Read Online Starting From Scratch by Georgia Beers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Georgia Beers
Ads: Link
on Tuesday went surprisingly well. While I
expected the kids to be restless and distracted having just
come off a long weekend, they actually paid close attention
and gave me a commendable amount of effort. Brittany
with the helicopter mom had definitely practiced over the
long weekend, because she made contact left and right
with the ball. She didn’t hit far, but she hit it every time.
e way her face lit up at the whack of bat on ball made
my heart warm and I thought, is is why Maddie loves to
coach. I was finally understanding, finally getting it. And it
did feel good, I had to admit. I felt…accomplished. Like
I’d taught these young kids something totally and
completely new and they were enjoying it. It must be how
teachers felt when their lesson was finally grasped, when all
the hard work paid off and the student got an A on an
important exam. It must have been how a parent felt when
she let go of the back of the bike seat for the first time and
her child squealed with glee at the realization that he was
pedaling a two-wheeler all by himself and not falling.
Exhilarating was a good description.
Still not something I wanted to do on a regular basis,
but it was all right.
I took my time packing up the equipment, glad
beyond belief when Max got into the car with both
Gabriel and Mikey. Not having to rebuff Cindy meant I
could hold on to my good mood.
I decided to splurge for some take-out and swung by
my favorite ai place. I arrived home, fed Steve, and let
58
Starting From Scratch
him out. I fixed my plate, poured a glass of Pinot Grigio,
snagged two chocolate chip cookies from the stash I didn’t
take to work, and headed out to sit on my patio and enjoy
the unseasonably warm almost-June evening.
And wanted to kick myself for letting my guard down.
Max was already sitting in his usual spot on the other
side of the chicken wire, running his fingers through
Steve’s fur. My dog barely worked up the energy to glance
in my direction. I stood like a deer caught in the headlights
and when Max looked up, I knew escape was impossible.
“Coach King!” He stood up, his dark eyes bright with
excitement. “What are you doing here?”
Swallowing back the defeated sigh, I replied, “I live
here.” I set my plate and glass down. “What are you doing
here?”
“Me and my mom just moved into a new house.” He
pointed vaguely in the direction of the previously for sale
townhouse, confirming my suspicions.
“I see.”
“Is this your dog?” he asked.
Nope, never seen him before in my life, why don’t you take
him home with you? I almost said as my canine turned
indifferent eyes on me. “Yep. at’s Steve.”
Max giggled, the easily amused, infectious giggle of a
kid barely out of kindergarten. “Steve? at’s a funny
name.”
“You think so? How come?” I took a sip of my wine.
“Don’t you know any Steves? I have a friend named Steve.
And I went to school with a guy named Steve.”
He laughed harder and when his eyes crinkled with
mirth, he struck me as somehow familiar. “But he’s…” He
gestured at Steve, who hadn’t budged an inch since Max
59
Georgia Beers
stood. “He’s a dog. ” e way he said it, there was an
unspoken “duh” in his words.
“Well, what do you think his name should be?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know, something…
something…doggie, you know? Like, like…Duke or Rover
or…something like that.”
Amusement enveloped me like a mist and suddenly
my annoyance at the intrusion was pushed back into a
corner. I wasn’t sure what it was about Max, but I found
him to be rather charming company. I used my chin to
point to a ratty rope toy that had been left in the corner of
the yard. “If you throw that, he might fetch it and bring it
back to you.”
“Really?” Only a small child could put such hope and
anticipation into one word the way Max did.
“Yep.” I crossed the yard and helped
expected the kids to be restless and distracted having just
come off a long weekend, they actually paid close attention
and gave me a commendable amount of effort. Brittany
with the helicopter mom had definitely practiced over the
long weekend, because she made contact left and right
with the ball. She didn’t hit far, but she hit it every time.
e way her face lit up at the whack of bat on ball made
my heart warm and I thought, is is why Maddie loves to
coach. I was finally understanding, finally getting it. And it
did feel good, I had to admit. I felt…accomplished. Like
I’d taught these young kids something totally and
completely new and they were enjoying it. It must be how
teachers felt when their lesson was finally grasped, when all
the hard work paid off and the student got an A on an
important exam. It must have been how a parent felt when
she let go of the back of the bike seat for the first time and
her child squealed with glee at the realization that he was
pedaling a two-wheeler all by himself and not falling.
Exhilarating was a good description.
Still not something I wanted to do on a regular basis,
but it was all right.
I took my time packing up the equipment, glad
beyond belief when Max got into the car with both
Gabriel and Mikey. Not having to rebuff Cindy meant I
could hold on to my good mood.
I decided to splurge for some take-out and swung by
my favorite ai place. I arrived home, fed Steve, and let
58
Starting From Scratch
him out. I fixed my plate, poured a glass of Pinot Grigio,
snagged two chocolate chip cookies from the stash I didn’t
take to work, and headed out to sit on my patio and enjoy
the unseasonably warm almost-June evening.
And wanted to kick myself for letting my guard down.
Max was already sitting in his usual spot on the other
side of the chicken wire, running his fingers through
Steve’s fur. My dog barely worked up the energy to glance
in my direction. I stood like a deer caught in the headlights
and when Max looked up, I knew escape was impossible.
“Coach King!” He stood up, his dark eyes bright with
excitement. “What are you doing here?”
Swallowing back the defeated sigh, I replied, “I live
here.” I set my plate and glass down. “What are you doing
here?”
“Me and my mom just moved into a new house.” He
pointed vaguely in the direction of the previously for sale
townhouse, confirming my suspicions.
“I see.”
“Is this your dog?” he asked.
Nope, never seen him before in my life, why don’t you take
him home with you? I almost said as my canine turned
indifferent eyes on me. “Yep. at’s Steve.”
Max giggled, the easily amused, infectious giggle of a
kid barely out of kindergarten. “Steve? at’s a funny
name.”
“You think so? How come?” I took a sip of my wine.
“Don’t you know any Steves? I have a friend named Steve.
And I went to school with a guy named Steve.”
He laughed harder and when his eyes crinkled with
mirth, he struck me as somehow familiar. “But he’s…” He
gestured at Steve, who hadn’t budged an inch since Max
59
Georgia Beers
stood. “He’s a dog. ” e way he said it, there was an
unspoken “duh” in his words.
“Well, what do you think his name should be?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know, something…
something…doggie, you know? Like, like…Duke or Rover
or…something like that.”
Amusement enveloped me like a mist and suddenly
my annoyance at the intrusion was pushed back into a
corner. I wasn’t sure what it was about Max, but I found
him to be rather charming company. I used my chin to
point to a ratty rope toy that had been left in the corner of
the yard. “If you throw that, he might fetch it and bring it
back to you.”
“Really?” Only a small child could put such hope and
anticipation into one word the way Max did.
“Yep.” I crossed the yard and helped
Similar Books
