Read Online Carry Her Heart by Holly Jacobs - Free Book Online Page B

Teen Scene Night last year. It had been a big hit with local girls, and I’d had a Question-and-Answer hour that had been fun.
    “I’ll be there,” I promised.
    “Good. I get most of my Christmas shopping for the grands done by stopping at your table.”
    “Thanks, Mrs. Rose.”
    I was unbelievably lucky to have garnered so much support in the community. It wasn’t just the expo and other events I was invited to. It was people like Mrs. Rose, who bought my books for their grandkids. And it was the kids themselves who bought my books.
    I walked up one flight of stairs to the second floor and looked at the posters as I went. There was a school play for Thanksgiving. I knew I’d probably go because I knew so many of the kids.
    There would be a science fair in November as well.
    I remembered my award-winning science fair project. I’d studied the effects of sound on plant growth. The plant I talked to and played classical music for grew better than the plants I never talked to or played any music for.
    Thinking about Bach, I entered Coop’s class.
    And I felt a moment’s yearning for some soothing classical music.
    There was nothing soothing about Cooper’s classroom.
    “Just back from lunch,” she practically shouted as I came in.
    When I graduated high school, I thought about being a teacher. The noise level in Cooper’s class made me decide that nursing had been a much better option, and writing even better yet.
    “Okay, class, find your seats,” she shouted.
    And while there was still an undercurrent of noise, it was in the tolerable range. “Ms. Pip is volunteering her time, so the least you all can do is pay attention. She’s not used to this kind of hullaballoo.”
    The classroom settled. Although I would have sworn that there was still an undercurrent of sound floating just under the surface of their quiet. As if with the slightest provocation, the noise level would rise again.
    “Miss Cooper’s right; writing is a quiet business,” I explained. “Most of the time, the only sound I hear comes from my fingers tapping on the keyboard and an occasional car driving by my house.”
    The class finally settled. There was a different feel to the room. I leaned against Coop’s desk and started. “Now today, Ms. Cooper said she wanted us to start by discussing creating fictional characters. I thought I’d tell you how it works for me. And for me, it’s never the same way twice. Sometimes I have to work really hard to find my character, and sometimes . . .”
    I launched into the story of meeting Ned and Couch Couch. The kids listened and then spent a half hour asking questions before Coop put them to work on their own characters.
    “Introduce your characters to me,” she instructed her students. “How are they the same as you? And how are they different?” Like magic, the room was silent as they went to work.
    She motioned me to the hall. “I’ll be watching through the window, so no shenanigans,” she warned.
    “Did you ever listen to warnings like that from your teachers?” I asked. To the best of my knowledge, listening to rules had never been Coop’s strong suit, but then again, maybe she’d been better behaved before I met her in college.
    She snorted at the thought. “No. But let’s not tell them that.” She added, “Sorry I missed the fund-raiser last week.”
    “How’d the PTA meeting go?”
    “It wasn’t too bad. I met a number of my kids’ parents. I think this year’s class is going to be a good one. They’re excited about the books. Thanks again for the help. I know you’re more at home with the little kids.”
    “I think I’m going to enjoy the older students.” To be honest, the kids were so much closer to Amanda’s age. I’d spent the class wondering what type of student she was. Would she be like Kelsey and ask question after question because she wanted to be sure she understood the topic completely? Or would she be like the boy in the back row who’d zoned