Just to See You Smile (31 page)

Britte stood outside her classroom door between third and fourth period classes, watching two girls approach. Julie and Rachel giggled all the way down the hall. It was amazing how much chitchat could fly during the four minutes of passing from one room to another.

“Miss O,” Rachel called out, “we just saw Mr. Kingsley and he says ‘hi.'”

Britte clenched her jaw, hoping to stop the flush from spreading.

It wasn't the first time a student had delivered a greeting from the principal. The first time occurred a week ago, the day after the Bruce Waverly ultimatum. Britte had thought the student's so-called “relayed message” must be a joke. Until it happened again with a different student. And then again. All in the same day.

The notes added credence. They began arriving the next day. At least once a day since then she had found a hand-written note in her office mailbox, on her desk, or taped to the locker room door for all to see. Saturday the note arrived in her Valley Oaks post office box. Sunday it was stuck under the wiper on her car in the church parking lot. “Have a great day, Miss O.” “Good luck in tonight's game, Miss O.” “Thinking of you, Miss O.” “You look especially striking today, Miss O.”

All of them were signed “the General.”

Now the two girls stopped before her. Julie whispered, “We think he has a crush on you!”

Rachel added, “He
never
used to smile.”

They sauntered into the room, their giggles lingering in the empty hallway. The bell rang, but Britte stood still, trying to shake off conflicting emotions. He might be smiling, but she certainly wasn't. The man was not playing fair!

“Psst!”

She turned and saw Joel peering around the corner.

“You're late for class!” he called out in a stage whisper, a
smile softening his square jaw.

“Oh!” She swiveled on her heel and strode through the doorway.

It wasn't the first time for
that
either.

And then there were the other incidents. Last Thursday he had interrupted her sixth-hour lecture just to say hello. Friday he entered the gym in the middle of practice. Dribbling a basketball, he wound his way between the girls on the court and made a layup. He then grabbed the ball, focused in on her, grinned, and slowly, deliberately
winked
. By the time she came to her senses, half the team was rolling on the floor and laughing hysterically, Anne loudest of all.

Evidently Mr. Kingsley was not going away.

The following day it was Cal Huntington who interrupted her class. He arrived first hour wearing his sheriff's uniform, gun and all. In spite of his fuzzy brown hair that begged to be ruffled and the protective appearance of his wide shoulders filling out the leather jacket, he did not exude what Lia called his “teddy bear” demeanor. Britte involuntarily shuddered, hoping he wasn't after one of her kids.

“Can we talk?” He pointed over his shoulder toward the hall.

She followed him out and shut the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, Britte, but I wanted you to know. I picked up Gordon Hughes about two this morning. He was in your front yard, just standing there cursing up a storm.”

She leaned against the lockers.

“That put him within 100 feet of you. He broke the restraining order. The judge won't let him go this time. Are you okay?”

Her breakfast cereal was doing a gymnastics routine in her stomach. “I didn't really think he'd do anything.”

“He was intoxicated. He even passed out before I got him to the station. I don't think he could have managed to break in. Sober, I don't think he'd ever have the nerve to try.”

“Still.”

“Still,” Cal agreed. “But it's over now.”

“Can you keep it out of the newspaper?”

“Yeah, I'm trying. His kids don't need this kind of publicity. How's Trevor doing?”

“He's doing well. He's a big help, actually, and starting to talk to me directly. The girls all treat him like a favorite little brother.” She blinked away tears.

“Good. You've shown us how you've forgiven him, but keep your eyes open, okay? If he were to get angry, blame you for his dad…” He shrugged again.

“Okay. Thanks for coming by, Cal.”

“You're welcome. Now you don't need Joel to spend the night with you.” He grinned. “Unless you want him to, Miss Goody Two-shoes.” With that he was striding down the hall, laughing rather loudly.

At a particular juncture near the end of the season, Britte usually lost all sense of connection with anything unrelated to her team and basketball. However, that wasn't happening. And the funny thing of it was, the girls were winning. They won the regional tournament, hands down. Their first sectional tournament game would begin in three hours.

“Ethan.” Britte was sitting in his classroom Thursday afternoon when she should have been down in the commons waiting with the girls for the bus and feeding them enthusiasm. “I don't get it. It's tournament time and the fire-breathing coach is taking a nap.”

“Ah.” Her friend's feet were up on his desk; he leaned back in the chair, hands locked behind his head. “Your heart is otherwise engaged.”

She blinked. “It is not.”

“Would you recognize it if it were?”

“It's basketball season. My heart can't be anywhere else.”

“But Joel Kingsley has never been present during the season.”

“And he probably won't ever be again.”

“Meaning your heart shouldn't be occupied with him? You are much too practical, Miss O. Hearts don't work that way. Why don't I give you some good literature to read that'll teach you something about the ways of the heart? Get your mind off two plus two.”

“I know enough about the ways of the heart. I know that I don't want to mess with a broken one again.” Although her relationship with Eric had happened a long time ago, the pain had left an indelible mark.

“You're counting on something that may not even happen.”

“Hey, two plus two equals four. I'm staying and he's going.”

Ethan shook his head. “Way too practical and way too stubborn. What did he give you today?”

“A few notes.” She paused. “And a flower. A red rose.”

The English teacher smiled. “Only one?”

She nodded.

“You realize only one means ‘I love you'?”

She glanced away. No, she didn't know that. Would an ex-Marine know that? “Says who?”

“Someone unconcerned with two plus two. What did the card say?”

“Good luck at sectionals.” She bit her lip. “Princess.”

Ethan's smile stretched into a broad grin. “I'd say the guy
is hooked.”

The guy who was supposedly hooked on her didn't even show up for her game that night.

Like I could care less.

The bus sped through the night. While Britte huddled against a window and chewed a thumbnail, her assistant coach whooped it up with the girls in the back. The sophomores, finished with their own season, were permitted to ride along to attend the varsity tournament games. It was a crowded, noisy place.

Anne plopped beside her now on the bench seat and roughly nudged her with an elbow. “Hey, Coach. Smile. You won!”

Truthfully, it hadn't been that tough of a game.

Anne leaned around her until their faces were inches apart in the dark. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Britte, this isn't you. Come on, let it out. This is a crucial week, and I have to know what's going on with you. Else how can I be your surrogate mom and assistant coach?”

“I don't know.” Her voice, those strong vocal cords that so effortlessly carried words across a basketball court, was
whining
. “Joel wasn't there.”

“He's in Chicago. Didn't you know? A family emergency. He left school right after lunch.”

“How do you know that?”

“I asked Alec at halftime why he wasn't around, and he heard it in the stands.”

Why hadn't he told her? That was obvious! She hadn't exactly talked with him in over a week. Why would he leave in the middle of the week? Nicky! “Did any of our guys in Afghanistan get hurt today?”

“I haven't listened to the news since I started working.” She put an arm around her shoulders. “So you admit that his absence bothered you.”

“It always did.”

“But that was because you thought he was unfairly favoring the boys. Now it bothers you because, face it, Miss O, you're falling in love with the man!”

Early Friday morning Britte went into the school office. Anne's words from last night's bus ride home were still ringing in her head, which
flustered
her. Britte Olafsson did
not fluster
. A fact which, of course, flustered her all the more.

“Lynnie.”

The secretary looked up from her desk. “Morning, Britte. Congratulations!”

“Thanks. Is Joel still gone?”

She nodded. “He plans to be back tomorrow, in time for the sectional championship game.”

“Is it his cousin?”

“Yes. He came home.”

“Is he all right?”

“He's all right. It was an unexpected, short leave.” Lynnie smiled. “I imagine the florist will be stopping by again today. You know, because Joel can't be here himself to leave notes.”

Intense heat flared inside of her, reaching even the tips of her ears.
Does everyone know?
She opened her mouth, expecting a reply to automatically roll off her tongue, but none came. She clamped her mouth shut, waggled her fingers
at Lynnie, and walked out.