great time.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Flashing him another of her brilliant smiles, she climbed into her car and headed up the gravel driveway to the main road. He kept his eyes on the cheery convertible until it disappeared around the bend that led to town, and for a while longer after that. He didn’t know what had happened to him, or when, but there was no point in denying it. Every time he and Lily said goodbye, he found himself looking forward to the next time he’d see her.
Smitten, his father would have called it, Mike acknowledged with a sigh. The trouble was, much as he’d like to dive in and see what might happen between the pretty teacher and him, he didn’t have room in his life for anyone right now. Beyond that, Abby was his first priority, and he couldn’t risk having her get attached to someone only to be left behind again.
That should have ended the whole issue for him, he thought as he trudged up the porch steps. But it didn’t. And for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
It was the last Wednesday of the school year, and Lily was making the rounds of her classroom when she noticed an anxious face framed in the window of her door. Seeing that it was the principal, Mr. Allen, she held up her index finger for him to wait a minute and did a quick assessment of her students’ progress.
“Those letters look much better today, Frankie,” she praised one boy hard at work on his alphabet. “Would you like to write them up on the smart board for us later?”
His plump cheeks broke into a huge grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Patting his shoulder, she moved past the table and met the principal out in the hallway. “Good morning, Mr. Allen. What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can get me out of a jam,” he replied in a panicky voice. “One of the first-grade classes is putting on their play this afternoon. The parents are on their way, and the teacher who’s supposed to be in charge just called from the hospital. Her husband broke his leg at work, and she’s going to be out the rest of the day.”
“Can’t someone else step in? I don’t know the first thing about this play.”
“The room moms have the costumes, props and music under control. I just need someone to keep the kids in line while they’re waiting backstage. Eighteen hyper seven-year-olds are more than the volunteers can manage on their own.”
Apparently, she’d gotten a bit of a reputation during her brief time in Oaks Crossing, she realized with a mental sigh. Lily St. George: Kid Wrangler. Everyone had a talent, she supposed, and stepping in to help out this way would certainly look good in the teamwork section of her professional assessment. Still, she wasn’t sure what to do about her own class. Then a solution occurred to her, and she said, “I’m happy to pitch in, as long as my students can come watch the show. It’ll be a nice surprise for them.”
“Fine. And thank you very much. You’ve saved me the trouble of canceling the performance and disappointing the kids and their families.” After shaking her hand, he hurried back down the hall even as the loudspeaker started paging him about a crisis in the cafeteria.
When she filled her class in on their change in plans for this morning, they cheered with the kind of enthusiasm she adored in young children. At this age, it was all or nothing, and she often wished it was possible for people to hold on to that attitude as they grew up. Everyday worries and responsibilities had a way of eroding that optimistic view of the world, which in her opinion was a real shame. It was one of the big reasons why she’d chosen to become a teacher over any other career. Being with children all day helped her put life’s ups and downs in their proper perspective.
She kept an eye on the clock and interrupted their lesson on plants at a good stopping point. “Okay, let’s get ready to go to the auditorium. Quietly,” she reminded them with a finger
“Yeah, me, too.”
Flashing him another of her brilliant smiles, she climbed into her car and headed up the gravel driveway to the main road. He kept his eyes on the cheery convertible until it disappeared around the bend that led to town, and for a while longer after that. He didn’t know what had happened to him, or when, but there was no point in denying it. Every time he and Lily said goodbye, he found himself looking forward to the next time he’d see her.
Smitten, his father would have called it, Mike acknowledged with a sigh. The trouble was, much as he’d like to dive in and see what might happen between the pretty teacher and him, he didn’t have room in his life for anyone right now. Beyond that, Abby was his first priority, and he couldn’t risk having her get attached to someone only to be left behind again.
That should have ended the whole issue for him, he thought as he trudged up the porch steps. But it didn’t. And for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
It was the last Wednesday of the school year, and Lily was making the rounds of her classroom when she noticed an anxious face framed in the window of her door. Seeing that it was the principal, Mr. Allen, she held up her index finger for him to wait a minute and did a quick assessment of her students’ progress.
“Those letters look much better today, Frankie,” she praised one boy hard at work on his alphabet. “Would you like to write them up on the smart board for us later?”
His plump cheeks broke into a huge grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Patting his shoulder, she moved past the table and met the principal out in the hallway. “Good morning, Mr. Allen. What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can get me out of a jam,” he replied in a panicky voice. “One of the first-grade classes is putting on their play this afternoon. The parents are on their way, and the teacher who’s supposed to be in charge just called from the hospital. Her husband broke his leg at work, and she’s going to be out the rest of the day.”
“Can’t someone else step in? I don’t know the first thing about this play.”
“The room moms have the costumes, props and music under control. I just need someone to keep the kids in line while they’re waiting backstage. Eighteen hyper seven-year-olds are more than the volunteers can manage on their own.”
Apparently, she’d gotten a bit of a reputation during her brief time in Oaks Crossing, she realized with a mental sigh. Lily St. George: Kid Wrangler. Everyone had a talent, she supposed, and stepping in to help out this way would certainly look good in the teamwork section of her professional assessment. Still, she wasn’t sure what to do about her own class. Then a solution occurred to her, and she said, “I’m happy to pitch in, as long as my students can come watch the show. It’ll be a nice surprise for them.”
“Fine. And thank you very much. You’ve saved me the trouble of canceling the performance and disappointing the kids and their families.” After shaking her hand, he hurried back down the hall even as the loudspeaker started paging him about a crisis in the cafeteria.
When she filled her class in on their change in plans for this morning, they cheered with the kind of enthusiasm she adored in young children. At this age, it was all or nothing, and she often wished it was possible for people to hold on to that attitude as they grew up. Everyday worries and responsibilities had a way of eroding that optimistic view of the world, which in her opinion was a real shame. It was one of the big reasons why she’d chosen to become a teacher over any other career. Being with children all day helped her put life’s ups and downs in their proper perspective.
She kept an eye on the clock and interrupted their lesson on plants at a good stopping point. “Okay, let’s get ready to go to the auditorium. Quietly,” she reminded them with a finger
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