Читать книгу Second Chance Family - Margaret Daley - Страница 9

“Thanks for showing me the ropes around here, Amanda.” Whitney stood and stretched her muscles, which had cramped from her sitting on the floor while she labeled cubicles and supplies. Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. “I hope they can get the air-conditioning fixed by the time school starts in a few days.”

“I was hoping it would rain today and cool things off, but it passed us by.” Dressed in a turtleneck shirt and jeans, Amanda Miller, another teacher’s assistant, gathered up the labeling machine and markers they used.

“I can imagine. I would have roasted in what you’re wearing.” Thankful she had on a split skirt and a short-sleeve blouse, Whitney didn’t know why the young woman hadn’t gone home at lunch and changed. Whitney knew from their conversation earlier that Amanda only lived a few blocks away from the school with her boyfriend.

“I’m always cold,” Amanda said, but her armpits were drenched with perspiration. Still sitting, she turned away to put the pens in a box.

“Oh, there’s…” Whitney reached toward Amanda to snatch up a marker on the floor next to the young woman that Whitney had missed while cleaning up.

The redhead flinched when she shifted back around and glimpsed Whitney out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed the black pen and gave it to Amanda. The woman’s hand quivered as she took the marker.

Strange, Whitney thought. She’d remembered right before lunch, when another teacher’s assistant had popped into the room they were working in, her sudden appearance had startled Amanda and she’d shaken even more right after that.

“I’m glad it’s time to leave. All I’d like to do is soak in a hot tub, but when I get home, I have too much to do.” Whitney put the labeling machine on the teacher’s desk. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I still have housework to do and to fix dinner.” Amanda pushed to her feet.

“A frozen meal is about all the energy I have to make tonight. See you tomorrow.”

Exhausted after her first day on the job of meetings and helping prepare the classroom for the children, Whitney gathered her purse, then headed toward the front doors. Coming around the corner, she nearly collided with Shane leaving an office near the main entrance. He smiled, but beneath the grin she glimpsed weariness.

“Tough meeting?” she asked, remembering he said that morning he had one at the school in the afternoon.

“A long one, but I think we worked everything out for Jason to begin school this week.”

“Good.” She started forward.

Shane fell into step beside her. “How was your day?”

“Long.”

“And starting with a wreck probably wasn’t the best way to begin it.”

She chuckled. “You think?” She’d called about the bus schedule and found one stopped not too far from the school so she would have a means of transportation to and from work until her car was fixed.

Whitney exited the building into the hot August day. Not a breeze stirred. Perspiration ran in rivulets down her face. She wiped her hand across her forehead then cheeks.

“Can I give you a ride anywhere?”

She glanced from the bus stop to Shane’s SUV. With the suffocating one-hundred-degree weather, she decided to be practical. “Sure. Thanks. I’m going to Noah’s.”

She slid into the passenger seat. At odd times during the day she’d thought about Dr. Shane McCoy, patiently working to help his son understand or reassuring her he’d take care of everything. But mostly she had remembered the concern in his green eyes that sparked something she’d been sure she had buried years ago. Living on the streets as a teenager had quickly persuaded her not to trust anyone and to do everything herself. She’d compromised some while living at her brother’s estate, but she was going to change that when she moved out. Compromising meant giving up part of herself, and she didn’t intend to do that ever again.

“Was everything all right when you arrived late?” Shane asked as he pulled out of the parking space.

“Yeah. Did you ever get Jason into the building?” She’d never been comfortable with chitchat, but with Noah’s large family she’d had to learn quickly, especially with Lindsay, the only girl, following her around.

Disappointment glinted in his eyes. He shook his head. “On the bright side, Jason seemed to like the playground. He loved the yellow-seated swing and tunnels to crawl through. I had a hard time getting him to leave.”

“So he hasn’t seen his classroom?”

“No, maybe tomorrow.”

“What will you do if he won’t go in?”

“I’ll take it one step at a time. With Jason that’s all I can do. He’s my son.”

The love that filled his words made her study his profile presented to her as he drove toward her brother’s estate. Strong. Steady. Full of compassion. Those traits had come to mind when she’d thought about Dr. Shane McCoy. Nothing like her own father. She pushed thoughts of that man from her mind; she tried not to go there.

“But still it must be hard.” She found herself wanting to know what made someone like Shane tick. The men she had known had been people users, thinking only of themselves. Except Noah and his two foster brothers, Peter and Jacob. They were different. But weren’t they the exception, not the rule? Certainly from her experience they were.

Shane didn’t say anything for a good minute while he parked the SUV at the side of Noah’s house. Then he turned to her with a smile deep in his eyes, the color of a lush patch of grass on a spring day. “The challenges of life are what make it interesting. I was blessed the day the Lord gave me Jason. He has made me a better person, and yes, it can be hard at times, but it makes me appreciate each step forward.”

“So you’re one of those people. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.”

He chuckled. “I guess I am. I like lemonade.”

Well, she didn’t. She wanted something better than constantly struggling. Although she’d fought the decision to come to Cimarron City last November, to be involved in Noah’s family, it had been a good one for her at the time. She needed to start fresh and do something with her life. And her brother’s children had caused a dream from childhood to resurface. She wanted to be a teacher and would be one day.

“How long will it take for your car to be fixed?” Shane asked.

“I should have it by the end of the week.”

“How are you going to get to—”

She held up her hand to stop his question. “I’ve got it figured out. The bus runs between here and the school. It’s a pretty direct route.”

He frowned. “How direct?”

“I only have to walk a few blocks. No big deal.”

“In this heat? It’s eighty at seven in the morning and over one hundred in the afternoon. I can give—”

“Don’t. I’m a tough cookie. I can’t let a wreck stop me.” She sent him a grin that he immediately responded to.

“Okay. Okay, I give up. I won’t say another word. I think I’ve met my match in you.”

Her grin grew as she opened the door, the searing heat invading the car’s cool interior. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks again for the ride.”

Under the shade of a large oak near the guesthouse, she watched him turn around and head toward the gate that automatically opened at his approach. She could see why the children he counseled responded to him. His caring nature shone through even when dealing with a situation like that morning.

And he’s easy on the eyes. His supple movements reminded her of a person who worked out. His large frame—muscular without an ounce of fat—confirmed that impression. The only thing unruly about him was his medium-length, coal-black hair that curled at his nape.

Perfect. That sent her alarms off. What was wrong with him? What was he hiding? Because her experience told her there was always something that would rear its ugly head and throw her for a loop.

Even in the shade, the heat drove Whitney toward the guesthouse as soon as Shane’s SUV disappeared from view. With coursework to get through and volunteering at Stone’s Refuge this evening, she hoped she could sneak inside before one of the children, Noah or his wife, Cara, saw her and wanted her to recount her first day on the job.

Halfway across the yard, she heard a deep baritone voice call her name. She kept going. She knew what her brother wanted to talk about, and she wasn’t ready to have that argument.

Escaping into the coolness of the guesthouse where she presently lived, she tossed her purse on the couch along with the section of the newspaper she’d taken to work. She hadn’t gotten a chance to call Zoey Crandell; she needed to now before someone rented the place. After snatching the paper off the couch, she noted the number and picked up the receiver. As she punched in a five, a knock sounded at her door. She continued entering the phone number, hoping her brother would go away.

“You can’t hide from this discussion, Whitney.”

Noah’s deep, commanding voice penetrated her haven. She sighed, hung up and crossed the room to open the door. “How about postponing it until I can string several words together to counter your arguments?”

“And give you the advantage?” He came inside. “Why are you looking for an apartment?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’d say it’s about time. I should have gotten one seven or eight months ago.” The previous November she’d come here from Dallas after quitting a dead-end job and leaving a man she’d been dating casually who had made the mistake of striking her. She wouldn’t fall into that again. Ever. Instead, she’d taken her brother up on his invitation to spend the holidays with him and his family. And by the time the New Year had rolled around, she’d fallen in love with Noah’s children, and for the first time in twenty years she had really been part of a family.

“But I just found you. Why are you leaving? The kids love having you here and so does Cara. Don’t you want to be here to see your new nephew grow up? Taylor’s only three months old.”

“I’m not leaving Cimarron City. I’ll be around, but on my terms.” When she’d first come, she had intended to leave and move on to someplace where she could get lost in a crowd. She hadn’t reckoned with the lure of Noah and his family.

“Why? You have family now. People who care about you.”

“You, of all people, know I’m used to being on my own.” She relaxed her arms, letting the tension slip from her shoulders. It took too much energy to have this conversation. “This isn’t up for discussion anymore. I’ve let you persuade me to stick around just a little longer many times. And now I’ve been living in your guesthouse nine months.”

“Why waste your hard-earned money on rent?”

Whitney blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll still be around and if you need a babysitter, I hope you’ll ask me first. Coming back to Cimarron City, getting to know you and your family has changed so much for me, but I’m losing myself here. I’ve got to figure out who I am.”

Noah frowned. “I guess I can’t fault you for that. I know what it’s like to grapple with yourself. For years I thought I wanted a certain lifestyle, but Cara convinced me that wasn’t the case.”

“Thank goodness she did. You’re great as a father. Nothing like the one we had. Any child would be lucky to have you as a dad.” She couldn’t keep the wistful tone from her voice and wasn’t surprised by it. She had never had loving parents—not even with the adoption situation she’d ended up in. At sixteen, Noah had had the Hendersons to show him the way; by the time she was sixteen she’d been living on the streets for six months.

“I’d better be. I have five children to take care of.” Noah started for the door. “I’ll let you rest. Isn’t tonight one of the evenings you go to Stone’s Refuge?”

“Yeah, I’ll hitch a ride with Adam. He owes me.” Sometimes Noah’s oldest adopted child rode with her.

“Hitch a ride? What about your car?”

“I was in a wreck this morning. It had to be towed to a garage to be fixed.”

Noah’s mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you call? Say anything before now?”

“Why should I? I took care of everything.”

“But—but we’re family. We care. Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine. A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle. Actually you know the owner of the vehicle I hit. Well, I didn’t exactly hit him while he was in it. His car was parked in front of his house.”

“Who?”

“Shane McCoy.”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “How did you hit his parked car?”

“To avoid hitting his son who had run into the street.”

“Ah, Jason. Shane has his hands full.” Noah put his hand on the doorknob. “You can use one of our cars if you need to.”

“I have everything worked out.”

Noah grumbled about her determination and opened the door. “We’re eating at six. Coming up to the main house for dinner?”

“No, I’m gonna grab a sandwich before heading over to the refuge with Adam. I have homework after that.”

“It’s okay to accept help, Whitney. We all need it from time to time.”

When her brother left, Whitney plopped down in the chair at the kitchen table to call Zoey Crandell. She didn’t want to live in an apartment complex with tons of people, so she hoped this place would work out for her.

Her cat came out of the bedroom and leaped into her lap, purring. “Calico, what am I gonna do about my brother?” Her pet settled down while she stroked the animal’s back. “I already owe him too much. Being here has made me realize my life has to change. Now I have to figure out exactly what I want without him doing everything for me.”

Again resolved to make that call about the garage apartment, she was halfway through entering the number when another knock interrupted her. By the sound of it she was sure it was Lindsay.

“Come in,” Whitney called out, again hanging up the phone.

The little girl who Cara and Noah adopted along with her two older brothers swung the door open wide. Calico stirred, peered at the seven-year-old and hopped down to greet her before finding a spot in the windowsill to peer out.

Dressed in her bathing suit, Lindsay hugged a towel to her chest. “Will ya watch me swim?”

Whitney glanced at her clock on the stove. “I can for a while.”

Lindsay beamed. “I can always count on you.”

“First, I have a call to make.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No.” Whitney picked up the phone and finally placed her call to Zoey Crandell, setting up a time to see the apartment.

“Are you leaving here?” Lindsay screwed her face into a pout.

Whitney hung up the receiver. “Yes, but I won’t be too far away. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“You’ll come and watch me swim?”

“Of course.” When Whitney neared the child, Lindsay grabbed her hand and tugged her outside. “Hold it. What’s the rush? We do have some time.”

“I’ve gotta practice my swimming. I want to be the best.”

At the pool behind the main house, Whitney sat on the edge, adjusting her split skirt so she could stick her legs into the water without it getting wet. She relished the feel of the coolness on her tired, aching feet.

After the little girl swam a few laps, trying out various strokes, she came to the side where Whitney perched and clung to the tile lip. “Now that I’m a Maxwell, I’ve been thinking I should call you Aunt Whitney. May I?”

The question stunned Whitney. She had never expected to have nieces and nephews—until she’d come to Cimarron City. She’d always thought of herself going through life alone. Emotions jammed her throat. She never cried, not since she’d been separated from Noah as a child, and yet the tears swelled up from the depths of her being.

“Whitney?”

The child’s expression, full of worry, forced Whitney to say something and yet she wasn’t sure her voice would work. She peered away, staring at the gazebo near the pond. A tear slipped down her face. She swiped it away.

Clearing her throat, she finally said, “I’d love for you to.”

Lindsay pulled herself out of the pool and flung herself into Whitney’s arms. “You’re the bestest aunt. I love you.”

The scent of chlorine peppered the air. That must be why another tear coursed down her cheek. She kissed the top of Lindsay’s wet hair, swallowing hard. “I love you, too, Lindsay.” What would it be like to have her own child?

That question nibbled at her mind, but she determinedly shoved it away. Instead, she cherished this moment because this would be the closest she would come to having a family and children. She would have to content herself with her niece and nephews because she would never have a child of her own who would depend on her.

At work two days later, Whitney hung up the phone after talking with a man at the garage where her car was being fixed. Turning away from the counter at the main entrance into the building, she spied Shane trying to coax Jason inside. School started the next day, and it didn’t look as if things were going well with Jason adjusting to a new situation. Yesterday she didn’t think the child had come into the building, either.

Before she realized it, her legs carried her toward the double doors and outside. “Hi, Shane. Jason.”

Her words disrupted the boy’s whine. When he stopped yanking on his father’s arm to get him to leave, he quit shaking his head and stared at her. Then suddenly he launched himself at her.

She stood her ground.

“Pretty yellow hair.”

Whitney bent toward Jason, the movement of dropping her head slightly intensified the ache in her neck caused by the accident a few days ago. She would curl up with the heating pad again that evening when she got home from seeing the apartment. She intended to grab the garage apartment at Zoey Crandell’s and move in as soon as possible, hopefully this weekend.

“What’s going on, Jason? Have you checked out your new classroom yet?”

The child focused on her ponytail, which had fallen forward.

“Not yet. I was hoping today,” Shane said while his son remained silent but continued to touch her hair. “Is that okay?” He gestured toward what Jason was doing.

“Fine.” After a minute, she straightened, holding her hand out to the child. She’d made a point the day before to see who would be Jason’s teacher. “I can show you to your classroom. I know they have a yellow ball in there.” Jason’s face started to screw up into a scowl until she mentioned the toy.

“Yellow ball!” He dragged her toward the door into the building.

“I guess we’re going inside,” she said over her shoulder as Shane followed them into the lobby.

She guided the pair down the first long hallway on the right and stopped at the second room. Jason came to a halt when he saw his teacher a few feet from him, tacking up a poster by the door. Suddenly he hid his face against Shane.

“Mrs. Bradley, this is Jason and his father, Shane McCoy. Jason was interested in seeing your yellow ball.”

The older teacher approached them with a neutral expression. She shook Shane’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again. I see you were able to get Jason inside.”

“Not me. Whitney did.”

That she had awed Whitney. When she had decided to go for her degree in elementary education, she’d never dreamed of dealing with children who had special needs like Jason. Only in the past few months with her interaction with Noah’s four adopted children, coupled with her volunteer work at Stone’s Refuge, had she realized she wanted to work with kids. But a child with special needs? For years she’d been drifting from one job to the next—just trying to make a living and staying off the streets.

“Yellow ball?” Jason asked, his words muffled against his father.

“Oh, that. Jason, it’s over in the corner.” Mrs. Bradley pointed to the left.

The child peeked around his father, saw it and tore across the room to stroke it.

The teacher faced Shane. “I still have my reservations about this working. We just aren’t equipped for a child like Jason here at this school. He should be in a self-contained special education class like at Eisenhower Elementary School.”

“I insist on trying this. We won’t know until we do. I signed the paperwork for him to be in special education, but I want him involved with all kinds of children. We’re working on socialization at home and with his therapist. I’ll keep you informed of things that develop at home, and I want you to keep me informed about what’s going on here.” A firm resolve underscored each of Shane’s words.

Although Whitney faced Jason playing with the ball, her attention focused on the exchange between Shane and the teacher. Just the few times she’d been around the boy, Whitney couldn’t imagine what it was like to deal with a child with Jason’s obvious limitations. And yet, Shane did it with love and patience. How was Jason going to fit into a normal kindergarten class, especially with a teacher who was less than enthusiastic?

“I have a meeting to attend. You and your son may stay for a while and get familiar with the classroom if you wish.” Mrs. Bradley slipped off a smock she wore to protect her clothes while cleaning.

After the teacher left, Shane turned to Whitney. “Thanks for helping earlier. I’d about run out of ideas on how to get Jason into the building. You saved the day.”

Her first instinct was to scoff at his compliment. In the past people only gave them to get something from her. Then she remembered Lindsay telling her she was the best aunt a few days ago. Noah and his family were chipping away at all her defenses she’d learned to use over the years.

“You’re welcome,” she managed to say after a long pause. She took a step back, not sure what to do with her changing attitude. “I’d better get back to the office. I was unpacking some new supplies.”

“I was going to call you,” Shane said as she turned to leave.

She stopped and glanced back at him.

“Remember I need to pay the deductible. When will your car be ready to pick up?”

“Friday afternoon.”

“I can pick you up at school, take you to the garage and pay my part.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble. Just write a check to Premier Body Shop and I’ll give it to them.”

Shane’s gaze riveted to hers. “If that’s the way you want it.” He removed his checkbook and quickly wrote a check for her.

Beneath her brave front, he glimpsed vulnerability in Whitney that he doubted she knew she projected. But he’d seen it in a lot of the children he’d worked with over the years. What had put it there for Whitney?

He looked toward his son, rolling the ball around the floor in the corner. He had enough problems raising a child with autism. Since his wife had died five years ago, his hands had been full just making it through each day as a single dad. He certainly didn’t need to become involved with anyone.

But there was something in her brown eyes that haunted him, even invading his dreams at night.

Saturday morning, Whitney dragged herself to the kitchen to make coffee and grab something to eat before she tackled packing the boxes to move. While the coffee brewed, she hurriedly dressed in navy blue shorts and a red T-shirt and was back in time to pour a huge mug of the hot liquid, its aroma spicing the air.

As she sat at the table and ate her bowl of cereal, she looked around at the mess she’d created the night before in preparation for her move this weekend. Her gaze lit upon a yellow pillow that graced the sofa, and she immediately thought about Jason. He hadn’t attended school either Thursday or Friday. She’d almost called Shane on Friday to see if his son was all right. She’d even dialed halfway through the phone number before she’d slammed down the receiver, determined not to intrude.

Finally yesterday afternoon she’d asked Mrs. Bradley if she knew why Jason wasn’t at school. She’d said that he had come for about fifteen minutes the day before with his father and thirty that morning to acquaint himself more with the classroom. But he left when Dr. McCoy did. Disappointment had spread over Whitney as she’d gone back to the classroom she’d been assigned to assist in.

She wanted Jason’s school experience to work. That was the only reason she’d been disappointed the day before. Taking a long sip of her coffee, she shut down her thoughts about Shane and his son. Getting involved with them wasn’t a smart move. She already had too much on her plate—starting with packing.

A few minutes later as she emptied another drawer of her possessions, someone knocked at her door. She was trying to decide which member of the family was going to tell her all the reasons she shouldn’t move.

When she swung the door open, she was surprised that every member of Noah’s family, except the baby, stood outside the guesthouse. “I don’t want anyone of you to say another word about my move. If that’s why you came en masse, turn around and leave. I’ve got too much to do to listen.”

Noah grinned. “We’re here to help you. I’ve got Peter and Jacob coming to help with moving the pieces of furniture. They’re bringing a van. And Jacob’s wife is watching the baby so we’re all free to help all day.”

Free all day! The gesture touched Whitney but at the same time overwhelmed her—as usual. “But the furniture is yours. Zoey has a few pieces in the apartment, and I was going to buy some when I save up enough money.”

“Nope,” Cara said as she came forward, “we decided to redecorate the guesthouse. This won’t fit with the new scheme.” She waved her hand at the surroundings.

“No, this is yours.”

Lindsay gasped at Whitney’s fierce tone. Rusty’s eyes widened as Whitney faced her brother.

“Guys, let’s start in the bedroom with packing,” Cara said, gathering the four children and pushing them toward the back of the guesthouse.

When the room was cleared of everyone but Noah and Whitney, he released a long breath and frowned. “Haven’t you figured out what’s mine is yours? You are my family. I don’t need this furniture. You do. Why spend money on something I can give you?”

She narrowed her eyes on her brother. “Because I don’t want your handouts. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m going to do this on my own.”

“Cara taught me that you don’t have to go through life alone, that it’s okay to need others.”

“That’s you, not me.”

He glared at her for a long moment. “Can we compromise on this? You use the furniture until you can replace it with your own, then you can give the pieces to charity. Okay?”

There was that word compromise again. In his eyes she saw the need for her to say yes. Noah did too much for her, but she’d found out from Cara not long after she’d come to town that it was important to her brother to help his little sister. That was part of the reason she’d stayed longer than she had intended. Noah’s guilt over not being able to find her for years still ate at him. He’d felt it was his fault her childhood had been rough, that he hadn’t been able to protect her.

“Fine, but just until I can buy my own.”

The huge smile that spread over her brother’s features told her she had made the right decision. Okay, as much as she didn’t want to compromise anymore in her life, she had to be realistic. There would be a few occasions when she would have to. But she would control when and what.

That evening in her new apartment, surrounded by chaos, she sat among the unopened boxes and knew she would have a lot to do tomorrow. She’d refused Noah’s offer to bring her something to eat because she’d craved some quiet time after being among the whole family plus a few friends. Although they’d wanted to help her put some of her items away, she needed to do that personally.

Exhausted as she was, maybe she should have accepted the assistance. But she had a hard time letting others do things for her. She always expected them to have their hand out for something in return. Although Noah’s family hadn’t done that, old habits were hard to break.

When someone rapped on her front door, she jumped, her gaze swinging toward it. With a quick peek at her watch noting the still early time, she strode toward the entrance. Must be Zoey. But when she checked the peephole, the fading sunlight, as it headed toward the western horizon, illuminated Shane McCoy.