Читать книгу Home To Wickham Falls - Rochelle Alers - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Sawyer set the hamper on a bench in the corner of the immaculate kitchen. It had been updated during his absence. New kitchen appliances had replaced old and brand-new flooring had been exchanged for worn tiles. “I’m going back to the car to get my bags.”

“I hope you don’t mind, the boys are now in your old bedroom,” Mara said. “I had Henry take your bed up to the attic once Rachel moved back. We also put in a bathroom with a vanity, commode and shower because I thought the boys would want to sleep up there. But they much prefer your room because it’s large enough for twin beds.”

Sawyer gave his mother a tender smile. “It doesn’t matter where I sleep, Mom.”

Mara returned his smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Go bring your bags in. You can eat while I make up your bed.”

“I do know how to make up a bed, Mom.”

“I know you do, Sawyer,” she countered. “I just need to keep busy.”

“What you need to do is relax. Once Dad is given a clean bill of health the two of you need to go away for an extended vacation.”

“That’s not going to happen until we make repairs to the outside of the house.”

Now Sawyer knew why the exterior was in disrepair. His father didn’t like loans, and he waited until he saved enough money to pay for an earmarked project. Sawyer left the kitchen through a side door. Although Henry had sailed to ports all over the world, his wife had yet to travel out of the country. She occasionally went to see her twin sister in Ohio but that wasn’t what Sawyer deemed a vacation. If Henry had mellowed, as Rachel claimed, then Sawyer would try and convince him to take his wife away for a little R & R for their upcoming thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.

Sawyer removed his bags from the Jeep’s cargo area and returned to the house. Within seconds of walking into the kitchen he inhaled aromas that reminded him of how long it had been since he’d eaten. “Something smells delicious.”

“I just reheated Jessica’s baked chicken in the microwave,” Mara said as she ladled a spoonful of potato salad onto the plate with the chicken and a slice of cornbread. “I don’t know what she uses to season it, but I could eat her chicken every day.”

Sawyer washed his hands in the small bathroom off the kitchen, a ritual he’d followed since childhood. Rachel entered the kitchen as he sat at the table. She’d changed out of her scrubs and into a pair of shorts and baggy T-shirt.

“Do you want me to fix you a plate, too?” Mara asked her daughter.

“No, thanks,” Rachel replied, peering at the labeled containers on the table. “I grabbed a bite at the hospital. I just came down to tell you I’m going to bed and locking my door so the boys don’t barge in.”

“Don’t worry, sis, I’ll make certain they won’t bother you.”

Wrapping her arms around Sawyer’s neck, Rachel dropped a kiss on his hair. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

He patted her hand. “Believe it.”

Sawyer could not believe it, either. His mind was flooded with wonderful memories of himself and Rachel sitting at the kitchen table enjoying an afternoon snack before doing homework while Mara busied herself making dinner. It was the good memories rather than the disturbing ones that kept him from totally despising his father.

He cut into a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, my goodness! This chicken is incredible!”

Mara gave him a knowing smile. “Now you know what I’m talking about.”

Hard-pressed not to moan out his pleasure while savoring the most delicious baked chicken he had ever had, Sawyer concentrated on finishing the food on his plate. It appeared Jessica was the total package. She had looks, brains and she could cook! Although he considered himself a modern man with passable culinary skills, he still preferred women with the ability to put together a palatable meal.

There was something about Jessica that intrigued Sawyer, and he didn’t need his sister’s assistance as a go-between to get to know her. The odds were in his favor that their paths would cross again.

* * *

Jessica had been driving for ten minutes when her attention shifted from the road to the navigation screen as Rachel’s number appeared. She tapped the Bluetooth feature on the steering wheel. “Yes!” she answered cheerfully.

“I can’t believe you made so much food.” Rachel’s voice came clearly through the speaker. “When did you find the time to make potato salad and potpies?”

“It’s not that much food. I had leftover chicken, so instead of making a salad I decided to make potpies because they’re Colin and Dylan’s favorites.”

Every day of the school year she devoted to a particular task. Saturdays were set aside for cleaning the house and cooking enough meals for the entire week. Although she lived alone and at thirty-one hadn’t had a serious relationship in years, there was never a time when she experienced bouts of loneliness. And now that she’d rescued a black-and-white bichon frisé–poodle mix from a shelter, the house was filled with barking.

Rachel’s voice broke into her musings when she said, “You spoil my boys so much that one of these days I’m going to drop them on your doorstep with a note that you can keep them for the summer vacation.”

Jessica chuckled softly. “That’ll work. I’ll teach them how to grow their own food. And I’m certain they’ll enjoy playing with Bootsy.”

There was a noticeable pause from Rachel before she said, “I know you get tired of hearing it, and you’ve told me more than once that I’m a busybody, but it’s time you think about getting married so you can have a couple of babies and stop spoiling other folks’ kids.”

“You know that’s not going to happen until I meet a man I can trust enough to fall in love with him. Besides, I have a baby who wakes me up every morning while demanding all my attention the moment I walk through the door.”

“I’m not going to fight with you when I say a dog cannot replace—”

“Then don’t!” Jessica retorted angrily. A swollen silence filled the car. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You know why I don’t trust men, so if I really want to become a mother then I’ll adopt.” She drove over a railroad crossing.

“There has to come a time when you have to forgive and forget about the folks who blamed you for testifying against the man who raped your college roommate.”

“You sound like my former therapist.”

Rachel’s laugh came through the speakers. “That’s because we’re each other’s therapist.”

She and Rachel had become each other’s sounding boards and confidantes after Rachel volunteered as a class mother. Once Dylan and Colin were promoted to the third grade, Jessica bonded with their mother. “You’re right, Rachel. But sometimes it’s hard to forget that the man that I loved beyond belief and was engaged to marry blamed me for ruining his best friend and fraternity brother’s life.”

“If he chose his frat brother over you, then you’re better off without him.”

“I know that now.”

“I’ve learned to forgive Mason for not being here for me and our children, because whenever I look at my boys I see him in them. But it wasn’t until after I divorced him that I realized I could make it on my own.”

Signaling, Jessica maneuvered onto the road leading to the interstate. This year, with a dozen teachers retiring, the district had decided to hold the farewell festivities at a hotel a mile off the West Virginia Turnpike. “You have made it, Rachel.”

“Not completely.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t want you to breathe a word of this to anyone, not even my mother, but Sawyer sends me money every month to supplement what Mason sends for child support. I was able to catch up on my bills, pay credit cards and put money into my savings account for the proverbial rainy day. When I tried to talk to him about sending me so much, he says discussing money is gauche.”

“I agree.” Jessica had gone to a prestigious all-girl boarding school, and she’d grown tired of some of her classmates’ bragging about how much money their families had.

“If that’s the case, then you and my brother will get along quite well. Speaking of Sawyer, you’ll probably get to see quite a bit of him because he told my mother he plans to be here until Labor Day. Once Colin and Dylan discover their uncle will be here for the summer they’re going to be as happy as pigs in slop.”

A hint of a smile softened Jessica’s mouth. Her former students weren’t the only ones looking forward to summer vacation, because she’d begun counting the days to the end of the school year. “Good for them. I’m really looking forward for summer break. This year my students have worked my last nerve.”

“No! Not Miss Calm-and-Collected Calhoun.”

Jessica made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “I’ve never before taught a group of students where none of them get along for more than a few hours. It’s like witnessing a reenactment of the Hatfields and McCoys.”

“Damn-m-m,” Rachel drawled.

“No. It’s double damn, because detention or sending them to the principal’s office doesn’t seem to work.”

“I had no idea your students were giving you that much trouble.”

“I suppose I can’t have it easy every year.”

Jessica was also looking forward to the summer because she would spend it in Wickham Falls instead of visiting her parents in Seattle, Washington. Her retired college-professor parents had decided to drive up the coast and tour Alaska for the months of June and July.

“I’m going to hang up now and try to get some sleep.”

“Call me and let me know when your father can have visitors.”

“That probably won’t be until he’s out of ICU.”

“That’s okay. Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Rachel replied.

Jessica disconnected the Bluetooth and then tapped a button for the satellite radio. Instead of her favorite station featuring R & B oldies, she selected one with Rock classics. Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” blared throughout the vehicle. The heavy baseline beat put her in a party mood. Twenty minutes later she left her car with valet parking and walked into the hotel. She almost didn’t recognize the middle school’s physical education teacher in a dress and heels, because sweats and running shoes doubled as her ubiquitous school uniform.

Three teachers with whom she’d formed a close bond walked into the lobby together. They greeted her with hugs and air kisses while complimenting her on her dress and shoes. It was on very rare occasions Jessica was seen in a dress and heels, which did not lend themselves to teaching second graders.

Once a month Jessica got together with Abigail Purvis, Beatrice Moore and Carly Adams—pre-K, kindergarten and first-grade teachers—for a girls’ night out. They alternated eating at her home or in one of the local restaurants before driving to the next town to bowl.

“Let’s go in before they run out of the good stuff,” said Beatrice, who was the most outspoken of the quartet.

Jessica led the way into the ballroom crowded with school board members, administrators, faculty and staff. She took a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. The noise was deafening from laughter and those calling out to one another as glasses were raised in celebratory toasts. She had many more years of teaching ahead of her before she put in for retirement. Her eyes met the high school’s science teacher as he wended his way toward her.

“When do you think we’ll be able to get together to write another grant for the tech lab?” Logan Fowler asked Jessica.

She and Logan chaired the committee that applied for grants to benefit the school district. “Are you available this summer?”

A slight frown furrowed Logan’s smooth forehead. “I thought you were going to the West Coast.”

During the last committee meeting she had announced she was going to spend the summer in Seattle. “That was before my parents decided they were going to drive up to Alaska.”

“I’d like to get a head start on it as soon as possible because I probably won’t have much time outside of classes once the new term begins,” Logan replied. “I’m also going to be out of the country the month of July. If it’s all right with you, I wouldn’t mind starting on it next weekend.”

When it had come time for Jessica to cochair the committee, she had proposed the district solicit funding for a new technology lab for the elementary and middle schools. “Next weekend is okay with me. We can meet at my place.” He leaned closer and kissed her cheek.

Jessica smiled. “By Monday morning it will be all over The Falls that Miss Calhoun is hooking up with Mr. Fowler.”

“Let them talk,” he whispered.

It was apparent Logan hadn’t wanted to disclose the details of his personal life. She had known him to be a very private person until one day he inadvertently mentioned he was going to Paris to visit his girlfriend during spring break.

“Is there something I should know about you and Mister Beautiful?” a familiar voice whispered behind her once Logan was out of earshot. Turning around Jessica glared at the district’s nurse.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hattie.” That said, Jessica walked away to eat something to counter the effects of the champagne. She had no intention of discussing her personal life with the woman who probably would put her own spin on anything she said. The Johnson County School District was akin to a small town where gossip spread like a lighted fuse attached to dynamite.

Jessica ignored curious stares as she nibbled on several appetizers. The cocktail hour ended and the waitstaff ushered everyone into the larger ballroom. The retirees were seated on the dais, wearing corsages and boutonnieres in the school’s colors. Collectively the twelve had logged nearly four hundred years of educating young people. Jessica could imagine herself sitting on the dais in twenty-four years. She planned to teach for thirty years, retire at age fifty-five and travel around the world. Once she returned to the States she would begin her longtime dream of writing a series of children’s books.