Wind Over Marshdale (5 page)

****

The first day of school—exciting for both students and teachers alike, but doubly so for those who had never been to school before. Seeing the wide-eyed little kindergarten pupils as they entered their classroom touched a responsive chord deep within Rachel's heart. It helped reaffirm her identity and alleviate some of the self-doubt that sometimes plagued her.

On this first day, many of the parents wanted to linger. It was a more difficult adjustment for them than for the children. She wondered if Whisper's father would accompany her today.

Her attention was soon taken elsewhere as an older looking couple entered the room with a little girl in tow.

“Hello,” the man said, shaking Rachel's hand vigorously. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, although still muscular in build with a graying fringe of hair. “I'm Ivor McKinley and this is my wife Betty.” He turned and smiled indulgently at the little girl. “And this is our Lisa.”

“Hello, Lisa,” Rachel said. “Welcome to kindergarten.”

“It's been a while since we had a child in kindergarten,” Betty McKinley offered by way of explanation. She had a round face, somewhat reddened by the elements, and sandy-colored hair that bounced around her chin in a straight bob.

“Lisa was a bit of a surprise,” Ivor grinned. “We thought we were through.”

“You have other children?” Rachel asked.

“Our eldest, Chad, is away at university,” Betty explained. “Then there's Bonita and Tyson. They both go to the high school here.”

“Can I put my stuff away now?” Lisa asked.

“Certainly. Let's go find your cubby,” Rachel responded, ready to steer the child in the direction of the storage cubbies.

“Oh, before we forget," Betty interjected, “Ivor's brother will be picking Lisa up from school, so make sure she doesn't get on the bus.”

“Yay! Uncle Con's picking me up!” Lisa sang out happily. “He's my favorite-ist uncle. He gives me pop and chips and lets me stay up late when we watch movies at his house.”

The adults laughed. “Betty and I have an appointment in the city and the other kids have things going on after school,” Ivor explained.

“Can I go over to Uncle Con's place tonight?” Lisa asked with only a slight note of pleading in her voice.

“No, sweetheart,” Betty replied. “The men are very busy right now with harvest.”

“Aw…”

“She does love her Uncle Con,” Ivor noted half apologetically. “He kind of spoils her a bit, I guess, but then that's to be expected since he has no kids of his own. He's a bachelor.

“I see," Rachel said. It must be nice to have such a close, loving family. People who truly cared. Lisa was lucky.

“Well, I guess we should be going now," Betty said.

“You be good, Pumpkin,” Ivor said to the little girl, squatting low enough to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I'm sure we'll be seeing you around,” he directed to Rachel as he stood to his full height again. “I'm on the school board,” he added and winked.

Rachel wasn't quite sure what to make of that last remark, but she had little time to ponder as more students and their parents started arriving.

She was engaged with an equally clingy mother and daughter combination when a familiar pair arrived. Butterflies instantly took to fluttering in her stomach. She excused herself and made her way to the doorway where Whisper and her father stood somewhat uncertainly. She'd checked the register again after seeing them in the restaurant. Whisper Lone Wolf. What kind of a name was that, anyway? Obviously the last name was aboriginal, but Whisper? Were her parents on some kind of back to nature hippy trip when they named her? And speaking of parents, she didn't notice a mother figure at the restaurant. Of course, that didn't mean anything. The mother could be at work, or out of town shopping for that matter. What difference did it make anyway?

The difference was, she felt a thrill of attraction upon seeing the father again. It must have been because it had been a really long time since she'd had any sex. A really long time. Since Ronald, actually. He'd burned her so badly she'd almost sworn off the opposite sex altogether. But now…

She shook her head. She was a pathetic mess. Imagine getting all hot and bothered after one glance from a good-looking man. For all she knew, he could be off limits anyway.

“Welcome to kindergarten,” she said brightly, hoping her face wasn't as flushed as she suspected it might be. Thank goodness he couldn't read minds.

“Hi,” Thomas stuck out his hand. “Thomas Lone Wolf. I think I saw you in the restaurant yesterday.”

“Yes, that's right,” Rachel smiled. She extracted her hand from his firm grasp and focused on the child instead of his intense, nearly black eyes. “And you must be Whisper.”

“How did you know?” the child responded, wide eyed.

“It's my job to know,” Rachel winked. “Whisper is a really pretty name. It sounds like poetry.”

The little girl beamed and looked up at her daddy, swinging their clasped hands in a wide arc.

“My name is Miss Bosworth,” Rachel continued, focusing on the child again. “Now, shall we get you settled?”

“What time is school out today?” Thomas asked.

“The usual, I'm afraid,” Rachel explained. “With many of the students riding the bus home, there is no such thing as early dismissal, I'm told. Even on the first day.”

Thomas nodded. “You're new here, then, too?”

“Yes. My first official day.”

“Well, good luck.” He bent down on one knee to address his daughter. “Love you, Princess. Be good. Remember whose daughter you are.”

“I'm a daughter of the King!” she beamed. Her lips smacked resoundingly as they connected with her father's forehead. “Love you, too, Daddy!” She turned to Rachel. “Where do I put my stuff?”

“Can you read your name?” Rachel asked. Whisper nodded. “Then you should be able to find your own cubby right over there. I'll be with you in just a minute.” The adults watched as Whisper scampered in the direction of the storage units.

Thomas stood. “My son, Ryder, will be by after school to pick her up just in case I can't make it.”

“Fine,” Rachel nodded. Disappointment filled her chest. How silly. A man like him would probably be attached anyway. “Your wife can't make it?” she asked, smiling in what she hoped looked like a casual fashion.

“I'm afraid not,” Thomas replied. “She passed away two years ago.”

“I'm so sorry,” Rachel murmured, suddenly feeling very foolish. The look in his eyes just now was tragic and here she was wondering—hoping—that he was available. She was a terrible person.

“Well, I suppose I better get going,” Thomas offered. “Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Rachel nodded, not daring to look into his dark eyes for fear he would see into her equally dark soul. The sooner she focused on her students, the better.

****

The day flew by. There were names to learn, disputes to referee, and reassurances to be made. A few parents stayed for the morning, unwilling to sever the apron strings completely, but in general, by the afternoon they had settled into a semblance of routine. When the 3:30 bell rang, Rachel's gaggle of tired but happy little people were herded off to their waiting parents, having survived their first day of school.

The bell also brought a momentary flutter of anticipation. What if she saw Whisper's father again? No such luck. Whisper's older brother Ryder came to pick her up only moments after the bell.

Rachel began gathering some supplies for the next day when she noticed a lone little figure hovering near the door. “Lisa?”

The little blonde nodded.

“Oh right!” Rachel exclaimed. “Your uncle is coming to pick you up.”

“What if he forgot?” Lisa asked, worry in her voice.

“I'm sure he'll be along any minute. It's only a few minutes past the bell. Why don't you do a puzzle or color while you wait?” she suggested. Lisa nodded and set her loaded backpack down by the door before skipping off to the coloring center.

A few minutes later, Rachel heard steps in the hall. Assuming it would be Lisa's uncle, she looked up from her computer with a friendly smile, only to be greeted by Steve Friest.

“Oh hello, Steve,” she said with a hint of annoyance, letting the smile slip from her face.

“Work, work, work!” Steve said, bending over her shoulder to peer at the screen.

“Do you mind? I've got a few things to finish up here,” Rachel said icily.

“Already? It's only the first day! You need to lighten up. How about dinner?” Steve persisted. "And I'll only buy the headache excuse once."

Behind them, someone cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I'm here to pick up my niece.”

Rachel swung around in surprise, almost bumping into Steve. She groaned inwardly, feeling a telltale flush of heat rising to her cheeks. The man standing in the doorway was not the middle-aged uncle she had been expecting. Instead, here was a much younger, very handsome, vitally good looking man. Blast that Steve Friest!

“You're Lisa's uncle?” she fumbled.

“Last time I checked,” the new man shrugged, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Uncle Con!” Lisa squealed, taking a running jump into the rugged man's arms. “You're late!”

“Sorry, sweetie. I'm Con McKinley, by the way,” he said over the top of Lisa's head. Con McKinley was about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and muscled forearms that showed beneath the rolled up sleeves of his denim shirt. He didn't have Steve's bulk, but he was definitely well proportioned with a lean hardness about his body, which was evident right down to the fit of his jeans.

“Pleased to meet you.” Rachel felt the color suffusing her face and wished she could will it away. She stuck her hand out instead, making a desperate attempt to regain her composure. “I'm Rachel Bosworth.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he repeated, taking the proffered hand firmly in his own free one. His hand felt rough and callused and hard.

It looked like he had been working outside, as his boots and the tan colored cowboy hat he wore had a thin layer of dust on them. He had brown hair that curled past the collar of his shirt. His eyes were a clear blue and he was presently looking into Rachel's own darker blue ones.

Rachel's gaze darted to the side, eyelashes fluttering. She felt like a flustered schoolgirl, not a trained professional. What on earth was going on? Her hormones were obviously completely out of whack. If she kept having this reaction to every good looking man that crossed her path, she'd be throwing herself at one of them very soon. Out of breath, she turned toward her desk only to bump headlong into Steve's chest.

"Oh! Excuse me.” A new wave of heat flooded over her body. She wished she could melt right into the floor.

“Steady!” Steve rested one of his great hands on her shoulder.

Rachel jerked away from the offending contact and glanced at Con McKinley to see if he had noticed it. To her mortification he wore an amused smile. “Well, I suppose I'd better get Mona here home and allow you two to get back to business.”

“Business? Oh, we weren't—I mean—you just happened to…” Rachel stumbled, then stopped. “Mona?”

“Just our secret, right Mona?” Con said to his niece as he helped her adjust the straps on her backpack. He knelt down to her eye level. “There's just something about that smile,” he teased and winked at the little girl. She smiled broadly and nodded her head. He took her small hand in his as he stood to his feet. “I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Miss Bosworth,” he said as he touched the brim of his hat. “Marshdale's not that big. Friest,” he said, nodding in the other man's direction.

“Con,” Steve acknowledged. He was eyeing Conrad McKinley in a much less friendly manner. Once the McKinley pair had left the room, he turned back to Rachel. “So how about it?” he asked, as if nothing else had transpired.

“What?” Rachel asked absently.

“Dinner,” Steve said.

Renewed annoyance flooded over her body. “Look, Steve, I'm really not interested right now, okay?”

“Come on, you have to eat sometime, right?” There was silence for a moment. “Well, am I right?” Steve persisted.

Rachel let out a deep sigh. “No. I said no, and I meant no. Understand?”

Steve frowned, allowing a pout to sprout on his lips. “I wonder. If McKinley had asked, would you go?”

“What?” Rachel sputtered.

“Well?”

“I'm really sorry, but I'm leaving now,” she clipped as she stuffed a few books and papers into her book bag. “And, no, thanks. I don't need anyone to carry my bag for me.” She turned abruptly on her heel and waited at the door for Steve to leave her classroom. For a moment she thought he was going to be stubborn and just stand there, but then he stalked toward the open door with a grim set to his mouth.

Rachel locked the door and turned to leave. Once again she almost bumped straight into Steve's burly chest.

“Maybe some other time, then,” Steve said.

“Pardon?”

“Dinner. Some other time,” Steve repeated.

Rachel couldn't believe the man's tenacity. She hesitated for a moment then blew out a breath of air. “You don't give up, do you?”

“Nope. I don't take no for an answer.”

“Listen. Tonight isn't a good night. Maybe some other time.” She winced at what she knew was a lie, hoping it would be enough for him to leave her alone. She would never go out to dinner with Steve Friest. Not when there were other attractive men around.

Steve grinned, his demeanor changing abruptly to that of a little boy who had just gotten his way. “Good. See you tomorrow, then,” he said. He turned and strode down the hallway.

Not if she could help it.