Samantha's Gift (9 page)

“I don't need it.”

“Humor me.” She was following him to the back door, towel in hand.

“Since when do you need humoring? I don't think I've ever seen you mad at anybody.”

“I was plenty mad at Craig Slocum about half an hour ago.”

Sean managed another crooked smile. “I wasn't too crazy about him, either. Next time, remind me to duck.”

“If I have to remind you,” Rachel said with a soft laugh, “maybe he hit you harder than we thought.”

“It wasn't bad. I've taken lots worse.”

The comment hadn't been specific, yet she couldn't help assuming he was still referring to his family. Though she hadn't grown up with siblings, she had had friends with brothers and sisters. They'd never admitted that rivalry within the family had led to physical clashes, but she knew that kind of thing happened. It was certainly more likely among boys.

And, as the youngest, Sean might have been cast as the scapegoat. That unfortunate tendency was one she'd dealt with before in her students. It wasn't all that rare for one child to be singled out to bear the brunt of an angry parent's outbursts, which often led siblings to behave in a similar fashion and produced an atmosphere of ongoing abuse.

Rachel laid her hand on his arm to stop him as he started through the open door. When he looked down at her, whatever she'd intended to say fled from her mind and was replaced by “There's only one place to find unconditional love and acceptance, Sean.”

She hadn't meant for her concern to be so evident or for her words to be so bold. In truth, she'd had no forewarning that she was going to say anything that alluded to God's perfect love. Which was just as well. If she had planned to present a plea for her Christian faith she'd probably have gotten so uptight she'd have stammered something unintelligible and ruined the whole thing.

His frown wasn't as puzzled as it was off-putting.

“If you mean
church,
you can forget it. I already told you that.”

“No, not church.” Smiling benevolently, Rachel shook her head. “You don't have to be in a special building to open yourself to the possibilities God offers. Jesus said that all the time. I know it seems farfetched to think that a Heavenly Father can love you just the way you are, but I happen to know from experience that He can and does.”

“Right. I suppose you believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, too.”

“I used to. Then I grew up and searched for the truth myself. Faith isn't a gift I can just hand you, or I would. It's an inside job. Like love. You can't see that, either, but you believe it exists, don't you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He pushed through the door. Before turning to head for his car he said, “Thanks for the lemonade. I know you were risking your reputation by taking me in to doctor me. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. The next time you get clobbered you'll know where to come for first aid.” To her relief, that quip brought his crooked smile back.

“I don't intend to stand still and be Craig's punching bag again,” Sean said firmly. “There aren't any more unhappy guys waiting to deck me, are there? I hate surprises like that.”

“Nope. He's it. One's enough, don't you think?”

“One is plenty.” Sean backed away toward his waiting car.

Schatzy followed, barking bravely and nipping at the air by Sean's ankles, as if his ridiculous efforts were the real reason the man was leaving.

When Rachel caught up to the little dachshund she scooped him into her arms for safekeeping and held him close while he wiggled, stretched and licked at her earlobe in pure adoration.

“I'm glad he's not a mastiff,” Sean said as he started the car.

“Me, too. He'd be awfully hard to cuddle if he was.”

“Right.”

Watching Sean back out of the driveway, she wondered if the redness on his cheeks was from the blow he'd received or if he was blushing again, simply because she'd mentioned cuddling.

Either way, she was the cause, Rachel reasoned.

To her chagrin, that concept didn't bother her nearly as much as she thought it should.

B
y the following morning, Sean's face showed little sign that he'd been punched. He did notice a few school staff members whispering and sneaking peeks at him, but he figured that was normal, given his newcomer status. Moving to any strange area would have been the same. Serenity might be a tight-knit community, but there wasn't anyplace that didn't have its cliques. Here, they just didn't make any bones about it.

Sean chuckled to himself. He'd only been in town for a week or so, yet he'd long ago lost count of the number of times someone had looked him up and down and drawled, “You aren't from around here, are you?” It was as if he'd had “Outsider” tattooed across his forehead!

Well, at least he finally had an office—of sorts.
Vanbruger had had maintenance clear out a large storage closet directly behind the main offices and had fit it with a desk, chair and single upright filing cabinet. It was certainly not much, but he couldn't fault the school district for that. He'd known when he applied for the counselor's job that it was a part-time position, which was why he'd suggested he become their standby bus driver. Chances were good he'd been hired partly because of his versatility.

He'd removed his jacket and was trying to decide how best to arrange the cramped room, when a knock on the door startled him. “Yes?”

Rachel opened the door, stuck her head through, looked around and grinned. “Hey, cozy.”

“You could call it that.” He dusted off his hands. “Come on in. I'll give you the fifty-cent tour.”

She obliged, laughing softly. “I don't think it should cost more than a dime at the most.” Crossing to his desk in three steps, she ran her hand over the scarred surface. “Nice furniture. I love antiques. Where did they get this one?”

“From storage, I assume,” Sean said. “I've already cleaned a mouse nest out of the bottom drawer.” The memory of all the dust made his nose itch again and he sneezed.

Rachel had circled the desk and was pretending to admire it. “How lovely. It came with its own science project. Just like my refrigerator.”

“You have mice in your refrigerator?”

“No, silly. Science projects. You know, moldy things I can't identify that have gotten shoved to the back of a shelf and been overlooked.”

“Whew.” Sean made a face and pretended to wipe his brow. “I'm glad you explained. I ate something you fixed from that refrigerator and I was getting worried.”

“You didn't eat, you drank,” Rachel said.

“Lemonade,” he added. “I drank lemonade. When you just say I
drank,
it sounds like you mean something else.”

“Sorry.” She studied him out of the corner of her eye while she made a point of looking elsewhere. “You have a nice view from here, too.”

To her delight, that ridiculous observation made Sean laugh. “I think you have to work here longer than I have to rate a window. I thought I might get one of those fake ones. You know, the frame is real and then you put an outdoor scene behind it so it looks like you do have a view.”

“Well, don't buy one,” Rachel said quickly. “When I remodeled my house I stacked all the old wooden window sashes out behind the toolshed. You can come pick out whatever you want from the pile and we can rig it to hang.” She rapped on the paneling. “This sounds hollow. Maybe you should screw the frame right to the wall for support.”

“Uh-huh.” He sighed pensively. “Too bad I don't have access to power tools the way I used to at the
store. It would be much easier to drill holes for the screws.”

“I have lots of tools at home. You're welcome to borrow anything you need.”

“You do?”

She found his amazement amusing. “Yes, I do. Why? Did you think men were the only ones allowed to own tools?”

“Not exactly. It's just hard for me to picture you with a framer's hammer in your hand, banging in sixteen-penny nails.” Pausing, he added, “Sixteen-penny is a size, not the cost per nail.”

“I know that.” Rachel made a face at him. “You have a lot to learn about country girls, mister. Some of us even drive tractors and help with the haying before we're out of grade school.”

“Did you do that?”

“Well, no. But I have friends who did. The closest my folks got to farming was to keep some beef cows and raise a few calves every year. We either traded for what little hay we needed or bought it. Most of the time there's plenty of grass for grazing, as long as you don't run too many head on a small plot of land.”

Sean offered her his only chair. When she chose to remain standing, he perched on the edge of the battered desk. “I can see I have a lot to learn. The kids won't respect my advice in other areas if I come across as ignorant about things like farming.”

“Don't worry. You're bright. You'll catch on,” Rachel assured him. “And you'll be able to give them pointers about someday surviving in a big city.”

“I suppose a lot of them do leave here once they're grown.”

“Not as many as you'd think. Some go away to college, of course. I've found that the majority of the families who've lived in the Ozarks for generations try to talk their kids into staying fairly close by. Kind of like your father did when he involved you and your brothers in his business. What made you pull away, anyway?”

Sean got to his feet and circled the desk. When he was on the opposite side he turned and faced her. His jaw was set, his gaze penetrating. “You might as well stop bringing up my family, Rachel. I never should have mentioned the store or my brothers in the first place. I don't intend to discuss anything about them—or my past. Period.”

Flustered, she said, “Don't be shy, Doc. Speak right up. Tell me what you
really
think.”

“I just did.”

“No kidding? Well, enough chitchat. It's almost eight. I'll have a passel of five-year-olds looking for me any minute.” Backing toward the open door she felt behind her with one hand till she made solid contact with the jamb.

“Rachel…?”

There was a poignancy in his tone that would have
made her stop even if she hadn't been aware that she'd just jogged a tender spot in his memory. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry I came on so strong just now.”

She smiled agreeably. “No problem. I have broad shoulders.”

Sean returned her smile. “You're so tiny you barely have any shoulders at all. Maybe that's why I was so surprised when you told me you owned power tools. Is the offer still good? Can I come get a window or two and maybe borrow a drill once I decide what I need?”

“Of course. Just give me a call ahead of time to make sure I'm home. You know where I live. The number's in the book.”

“I think I'll call Slocum's Garage and send my buddy Craig on a wild-goose chase, first,” Sean joked. “He's not a real rational guy when he's around you.”

“He never was. That's one of the reasons I decided not to marry him—no matter what.”

“Whoa. I thought you said you weren't over him.”

“It's a long story,” Rachel said. “Actually, Craig did me a favor by breaking our engagement.”

“How's that?”

“He helped me admit that I didn't need marriage to make me a complete person.”

Given Rachel's undeniably maternal nature, Sean
was taken aback. “You really don't want a family? Kids of your own, I mean.”

Waiting for an answer, he sensed her withdrawal. It didn't take a degree in psychology to see that she was shutting him out. Rachel Woodward might put on a good act most of the time, but there was definitely some unspoken outrage hidden beneath the persona she presented to the world. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to negate her normal good cheer. Of that, he was positive. He'd just watched it happen.

“You're starting to sound like my mother again,” she said.

Sean carefully schooled his features, presenting a tranquil, amiable facade. “Tell you what. If you'll promise to stop mentioning my family, I'll try to avoid saying anything that reminds you of Martha. Okay?”

“Okay. Deal.”

Rachel knew it was well past time to beat a hasty retreat. Whirling, she headed straight for the haven of her classroom. Sean had misunderstood her when he'd assumed she meant that he, personally, had reminded her of her mother. On the contrary. Being around him brought far different thoughts—thoughts that related directly to Martha's wish that her daughter would someday fall in love and marry.

That was one of the reasons why Rachel's conscience had twisted so uncomfortably when Sean mentioned having children. It was evident that having
a family was high on his list of priorities, the same as it was on Craig's, which was a typical male trait. Women took on the care and nurturing of their children while men strutted around and bragged about what extraordinary kids they had produced.

“I'm happy single,” she muttered to herself. “I like my life. I
love
my life. And I don't intend to complicate it by falling in love with anybody.”

In her heart, she heard one word echo silently.
Liar.

 

With so many students to look after and teach, Rachel wasn't surprised that the rest of the day seemed to pass quickly. When the dismissal bell rang, however, she realized how exhausted she was. It was definitely quitting time.

Samantha lagged back, remaining with her teacher instead of boarding the bus immediately. She gave Rachel's skirt a quick tug to gain her attention. “Can I come play with Schatzy today?”

“Today? I don't know. It's awfully hot again.”

“I don't care. I don't have to take that old bus. I could go home with you.”

Rachel already knew she'd made a grave mistake by inviting the little girl to visit in the first place. Yet when Samantha raised those big blue eyes and gave her such a needy look, she couldn't bear to refuse without offering a possible alternative.

“I can't take you home with me, Samantha. It's against the school rules. You have to ride the bus. I
suppose it would be all right if Mrs. Brody wants to bring you over later, after I get home, though.”

The little girl was bouncing up and down like a doll suspended from rubber bands. “Yeah!”

“But…if she decides she's too busy tonight, I don't want you to make a fuss. Understand?”

“
You
tell her. She'll do it if you tell her to.”

“We
ask
when we want someone to do us a favor,” Rachel instructed gently. “We don't tell them what to do. That isn't polite.”

“But you can make her do it,” Samantha argued. “You can make anybody do anything.”

Rachel laughed. “I think you give me too much credit, honey. I don't have any special powers of persuasion.”

“Yes, you do. Angels can do lots of things. I saw them.”

Crouching beside her so she could look her straight in the eyes, Rachel asked, “What did you see?”

“Angels. I told you.”

“When?”

Expecting the child to mention the classroom incident involving the weeping boy, Rachel was shocked when Samantha said, “When my mommy and daddy went to heaven.”

 

Rachel had done her best to control her astonishment at Samantha's declaration about encountering angels. Nevertheless, she knew she'd reacted too
strongly because the child had refused to explain further, even when she'd probed for details.

As soon as bus five pulled out, Rachel went in search of Sean. She found him coming out of his office. “Hi.”

“Hi. What's up?”

Rachel stepped closer so they could converse privately, even though the hallway was now nearly deserted. “I think I just made a big mistake.”

“You? A mistake? Perish the thought.”

She playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Knock off the jokes, Bates. I'm trying to be serious here.”

“Sorry. What's the problem?”

“It's Samantha.”

“Don't tell me she took the wrong bus again.”

“No. I made sure she got on number five and stayed there. It's something she said while we were out front waiting. She told me she'd seen angels—when her parents died.”

“Go on.”

“That's all I could get out of her,” Rachel said with a sigh. “The minute I started asking questions, she clammed up. I thought maybe you could give me some pointers about what to say the next time she brings up the subject.”

Sean pressed his lips together, his brows arching. “That's a tough one. It's not the kind of thing you can rehearse ahead of time. You just have to feel your
way along. Were you careful to allow her to express herself without condemnation?”

“I hope so. I was trying to act nonchalant. I know I did fine until she mentioned her folks. After that, I'm not so sure. I couldn't believe how matter-of-fact she sounded.”

“Children are like that,” Sean said. “They accept death a lot easier than adults do. Samantha may have imagined angels were involved to help cushion the loss.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Rachel's voice was barely a whisper.

Head cocked to one side, Sean leaned closer and strained to hear. “What?”

“Never mind. I was just talking to myself,” Rachel said. She couldn't help noticing how his nearness was speeding up her heartbeat and taking her breath away. It was bad enough that the afternoon humidity was stifling. Now, her emotions were kicking into high gear, too. The combination made her dizzy.

Sean touched her arm. “You okay?”

“I don't care for the heat, that's all.”

“A fine Native American you make,” he teased. “Come on. I'll walk you back to your classroom.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I know it isn't. But how are we going to generate enough gossip to keep everybody occupied if we don't give them fresh news to pass around from time to time? We wouldn't want them to get bored.”