Samantha's Gift

Samantha's Gift Valerie Hansen Though the gossips had them pegged as an item, teacher Rachel Woodward was merely helping Sean Bates, the new guidance counselor, learn small-town ways. But his looks and charm were almost irresistible. And it was a good thing Rachel no longer fell prey to romantic insanity.Yet she couldn' t ignore Sean, or how wonderfully he cared for the sweet, rambunctious five-year-old who' d landed in their school– and both their hearts. Little Samantha needed a father, and Sean would be the perfect man for the job. But she needed a mother, too… and suddenly Rachel wondered if God had a family in store for her after all. The moment Rachel gave in and began to skip, her joy took flight. Her skirt skimmed her calves, and her dark hair swung and shimmered with every hop. She suddenly realized her inattention was a mistake, because a large figure loomed in her path. She tried to dodge. Momentum foiled the effort. She smashed into a man’s broad, solid chest with a thump and a stifled screech. The boxes of crayons and loose drawing paper she’d been carrying sailed into the air. The whole mess rained down on them. Crayons rolled all over the sidewalk, making solid footing nearly impossible. “Look out!” the man shouted belatedly. Everything happened so fast, it took Rachel a few seconds to realize why she hadn’t fallen when they’d collided. Her blue eyes widened and focused on the stranger whose warm, strong hands were clamped on her upper arms, steadying her…. VALERIE HANSEN was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters. Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line. Life doesn’t get much better than that! Samantha’s Gift Valerie Hansen www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) For He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. —Psalms 91:11 My sister Audrey has suggested that I dedicate this book to our mother, Helen Hansen, who was a stickler for correct spelling and grammar, and probably taught me a lot more than I cared to admit, especially in my student days. Mom was also the one who laid the foundation of faith by taking us to Sunday school. So this one’s for her. I wish she were here to read it. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Epilogue Letter to Reader Chapter One Rachel Woodward’s spirits soared the moment she stepped out the supply room door into the clear, warm Ozark morning. Pausing in appreciation, she took a slow, deep breath of fresh mountain air, noted the spicy, familiar aroma of the crayons and colored construction paper piled high in her arms, and smiled. Another day in paradise. Life was as close to perfect as it could get. Working with young children and seeing the world through their eyes made Rachel feel as if she were discovering new wonders every day. Their innocent enthusiasm was contagious. Why, if she were six instead of twenty-six, she might even give in to the urge to skip happily down the sidewalk all the way to her classroom! She clasped the stack of supplies closer to her chest and looked around furtively. Did she dare? What would it hurt as long as no one saw her? Few students arrived this early in the morning and the other teachers were either in the staff lounge discussing their summer vacations or already in their rooms finishing last-minute preparations. The coast was clear. Rachel’s grin widened. Why not? It seemed like a sin to suppress all the elation she was feeling, simply because society dictated that adults should behave more sedately. Who wanted to be a stuffy adult, anyway? Certainly not her. The moment she gave in and began to skip, her joy took flight. Her skirt skimmed her calves and her shoulder-length dark hair swung with every hop. Squinting against the bright sunshine, she blinked slowly, reverently. Thank you, Father, for finding me a job that blesses me so much. That instant’s inattention was a mistake. A large figure loomed suddenly in her path! She tried to dodge. Momentum foiled the effort. She smashed into a man’s broad, solid chest with a thump and a stifled screech. Boxes of crayons and loose drawing paper sailed into the air. The whole mess rained down on them. Crayons rolled all over the sidewalk, making a solid footing nearly impossible. “Look out!” he shouted belatedly. Everything happened so fast that it took Rachel a few seconds to realize why she hadn’t fallen when they’d collided. Her vivid blue eyes widened and focused on the stranger whose warm, strong hands were clamped on her upper arms, steadying her. Since Rachel was barely five-foot-two and slight, she’d often found herself at a size disadvantage. This instance, however, was much worse than usual. This man was so tall, so broad shouldered, so obviously muscular, she felt like the captive of a giant. Hopefully, a friendly one. Her mouth suddenly went dry. Heart pounding, she fought to catch her breath and compose herself in spite of the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She knew it was normal for people to feel a surge of adrenaline when they were startled the way she’d just been, but this was ridiculous. She was not one of those faint-of-heart women who swooned every time an attractive man looked her way. And speaking of looking… The man’s chest, covered in a pale shirt and navy blazer, fell at her eye level. Following the line of his tie upward she saw a square jaw, firm mouth, hazel eyes—and an expression clearly filled with amusement. She was too embarrassed to mirror his good humor. With a stubborn lift of her chin she did her best to appear unruffled as she asked, “Where did you come from?” “Cleveland.” A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I meant just now,” Rachel told him. “I didn’t see a soul in the hall before you ran into me.” “I ran into you?” “Yes.” She tried unsuccessfully to pull away. When he continued to hold on to her, she asserted her independence clearly. “That’s enough. You can let go of me now.” “Okay.” The man released her so abruptly, she staggered and almost wound up sitting at his feet amid the spilled crayons. Wouldn’t that have been cute! As if being caught skipping wasn’t bad enough. “I didn’t mean for you to throw me down,” she said. “Make up your mind.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and struck a nonchalant pose. Rachel studied his face and frowned, trying to place him. “Who are you, anyway?” Watching the movement of her eyes, he must have guessed that she was casting around for something with which to write; he stooped and came up with a blue crayon and a piece of the drawing paper she’d dropped. “I’m Sean Bates. But you don’t have to bother reporting me, ma’am. I work here.” “You do?” She paused, crayon poised. “Since when? I didn’t see you at the in-service meetings last week.” “That’s because I just moved from up north.” “You really are from Cleveland? It wasn’t a joke?” He laughed. “Not to me.” So, this was the new school counselor she’d heard so much about. No wonder all the single women on staff were figuratively lining up to vie for his attention. He was not only good-looking, he had a charisma that was almost irresistible—to anyone but her, of course. She wasn’t susceptible to that kind of romantic insanity anymore. Smiling up at him, Rachel said, “Well then, welcome to Serenity Elementary. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know.” “Thanks. I do have one question.” “Sure. Anything.” “Okay. Why were you skipping down the hall like a kid?” “Shh.” She blushed, looked around furtively. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.” “It was kind of hard not to.” “Then, why didn’t you get out of my way?” “I tried. Guess I was so surprised, I didn’t move quite fast enough. Sorry.” “Me, too.” Pulling a face, she lamented the supplies scattered at their feet, then gathered the hem of her skirt at her knees, holding it bunched in one hand so she could crouch down safely. “My poor crayons. They were brand new. I’ll bet half of them are broken.” Sean squatted to help her gather up the spill. “Hey, these are those big fat crayons. I haven’t seen any of those since kindergarten.” “Makes sense. That’s what I teach.” “You’re a teacher?” “Yes, I’m a teacher. Why?” “No special reason. You don’t fit my memories of the teachers I had when I was a boy, that’s all.” Rachel knew better than to acknowledge the backhanded compliment and open their conversation to more of his personal opinions. There was nothing he could say about her diminutive appearance that she hadn’t heard many times before. She continued to stack paper, barely glancing at him. “Do you have children coming to our school, too, Mr. Bates?” “No. No kids.” The answer was simple. It was the off-putting tone that drew and held her attention. The man had sounded as if he didn’t even like children, which was a definite drawback since he was about to start a job where he’d be up to his elbows in them. “You are the new counselor, aren’t you?” “Yes.” Silent, she studied his profile, trying to determine if she’d read him correctly. He looked to be about thirty or thirty-five, with reddish brown hair and compelling green eyes. He raised them to meet hers. “What?” “Nothing. I was just wondering what brought you to a little town like Serenity. Being from the city, you’re liable to have quite an adjustment to make.” “I’ll cope. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Straightening with an armload of loose supplies, he changed the subject. “Lead the way to your room, Teacher. I’ll carry these for you.” “I can manage by myself.” “I know you can.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I just had a demonstration of how well. But I’ve already got this stuff balanced. If I try to hand it to you and you fumble it again, you’ll have even more busted crayons. Let’s go.” That logic overcame Rachel’s misgivings. She gathered up the last of the paper and started off. “Okay. Come on. I’m in building A. You may as well start learning the layout of the campus. Where’s your office, anyway?” “So far, I don’t have one.” “I’m not surprised. We aren’t used to having a fulltime counselor on staff.” “I’m not exactly full time. Not yet. I’ve told the boss I can fill in as a substitute bus driver, too, if they need me.” Confused, she glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Bus driver? Why? I thought you were a psychologist.” “Hey, I’m a versatile guy.” “If you say so.” She paused to unlock the door to her classroom, then pushed the door open with her hip and swept through ahead of Sean. “I do say so.” He cast around for the best place to dump his load of crayons and settled on the top of a low cabinet. “Actually, I put myself through college by driving a school bus.” She studied him further, frowning and questioning her deductions regarding his age. “How long did that take?” Sean laughed. “It’s a little complicated. Let’s just say that counseling wasn’t my first career.” “Hmm. I was sure I wanted to be a teacher from the time I was seven,” Rachel said. “I envy you. Most people aren’t that decisive, even as adults.” He looked her up and down as he spoke. She was petite, pretty, and so thin she looked like she’d blow away in a strong wind—unless she happened to be tethered to the jungle gym. When he’d steadied her in the hallway, he’d noticed that he could easily encircle her upper arm with one hand. Good thing she’d chosen to teach very young children. The thought made him smile. “What’s so funny?” “Sorry. I was just thinking.” His gaze traveled around the room. “Kindergarten was a good choice.” “Why? Because children are so loving at that age?” “No. Because you don’t look like you could hold your own in a pillow fight against anybody much bigger.” Rachel’s smile faded. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” She hustled him to the door, opened it and practically shoved him through. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Bates. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do before class starts.” “Sure. No problem. Have a good day.” Rachel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes shut tight. Not hold her own? Ha! She might not look tough on the outside, but inside she knew she was made of steel. Tempered steel. And the pain of the tempering process lingered. It probably always would. An unexpected call summoned Rachel to the office right after the dismissal bell. She was anything but thrilled. The first few days of every school year were very tiring, and the last thing she wanted was to have to face the principal this late in the afternoon. Refusal, however, was not an option. Sean was coming out of a classroom as she passed by. He beamed at the sight of her. “Hi.” “Hi. So far, so good?” Rachel asked pleasantly, trying to ignore the jolt of awareness she’d felt the moment she spied him again. “No problems,” Sean said. “Good.” “You okay? You look kind of funny.” Did her unwarranted reaction show? Oh dear! Hedging, she made a silly face at him. “Thanks—I think.” “Actually, you remind me a lot of a condemned man on the way to the gallows.” “Oh, that.” What a relief. “Probably because I feel like one. I’ve been called to Principal Vanbruger’s office and I don’t have the slightest idea why. That kind of thing always gives me butterflies in my stomach.” “Is there a problem?” “Who knows. It’s a little too early in the year for me to have earned a commendation for exemplary teaching, so I have to assume that’s not why he wants to see me.” “You never know. Maybe you’re about to get a blue ribbon for your skipping skills.” “Let’s hope not.” He fell into step beside her. “I’m headed your way. Mind if I walk along? Keep you company?” “Aren’t you afraid to be associated with a terrible rule-breaker like me?” “Not as long as I don’t catch you running with scissors,” he quipped. “I do have my limits.” “Glad to hear it.” Rachel couldn’t help chuckling softly. The man seemed to have the kind of nature that lifted a person’s spirits. That quality made him more appealing to her than any superficial attributes, like the fact that he was every bit as handsome as her friends had insisted during lunch, when she’d carelessly mentioned having met him. She and Sean reached the door to the school office. Rachel paused. “Well, this is it. Here I go.” “Want me to hang around till you’re done?” She was amazed at his sensitivity. “No. I’ll be fine. I just hate the idea of hearing that I’m not perfect.” Sean arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You look pretty good to me. Tell you what. If that guy Vanbruger picks on you, tell me, and I’ll go let the air out of the tires on his bicycle so he knows better the next time.” Amused, Rachel looked up into his kind face and caught a glimmer of deeper concern. He’d apparently been trying to distract her with his silly banter and was now waiting to see if he’d been successful. She assumed a pseudo-serious expression, made a fist and punched him lightly in the upper arm as she said, “Thanks, buddy. It’s good to know you’re standing by in case I need avenging. But I don’t think he rides a bicycle, so that’s out. Guess I’ll just have to take my chances.” Turning, she reached for the doorknob. So did Sean. His hand closed gently over hers. Their inadvertent touch sent tingles zinging up Rachel’s arm and prickled in the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. She quickly slipped her hand from beneath his, hoping he couldn’t tell how bewildered her unexpected, fervent response had left her. Or how close she’d come to actually shivering just now! “Allow me,” Sean said, gallantly opening the office door for her and stepping back with a bow. Rachel took a deep breath and held it. She sidled through the open door without looking up or glancing back at Sean. Principal Vanbruger wasn’t the main reason for her nervousness anymore. Sean Bates was. Not only were her original butterflies still having a riotous party in her stomach, but the moment Sean had accidentally touched her hand, they’d invited all their friends—and a few hundred moths, to boot! Rachel’s bumfuzzled state of mind became of secondary importance the moment she entered the principal’s office and saw who, and what, was waiting for her. Her gaze lingered a moment on the two adults, then went to a withdrawn-looking little girl sitting on a chair in the corner, lower legs and feet dangling. The child’s shorts and T-shirt were faded and much too big for her, but that wasn’t the saddest part. Everything, from her posture to her placement in the room, screamed lonely, immediately capturing Rachel’s heart. Principal Vanbruger rose from behind his desk. “Ah, good. Ms. Woodward, I believe you know Ms. Heatherington, from Health and Human Services in Little Rock.” Rachel nodded. “Yes.” She shook the social worker’s hand formally. “We’ve met.” He gestured toward the child. “And this is Samantha Smith. Samantha, this is your new teacher, Ms. Woodward.” “Please, call me Miss Rachel,” she told the shy little waif. “All the other children do.” Wide, pale blue eyes stared up at her from a cherubic face surrounded by unkempt blond curls. Approaching slowly and pausing in front of the child, Rachel said, “I see we’re all out of my favorite kind of chair. Can I share yours? I’m pretty little. There should be room for both of us.” Samantha’s only answer was to scoot to one side. Rachel perched on the edge of the seat at an angle and laid her arm across the chair’s low, curved back. That not only helped her balance, it formed a pose of guardianship, offering unspoken protection in a world of staid, intimidating adults. “Samantha’s parents died,” the social worker said. “She’s in foster care right now. I’m working on getting her placed with relatives in Colorado, so I doubt you’ll have to bother with her for long. She hasn’t been behaving very well, I’m afraid. Just try to keep her out of trouble and make the best of it till the paperwork comes through and we can send her out of state.” Tactful, as always. Rachel wanted to jump up and scream, How dare you be so matter-of-fact? Can’t you see how frightened the poor thing is? Instead, Rachel settled back into the chair, lowered her arm and pulled the little girl against her as if they were already fast friends. The glare of animosity she sent across the room belied her casual posture. “I can read all the details in the files later, Ms. Heatherington. There’s no need to discuss any of it now.” Without waiting for a reply, Rachel leaned down and whispered in Samantha’s ear, then stood, holding out her hand. “If you’ll excuse us—we’re going to see my classroom.” The social worker opened her mouth to object and was silenced by the righteous anger in Rachel’s backward glance. “I’m going to show Samantha the playground, too. Then she’ll know where everything is when she gets here tomorrow.” Wisely, Principal Vanbruger shooed them on their way with a wave of his hand and a firm “Fine. Go. I’ll take care of things here.” Rachel was thankful he had interceded. If she’d been forced to stay in that woman’s presence much longer she was afraid she might have expressed a very un-Christian opinion. That wouldn’t do. It was bad enough to be thinking it in the first place. Chapter Two Proceeding down the sidewalk to the double doors that would take them to the interior halls of one of the low, nondescript buildings, Rachel kept up a friendly banter. “It’s not far to my room. Here we are. Look. First you go in these glass doors by the big letter A.” Pointing, she led the way. “Then you find the room with a green door. It’s right here. See the K on it? That stands for Kindergarten. I put a smiley face in the window, too, so all the kids can be sure this is the right place. Can you see that?” The five-year-old nodded solemnly. “I like to smile big like that. It makes my whole face happy,” Rachel said as she reached for the doorknob. “Let’s go inside and see where your seat is going to be. I have new crayons and pencils for you, too.” She felt the child’s grip on her hand tighten. “Do you like to draw and color?” Another nod. “Good. Me, too.” Rachel swung the door open and ushered her new student into the colorfully decorated classroom. One whole wall was plastered with letters of the alphabet, arranged amid the flowers and vegetables of a cartoon-like garden. In the foreground, a bunny made of the letter B was nibbling on a carrot that was bent to resemble a C. On the opposite side of the room there was a sink, bookcase and bright blue cabinet with banks of cubbyholes. Red, blue and yellow plastic chairs surrounded four low, round work tables and echoed the same vivid colors. Above the chalkboard, Rachel had fastened gigantic numbers, one through ten, and a more sedate version of the ABCs. No flat, vertical surface remained undecorated. It had taken days to pin the pictures and cutout letters to the bulletin boards. Judging by the look of amazement and awe on the child’s face, the effort had been well worth it. “Did you go to preschool?” Rachel asked. “Uh-uh.” She talked! Thank You, God! Rachel felt like cheering. Instead, she kept her tone deliberately casual. “That’s okay. We’ll learn our letters and numbers here in my class, together.” “I’m five,” Samantha said softly. “I’m a little older than that,” Rachel countered with a grin. “Teachers are supposed to be old.” “That’s right. You’re very smart.” The child beamed. “I know.” At least she hasn’t lost her sense of self-worth, Rachel mused. That was a big plus. Obviously, someone in Samantha Smith’s past had done a wonderful job of making her feel worthwhile. That confidence would help her adjust to whatever troubles came her way, the loss of her parents being the worst one imaginable. It was hard enough growing up with parents, let alone coping without them. Except maybe in the case of my own mother. The thought popped into Rachel’s head before she had time to censor it. There were some people who could give advice in a way that made the recipient glad to follow it. Then there was Rachel’s mother, Martha. When Martha Woodward spoke, she acted as if everyone should be thrilled to profit from her superior wisdom. To disagree with her opinions was to invite condemnation. Rachel was, unfortunately, very good at doing that. As she reflected on the strange twists and turns her private life had taken lately, she stood aside and watched the curious child explore the classroom. The sight brought a smile and a sigh of contentment. Teaching was Rachel’s God-given gift and she relished every moment of it. Moreover, when she got a chance to help an emotionally needy child like Samantha, even for a short time, the blessing was magnified. Rachel hoped that someday, if she was patient enough, Martha would finally accept the fact that her only daughter was single by choice. That her happiness came from loving other people’s children as if they were her own. If that happened, it would be a direct answer to prayer. And if not? Well, that would be an answer of another kind, wouldn’t it? The playground was deserted when Rachel finally took Samantha outside to the play equipment. It was grouped according to size. That which was assigned to the youngest children was naturally the smallest. The stiff, canvaslike seats of those swings were so tiny that even a person as diminutive as Rachel couldn’t fit into them safely. Knowing that, she led the way to the next larger size. Samantha strained on tiptoe to make herself tall enough to scoot back into one of the higher swings. Rachel sat next to her and pushed off with her feet, swinging slowly, as if they were simply two friends sharing a recess. “I like to do this, don’t you?” “Uh-huh.” Because she could no longer reach the ground, the little girl wiggled and kicked her feet in the air, managing to coax very little back and forth motion out of the swing. “Will you push me?” “Okay. But first, watch how I move my legs. See? I pull them in when I go backward, then lean back and stick them out to go forward.” The child made a feeble try, failed, and pulled a face. “It doesn’t work.” “It will. You just need to practice. Watch again. See?” Instead of listening, Samantha jumped down and stalked away, kicking sand and muttering to herself, “Dumb old swing. I hate swings.” So much for the buddy system, Rachel thought. It served her right. She’d taken one look at Samantha Smith, sensed her loneliness, identified with her, and promptly broken her own rule against blurring the line between teacher and pupil. “Okay. Fun’s over,” she said. “Time for you to go back to the office so Ms. Heatherington can drive you home.” Samantha whirled. “No!” “Yes.” Rachel cocked her head to one side, raised an eyebrow and held out her hand. “Come on.” Tears blurred the little girl’s wide, blue eyes. “I wanna stay here. With you.” “When you come back tomorrow morning you’ll be in my class all day.” “No!” The child spun around and took off at a run. Surprise made Rachel hesitate. Samantha was already disappearing down an exterior hallway when she came to her senses and started in pursuit. She didn’t dare shout. If Heatherington happened to look out the window and see what was happening she might decide to move Samantha to another class for the short time she had left before being sent out of state. That was the last thing Rachel wanted. At the corner where the sidewalk made a T, Rachel skidded to a stop. Which way? Left? Right? The hall was deserted. Breathless, she prayed, “Where is she? Help me? Please, Lord?” A commotion to the right caught her attention. Though the sounds were muffled, Rachel was certain she heard a childish squeal, followed by a definitely masculine “Oof.” She dashed toward the noise, rounded a blind corner and nearly slammed into the doubled-over figure of Sean Bates! This time, he wasn’t laughing. “Which way?” Rachel demanded. Breathless, Sean pointed. “What’s going on?” “Tell you later.” “You’d better believe it.” He straightened slowly, painfully, watching Rachel race down the hall in pursuit of the little blond monster that had plowed into him. It had been moving so fast that he wasn’t even sure whether it was a girl or a boy. When he saw Rachel returning, holding the child in front of her with its arms and legs thrashing, he still wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. “Want some help?” he asked. “Oh, no. I’ll just hang on like this until she gets tired. Or until she kills me.” “You don’t have to be sarcastic. I said I’d help.” “Sorry. It’s been a rough day.” “Tell me about it.” He eyed the red-faced child. Rachel had grabbed her from behind, rendering her kicks useless. If he approached from the front, however, he was liable to be very, very sorry—again. “I just did tell you,” Rachel said. “This is Samantha Smith. She’s going to be in my class. I think.” “You sure you want that?” Eyebrows cocked, Sean gave her a lopsided grin. “Of course I do. Samantha and I just have to come to an understanding first.” Rachel raised her voice, speaking slowly, plainly. “If she doesn’t decide to settle down and behave pretty soon, I may have to ask Ms. Heatherington to take her to another school. I really don’t want to do that.” The little girl gasped, froze in midmotion and stared past Sean’s shoulder in the direction of the office. Then she wilted like a plucked blossom on a hot summer day. Relieved, Rachel relaxed and eased her to the ground so she could stand. “Whew. That’s better.” Sean was braced for another escape attempt. It didn’t come. Instead, the girl gazed up at her teacher with new respect. “I— I’m sorry. You won’t tell, will you?” “Not unless I have to. It’s my job to keep you safe and teach you how to get along with others. That means you have to listen to me and do as I say. Will you do that from now on?” The child peered off into the distance one more time, then looked back up at Rachel and nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh.” “Okay. We have a deal.” Rachel held out her hand and Samantha took it. Together, they started to walk back toward the office. Sean watched them go. He had to admit he’d been wrong to judge the pretty, diminutive teacher on appearance alone. Rachel Woodward was definitely special. One of a kind. Not only was she physically stronger than she looked, she had an indomitable will and a tender, empathetic heart that were impossible to deny. He smiled to himself. With “credentials” like that, it was no wonder her unconventional form of child psychology had worked so well. Driving home that evening, Rachel couldn’t get memories of Sean Bates out of her mind, so she forced herself to concentrate on her newest student instead. Thinking about Samantha kept her from reliving her recent close encounters with Sean, at least temporarily. She was getting pretty disgusted with herself about that. There was certainly no good reason for her to get the shivers every time she pictured his smile and sparkling eyes. Rachel was glad she’d paused to examine her innermost thoughts regarding Samantha, because they revealed a truly deep concern. As long as that little girl remained in her class, Rachel knew she’d have to be careful to avoid showing favoritism. All students deserved equal treatment, as much as it was within a teacher’s ability to provide it, and getting emotionally attached to one or two individuals made impartiality that much harder. Rachel pulled into the driveway of her modest, white-painted house. Boy, was she glad to be home. She’d bought the house on Old Sturkie Road at auction and had fixed it up to suit her eclectic taste. Now that she was well settled in, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to move. The place had everything: quaint heritage charm, combined with all the modern conveniences such as running water, indoor plumbing, electricity and telephone. In the winter, Rachel could even supplement her regular heating system by lighting the woodstove that still sat by the chimney in her living room. In the summer, however, there was nothing she’d rather do than relax in the shade of the covered front porch overlooking her peaceful neighborhood. The phone was already ringing when she flung open the back door and grabbed the receiver. Between her delay at work and the fact that she’d stopped at the market on the way home to pick up a few things for supper, she was running late. Which meant she had a very good idea who was calling. “Hi, Mom.” “How’d you know it was me?” “Lucky guess.” “You didn’t call,” Martha chided. “I just walked in the door.” “Hard day?” “The first ones always are. You know how it is.” “It took you a long time to get home tonight. I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.” Rachel chuckled cynically. “Well, unless you expect Schatzy or Muffin to answer, you’ll have to give me time to get here.” Hearing his name, the little black-and-tan dachshund danced at Rachel’s feet, circled a couple of times, then ran over to give the lazy, gray angora cat a lick across its face. Muffin showed her displeasure by hissing. “Stop that,” Rachel said. Confused, Martha asked, “Who? Me?” “No, not you, Mom. The cat.” “Oh. I never could abide animals in the house, myself. Too messy. All that hair!” “I keep them brushed. Anyway, Schatzy hardly sheds.” Rachel surveyed her homey living room with a contented smile. “You and your animals.” Here it comes, Rachel thought. She tensed, waiting for her mother to seize the opportunity to point up the difference between keeping pets and raising children. Instead, Martha said, “I had my hair done today. Mercy Cosgrove was in the beauty shop the same time I was. She says her granddaughter, Emily, is getting married.” “I know.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I only found out today. She’s marrying Jack Foster.” “Hard to believe, isn’t it? I mean, there was a time when she could have had a doctor for a husband. Sam Barryman was ripe for the picking.” “So you’ve reminded me. Often,” Rachel drawled. “Didn’t he finally run off and marry Sheila Something-or-other?” “That’s old news,” Martha said. “They’re getting a divorce.” “Too bad. But it doesn’t surprise me. My one date with good old Dr. Sam was enough to cure me—pun intended.” “What about the new guy at your school? I understand he’s single. And cute, too.” “News travels fast.” Rachel knew better than to offer additional information about Sean. All she’d have to do was give her mother a hint that she might be interested in him and Martha’s wild imagination would take off. Pretty soon, she’d have convinced herself that Rachel was practically engaged to the poor guy, when nothing could be further from the truth. “Well, have you met him yet?” Martha asked. “I, uh, I did run into him,” Rachel said, laughing to herself and picturing the shocked look on Sean’s face when she’d crashed into his broad chest. The vivid memory of his strong hands steadying her followed instantly, leading to an all-over tingle and another little shiver. Maybe she was catching a summer cold or something. “You wait too long and there won’t be any good ones left,” Martha said. “There weren’t all that many to start with, Mother.” “I still don’t know why you had to break up with that nice Craig Slocum.” Because that nice Craig Slocum dumped me when I told him I might not be able to have kids, Rachel countered silently. She said, “These things happen. Look, Mom, I’m really beat and I have to put my groceries away before they spoil. Can I call you back later?” “There’s no need. I just wanted to hear your voice, to make sure my little girl was okay.” “I’m fine, Mom,” Rachel said. “I’m all grown up, remember?” “You’ll always be my little girl, honey.” She laughed lightly. “I can just see us now. I’ll be seventy and you’ll be ninety-five and you’ll still expect me to phone you every day to tell you I’m okay.” “Not a chance,” Martha said. “By that time, I’ll either be living with you and your family or you’ll at least have a husband to look after you so I can quit worrying.” What a choice! Rachel was glad her mother couldn’t see the way she was rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t like living in my house, Mom. Animals make you sneeze, remember?” Martha snickered. “I’ll hold my breath. At ninety-five, that shouldn’t be hard. It’s the breathing in and out part that might get a little tricky.” Rachel wasn’t too weary to appreciate her mother’s dark humor. “You’re amazing.” “You, too, honey. Talk to you tomorrow.” “I’ll call you as soon as I get home from work. Don’t panic, okay? You know I’m always late when school first starts.” “You shouldn’t let them take advantage of you.” “I’m the one who’s taking advantage, Mom. I let them pay me for something I’d gladly do for free.” “So, swallow your pride and marry a rich man. Then you can afford to be a volunteer.” “I’d rather eat dirt.” Rachel could hear the smile in her mother’s voice when she replied, “I hear dirt is pretty tasty if you pour enough red-eye gravy over it.” Chapter Three If Samantha had been added to her class after the group had been together longer, Rachel would have made a special point of introducing her. Since it was only the second day of the school year, however, that wouldn’t be necessary. Or advisable. The less fuss, the better. Parents had already escorted many of the other children to the classroom door. It was amusing how often the parent was the one reluctant to let go, while the child was eager to join in the excitement of finally starting school. Wearing a favorite lightweight summer shirt with a softly draped skirt, Rachel stood in the doorway of her room to welcome her students and gently encourage their parents to leave. She glanced up at the clock on the wall as the final morning bell rang. One child hadn’t arrived yet. A few latecomers rushed by. Concerned, Rachel was about to give up and close the door when she saw a man and a small, blond girl approaching hand-in-hand. It was Samantha! Rachel’s breath caught. Sean Bates was bringing her. “Thank You, God,” she whispered. Watching their approach she couldn’t have said which of the two she was most delighted to see. Each was certainly a welcome sight. And together they made her heart sing. Unfortunately, the little girl was wearing the same faded T-shirt and baggy blue shorts she’d had on the day before. In contrast to the new school clothes her classmates were sporting, she made a sad figure, indeed. Rachel made a mental note to remedy that situation ASAP. If Heatherington wouldn’t see to it that Samantha had proper clothing and shoes for school, she’d do it herself. There was no excuse for sending the little girl out into the world looking like an urchin—even if she was one. Rachel greeted the latecomers with a broad grin. “Good morning! I’m so glad to see you, Samantha. Did you ride the bus to school?” Sean spoke up. “I think so. I found her standing out front on the lawn. It looked like she was waiting for directions, so I brought her on over. I hope that’s okay.” “Of course. Thank you for helping. We all try to watch out for each other around here.” She crouched down to be on the little girl’s level and asked again, “Did you ride the bus?” Samantha nodded. “Then, it’s my fault you had trouble finding my class. I should have shown you how to get here from the place where the buses stop. I’m sorry you had trouble. But I am glad you met Mr. Bates yesterday and that he knew where to bring you.” Instead of paying attention to what Rachel was saying, Samantha gazed up at Sean with evident adoration, then leaned to one side so she could peer at his back. With a questioning frown, Rachel straightened. Her intense blue gaze wordlessly asked him what was going on. Sean shrugged, palms out. “That’s the third time she’s done that.” He turned. “Did somebody stick a ‘Kick Me’ sign on my back when I wasn’t paying attention?” “No. There’s nothing there,” Rachel assured him. “It’s clean.” And broad and strong and impressive and… Oh, stop it, her conscience demanded, bringing her up short before she had time to give in to the idiotic urge to dust invisible lint off the shoulders of his jacket. “That’s a relief,” he said. Rachel swallowed hard. “Yeah. Well, thanks again for helping Samantha find her class.” “You’re quite welcome.” He gave a slight bow and grinned at the little girl. “I’ll watch tomorrow, too. Okay? After that, I’m sure you’ll be able to get here all by yourself.” “I know she’ll be fine.” Pausing to give the loitering parents—and Sean—a look that clearly meant she was taking charge, Rachel added, “It’s time for class. All the grown-ups have to go, now.” It wasn’t until she’d guided Samantha through the door and closed it behind her that she realized her hands were shaking. That third cup of coffee she’d had for breakfast must have provided more caffeine than she’d thought. To Rachel’s relief, the only tears she’d seen that morning had been those of the parents left outside. Some years the opposite was true. Snifflers weren’t so bad because they were fairly easy to distract. Screamers were another story. Occasionally, there would be a child who was so afraid of separation from mommy or daddy that hysteria ensued. Not only was the wild sobbing distracting, it tended to spread an unwarranted sense of dread to the others. This year, however, it looked as if the adjustment was going to be peaceful. Suddenly, an indignant whoop disturbed the calm. Children froze and stared. Rachel immediately zeroed in on the cause and hurried to help. She bent over the screeching little boy. “What’s wrong?” Name—name—what was his name? And where was the name tag she’d carefully pinned on him when he’d first arrived? Other children had huddled in small groups, looking on as if expecting dire consequences to spill over onto them. Rachel guessed. “It’s Jimmy, isn’t it? What’s the matter, Jimmy? Did you hurt yourself? Can you tell me what happened so I can fix it?” By keeping her voice soft she forced the child to quiet down to hear what she was saying. Jimmy drew a shuddering breath and pointed to a nearby knot of boys. “He hit me.” The knot instantly unraveled as children scattered. Rachel took charge. “All right. I need everyone to sit down on the rug so we can talk about keeping our hands to ourselves.” She pointed. “Jimmy, there’s a box of tissues over there. You can go get one and wipe your nose before you come sit with us.” Choosing the adult-size chair at the head of the class, Rachel waited for the children to comply. All but two did. The tearful boy was doing as he’d been told and blowing his nose. Samantha had gone with him. Rachel was about to remind the little girl that she was a part of the class and needed to behave just like the others, when she noticed something that gave her pause. Although Samantha was whispering to the sniffling boy, her excitement was evident. She waved. She pointed across the room. She held out her arms as if mimicking a bird and smiled so broadly her eyes were squeezed almost shut. Or were they actually closed? Rachel couldn’t tell for sure. All she knew was that Jimmy had forgotten about being upset and was giving Samantha his rapt attention. So, Samantha wanted to play mother. Rachel smiled. That was a good sign. The child obviously needed to feel needed. Looking after the other children would give her a positive purpose, not to mention a boost in morale. And anybody who can calm a screamer like that is okay in my book, she thought. There was a tenderhearted peacemaker in the class. This was going to be a good year. A very good year. The day flew by so fast that it was over before Rachel had time to notice how tired she was. At twothirty she lined up all her students and marched them out to the lawn in front of the school to make sure each one was handed over to a parent or had boarded the right bus. Samantha stood by Rachel’s side and watched each classmate depart, until only she was left. “Which bus did you come on?” Rachel asked her, wiping sweat from her own brow and wishing she could escape the sultry southern afternoon by heading back to her air-conditioned classroom. “I don’t know.” “What was the number on it?” “I don’t know.” Clearly, the child was about to cry. “Well, did it have a lady driver or a man?” “I don’t remember.” Terrific. “Okay. Let’s go check in the office.” As she turned to lead the way, the little girl gave a happy squeal, shouted, “There! That one,” and took off running toward the last bus in line. Rachel paused, unconvinced. An older child might remember suddenly, but five-year-olds were more likely to remain confused. She started to follow, then decided to check the office records first. If Samantha had chosen the right bus after all, Rachel didn’t want to do anything to undermine her self-confidence. If not, there would be plenty of time to correct the error before the buses pulled out. She hurried into the office, glad for a temporary respite from the heat and humidity of the September afternoon. “I need to see the Samantha Smith file, Mary.” Breezing past the receptionist, she headed straight for the upright filing cabinet. “I don’t think I’ve finished that one yet. It’s probably still here in this pile on my desk.” Mary gestured toward a messy stack. “Sorry. We’ve been swamped. I don’t know why so many folks wait till the last minute to register their kids.” “In Samantha’s case, I don’t think there was a choice. Any idea where her file might be? Top, bottom, middle?” Rachel was already paging through the folders. “Near the top, I think. Why? Didn’t you already see it?” “Yes, but I don’t recall what it said about the foster home placement. She needs to ride a bus and I don’t know which one.” “Oops. Maybe we should phone and ask Ms. Heatherington.” “No way. I’d rather spend an hour listening to my mother complain than to have to say two words to that woman.” “She is kind of stuffy. Is that why you dislike her?” “No. It’s her attitude about the children she deals with that makes me mad. She acts like it’s their fault that their families fell apart and she got stuck helping them.” “The little Smith girl’s an orphan, isn’t she?” “Yes, which makes it even harder. That’s why it’s so important to be sure she’s on the right bus. Life has to be frightening enough for her already.” “Well, you’d better get a move on. It’s almost time for those buses to leave.” “I know. I’m hurrying.” Rachel fumbled a file folder and almost dropped it, just as a mother burst through the door and shouted, “There you are. I want to talk to you. Now!” It took Rachel a moment to realize she was the object of the woman’s ire. Her first clue was the small, round-faced boy who was clutching his mother’s pudgy finger and rubbing his runny nose with his other hand. It was Jimmy. “I’ll be right with you, Mrs.—” “Andrews,” she said crisply. “My son, James, is in your class, as you well know.” “Yes, ma’am. We can go talk in my room. I just have to take care of—” “I’m not going anyplace where you can make excuses in private,” the woman said. “I want to know, right here and right now, where you get off telling my son that there are angels in his classroom?” “What?” Rachel was totally confused. “Angels. He says there are guardian angels flying all over the kindergarten room.” “I never told him that.” “Well, somebody sure did.” “Maybe one of the other children.” A light went on in Rachel’s head. Of course! Samantha hadn’t been pretending to be a bird when she’d comforted Jimmy, she’d been demonstrating her ideas about angels! How sweet. Rachel nodded, convinced of her conclusions. “I think I know what happened to confuse your son. Children have wonderful imaginations. One of the girls must have told him about angels this morning while she was helping him blow his nose.” Mrs. Andrews wasn’t placated. “Well, what if she did? You’re the teacher. What are you going to do about it?” “Nothing. No harm’s been done,” she said calmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go hold the buses until I can be sure one of my students is on the right one.” “Well! I never…” The woman was still muttering to herself when Rachel brushed past and headed for the curb. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The buses were already gone! After a hurried search of the hallways and her own classroom, Rachel returned to the office, gave in and telephoned Heatherington’s office. When she hung up, Mary asked, “Well?” “Samantha’s living with the Brodys on Squirrel Hill Road. I saw her get on bus number seven. I think she belonged on five.” Rachel began pacing. “It’s my fault. I should have kept her with me until I knew for sure.” “She’ll be okay. Surely, the driver will notice and… Oh-oh. Seven, did you say?” “Yes. Why?” “Because we have a sub driving that one this afternoon.” “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Sean Bates is driving seven, right?” “No, Maxwell Eades is.” Mary frowned. “Why would you think it was Sean Bates?” “Because Samantha knows Sean. I figured she’d choose that bus if she saw him behind the wheel.” “Nope. Sorry. We can’t use Bates until he gets an Arkansas license. Mr. Vanbruger did suggest he ride along to familiarize himself with the routes, though. He could have decided to start with any of them.” “Give me maps of all the routes,” Rachel ordered. “Then please get on the phone and alert some of the parents who live along seven. Ask them to tell Max to keep Samantha from getting off.” Mary handed her copies of hand-drawn maps. “Gotcha. What are you going to do?” “Jump in my car and try to catch the bus before that poor kid gets herself totally lost.” “Isn’t that above and beyond the call of duty?” “Not for me it isn’t. And definitely not where Samantha Smith is concerned. The minute I saw her I knew I was meant to look after her. So far I haven’t done a very good job of it. From now on, I intend to do a lot better.” Rachel was familiar with the rural area where the Brody family lived, but since Samantha’s bus wasn’t headed that way, the knowledge was no help. The only sensible thing to do was trace the bus route, mile by mile, until she overtook number seven. And what if Samantha’s already gotten off before I catch up to her? Rachel’s heart sped. Or what if she changed buses at school while I was stuck in the office? Stomach in knots, Rachel tightened her grip on the wheel of her compact car, sweating in spite of the airconditioning. She mustn’t think such negative thoughts. They only made everything seem worse. Prayer would be a much better choice, yet she was unable to force her worried mind to concentrate enough to come up with a lucid plea. Finally, she resorted to a misty-eyed Please, God, and left it at that. She made good time until she turned off the highway onto the narrow, winding road that ran between Glencoe and Heart. According to old-timers, Heart had once been a thriving little town. It had even had its own post office inside a mom-and-pop grocery store. For decades, that had been a favorite local gathering place, especially on Friday nights when weekly paychecks needed to be cashed. Now, however, Heart consisted of a couple of isolated houses and a community center building that was used mainly on Wednesdays by a quilting club. This was Tuesday. If Samantha got off the school bus in Heart, she wouldn’t meet a soul who could help her. Rachel chewed on her lower lip. “Calm down. Stop imagining the worst. You’ll find her.” Head spinning, thoughts churning, Rachel pictured possible scenarios. If Samantha truly had boarded that particular bus because Sean was on it, she’d want to stay near him. She wouldn’t be likely to get off at all! Then again, if she hadn’t… The pavement ended abruptly. Rachel slowed and pulled over in front of the Heart Community Center to double-check her map. She frowned. She’d seen kindergartners draw clearer diagrams. The building sat in a rocky, dusty triangle at the confluence of the roads. One track was supposed to lead to Saddle, one to Salem with a cutoff to Camp, and the other to Agnos. Bus seven should be headed for Camp, which meant the first thing she needed to find was the branch of the road that led toward Salem. She peered west. That one. It had to be that one. She could see the red lights flashing on the radio station antennae atop the hill called the Salem Knob. Decision made, Rachel tromped the accelerator. Her car’s wheels spun in the loose gravel and dirt, leaving behind a cloud of powdery red dust. It was a blessing that Max was driving the bus, because he knew where he was going. She’d lived around here all her life and she still sometimes got turned around when she left the highway. An inexperienced person like Sean, using the same map she’d been given, would be likely to get lost. Seeing more dust ahead was encouraging. Rachel cautiously increased her speed. She didn’t want to go too fast. The roads had recently been scraped by county graders, making the center smoother but uncovering and scattering enough sharp rocks to make driving more hazardous than usual. Previous vehicles had left tracks in passing; Rachel tried to keep her tires in those same ruts to avoid unnecessary risk. Rounding a corner she came upon a sight that made her heart pound. Bus seven! Now, all she had to do was get it to pull over so she could be certain Samantha was still safely aboard. Approaching the slow-moving bus she flashed her lights and honked. Small faces peered out the bus’s rear windows at her, grinning and waving. She signaled as best she could, but the children apparently thought she was merely being friendly because they returned her greeting with renewed vigor. According to the map, it was miles before the next bus stop. Rachel was too frustrated to wait that long to learn Samantha’s fate, yet it was unsafe to pass the lumbering bus on such a treacherous road. “Give me patience, Lord, and hurry,” she muttered, laughing at the contradiction. God is in charge, God is in charge, she reminded herself. Finally, she laid on the horn and held it. That worked. Max pulled the bus over. Rachel stopped behind it, jumped out and was immediately enveloped in a noxious cloud of exhaust fumes and unsettled dust. Ignoring the discomfort, she forged ahead, waving her arms wildly, and circled to the front of the bus. Max had already opened the folding doors. Sean was standing on the top step, steadying himself by holding on to a chrome support pole. He wasn’t smiling. “Are you nuts?” “Yes.” Rachel coughed as she boarded and pushed him aside. “Where’s Samantha?” “Right there.” He pointed. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Or do you always drive like a maniac?” Aside from being choked up by the fumes, Rachel was also dizzy and breathless with relief. She wavered, then plunked down next to Samantha, speaking to the wide-eyed child. “I was so worried. This isn’t your bus, honey. It won’t take you to Mrs. Brody’s.” The little girl’s eyes grew moist. She blinked. “Oh.” Sean made himself part of their conversation and addressed Rachel. “Then, why did you let her get on it in the first place?” She raised her gaze, her expression a clear challenge. “I made a mistake, okay? I know that now. I thought I’d be… Oh, never mind.” Getting to her feet she reached for the little girl’s hand. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home.” Sean blocked her path. “Over my dead body. You’re far too agitated to drive. The way you were acting just now you shouldn’t even have been behind the wheel of a car, let alone consider transporting kids.” “I beg your pardon.” Facing him, Rachel stood as tall as her short stature would permit and tried to appear formidable. Pitted against his broad chest and wide stance, her effort seemed more pitiful than confrontational. He’d removed his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. If anything, that made him look even more rugged, more powerful than usual. “You should beg everybody’s pardon, lady.” Before Rachel could reply, Max cut in. “Save your breath, folks. Miz Rachel ain’t goin’ nowhere. Looks like she’s gettin’ herself a dandy flat tire.” He leaned to the left to get a better look at her car in his rearview mirror. “That’s impossible,” she insisted. “I was very careful. And I wasn’t speeding.” “Out here it don’t matter much,” Max said. “You’d best go check before I head on down the road with these here kids. It’s a mighty long walk to town.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She edged past Sean and hurried back to inspect her car. It was definitely listing to one side. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, no.” Sean had quietly followed. “I’d help you change that tire,” he said, “but unless you carry two spares, we’d still be one short.” “What?” He pointed at one of the rear wheels. “Looks to me like you’ve got a second tire going flat.” Thunderstruck, Rachel realized he could be right. Her eyes widened. “I don’t believe this!” “I do. I may be from the city but even I know better than to go racing around on rocky roads like these.” “I wasn’t racing!” Disgusted with everyone and everything, she let it show in her expression. “Tell that to your car,” Sean said. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to rub it in.” Pausing, she considered her current options. “I suppose I could walk to the nearest house and call a garage.” “You could. Or, you could just leave your car where it sits and ride back to school on the bus with us. That way, you and I could take Samantha home in my car, then I could drive you back here afterward.” “What good will that do if there’s more than one ruined tire?” “Simple. We’ll take them off, load them in my trunk and find a garage that’ll patch them.” Rachel was astounded. “You’d do that for me?” “No problem. I’m glad to help—as long as I don’t have to ride with you,” Sean chided, ignoring the face she was making at him. “I don’t think I’m that brave.” He chuckled softly, enjoying her discomfiture. “I don’t think anybody is.” Chapter Four By the time Max had dropped off his last regular passengers and returned to Serenity Elementary, it was nearly five p.m. There were only two cars in the parking lot—Sean’s black sedan and a silver-colored, dusty van. Rachel led Samantha up the front walk toward the school office as she spoke over her shoulder to Sean. “Before we go, I need to phone Mrs. Brody so she knows everything is all right.” “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he said, gesturing. “We’ve never met, but I’d say she’s just found us.” Oh dear. He was right. She was about to face another irate grown-up. Hannah Brody had thrown open the door of the van and was shuffling rapidly across the parking lot, shirttail flapping, bangs glued to her forehead with perspiration. Rachel had never seen the poor woman look more frazzled. “Hannah! I’m sorry if we worried you,” Rachel shouted before she reached them. “Samantha accidentally got on the wrong bus. I was just bringing her back.” “You couldn’t call me? Let me know?” The older, slightly portly woman wheezed to a stop as she confronted Rachel. “Do you know how hot it got in that there van? I coulda croaked, waitin’ on y’all.” “I’m really sorry,” Rachel said. “I was worried, too. Guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Hannah leaned down to focus on the child. “And you. How old are you?” “F-five.” “So, how did we say you could remember the number of your bus?” The child stared at the toes of her worn sneakers. “Five. Same as me.” “That’s right.” “What a good idea,” Rachel interjected, trying to sound upbeat. Hannah straightened and glared at her, hands fisted on ample hips. “Now you, missy. What do you have to say for yourself?” “Excuse me?” “There is no excuse for what you did.” Sean stepped up beside Rachel, clearly taking sides. “Most teachers would probably have left the child’s welfare in the hands of the bus driver. Ms. Woodward, however, took it upon herself to try to put things right. That speaks very well for her, don’t you agree?” For the first time, Hannah took notice of Sean. She gave him a critical once-over. “And who might you be?” He introduced himself and extended a hand of friendship. The annoyed woman begrudgingly accepted it. Then, instead of stuffing his hands into his pockets the way he initially had when he’d run into the pretty teacher in the hallway, he took half a step closer to Rachel and nonchalantly looped one arm around her shoulders. The gesture was casual yet obviously protective. Mrs. Brody noticed immediately. Her eyebrows arched. “Oh, I see. You two were too busy playing patty-cake to pay attention to anything else.” She grabbed the child’s hand and started away. “Well, what’s done is done. Come on, Samantha. It’s too late to take you shopping for new clothes today like I’d promised. I got to go start supper.” The little girl glanced back over her shoulder, silently pleading with her teacher and Sean to rescue her as Hannah Brody led her away. That soulful look was enough to put Rachel’s heart in a twist and leave a lump in her throat. For an instant she wanted to weep. Instead, she waved, smiled and called, “Bye-bye. See you tomorrow, Samantha.” “Will she be okay with that old grump?” Sean asked softly. “Hannah?” Rachel glanced up at him while deliberately removing his hand from her shoulder. “Hannah’s not a bad person. She gets a little irritable sometimes but she’s basically good-hearted. She’s been taking in the kids nobody else wanted to bother with for years.” “Samantha’s one of those?” “Apparently. Her social worker did say she was having trouble adjusting. That’s probably why they gave her to Hannah.” “I see. What else can you tell me about the Brody woman?” “Well…” Rachel’s smile stayed. “She baby-sat for lots of folks here in Serenity who’re all grown up, now. Me included.” “You’re kidding! No wonder you let her talk to you like that.” “Hannah means well. And she was right. I should have called her so she wouldn’t worry. I was so worried about finding Samantha, I guess it just slipped my mind.” “That’s understandable. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” “I won’t. The only thing that bothers me is the way the small-town rumor mill is going to have fun with us.” “Us?” Sean’s expression showed bewilderment. “What us?” With a wry chuckle, Rachel shook her head. “You do have a lot to learn about living in a place like this, don’t you. There doesn’t even have to be an us for people to talk. By tomorrow morning, half the folks in town will be saying you and I are practically engaged. And the other half will be trying to decide if you’re good enough for me.” She’d expected Sean to enjoy the lighthearted banter. Instead, he seemed upset. She pressed on. “Hey, don’t look so glum. I didn’t say it was my idea. It’s just how it is in a place where everybody knows everybody else, and half of them are related, besides.” That statement brought a further conclusion. “Oh-oh.” “What’s wrong now?” “I just had a horrible thought. Hannah’s my mother’s second cousin by marriage.” “So?” “So, I’ll bet Mom is the first one she calls.” Sean huffed. “Don’t tell me you’re still worried about pleasing your mother at your age?” “Hey. I’m not that old.” He deliberately took his time looking her up and down and fully appreciating what he saw. Chances were good that he was at least seven or eight years older than she was, maybe more, yet they had to be contemporaries in spite of her youthful appearance. For starters, he knew this wasn’t Rachel’s first year of teaching. A person didn’t usually finish college and earn a degree until they were in their twenties at least, so she had to be halfway to thirty by now. “You don’t look a day over sixteen,” he finally told her. “Actually, I’ll be eighty-four my next birthday,” she said. Struggling to repress a giggle, she twirled in a circle to put herself on display. “Pretty good for an octogenarian, huh?” “Excellent.” Sean was shaking his head in disbelief and laughing softly under his breath. “You certainly had me fooled. What’s your secret?” “Clean living. I never miss a Sunday in church, either.” “Very commendable.” “I think so. Hey! Since you’re new in town, how’d you like to come visit my church?” “Church and I don’t exactly get along.” “That’s too bad. We won’t eat you, you know. We really do accept everybody, even sinners.” The astonishment in his expression made her chuckle. “That was a joke, Bates.” “I’ll laugh later, okay?” He reached into his pocket for his car keys and jingled them in one hand. “You ready?” “As soon as I go grab my purse,” Rachel said. “Wait here. I’ll just be a minute.” Starting away she heard him mutter, “I don’t believe it.” She spun around. “You don’t believe what?” “You. You were driving all over the country without your license?” “Guess I was. I told you Christians aren’t perfect. You’d better start believing me or I may have to keep trying to prove it to you.” Rachel’s car was right where she’d left it, without so much as a hubcap missing—much to Sean’s surprise. A prankster had scrawled “Wash me” and drawn a happy face in the fresh layer of dust coating the lid of the trunk, but otherwise the car was untouched. He parked as far off the roadway as he could without scratching his sedan on the brambles and small trees growing along the right-of-way, and got out. Rachel followed. A closer look at her car made her sigh audibly. Her shoulders sagged. “Rats. You were right. I do have two flats.” “Apparently.” Sean circled the car, assessing the damage. “Looks to me as if it’s going to be dangerous to remove the tires, even if we use both our jacks. The ground is too uneven here. The car wouldn’t be stable.” “What do you suggest, then?” “Calling a tow truck. If we left your car jacked up and drove into town with two of the wheels, any little thing could knock it over and damage the axles. Then we’d have to call a tow, anyway.” Rachel was too exhausted to argue. She yawned. “Fine. Whatever. As long as I can get to work in the morning.” “I don’t suppose you happen to know the number of a local garage that does towing?” he asked, reaching into his car for his cellular phone and pushing the power button. She snorted cynically. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Sean waited, growing impatient when she didn’t recite the number. “Well?” “It wouldn’t be my first choice.” “This is not a popularity contest. If this place can come get your car and fix the tires, let’s get on with it, okay?” “Okay, okay.” Rachel gave him the number, then watched as he made arrangements with the garage. To her surprise, Sean knew approximately where they were and gave credible directions, so she didn’t have to interrupt to correct him. That was a plus. So was the lengthening day. If Craig Slocum had already gone home for supper, as she hoped, her personal involvement could be kept to a minimum. And if not? She clenched her jaw, imagining Craig’s superior smirk when he discovered she needed his help. Since their failed engagement, Rachel had managed to avoid him almost completely. If he showed up this evening it would be the first time she’d spoken to him face-to-face since he broke her heart. Her chin jutted out, her spine stiffened. If she had to face Craig, she would meet the challenge head-on. That man was never going to learn how deeply he had hurt her. Never. Sean noticed Rachel’s growing uneasiness. When they heard the approach of a truck, her head snapped around and she stared in the direction of the sound as if expecting a stalking tiger instead of deliverance. “Want to tell me why you’re so jumpy?” he asked. “I’m not jumpy.” There was nothing to be gained by arguing with her. “Okay. Sorry.” Sean smiled. “Maybe you’re just hungry. Personally, I’m starved. What do you say we grab a pizza or something while we wait for your car to be fixed?” Rachel nodded without taking her eyes off the distant roadway as the truck rumbled closer. Sean decided to test her. “Your treat.” “Sure. Fine.” His resultant laugh finally got Rachel’s attention. She frowned. “What’s so funny?” “You are. I could have asked you anything just now and you’d have agreed without hearing a word I said.” “Don’t be silly.” “Okay. We are on for dinner, then?” “Dinner? Oh, sure. Only around here, dinner is what we eat at lunchtime. The evening meal is called supper.” “I’ll remember that.” He saw the tow truck slowing. Inside the cab, its driver was grinning from ear to ear. The man’s eyes were shadowed by the brim of his baseball cap, but it was still evident he was concentrating on Rachel. “You know him?” Sean asked. “I told you. Everybody knows everybody around here.” “Let me put it another way,” Sean said quietly. “Do you dislike him as much as I think you do?” She huffed and managed a momentary smile. “Actually, Craig and I used to be engaged.” “Engaged? You were going to marry him?” “Yes.” Her frown returned. “Why is that so surprising?” “I don’t know. I guess he just doesn’t look like your type.” “Why not? Because he drives a tow truck?” The Slocums owned several lucrative businesses in Serenity and the surrounding area, and Craig drove the tow rig because he liked to, but Rachel wasn’t about to explain all that to Sean. “Listen, Mr. Bates,” she said firmly, “if a man does an honest job and is proud of his work, I see no reason to put him down simply because he may not have a college degree like you and I do. If you choose your friends by their level of formal education, you’ll miss out on a whole lot, especially around here. There are plenty of very smart folks who haven’t had the opportunities you and I have had.” Sean was grinning at her. “You through?” “I just don’t like stuck-up people, that’s all.” “Neither do I.” He chuckled softly, shook his head. “I was talking about the smug, know-it-all look on the guy’s face. I didn’t think you’d put up with that kind of attitude for a second. Since you two broke up, apparently I was right.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/valerie-hansen/samantha-s-gift/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.