatient but tender.

  Tears stung her eyes as more smoke filtered in, and she cupped her warm mug and went to investigate.

  The mug slipped from her hands as she stepped into the living room, the ceramic cracking and sending shards and tea across the floor.

  One side of her screamed, no, not my favorite mug! But she couldn’t focus on that right now. She sprinted toward the fireplace, staring in horror as smoke billowed out in belching black clouds. “No, no, no. Why are you doing this?”

  Big surprise, the fire didn’t answer. She waved a hand through the thick air, her nose burning and her eyes watering. She accidentally sucked in a lungful of smoke and coughed.