Читать книгу Catching Fireflies - Sherryl Woods - Страница 12

5

Laura had spent most of the night wrestling with the covers and her confusing thoughts after spending the evening with J.C. To her surprise he’d fit right in with her friends from school. Once the teasing remarks had quieted down, they’d all cheered themselves hoarse as Serenity had managed to prevent a tying touchdown in the final seconds of the game.

Outside the stadium, he’d offered her a ride back to her car, but she’d insisted that Nancy could drop her off. He’d looked vaguely disappointed, which had surprised her after his insistence earlier in the evening that she wasn’t to construe his dinner invitation as anything other than a chance to discuss Misty and the problems she was having at school.

On the way to the parking lot by the medical practice, Nancy had had a million questions, which Laura had managed to sidestep fairly deftly, she thought.

“The man just offered to bring you over here himself. What is wrong with you?” Nancy had asked, regarding her with dismay. “I know his company has to be far more scintillating than mine.”

Laura had laughed. “Despite what he said at the game, we were never on a date, Nancy. Scintillating doesn’t enter into it.”

“Well, it should,” Nancy told her. “He’s the most available bachelor in the entire town, a doctor, no less. The competition has been fierce for years, and you’re the first woman I know of, at least locally, that he’s been out with.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that he has a date with a nurse practitioner in the morning,” she said, hoping to silence any more uncomfortable speculation about the two of them. J.C. might be a mystery she wouldn’t mind unraveling, but it simply wasn’t in the cards. One bit of wisdom she’d taken from past experience was an understanding of when to cut her losses.

“He told you he has a date tomorrow?” Linda asked. “What kind of man brags about a date when he’s out with someone else?”

“The kind of man who wants to make it clear he isn’t on a date with me,” she told her. “Do you get it yet?”

Nancy shook her head mournfully. “Well, I say it’s just sad. You looked cute together, and there were sparks. I could feel them.”

“Because you have a vivid imagination. It’s all those romance novels you read.”

“True, I want sparks like that,” Nancy admitted wistfully. “I have this sinking feeling, though, that I’ll never find them in Serenity. You know what slim pickings there are in this town. There are a few decent guys our age, but finding the whole package—intelligence, a sense of humor, good looks and a solid career—that’s all but impossible. Those guys get snapped up the minute they cross into the city limits. And now you already have the last man standing in your clutches.”

“Will you quit saying that?” Laura begged, though she couldn’t argue with Nancy’s premise that exciting, stimulating men were hard to find in Serenity.

“Only if I never see the two of you together again, which, if you want my opinion, would be a crying shame.”

“Thanks for the input, and for the ride,” Laura told her, quickly climbing out of the car. “See you on Monday.”

Unfortunately, even though she thought she’d managed to curb Nancy’s wild imagination for the moment, once she was curled up in bed, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from daydreaming about all sorts of scenarios that could play out between her and an intelligent, thoughtful, compassionate man like J.C. He was everything Rob Jefferson hadn’t been. Of course, Rob hadn’t really been a grown man when Laura had fallen for him. He’d been an irresponsible bad boy, which had been the allure for the quietest girl in school.

Don’t go there, she warned herself. Thinking about the disaster that relationship had become and the repercussions that haunted her still would keep her awake the rest of the night.

After banishing thoughts of both J.C. and her past, she’d finally fallen into a restless sleep around three in the morning, only to be awakened at six by the ringing of the phone.

“Yes, what?” she murmured sleepily.

“Not a morning person, are you?” a man’s voice inquired with a hint of laughter.

“Who is this?”

“It’s J.C.”

“At six o’clock in the freaking morning on a Saturday?” she grumbled, all of the kindly thoughts she’d had about him fleeing.

This time there was no attempt to hide his laughter. “Definitely not a morning person. Good to know. I was hoping to persuade you to go for that run with me.”

Sufficient blood finally reached her brain for her to comprehend what he was asking. “You woke me up to ask me to go for a run?”

“That’s the invitation,” he confirmed. “Breakfast after.”

“Was there absolutely anything in our very brief acquaintance to suggest that I run?”

“Nope, but I don’t mind if you’re a beginner.”

It suddenly dawned on her what he really wanted. “You’re looking for a buffer to warn off that other woman.”

“Congratulations! For that you get a giant mug of coffee to chase away the rest of those cobwebs.”

“You’re certifiable, you know that, don’t you?” She felt totally within her rights to declare that. No sane man made the sort of request he’d just made.

“But you’re considering this, right?” he pressed. “What’ll it take to push you over the edge? Danish? Croissants? An omelet?”

Since she was awake by now and surprisingly hungry, she gave up the fight. “I’ll take the omelet,” she said decisively. “With hash browns. And I need an hour to get ready.”

“Nobody needs an hour to get ready for a run,” he said. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, twenty if you insist on me stopping to pick up that coffee.”

“I insist,” she said fervently. “I’m going to need a lot of coffee.”

She hung up without waiting for a response or offering him her address. If he couldn’t figure out where she lived, so much the better, but something told her he wasn’t the sort of man to leave a detail like that to chance.

* * *

J.C. pulled to a stop in the alley behind Sullivan’s. Half the town knew that sous-chef Erik Whitney was there at the crack of dawn and that he always had a pot of the best coffee in town brewing. Thanks to the occasions when they’d hung out at the gym and the frequency of late-night calls when Erik and Helen’s little girl had earaches, he allowed J.C. to take advantage of that from time to time.

“Sarah Beth’s next appointment is free if you’ll give me three cups of coffee to go,” he told Erik.

Erik grinned. “You sound like a desperate man. Late night with the pretty schoolteacher? And exactly how does that third cup of coffee fit in? Sounds mysterious.”

“It wasn’t that late a night,” J.C. admitted, figuring there was little point in denying that Laura was involved. “But apparently by her standards, it’s an early morning. I convinced her to go for a run by promising her coffee. Yours is far more likely to impress her than Wharton’s.”

“Interesting,” Erik said grinning. “So, the two of you really are an item? That was the hot topic in here last night, anyway, after your cozy meal together. I suspect there’s already a pool going at Wharton’s. Grace loves a romance.”

J.C. winced. “Whoa! We’re just acquaintances,” he insisted. “I asked her to bail me out of a jam this morning, and she’s gone along with it. I need to hurry, though, before she changes her mind.”

“You’re in a jam that involves going for a run?” Erik asked with unmistakable confusion. “Do I even want to know? And you still haven’t explained the extra cup.”

“If you’re like everyone else in this town, of course you want to know,” J.C. said, amused. “But I don’t have the time or the inclination to fill you in. Coffees, please.”

Erik handed over the cups. “Okay, but you owe me more than a free office visit for Sarah Beth. My wife’s not going to be happy if I come home without details. Then, again, she’s getting together with Maddie and Dana Sue this morning. If anything’s going on, they’ll already know about it.”

Sadly, J.C. thought, they probably would.

* * *

Laura was waiting outside on the front steps of her apartment building when J.C. rolled to a stop on the street. She walked in his direction, regarding him with suspicion.

“There had better be coffee,” she said before even touching the handle of the passenger door.

He held up a cup. “Freshly brewed, as promised.”

“Gimme,” she said, getting into the car. She took a deep sniff. “I don’t recognize this aroma. It smells amazing.”

“Sullivan’s.”

“They’re not open this early,” she said, regarding him with amazement. “Who’d you bribe?”

“Erik. I promised him his daughter’s next office visit on the house.”

“Given what doctors charge these days, this is one pricey cup of coffee,” she said as she took her first sip. “Oh, my God, it’s worth every penny.”

He laughed. “That’s what I think every time I take advantage of Erik’s good nature by sneaking in there before work. I think he considers the coffee to be his version of community service.”

“I really do need to get to know him better,” Laura said. “Do you think Helen would mind if I start hanging out with her husband?”

“She’d probably string you up a tree,” he said with conviction as he pulled up in front of an unfamiliar house.

“Why are we here?” she asked, then remembered. “Ah, the date. Would you like me to escort you to the door?”

“No, I think I’ll be safe enough from there to here. Just don’t drink her coffee.”

“If she’s a real runner, she probably doesn’t touch the stuff,” Laura said. “I’m actually surprised you do.”

“Some men have sex to start the day. Since there’s none of that in my life at the moment, I drink coffee. Seems to work,” he said right before he headed up the walk.

Just as he reached the door, it opened and a woman came out with her red hair pulled high in a sassy ponytail. She was wearing running shorts and a tight-fitting sports top, both meant to display an awful lot of well-toned flesh. Laura glanced down at her sweat pants and ancient T-shirt and sighed. There wasn’t a woman in the world who’d buy that she was serious competition for the woman walking her way, talking animatedly with J.C. as if it weren’t practically the middle of the night. She might be up at dawn on weekdays, but most Saturdays she indulged herself by sleeping as late as she wanted. Today’s was the first Saturday sunrise she’d seen in ages.

In the car, J.C. made the introductions, then headed for the park. As Laura had anticipated, Jan turned down the coffee and stuck to bottled water. J.C. practically gulped down a long swallow of the rejected coffee, then gave Laura an apologetic look. “Did you want this?”

She grinned at his guilty expression. “Not to worry, I’m still savoring the first cup.”

“Good,” he said and took another long slug of the coffee.

“Careful there,” she said, lowering her voice. “You don’t want to choke in front of your date.”

He glanced at her with a frown. “Was inviting you along a mistake?”

She beamed at him. “More than likely. So far, though, I’m fascinated to see what’ll happen next.”

Jan turned out to be a perfectly pleasant, intelligent woman who took her running seriously. When J.C. dutifully insisted on staying back with the lagging Laura, she ran on ahead, clearly determined to make it a real workout.

“You could go with her,” Laura told him. “I’m not going to catch up. In fact, I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind sitting in the shade of that old pin oak over there for a while and enjoying the rest of my coffee. It’s a beautiful morning. It finally feels like fall.”

He regarded her with amusement. “You really are out of your comfort zone, aren’t you?”

“So far, you probably can’t even imagine it,” she admitted. “I don’t sweat. I don’t glow. A brisk evening walk is about my limit.”

“Then I’m all the more grateful that you made an exception and came along this morning.”

“I don’t think you really needed my protection. I hope it won’t destroy your ego, but I’m not getting the sense that Jan’s any more into you than you’re into her.”

He looked surprised but not displeased by the assessment. “That’s what I thought, too, but Debra seemed so determined, it rattled me.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be the first couple to be pushed together by an overly zealous matchmaker, but something tells me you’re both made of tougher stuff than that.”

He met her gaze, his curiosity apparent. “So, just for the record, why aren’t you married?”

Laura shrugged off what had been an increasingly touchy subject with her parents the past couple of years. Even though they lived in the Midwest and would probably rarely see her children if and when she had them, they seemed infatuated with the idea of grandchildren. Or maybe they were just eager to make up for the child they’d insisted she give up for adoption when she was barely seventeen, Rob’s child. None of that was something she intended to discuss with a man she barely knew. That shameful mistake—the pregnancy—wasn’t something she liked thinking about. Nor was relinquishing her child to strangers, even though she’d known in her heart it was for the best. Her mentor back then, Vicki Kincaid, had helped her not only to see that, but to bolster her spirits when she’d been the target of her classmates’ cruel remarks.

Instead of going into any of that, she explained, “I work with a lot of women. I don’t hang out in bars. Serenity’s a small town. There aren’t many opportunities for finding someone and falling madly in love.”

“Have you ever considered moving to a town where there might be more prospects?”

“Nope. I fell in love with this town the first time I came here for a job interview right out of college. Nothing’s changed my mind about wanting to stay here.”

“And you’re not lonely?”

She leveled a look into his eyes. “Mostly I’m content with my own company. How about you?”

For a moment, he looked disconcerted by the question, then confessed, “From time to time.”

“Then let me turn the tables. Why haven’t you married? You’ve admitted people are constantly throwing candidates in your direction.”

“None of them stuck,” he said. “And I learned a long time ago that marriage isn’t for me.”

“Trial and error?” she asked, suddenly getting it.

He smiled. “You could say that.”

“It must have been a pretty awful breakup.”

“You have no idea.” He waved her off. “Enough of that. It’s depressing.” He stood up. “And enough lollygagging, Ms. Reed. We’re going to finish this run, even if we have to do it at a snail’s pace.”

“I can run faster than a snail,” she protested, reluctantly getting to her feet and tossing her empty coffee cup into the trash.

“You’ll need to prove that before I’ll buy it,” he said. “Go. You set the pace.”

She forced herself to jog along, pushing herself to go much faster than she wanted to but mindful that she’d never break any speed records.

“Okay, you’ve matched a turtle,” J.C. admitted when they’d finally made their way around the lake and back to the car.

“I appreciate the recognition,” she commented wryly. “Where do you suppose Jan is?”

“Making her third loop, I imagine,” he said. “I know she passed us twice. Didn’t you see her wave?”

“You mean through my blinding tears?” she asked, only half kidding.

He nudged her in the ribs as he gave her a bottle of cool water. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad. You did it. Accomplishing something new should be giving you a huge adrenaline rush.”

She gave him a sour look as she sipped the water. “I’ll be sure to let you know when that kicks in.”

* * *

J.C. was barely behind his desk on Monday morning when Debra came stalking into his office, her expression radiating indignation.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “You invite Jan to go for a run, then bring another woman along. Who does that?”

“A man making it clear that he’s not interested in anything more than going for a run.” He gave her a hard look. “Was she offended?”

“Well, no, but that’s not the point. I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. I took your houseguest out for a run, as promised. We even had a nice breakfast afterward. I paid. She and Laura Reed hit it off. If Jan stays in town, I imagine they’ll be friends.”

“If I wanted her to make a bunch of friends here, I’d have thrown a party,” she retorted. “Believe me, I can do Southern hospitality with the best of them.”

J.C. worked hard to stifle a grin. “Jan’s a very nice woman, Debra. She’s smart, levelheaded and practical. I mentioned to Bill that we ought to look into adding a nurse practitioner. He said he’d be happy to interview her, if she’s interested in staying.”

“Well, why would she stay now, with you all but declaring yourself off-limits?”

“Because she’d love the job and the town?” he suggested lightly. “Those would be the wise reasons to make such a drastic move clear across the country.”

She frowned at him. “You are very annoying.”

“Only because you didn’t get your way,” he said. “Get Laine Tillis into room two, okay?”

“Already done,” she said with a sniff. “Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my job.”

“Much appreciated,” he told her with total sincerity.

That, he hoped, would be the end of her matchmaking…if he was lucky.

* * *

The starting bell for third period rang. Laura looked around the classroom and sighed. To her regret, there was no sign of Misty. Just as she was about to finish taking attendance, the door opened and Misty slipped in, hurrying to the very back of the room.

Laura heard a few whispered comments as she passed, but she couldn’t make out what was said. Whatever it was, though, put dull red patches of color onto Misty’s cheeks. Even from the front of the room, Laura couldn’t mistake the sheen of tears in the girl’s eyes.

Though she very badly wanted to get to the bottom of those comments, she decided to let it pass for now. She had a hunch one word would send Misty fleeing right back out the door.

Fortunately there was a test scheduled, which guaranteed absolute silence. There was a rustling of papers, a shuffling of feet, but no further whispering.

For the next forty-five minutes, Laura walked up and down the aisles, monitoring as the students wrote their essay responses. In the back of the room, she paused and gave Misty’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Misty glanced up at her, her expression filled with such misery that it nearly broke Laura’s heart.

“I’ve finished the test. Could I please leave now?” Misty begged.

Though she wanted to insist that she stay right here until the class ended in another ten minutes, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’ll give you a pass for the library,” she said quietly.

Misty gave her a grateful look, followed her to the front of the room, then all but ran out the door, leaving Laura to wonder what on earth she was supposed to do to fix this, whatever this was.

When the bell rang, she glanced at the students who’d been whispering earlier and picked one at random. “Trish, could I see you for a minute? The rest of you are dismissed. Leave your papers on my desk.”

Trish Peterson shifted nervously from foot to foot while her classmates left. Only after the last of them had gone, did Laura meet her gaze.

“I need to go,” Trish said. “I have P.E. next period and Miss Wilcox gets really mad if we’re late.”

“I’ll write an excuse for you,” Laura said. “Have a seat.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Trish asked. “I wasn’t cheating, Ms. Reed. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know,” Laura assured her. “But at the beginning of class, when Misty came in, there seemed to be a bit of a stir. I was hoping you could fill me in on what that was about.”

Trish’s eyes widened with alarm. “I don’t know what you mean,” she insisted, though it was obvious to Laura that she was lying. She’d been as chatty as her friends.

“You said something to Annabelle,” Laura reminded her. “A couple of the boys made comments, as well. Do you all have a problem of some kind with Misty?”

“Not me,” Trish said at once.

“Then who does?”

“No one, I swear it,” she said, her gaze darting around.

“I hope that’s the case,” Laura told her emphatically, hoping to get her point across that whatever they were up to wasn’t going to be tolerated. “Because I’d hate to find out you’re not being truthful.”

“Look, it’s got nothing to do with me, okay?” Trish insisted, her expression pleading. “Could I have that note now? I have to go. I’m the captain of one of the volleyball teams. I really need to be there.”

Though she wanted to pursue the subject some more, Laura reluctantly jotted out a note to Pam Wilcox, then waved Trish off. Though the girl had given away nothing, Laura was more convinced than ever that someone in her class was deliberately tormenting Misty and that others were going along with it. She just needed to figure out who, and how bad it had gotten.

* * *

Misty sat in the library with her head down on her books trying to keep herself from crying. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the rude comments the other kids had made as she’d hurried to her seat in Ms. Reed’s class. Worse, she knew Ms. Reed had heard them, maybe not the words, but the whispering. What if she started asking a lot of questions? She was already determined to figure out what was going on. If she’d called Annabelle or any of the others on the carpet after class, Misty was probably doomed.

When the bell rang, she was tempted to stay right here. Mrs. Martin, the librarian, wouldn’t care if she stayed. She could just show her the pass again and explain she was doing an extra credit project for English.

She was still debating whether or not to risk it, when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to find Annabelle scowling down at her.

“You need to watch it, slut,” Annabelle said.

She spoke in a sneering way that made Misty wonder how half the town could think Annabelle was some sweet little Southern belle. Of course, most people had never seen this mean side of her.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Annabelle prodded when Misty remained determinedly silent. “You are such a loser.”

Enough, Misty thought, squaring her shoulders. “If I’m such a loser, why are you so obsessed with me?” she retorted, feeling a certain amount of pride in having finally spoken up to her tormentor.

“Obsessed? Are you kidding me? You’re just an annoyance.”

“Is that because your boyfriend wants to go out with me?” Misty asked, knowing she was pushing her luck but suddenly beyond caring.

Color rose in Annabelle’s cheeks. Her eyes glittered with fury. “You stay away from Greg, you hear me?”

“I’m not the one making the passes,” Misty reminded her. “If you’ve got a problem keeping him in line, tell him. Leave me out of it.”

Annabelle stared at her with momentary shock, then looked for all the world as if she was about to start tearing Misty’s hair out. She’d just reached toward her, when Mrs. Martin appeared.

“Girls, you need to keep your voices down,” she said, then frowned at Annabelle. “Do you have a pass to be in here?”

Annabelle flushed guiltily. “No, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you get to whatever class you’re due to attend before they count you as tardy.”

“What about her?” Annabelle asked.

Misty held up her pass. “All nice and legal,” she said with a sense of triumph.

Mrs. Martin smiled at Misty, then waved off Annabelle. “Run along.”

Only after Annabelle had gone did Mrs. Martin turn back to Misty. “I know perfectly well that pass was for last period, young lady, but it was obvious to me the two of you were having some kind of spat. Knowing how Annabelle can be, I assume she started it.”

Misty stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re blaming Annabelle?”

Mrs. Martin regarded her with a steady gaze. “Am I wrong?”

For the first time in weeks, Misty felt a tiny shred of hope. Still, confirming Mrs. Martin’s guess could lead to the kind of showdown she’d been hoping to avoid. Better just to be grateful for the support and keep silent.

“It was no big deal, Mrs. Martin. Really.”

The librarian didn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I’ll let it pass. Just promise me that if there is more to it, you’ll speak to me or one of your teachers and get it straightened out. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Misty said. “Do I have to go to my next class?”

“Just this once I’ll pretend that pass really is for an extra credit English project, just the way you told me when you came in.” She gave her a stern look. “Just don’t make a habit of this kind of thing, okay?”

“No way,” Misty promised readily. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Martin smiled at her. “I wish more of the students loved spending time in here the way you do and showed the same respect for the books. You’re going to make something of yourself one day, Misty. Don’t let anyone steer you off the path you’re on to do that.”

She walked away and left Misty in tears for the second time in the past hour, but these tears didn’t feel nearly the same. They felt good.