Just to See You Smile (27 page)

“What if I had told you instead to forget dating her?”

Joel was quiet for a moment. “I'd have put a message on the Community Center sign. 'Kingsley Woos Olafsson.' Maybe put an ad in the kids'
Viking Views
.”

Alec laughed. “I think that's why we hired you. Great attitude. Have a good one!”

“You, too. See you.”

Alec pushed the off button. True, he had known Anne for a long time…so why didn't it feel as though he
knew
her?

“Daddy, does Mr. Kingsley love Britte?”

“Sounds like it.”

She grinned up at him, her face a miniature of her mother's. “Britte needs a husband.”

“And why is that?”

“All my favorite teachers are ‘Mrs.'”

He smiled. “Hey, do you think Mommy would like me to cook dinner for her?”

“Yeah. Then she could paint.”

“Paint?”

“She wants to paint. She said if she didn't cook, maybe she'd have time to paint.” Mandy pointed to the scattered piles. “What is all this stuff?”

“Uh, memories. Want to see what your mom and dad looked like when we were Drew's age?” He reached for the shoebox and began to share his and Anne's love story. The youngest proof of its reality listened intently, her gray eyes rapt with delight.

Britte studied Joel's condominium complex as they pulled into his driveway a few blocks behind the high school football field. Nice place. New construction. Minimally landscaped with small evergreen bushes. Not many units. Uniform beige siding with forest green trim. Unhindered views of snow-covered fields. “Joel, I could have driven myself over.”

“But I would have followed you home anyway.” He tapped the garage door opener and glanced over at her. “Cal called. Hughes is out on bail.”

“Here we go again.” She wrinkled her nose.

He drove into the attached garage and cut the engine. “He said you need to get a restraining order. If Hughes gets within a hundred feet of you, he gets arrested.”

“Guess that means no more games for him.” She felt again a heavy sadness for his family.

Joel touched her shoulder. “On a cheerier note, I called Alec Sutton earlier and asked him what he thought as a board member. About, you know, us.”

She laughed. “You didn't! He probably wonders if you've lost your mind going out with me, of all women. He knew me when I was a spoiled child and smart-mouthed adolescent.”

“Has anything changed?”

“That remark is going to cost you.”

“How about a home-cooked dinner?”

“Sounds great.” They climbed from the car, and he opened the door leading into the condo. “So what was Alec's response?”

“He thought I'd lost my mind.”

She stepped through the door he held open. “There is a glint in your eye, Mr. Kingsley.” It was, in fact, a gleam of delight that erased years from his face. She had never seen him so unguarded. “I don't know if I believe you.”

He smiled and shut the door. He really had an awfully nice smile.

“You should do that more often.”

“What's that?”

“Smile. Christmas is over, you know.”

He chuckled, understanding her reference to the dictum that teachers shouldn't smile before Christmas. “The timing is different for principals and generals. We have to wait until Easter to crack a smile. May I take your coat?”

With his help, she shrugged out of it. “Nice kitchen.” Talk about gleaming. The walls and countertops were white, as were the apparently new appliances. There was a sliding glass door overlooking a deck and a field. A square, light-colored wooden table completed the décor. She slipped off her athletic shoes. “Spotless, too, of course.”

“Of course. It's not too tough to clean, living alone.”

“You saw my kitchen.”

“But you're in the middle of basketball season. Come on. I'll give you the grand tour.”

She followed him through the wide doorway that led into a large hall. One end of it was open to the living room. Around its other sides were the front door and a smaller hall.

Joel went to a closet and hung their coats. He gestured. “This is it. Bedrooms down there, one of which is my office away from the office. Living room here.” They walked into the sparsely furnished, contemporary room.

“It's all so bright and new.”

“Bachelor pad. No Aunt Mabel ever lived here. Did I pass inspection?”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“Based on my home, do you think we should continue getting to know each other?”

“You're passing with flying colors, General. How about vice versa?”

“Flying colors, ma'am. Your house conjures up cozy grandma memories. And no, I'm not comparing you to my grandmother.”

She smiled. “Good. So what did Alec really say?”

“We're not breaking any rules.”

“I wouldn't want to break any rules. What are we going to do about the gossip?”

“Ignore it. How about some coffee?”

“Love some. Mind if I watch you make it? After drinking yours, mine didn't taste quite right this morning.”

“I'll teach you.” In the kitchen, he talked her through grinding beans and measuring water. “How did practice go?” Though it was a school holiday, both of them had gone in to work, greeting each other from a distance.

“Fine. Jordan wasn't there. I talked with the girls about the situation. Naturally, they'd already heard about it. They'll support her. Hopefully they can talk her into coming back to school tomorrow. I suggested we bring Trevor on board as a manager. They liked the idea.”

“You are something else, Britte. I want to suspend him indefinitely.”

She smiled. “You know that wouldn't help him.”

“It'd help me. Cal told me the kids are staying with relatives for the time being. Their mother's gone to a shelter.”

“I wish we could fix it for them.”

He touched her shoulder lightly and reached behind her into a cupboard. “Maybe lock up Gordon and throw away the key?”

“Mm-hmm. Something like that.”

Leaning against the counters, they chatted like old friends as the coffee dripped into the carafe. Its strong scent eventually engulfed the kitchen, and Joel filled two mugs. He wore blue jeans today with an olive green fleece shirt that high-lighted the green flecks in his eyes. When he handed a cup to her, his fingers brushed against hers. She kept her eyes lowered, concerned they would betray her thoughts, which jolted as if electrified. Why was it that for nearly six months she hadn't noticed how attractive the guy was?

In the living room she sat on the couch, leaving the recliner for him. He chose, instead, the floor, his back against the couch.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I guess.” She eyed the stack of videos, clearly labeled as girls basketball games, dated last year. “If you think this will help.”

“I think it will.” He pointed the remote at the television and VCR.

Instantly she came into view, huddled with her girls on the court. The scoreboard indicated zero to zero. It was at the beginning of a game.

Joel lowered the volume and began narrating in a quiet tone. He fast-forwarded through much of the game, focusing instead on Britte's interaction with the girls. He praised, pointed out inconsistencies, made suggestions, compared her style with what he had seen of it this season.

“Okay?” He stopped the tape and looked back at her.

She nodded.

“I think I've figured out a pattern. Mind if I show you more?”

“Please.” She set her mug on the end table. “I respect your opinion.”

“All right, then.” He turned around again and aimed the remote.

Britte watched the start of another game. She truly didn't mind being critiqued by someone who knew what he was talking about and didn't have a daughter on the team. What she found disturbing was the idea of Joel diligently studying her on tape. It was an unparalleled act of outright caring. The impact of it interfered with her effort to concentrate on basketball.

Well, that and the movement of his shoulder against her leg every time he lifted the remote.

She pulled her legs up on the couch and tucked them beneath herself, stifling a sigh.

Over two hours later, Joel flicked off the television with the remote and swiveled on the floor to face Britte. He rested his arms on the couch. “Does that make sense?”

Those eyes of hers that mesmerized him were clouded. Avoiding eye contact with him, she nodded.

Had he misread her? He thought she was strong enough to handle the criticism. “I didn't mean to—”

“Oh, Joel, how could I get so far off track? It's as if I totally forgot the definition of teamwork. And what's happened to my focus? The girls are first and foremost. I know that!”

He moved up to the couch, put his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, we all do it. You don't have to be perfect.”

“I blew it.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I've alienated them.”

“Only for the moment. It's been a tough season every which way. And I wasn't much help. You were right insisting that I back you up.” He remembered the faculty Christmas party when she had asked for his support against Hughes. “Britte, I'm sorry for being political. Just like you, I lost sight of my team.” He looked down at her. “You're my team first. We are in this together, on the same side. And I promise I will always be faithful. Nobody messes with my faculty.”

She stared back at him. “Do you know how much that means to me? I feel like a two-ton weight just fell away.”

Respond to those in need.
It was ingrained in him to comfort Britte the moment he saw her hurting, and so he had jumped again to her side. But maybe it wasn't such a good idea, sitting closely, holding her, losing himself in that royal blue gaze…in the thought of that wonderful mouth, so close—

“
Semper fi
, right?” she asked. “Always faithful.”

“How'd you know that?”

She grinned. “Do you remember working out with the boys basketball team one afternoon? You rolled up your T-shirt sleeves.”

He groaned.

“Drew told his mom about the tattoo, and she told me, and then Alec told us it's a Marine phrase.” She laughed.

“Guess you can't say much against tattoos to the kids. They all know about your eagle and your
semper fi
banner. Youch! Didn't that hurt?”

“To a Marine?” he scoffed. “No way.”

She smiled again. Such a great smile. “Anyway, thank you. For all of this. Those tapes helped. I can't believe you put so much time into watching…” Her voice faded.

“My pleasure.” He tilted her chin up and hesitated. She fit too well in his arms, in his home, in his thoughts. Best not to even start. “Mmm. This is not a good idea.”

“Rules of engagement?” she murmured.

“I'm making them up as we go along.” His eyes lingered on hers. “We'd never get to dinner, Princess.” Reluctantly he let go of her chin and stood. “And I promised to cook for you.”

“Can I help?”

“Uh, no.” He gave her a crooked smile and headed toward the kitchen. “Why don't you stay put and relax?”
While I go out here and cool down…

Alec pirouetted Mandy around the kitchen as they both sang loudly and off-key. His younger daughter's favorite music—a children's chorus singing Christian lyrics to a hip- hop beat—blared from the stereo. At the counter, Amy shredded goat cheese, singing at the top of her voice. It was late afternoon, and they were preparing tacos for dinner. Drew was at basketball practice.

What a day! Alec laughed, leapt in the air, and clicked his heels. The girls squealed and giggled at his antics.

Sifting through the memories earlier in the attic was like jump-starting a dead corner of his mind, the corner responsible for creating romantic ideas. Once that was charged, the energy flowed. He finished long-standing plumbing and carpentry projects around the house. He planned Anne's favorite dinner complete with chocolate cake. He wrote three notes that said “I love you” and posted them on the vanity, in her sock drawer, and on her pillow. He made a list of possible gifts he could buy her for Valentine's Day. He thought of things he could do for her.

He checked the calendar and noticed with dismay that he was scheduled to be out of town on business February 14! Why had he scheduled that? Because the date hadn't meant a thing. His mind raced. Could he reschedule? He
had
to reschedule.

Think about it. Pray about it.

The phone rang. Amy answered while Alec turned down the music.

“Dad, it's Mom.”

He took the cordless phone. “Hi, sweet—” Pausing, he consciously dropped the automatic tone. “
Sweetheart
. Annie. Love of my life. Bearer of my children.”

“What did you break?”

“Nothing. Actually, I fixed a few things.”

“Great. Alec.” There was an edge to her voice. “It's sleeting here. The forecast says it's going to get worse. What's it doing there?”

“I haven't noticed.” He stepped over to the sink and peered through the window above it. It was too dark to see anything. “Can you leave now?”

“Cars are sliding across the parking lot.” Her voice trembled slightly. “It looks like a sheet of ice. It was fine 20 minutes ago when the last customer left.”

They both knew how drastically winter weather could change within a few moments time. Those caught unawares… The silence hung heavy between them. Images played in his head, and he knew they'd been in Anne's before she picked up the phone to call. “I'll come get you.”

“No! Please, Alec,” she nearly whimpered. “Don't come. Don't put me through that.”

“Okay, okay. I won't.” He wouldn't. She had put him through that, traveling when she should have stayed put during an ice storm…

“I'll wait it out.”

Drew walked through the door.

“Hold on, Anne. Drew's home.” He noticed his son's odd expression, but thought it best not to ask what was wrong with Anne listening. “What are the roads like?”

Drew shrugged out of his jacket. “Bad.” He chewed a corner of his lip and turned to hang up his coat.

Alec darted over to him and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Drew came back around. Alec looked up at his tall
son. Alarmed at the little boy visage he saw there, he pressed the phone against his chest and mouthed, “What happened?”

“The car's fine.” His overgrown hands fluttered. “I sailed past a stop sign, but nothing happened! I wasn't going fast, honest!”

Alec patted his cheek, relieved. “Now you know how to drive on ice.” He put the phone to his ear.

“Alec!”

“I'm here.”

“This is a toll call!”

“Oh, yeah. Drew says the roads are bad here, too. Stay put.”

“Charlie said I can go home with him. He doesn't live far and it's flat between here and there. I'll call you in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye. I love—” He heard the disconnection click.

So much for wowing his wife with romantic surprises. With disgust he punched the off button. Romantic surprises? That was the least of his concerns! Charlie Manning was right where he should be, comforting Annie through one of her worst nightmares.

In the midst of yet another public service announcement to stay off the highways, Anne snapped the radio's power dial and walked out into the shop. She crossed her arms in an effort to stop her hands from trembling. “Charlie, what are you doing?”

Her boss stood in front of the display of brushes, poking through them, lifting out one, then another. Had he heard her? Today's flannel shirt was blues and grays that high-
lighted his eyes and hair. In his left hand he held a shopping bag. Now he deposited a handful of brushes into it as he stepped over to the paints.

Anne went to the window and shivered. Truthfully, she didn't even want to ride down the street with Charlie. The city streets would not resemble the two-lane state highway or the parking lot. Still, to go out at all on a night like—

“Anne.”

She turned to face him.

“You seem troubled.”

Once again his perceptiveness sliced through her jumbled emotions. She didn't know where to begin.

“Perhaps staying at my house isn't such a good idea. Your husband might get the wrong impression.”

Anne chuckled at the absurd idea. “I told you that you remind me of my brother.” Tall, gaunt, artistic, a shade on the odd side. “The illustrator who lives in Oregon.”

“And you remind me of my daughter, but Alec has no way of knowing that since I've never mentioned it to you. So I put myself in his shoes. If my wife were in this predicament, I'd risk life and limb to get to her.”

“Alec won't do that.”

“I gathered that from your conversation. Sorry, I over-heard that part. At any rate, he's a red-blooded male who will not be comfortable with you at another man's house. Therefore, I've taken the liberty of calling the motel next door on my cell while you were on the other phone. They have a room. My treat. It's what I would do for my daughter. And, I'd give this to her.” He handed her the shopping bag.

“We'll grab a canvas, too.”

Anne stared at him, speechless.

“Go and paint, dear lady.”

“Oh, Charlie!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “This isn't necessary.”

“I think it is. Why don't you get your coat?”

A few moments later they stood again at the front door, coats on, lights off. Charlie held a canvas and an easel under one arm.

Anne peeked in the shopping bag she carried; there were oils, brushes, a palette, a sketch book. “Charlie, I can walk to the motel.” The parking lot of the mini-mall in which the art store was located abutted the motel's lot. A ten foot snow bank separated them.

“You'd have to walk out to the street and around. I'll drive you.” He moved to open the door. “It's not exactly out of my way.”

“I prefer to walk.” Her voice sounded like a stranger's.

“Anne, what is it?”

“I…I don't want to…” She waited for the shudder to pass. “It's the ice. I was in an accident seven years ago. The weather was like this.” Over the years she grew used to snow driving again. Ice storms were rare. If conditions predicted one, she simply didn't drive.

She went on. “Alec was home with the kids. I was in Rockville, finishing up Christmas shopping at the mall until late evening. I ignored the radio warnings and drove right into the storm. The car slid off of the highway.” She paused. “I was five months pregnant.” Another pause. “He would have been our fourth.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

Charlie crooked his elbow and held it toward her. “Come on,” he said in his soft voice. “I'll walk you over to the motel.”