Samantha's Gift (10 page)

She gave a wry chuckle. “Perish the thought.”

His grasp on her arm was firm and gentle—more than a caress but less than forceful. There was an unexplainable assuredness to it that gave Rachel moral as well as physical support. Perhaps friendship between them wasn't out of the question, even though he had overstepped its bounds when he'd caught her by surprise and kissed her.

Remembering that precious moment didn't help Rachel's dizziness one bit. Neither did the touch of Sean's strong hand on her bare arm. Heat or no heat, she wished she'd kept her jacket on instead of leaving the classroom in only her sleeveless cotton dress. The sheath was appropriate for summer wear, it simply didn't cover her upper arms enough to keep his hand from making direct contact with her skin.

They reached her classroom quickly. Sean ordered her to sit down while he fetched her a cup of water. “Drink.”

“Let me sip it, okay?”

“Okay. I didn't see you in the staff room at lunchtime, today. Did you eat?”

“I needed to get art supplies ready for the afternoon lesson, so I ate a bite in here, while the kids were gone.”

“A bite? Or a real lunch?”

“Well…”

“That's what I thought. No wonder you're woozy. Probably have low blood sugar. You didn't take
nearly enough at Linden's the other day to get your money's worth, either.”

“I happen to love salads.”

“You still didn't eat enough to keep a rabbit alive.”

“I'm not a rabbit.”

One eyebrow arched and he grinned. “No kidding. If I'd had teachers who looked like you when I was a kid, I might have done better in school.”

That confession surprised her. After taking a few sips of water she asked, “You weren't a good student?”

“Not at first. It took me till I was out of high school to figure out that the only way I was ever going to make it on my own was to improve my education. Even then, I didn't go about it right.”

Rachel finished the cup of water and held it out to him with a smile and a “Please?” While he was refilling it at the classroom sink, she questioned him further. “What did you do wrong?”

“I didn't follow my heart. My brothers had majored in business so I did the same. That was my first mistake. The second was trying to work with them. We fought all the time about how the store should be run. It wasn't until I was totally fed up that I realized I was a big part of the problem.”

“Because you weren't doing what you really wanted to do?”

“Exactly.” Smiling, Sean handed her the refilled
cup. “How did you get so smart? I thought I was the psychologist around here.”

“Horse sense.” When he looked puzzled she amended her comment. “You know, plain old common sense.”

“Right. The moment I met you I sensed you had intuitive capabilities. That's one reason I doubt you said or did anything to make Samantha wary of confiding in you. I suspect she'll come around and tell you the whole story when she's ready. In the meantime, she's been assigned as one of my first cases.”

“That's wonderful. I'm so glad you're working here. I don't know how many times I've wished for a professional opinion about a student and had to muddle through myself, instead. I'll feel much better knowing I'm not struggling with Samantha's problems alone.”

“Good. Happy to help.” Sean took a backward step toward the door. “Well, I'd better be getting back to my office. Our esteemed boss was supposed to drop in after four and look over what I've done with the place. Not that that overgrown closet gives me much opportunity to be creative. I do still want to make one of those fake windows, though. Okay if I stop by your place on my way home today and pick one up?”

“No problem. I'm always home by five. If you get there ahead of me, just help yourself.”

“And be shot as a trespasser by one of your gun
toting neighbors? No, thanks. If I don't see your car, I'll just park out front and wait for you.”

So much for avoiding him by dragging my feet,
she thought ruefully. It figured. The way the past few weeks had been going, she was liable to wind up with a house full of guests this evening when all she really wanted to do was kick off her shoes, grab a tall glass of iced tea, plop down in front of the air conditioner and veg out till bedtime.

Rachel sighed. “Okay. You can come tonight as long as you don't make it too late. Once the sun sets I'm usually ready for bed.”

“I'll get there early. Wouldn't want to accidentally catch you in your jammies,” he teased. “I'll bet they're cute. Do they have bunny feet? No, I don't suppose they would in the summertime.”

Rachel's eyes widened, her cheeks suddenly aflame. This wasn't the first time her creative imagination had run amok and toyed with notions of intimacy where Sean Bates was concerned. Yes, she knew it was wrong. As a Christian she wasn't supposed to let her innermost thoughts amble in that direction. However, she was also human. Those two elements of her being weren't mutually exclusive, but they did sometimes clash. Like now.

Wresting control from her daydream and forcing herself back to reality, Rachel stood, chin up, shoulders square, spine straight. “Don't worry. You're per
fectly safe. I never get ready for bed until I'm sure I won't have any more company.”

Laughing, Sean started toward the classroom door. “That's comforting. Well, see you later.”

He was almost out the door when she called after him, “And I
don't
wear pajamas with bunny feet.”

P
hysical exertion had never left Rachel as weary as the mental calisthenics she'd been doing lately. Exhausted, she shed her dress and donned shorts and a tank top as soon as she arrived home, then wandered out onto the shaded front porch with Schatzy. It was always soothing to stroke the little dog and swing slowly back and forth in the old glider. As long as there was a breeze to fan her, Rachel much preferred being outdoors in the evening when the temperature started to drop a bit.

Sighing, she pushed her bare feet against the plank floor of the porch to set the glider in motion. Oh, how she wished it were that easy to smooth out her tumbling thoughts. No matter how often she told herself it was useless to reflect seriously on any man, let alone one she hardly knew, her mind refused to stop
dwelling on Sean Bates. She'd relived every moment with him, every word he'd spoken, so many times it was becoming impossible to separate reality from wishful thinking.

Moreover, she continued to worry about Samantha. All children had fantasy lives. That was natural. The problem was deciding where normalcy stopped and obsession began. Once Sean began working with the little girl, she hoped they'd gain a better understanding of the situation.

And if not?

Thoughtful, Rachel petted the contented dog lying beside her on the padded swing seat. There was no easy answer to that question. The simplest fix, from an adult standpoint, would probably be to get Samantha to admit she'd made up the stories about seeing angels.

On the other hand, if they tried to take away that support system, no matter how far-fetched it was, without providing another, Samantha might falter. Except for seeing things that weren't there, she was doing pretty well. The last thing Rachel wanted to do was knock the emotional props out from under a child who had already been through so much.

Traffic on Old Sturkie Road was rare. Consequently, Rachel noticed Hannah Brody's van as soon as it turned the corner off Main and started up the street.

Weary, she sighed and scooped up Schatzy so he
wouldn't get excited and dash in front of the approaching vehicle. By the time Hannah pulled into her driveway, the little dog was wiggling all over with joy and Rachel was getting the underside of her chin licked. Smiling, she waved.

“Hi there.”

Hannah rolled down the driver's window to lean out. “Evenin'. I tried to call and ask if this was all right. You must not o' heard your phone.”

“I just got home a few minutes ago. I didn't notice any messages on my answering machine.”

“Won't talk to them things,” Hannah said flatly. “Real folks is bad enough. You don't answer your phone by four rings, I hang up.”

Chuckling, Rachel paused on the lawn to appreciate the cool feel of the grass beneath her feet. “Well, you're here now so Samantha may as well stay to play a while.”

“What about your supper?” Hannah asked. “You had time to eat a bite?”

“I'm fine. I don't get very hungry in hot weather, anyway. I'll grab a snack later.”

“Okay. If you say so. How about I run down to the market and get us some ice cream?”

Rachel heard Samantha's shrill voice yell “Yeah!” from inside the van. The child's enthusiasm was contagious.

“That sounds great to me, too,” Rachel said. “Why don't you leave your co-pilot here? We'll get
some dishes out and set up a picnic on the porch while you're gone.”

That said, she opened the rear sliding door of the van and helped the little girl climb down.

“Long as you promise not to tell that Heatherington woman,” Hannah cautioned.

“I won't. I promise.” Rachel took Samantha's hand, holding tight to both her and Schatzy to keep them safe while Hannah backed out into the street. Just then, a familiar black car turned off Main and headed their way.

Hannah stopped and leaned out of the van to shout at Rachel, “Looks like I'd best make it a double order. What flavors does he like?”

“How should
I
know?” Rachel retorted. “I barely know the man.”

To her chagrin, Hannah laughed. It was a cackle of disbelief if Rachel had ever heard one.

 

Sean pulled into Rachel's driveway, parked and got out. As he came around the rear of the car, Rachel could see that he'd been home to change after work. Clad in faded blue jeans and a plain T-shirt he looked like an altogether different person. He still hadn't started wearing a baseball-type cap the way most of the local men did, but the rest of him certainly blended in well.

He waved. “Hello.”

“Sean!” Samantha was jumping up and down. “You came, too. I knew you would!”

He darted a look in Rachel's direction and shrugged, silently denying any collusion on his part. When Samantha barreled up to him, he caught her and swung her off the ground.

“Hi. How's my best girl?”

The child giggled. “She's fine. Me, too.”

“I meant you, you little stinker,” he said fondly. “Stop trying to get me in trouble with your teacher.”

“Angels never get in trouble,” Samantha told him in a stage whisper that could easily be heard all the way to where Rachel stood.

“I've been meaning to talk you about that,” Sean said. “What makes you think I'm an angel?”

“'Cause you're nice. And you help people. Just like on TV.”

“I see.” Sean was beginning to feel a lot better about the child's fantasies. “You mean the program where the angels look just like regular people?”

“Uh-huh.”

With a nod and a satisfied sigh, Sean put Samantha down. “Good. You go play now. I need to talk to your teacher.”

The eager little girl wasn't about to be distracted. She circled him. “Can I see your wings? Please?”

“I don't have any wings,” Sean said.

“But you can still fly, can't you?”

“Sorry. I can't do that, either.”

“Not even float? Not even a little?”

“Nope. I'm afraid not.”

“Bummer,” the child murmured, pouting.

Watching the interplay between the handsome man and exuberant child, Rachel had covered her mouth to hide her smile. Now, she pressed her fingertips to her lips to keep from bursting into giggles.

As soon as Samantha dashed onto the porch in pursuit of her canine playmate, Rachel glanced up at Sean. There was so much merriment in his eyes and on his face, she had to chuckle in spite of her best efforts to contain herself.

“You sure you don't have wings?” she teased.

“Positive. Do you?”

“Not the last time I looked.”

He made a silly pout reminiscent of Samantha's, lowered his already deep voice and said, “Bummer.”

That was the last straw. Rachel erupted into laughter. By the time she finally regained control of herself there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She dashed them away. “I'm sorry. I tried not to lose it but…”

Sean was chuckling, too. “I know what you mean. I can see her mistaking you for an angel, but I sure can't picture myself that way.”

“Thanks—I think.”

“You're welcome.” Continuing to laugh softly he looked toward the porch where Samantha was playing tug-of-war with the low-slung dog. “Has she asked to see your wings, yet?”

“No.” Rachel sobered. “Has she told you any more about seeing angels right after her parents were killed?”

“I haven't broached the subject. I've just let her talk about whatever she wants to, and that hasn't come up.”

“Probably because she figures all us angels already know everything,” Rachel offered. “Do you think it would hurt if I came right out and asked her for details?”

“It might. Give her time. She'll discuss it more when she's ready.”

Sighing, Rachel gazed with fondness at the lovely blond five-year-old. “I wish we knew more about the circumstances behind this obsession she has with angels.”

I don't think there's anything to worry about,” Sean said. “She apparently got the idea from watching TV. The concept fit her current life, so she used it—that's all.”

“Uh-uh.” Rachel shook her head slowly, pensive. “It's more than that.”

“Now who's imagining things?”

Instead of answering directly, she asked a question. “What about you? Do you believe in angels?”

“In the supernatural, you mean?”

“If that's how you want to put it.”

“Not really,” he said with a shake of his head. “I believe in what I can see and touch.”

“So you've told me. Have you given any thought to what we talked about right after Craig decked you?”

He unconsciously stroked his jaw. “Ducking faster?”

“No, silly. Things that are unseen, like faith and…” She hesitated, reluctant to mention love again.

Sean had no such qualms. “And love? I remember exactly what you said. It made an interesting analogy, but I have to disagree with your conclusions. Too unscientific.”

“I suppose you still believe the world is flat, too.”

He laughed. “No. I have it on good authority that the earth is relatively round, as long as you allow for the effect of the moon's gravity as it passes over.”

“Gravity?” Rachel folded her arms across her chest and took a firm stance, her eyebrows raised. “How interesting. And just when did you see and touch
that?
”

“I don't have to see it to observe its effects,” he argued.

“Exactly. The same goes for faith.”

“Not hardly. Since we aren't floating off into space, I have all the proof of gravity I need.”

Rachel smiled. “Has anybody ever told you you're as stubborn as a mule?”

“Often. Your point is?”

“Nothing. I give up. I should have known better
than to get into a theological debate with you. It's not up to me to convince you of anything. Whatever finally happens is between you and the good Lord. I have enough to worry about in my own life.” She glanced toward the porch. “That little girl's future, for instance.”

Sean had been feeling strangely uneasy with their former subject and was glad for the change of focus. “What do you think will happen to her?”

“I don't know.” Careful to keep their conversation private, Rachel stepped closer to him to continue. “Health and Human Services says she has some shirttail relatives living somewhere up in Colorado. Hannah's convinced they weren't very keen to add to their family when they were told about Samantha. If no one else steps forward to lay claim to her, I assume she'll be put up for adoption. I just don't know how soon.”

After a moment of silence broken only by the songs of birds and the cooing of Samantha as she cuddled Schatzy, Sean asked, “How about you? Why don't you consider adopting her?”

The idea wasn't new to Rachel. Neither was her decision. “I've thought about that. It's impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't have a proper home to offer her.”

He swept his arm in an arc that took in her house and yard. The place was small and quaint, yet more
of a home than a lot of children had. “Looks to me like you do. What's the real problem?”

“It's me, okay,” she replied, irritated by his probing. “I'm not mother material, and I certainly don't intend to rob that poor little thing of the chance to belong to a complete family. Enough of my students have only one parent. There's no need to add another child who's forced to grow up that way.”

“Humph. Funny,” Sean said dryly. “I would have thought any permanent arrangement would be preferable to being passed from foster home to foster home the way Sam has been.”

“Now you're doing it, too. Stop calling her
Sam.
Her name is Samantha. If you and Hannah had your way you'd have her sounding like a boy.”

“Okay, okay.” Sean held up both hands in surrender. “I stand corrected. Don't try to change the subject. I can buy the notion that two parents are preferable to only one, but one is certainly better than none. What I don't get is why you say you wouldn't make a good mother.” He smiled mischievously. “Except for a stubborn streak and some nutty ideas about destiny, you seem like a perfect candidate for motherhood. What makes you think you're not?”

Rachel was not about to bare her innermost secrets to anyone, let alone a man she hardly knew. Telling Craig the whole truth had been necessary because of their plans to marry. It had also been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She wasn't up to repeating that
crushing episode, especially since there was no need to reveal her physical shortcomings to Sean—or to anyone else for that matter.

Maybe someday, when she was older and hopefully wiser, she'd get around to telling her mother about the specialist who had warned her that she would never be able to conceive, never produce a family.

And maybe not. Lately, Martha had been so outspoken about the whole subject that Rachel had decided to keep her own counsel. That was certainly better than having her eager mother drag her to every fertility doctor from Little Rock to Springfield—or beyond.

“Look,” she said flatly, “if the Lord wants me to have kids of my own, I'll have them, okay?”
Sure, if

a miracle happens.
“Until then, I wish you'd stop needling me.”

“Me?” Sean looked abashed. “Hey. I wasn't trying to bug you. I was just making a suggestion—and a pretty good one, too, if you ask me.”

“That's the problem. I didn't ask you.”

“Right.” He stiffened, squared his shoulders. “Well, I didn't come here to bother you, Ms. Woodward. I came to look at those old windows you offered me. I'll pick one out and be on my way before I stick my foot in my mouth again.”

His sudden shift to formality took Rachel by surprise. Had she really been that offensive? Apparently.
“Look, Sean, I'm sorry if I snapped at you. I guess I have a little hangup where my future is concerned.”