Читать книгу Big Sky Family - Charlotte Carter - Страница 10

Wiping her sweaty palm unobtrusively on her skirt, Ellie braced herself Thursday evening for whatever might happen at the school board meeting. She kept a smile on her face, desperately trying not to let her nerves show. Whatever happened tonight was important to the future of Ability Counts.

Standing at the back door of the Potter Creek Elementary School multipurpose room, she greeted parents and supporters of Ability Counts as they arrived. She gave each person one of the campaign-style buttons she’d ordered in Manhattan so they could demonstrate the community’s support to the school trustees.

They were, after all, elected officials.

“Hello, Mrs. Axelrod,” she said, handing Nancy’s mother a button. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

Mrs. Axelrod pinned the red, white and blue button on the lapel of her lightweight jacket.

Smiling, Ellie turned to greet the next parent coming in the door.

Instead of a parent, however, it was Arnie who wheeled into the multipurpose room, Sheila trotting proudly along beside him. Dressed in a long-sleeved Western-cut shirt with a turquoise bolo tie, Arnie looked every bit the contemporary Indian chief come to take charge. His white shirt set off his sun-burnished complexion, and the squint lines formed a fan at the corners of his eyes.

“Looks like you’re the flower girl passing out roses at a wedding,” he said.

Her eyes flared at his mentioning a wedding, and she struggled to dismiss the comment as meaningless. “As you know, we’re hoping for a sea of red, white and blue to influence the board members.”

“Hope it works.” He patted his chest right over his heart. “Pin away.”

She hesitated. Everyone else had pinned on their own button.

Trying for casual, she handed Arnie the box of pins, took one and bent down to pin it on his shirt. Her face close to his, she caught the hint of mint on his breath and the faint aroma of a woodsy aftershave on his smooth cheeks.

Her fingers trembled as she slid the pin through the fabric of his shirt.

“Careful. I bleed easy.”

She lifted her gaze from the pin to his eyes. Dark. Deep as a mountain pool. Captivating. They immobilized her with their intensity.

She pricked herself. “Ouch!” Stepping back, she sucked on the tip of her finger, tasting blood.

His lips curved up ever so slightly. “Maybe I ought to pin it on myself.”

“Good idea.” A tremor shook her voice, and she licked her lips. She handed him the pin, which he attached to his shirt with ease.

“Nothing to it.” The amused crook of his brow caused a little flip of Ellie’s stomach.

Only when he wheeled down the aisle did Ellie take another breath. That man had the most amazing effect on her, not that it mattered. Obviously, her effect on him was negative, a keep-away-from-me reaction, as though she were the carrier of a dreaded disease.

Except he’d asked her to pin the button on him.

The closest she’d been to him in the past eight years.

A shiver raised gooseflesh on her arms. Close enough for a kiss.

The multipurpose room had begun to fill, and the school trustees were beginning to take their places on the risers at the front. Five of the six trustees were men; two of them she recognized as merchants in town. The one woman, who looked to be in her sixties, was wearing an Ability Counts pin. No doubt Vanna’s friend and a supporter.

When the chairman gaveled the meeting to order, Vanna signaled Ellie to come sit next to her in the front row. She started forward before she realized she’d have to squeeze past Arnie, whose wheelchair was parked at the end of the row, in order to get to the seat Vanna had indicated.

So be it. Being up front to support the expansion of Ability Counts was part of her job. Her career. Arnie would simply have to live with it.

So would she, Ellie thought as she eased past first Sheila, then Arnie, to take her seat.

“How’d we do for supporters?” Vanna asked.

Ellie showed her the box of pins. She’d started with fifty, and now there were less than ten.

Vanna smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. “Our families are loyal. The trustees have to give us that.”

Ellie agreed. But that didn’t mean the trustees would vote their way. Based on her research, no school board in the state of Montana had yet approved a charter school, claiming all the limited tax dollars should be used to support public schools. If Vanna could pull this off, it would be amazing.

It didn’t take long to get through the agenda to the request from Ability Counts.

“I believe Ms. Coulter wishes to speak to her request,” the board president said.

Vanna stood. “I do, Mr. Wright. Thank you.” She made her way to the podium.

Ellie remembered having Patrick Wright as her government teacher in high school. Retired now, he’d been an adequate teacher, she supposed, although the subject hadn’t been of much interest to her. Now she wished she’d paid more attention.

“Honorable trustees, ladies and gentlemen,” Vanna began. “I’m sure most of you are aware of Ability Counts Preschool and our specialized program to integrate disabled youngsters and mainstream them with ‘normal’ children. Although, in my view, every child is an individual with unique abilities, so using the term ‘normal’ is a misnomer. I’m grateful that a good many of our parents and friends are here this evening to support turning Ability Counts into a charter school.” She turned to the audience. “Thank you all for coming.”

Vanna went on to describe studies that proved the value of early mainstreaming of disabled children, the benefits to the normal students as well and the advantages to the community such a school would provide.

Then she invited Arnie to speak.

He wheeled himself to the podium. Vanna handed him the microphone before she took her seat again with an audible sigh and an expression that suggested she was bone weary.

Ellie gave her employer an encouraging smile.

Arnie addressed the trustees with Sheila sitting alertly at his side, almost as though she was witnessing to the need for special programs for the disabled, as well.

“As most of you know, I became disabled as an adult. I’d already ridden a horse, played football, gone out on dates. But imagine what it’s like for a child who spends his entire life with his peers literally looking down on him, running faster, jumping higher than he can. How does he gain his self-esteem when he is so different? Not by shunting him off with others who have the same problems. No, he or she has to be accepted and befriended by those who don’t see him or her as different.

“That’s what Ability Counts accomplishes by integrating young children in a way that makes them all feel normal.”

Ellie’s heart expanded with pride in the school’s accomplishments and in Arnie’s ability to communicate the value of Vanna’s dream. She knew the audience didn’t see Arnie as disabled. Not in any way that mattered. He was far too competent and confident, a natural leader. A man to be reckoned with.

She wished her mother could see Arnie as she did. Surely she’d realize how lucky any woman would feel to be loved by such a man.

And how stupid Ellie felt for having walked away from even the possibility. At nineteen, she’d been too young to fully realize what she was giving up.

A few parents took a turn at the microphone; then the trustees stated their positions.

The one woman on the board supported Ability Counts. The men, however, cited practicalities: budget limitations, public funds for public schools, adequate existing programs.

The final vote was five to one against creating a charter school.

Dipping her head in disappointment, Ellie closed her eyes and tried to accept the trustees’ verdict. In the past few years, she’d learned that God’s will didn’t always coincide with what she wanted—or thought she wanted.

But in the end she had to trust the Lord knew what He was doing.

That was a leap of faith that didn’t always come easily.

Vanna patted her on the shoulder. “Chin up, my dear. This was only the first skirmish. The battle has barely begun. Let’s have a cup of coffee and mull over our strategy for the next round.”

She smelled of citrus. Oranges ripening in the sun, he thought.

Using the hand controls of his specially equipped van, Arnie drove to the diner after the meeting. He chided himself for letting Ellie get so close. For agreeing to have coffee with her and Vanna. For risking the temptation of being near her again.

What had he been thinking?

He had to be the biggest glutton for punishment this side of the Continental Divide. If he kept this up, it would be all downhill from now on.

“Your master isn’t the swiftest wheel on the chair,” he said to Sheila, who was safely harnessed on the floor behind him.

Apparently agreeing, Sheila whined and laid her head down on her outstretched paws.

Vanna and Ellie had beaten him into town. Vanna held open the diner’s door, and he wheeled inside.

The interior of Potter Creek Diner was decorated in early Western decor with paneled walls, old photos of rodeo cowboys and stuffed animal heads mounted around the room. Although Arnie had done some deer and elk hunting in the days when he’d been able to walk, he’d never been eager to have the animals stuffed and mounted in his house. It was enough that they’d provided meat for the family and neighbors.

“Hey, Ivy.” He wheeled his way through the maze of tables to where the owner’s daughter had made room at a table for his chair. No other customers were around, and it was only an hour until closing. “Not much action here during the late shift this evening.”

“It was busier early.” In her early twenties, Ivy had dark eyes and brunet hair, which she wore in a ponytail when she was working. “I don’t mind working late. When it’s quiet, I can get my homework done.”

“College, right?” he asked.

A flash of pride shone in her eyes. “I’m majoring in fine arts, but I’ve gotta take a whole bunch of art history classes if I want to graduate.”

“Good for you,” Vanna said, taking the seat opposite him. “Do you know Ellen James? She grew up in town and came back to teach in my preschool. This is Ivy Nelson.”

The two younger women greeted each other. Ellie sat down in the chair next to Arnie. Close enough that he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in her striking blue eyes. He inhaled, wondering if he could catch that citrus scent again, then chided himself for being such a fool.

“What can I get for you folks?” Ivy asked. “Just coffee for me,” Vanna said.

“I’d better have decaf,” Ellie said.

Arnie looked up at Ivy. “Make mine the leaded variety, and I’ll have a dish of your double dark chocolate ice cream.”