Just to See You Smile (32 page)

“Miss O.”

Britte peered around the huge floral bouquet that occupied half of her desk. The thing simply had to go. “Yes, Trisha?” she asked the student who addressed her.

“You don't want Mr. Kingsley to get fired, do you?”

After Lynnie's florist warning, she had been somewhat prepared for the arrival of the flowers. She wasn't prepared for the girl's question. Her cheeks felt on fire. Again. The dismissal bell would be ringing in a few minutes. No one in the class was working. Her algebra assignment was light. The class had been shortened due to a pep assembly in honor of the team going to tomorrow night's sectional title game. Because the boys weren't playing tournament yet, the girls were receiving all the attention. It would have been a blast if not coupled with all that
other
attention.

“Trisha, what do you mean?”

“My mom heard that the school board may not rehire him because some people don't like his
style
. We like his style. We want him to stay.”

“Do you think Jo—Mr. Kingsley wants to stay?” Distinctly feminine laughter rippled through the class-room.
Uh-oh.

Kelli said, “Well, he's smiling like he's happy to be here! He never used to smile.”

Yes, he is smiling. His stoicism is totally gone. And it's not even the end of January, nowhere near Easter….

“And…” The girl's voice faded, but she looked directly at the bouquet.

Britte set the vase on the floor.

Danny asked, “Are the rumors true?”

That he's wooing me?
She swallowed. For goodness' sake, that couldn't be what he referred to. She wanted to stand and get a clear view of all their faces, but she sensed her legs were incapable of doing their job at the moment. “It's true. Unless they renew his contract, he won't be back.”

Voices rose. There were rumbled opinions about shutting down the board.

She held up a hand. “The board represents the community. You're the community. Your parents are the community. What can you do to be heard?”

Answers bombarded her. “Get a petition going! Attend next month's meeting. Write letters to the editor. Get our parents to speak up. Boycott classes! Go on a hunger strike.”

“So what's stopping you?” she challenged. “A word of caution. They'll only get upset about boycotts and hunger strikes. You want to be heard, not suspended.”

One of the girls opened a notebook. “Will you sign a petition?”

Would she do cartwheels if it would help? Would she camp out on Bruce Waverly's doorstep? Would she carry a placard and march? Would she get on her soapbox at a board meeting? “Yes. I'll sign a petition.”
And much, much more.

The weeks passed, two blurry weeks of basketball and Joel.

Approximately 350 teams whittled themselves down to 64 that competed in the Class A Sectional Tournament. Britte's team won, aligning them with only 15 other teams who would compete at the supersectionals. In the entire short history of Valley Oaks girls basketball, a team had never even been a contender.

The entire community was euphoric. Signs went up everywhere around the town and in the school. A fire engine escorted the bus out of Valley Oaks for each game, its siren blaring. Pep assemblies were scheduled almost daily either to congratulate them after a win or to inspire them before the next game. The band played, the cheerleaders led cheers. Joel and the male coaches donned the boys team warm-up outfits and performed a sidesplitting cheerleader routine.

And then the girls won the tournament, making them one of the elite eight that would play at State next week.

In the midst of it all, Joel continued to shower her with notes, surprise hellos, and gifts. One day a student office worker delivered a gift-wrapped package. At least that occurred during her free period. In privacy she tore off the paper and found a coffee bean grinder, a bag of coffee beans, and Joel's recipe for a great pot of coffee.

She was in a dangerously vulnerable state of emotions and nearly caved in on Sunday after church. Snow had fallen during the service; she found her car in the parking
lot completely cleaned off. Of course he had done it. She wanted to sit down and cry…with him holding her.

Fortunately, Brady and Gina had parked next to her. She begged them for a lunch invitation. “I'll buy it at Swensen's Market!”

Instead, they made soup and sandwiches together and sat on the floor near their fireplace in the cozy log cabin house. Her brother and his new wife glowed, but it wasn't from the fire. They looked the same in the parking lot, in the kitchen, outdoors, indoors, wherever.

“Okay,” Britte announced, “I need to know something. How did you two do it? How did you
give up
your dreams?”

They stared at her. Brady said, “Sis, what's wrong?”

Her voice had cracked. She'd heard it. Between her emotional state and screaming at games and pep assemblies, it was pushed to the limit. As was her heart. “How am I supposed to love Joel Kingsley when he's leaving Valley Oaks and my dream job—my whole
life
—is
in
Valley Oaks?”

In a flash they were beside her, hugging her. Eventually their words of comfort, their experience, and their advice all came down to one word: pray.

And then Brady asked her the question she had been avoiding. “Would your life still be in Valley Oaks if Joel Kingsley weren't here?”

Joel sat in the deafening noise of Illinois State's crowded Redbird Arena, wedged between Alec Sutton and Bruce Waverly. Below on the floor, Britte stood watching her girls warm up. She looked every inch the professional in her black slacks and jacket and royal blue blouse. Her long hair was in a thick braid. He couldn't tell from here whether or not she
wore the sapphire earrings he had left in her mailbox earlier in the week. They matched the necklace.

He felt his own pulse race and was glad it was Britte down there and not him. What a nerve-racking couple of weeks it had been for the girls team! And now they were at the state tournament. They had won their first game, guaranteeing them a spot in the top four. He never would have imagined getting so caught up with such a version of basketball. But then, he never had imagined a Britte Olafsson capturing his attention.

Bruce leaned forward and addressed Alec. “Did you tell him about the petitions?”

“No. I figured that was your place.”

Bruce nodded. “Joel, there are some petitions going around. People want your contract renewed.”

He was surprised. “Really? Does the board pay attention to petitions?”

The superintendent shrugged. “Almost 300 names from the high school are on one alone. Students and faculty. I've never seen anything like it.”

Alec said, “If we get anywhere near that percentage from the community, we've got to pay attention.”

It doesn't matter.
While they talked around him, Joel thought about calling Sam. His friend would understand. Joel's faith had been like an iceberg. Now having melted, it poured freely, a tidal wave carrying him across self-imposed boundaries that had encased his heart. He'd rather watch Britte than talk shop.

She was waving. At him? He sat up straighter and she pointed as if directing him downstairs. He excused himself. Only two and a half minutes remained before the game started.

She met him in the outer passageway.

“Britte! What are you doing?!” He noticed the earrings shining behind wisps of hair. “You'll miss—”

“This can't wait. Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I'm at the state tournament!”

He grinned. “Yes, you certainly are. Need a hug?”

She nodded, and then she vigorously shook her head no, withdrawing her hand. “Joel, as wonderful as all this is, it just occurred to me standing there courtside that compared to you…it doesn't amount to a hill of beans. Please don't stop wooing me?” Her breath caught as if her own words surprised herself. “There. I said it.” She turned on her heel and ran back inside.

The Princess didn't even have to ask. He smiled. “But thank You, Lord, that she did.”

Joel cheered her through that game and one more. When the dust settled, the Valley Oaks girls had taken third place. He couldn't get near Britte, but she caught his eye and returned his smile with a brilliant one of her own.

Contract or no contract, he would win that woman's heart. If he couldn't see her smile every day, he'd just as soon not get up in the morning.

“Annie, leave the dishes.”

She stared at her husband in disbelief. “It's Sunday night. I've been gone for days. You're leaving town in two days. If I don't catch up now—”

“It's Valentine's Day.”

She laughed at his ridiculous statement. “It is not.”

“It is in the Sutton household.”

Ever since his early morning visit to the Stratford, he'd been surprising her in countless small ways. A note here, an extra hug there, a clean kitchen. A
really
clean kitchen. What was he up to now? Alec never remembered Valentine's Day until after the fact. Then he'd usually promise to do a chore.

“Come, Mrs. Sutton.” He held out his hand. “Now, please.”

Intrigued, she dried her hands and placed one in his.

He led her upstairs and down the hall to the attic stairs. They climbed those. At the top he opened the door and drew her in. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

Anne looked around and gasped. “Alec!”

Not only was the large room spic-and-span clean, it was organized. Not only was it organized, it was finished! There were walls and a ceiling, and the floor was partially carpeted with one corner tiled. In that corner by a window stood an easel with a blank canvas on it. Track lighting hung above. A counter with cabinets beneath it ran along one wall.

“Oh, Alec!” She giggled and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I just wanted to see you smile that way again.”

“What way?”

“Like you're doing now. Like you did when you showed me your painting at the hotel. Like you used to when you had an easel in the bedroom.”

She kissed him. “I love you, mister.”

“And I love you. Go on. Check out your new place.”

He showed her around, explaining what he and the kids had done, how most of the material was secondhand, what he still wanted to do.

“It's so great, Alec! Now all I need is to find some time to play in it.” She grinned. “Actually, I already took care of that. It's my gift to you.”

“What?”

“I figured out a new schedule with Charlie. I'll work just Tuesdays and Thursdays. Happy Valentine's Day!”

He burst into laughter and hugged her. “That's absolutely perfect. But, are you sure?”

It was a compromise that gave her a peace she hadn't felt since before Thanksgiving. “I'm sure. It gives me time that I need here, enough time there to qualify for free art classes and supplies at wholesale, and I can help out a little bit financially.”

He kissed her. “Hey, I've got another one for you. Open up that drawer there on the left.”

“Another one?” She went to the set of white cabinets. “Alec, what's gotten into you? Oh my goodness! What is this? An airline ticket?”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I had enough frequent flyer miles to get your ticket. You'll have to lounge at the pool or art museums during my two days of meetings, but then we'll stay two extra days. Your mom will take care of the girls. Drew can stay at Peter
and Celeste's. Vic's got the dogs. It's all arranged. Come to San Diego with me and be my Valentine.”

She turned around in his arms. “The day after
tomorrow?
”

He nodded.

“Oh, Alec.” Her eyes welled. “I feel like I'm 17 again and we've just begun dating.”

“That's the idea. Sweetheart.” And then he kissed her.

Monday morning Britte floated down the hallway. Floating was such exhausting exercise. She had slept through the radio alarm. Students were already in the building, at their lockers, clanging them open and shut, loudly chattering, some calling out congratulations to her.

Her girls had taken third in State, which was inconceivable. Third! The thing of it was, that alone did not account for her floating. No, it was more the knowledge that she loved Joel Kingsley, and, as of late last night, she knew what she was going to do about it.

If he would have her.

In front of her locked classroom door there was a silvery mylar bouquet of helium-filled balloons. Blue and gold ribbons were tied to a tiny sandbag that anchored them to the floor. She opened the attached card. “Way to go, Princess!”

She smiled. He would have her.

But not until summer break. She was adamantly committed to that timing.

A few minutes later, during the intercom announcements, she yawned and took attendance, thinking about sending someone down to the office to fetch a cup of coffee for her. The previous principal had frowned on such things, but the
current principal… She smiled to herself. It was probably safe to assume that the current principal was wrapped around her little finger.

Britte floated to the front of her classroom, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the smile from her face.

The intercom hummed again. “May I have everyone's attention, please?” It was Joel's voice now. “I have one announcement to add. Miss O.” A clear chuckle resounded through the system. “This can't wait.”

This can't wait.
She heard the echo of her own words and stopped smiling.

“I want the entire school to know that I am wild about
Miss Olafsson.”

Her jaw dropped open. He'd gone too far.

“Absolutely, incredibly, insanely wild about her.”

Laughter erupted in the room. She heard it coming from another class across the hall.

Joel continued, “I'd like to demonstrate exactly how wild I am about her. You're all invited to the commons in two minutes.”

Britte flew from her room and down the hallway. She had to tell him to be quiet. She was his! He had her wrapped around
his
little finger! He didn't have to publicly declare or demonstrate anything. He could at least
try
to keep his job. Oh, she should have given in weeks ago!

“Joel!” she hissed as her feet hit the tiled commons floor and she saw him emerging from the office. “What are you doing?!” They met in the center of the area.

“Miss O, you're early. Mr. Waverly hasn't arrived yet.”

“Mr. Waverly?”

“I had to invite him. I don't want him hearing stories from other parties. He should judge for himself what constitutes inappropriate appearances.”

She sensed more than saw the commons filling up with people. Was Waverly there? She glanced around.
Oh, my gosh!
He was! Things were getting out of hand! She leaned toward Joel and whispered, “Let's talk about this in your office.”

Joel flashed a smile toward Bruce. “No way. That might appear inappropriate. Let's talk here in the open.” He went down on one knee and grasped her left hand between his. “Miss O.”

The crowd stopped its shuffling. The murmurs halted as if some cosmic finger had twirled a volume control.

“Miss O.” Joel raised his General's voice. Nobody was going to miss what he had to say. “I'd like your permission to court you.”

“Oh!” Flustered, she waved her free hand about.

The encircling crowd, relatively quiet compared to the rushing noise in her head, drew in its collective breath, waiting for her answer.

“All right!” she cried. “Yes, you have my permission!” For a split second the spectators stood stock still. Then they roared, a pandemonium of shouts, laughter, whistles, and applause.

“Really?” he asked, his voice scarcely audible above the din. His face was somber, his eyes searching hers.

The crowd faded from her peripheral vision, its noise drowned in the sudden quiet of her heart. Joel Kingsley was her knight, on his knee, behaving foolishly because he wanted the world to know he loved her. Where was his smile? She bent at her waist until her face was inches from his. “Yes, really. Joel, I'm not signing a contract unless they give one to you.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he stood, looking down at
her, clasping her hands between his to his chest. “You can't blackmail the Board of Education.”

“It's not blackmail. I was considering moving anyway.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Well.” She lifted her shoulders. “The thing is, I don't want to be here if you're not here.”

He smiled the wonderful smile that transformed his stoic face into that of a caring man. “You don't have to move. If I don't get a contract, I've got a job lined up down at the hardware store.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Really. I love you, Miss O.”

“And I love you, Mr. Kingsley.”

Eyes not leaving hers, he raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen! What you are about to witness is inappropriate behavior for students in the halls.” Lowering his face, he murmured, “But I'm the General.”

And then he kissed her ever so gently, ever so appropriately for public wooing.