A Storybook Finish (5 page)

40

from Lindsay. When the waitress came, she gave a long order

of food including a chocolate milkshake, a cheeseburger,

French fries, and onion rings.

Lindsay swallowed hard, not relishing the idea of having to

look for new clothes if she consumed that type of fare. When

she noticed Jewel and the waitress both looking at her expectantly,

Lindsay forced down all modesty and ordered a milkshake and a plate

of fries. Jewel relaxed in her seat and gave a

smile. Lindsay chuckled, knowing she was now accepted into

the fold, grease and all.

“So did you, Robbie, and Troy all go to the same grade

school?” Lindsay asked.

“Yeah, we were all in the same classes. Robbie was a bully

back then. He picked on Troy all the time. He called him

‘brain.’”

This is turning out to be more like Popeye all the time. Maybe I

should have Troy over and make him a spinach quiche to help

build up those muscles. Lindsay nearly laughed out loud but

managed to choke down the emotion so Jewel wouldn’t think

she was laughing at her. Girls could be funny that way. Any

whisper or laugh could mean someone was talking about

them behind their backs. At least Lindsay used to think

that way.

“That could be a great compliment if you look at it right,”

Lindsay said when a tall, frost-covered glass was placed in

front of her, brimming with a thick, chocolate milkshake. “I

always try to turn things around if I can. Can’t let cross words

get to me, or I wouldn’t go anywhere in life.”

Isn’t that the truth. She thought how easily she would’ve

thrown in the towel with Jeff Wheeler’s program, had it not

been for sheer determination. She bent her head and offered a

41 silent prayer, then took a drink through the straw. A cold,

creamy sensation slipped down her throat. All at once she was

back in the old days with Ron, sharing a single milkshake

with two straws and laughing away.

“I just love these shakes,” Jewel commented. “Anyway, like I

was saying, we all grew up together. Robbie and Troy never

got along. I got along with both of them okay.”

“Did you ever think that the two of them might be competing

for your attention?” Lindsay asked.

A strange look came over Jewel’s face.

Lindsay hastily rephrased the statement. “What I mean is, if

they both don’t get along with each other, but they do get along

with you, do you see how that could set up a confrontation?”

Jewel shrugged unconcernedly. “Robbie is just someone I

know. Troy is … well … no one can replace him.” She took

another long sip on the straw. “Robbie understands.”

“I’m not so sure. I don’t think either of them understands.

Troy might not feel the same way you do. And Robbie would

as soon take his place if the opportunity arose.”

“Troy will understand, and so will Robbie,” Jewel insisted.

“I just have to give them time. Guys are slow. They don’t get

it unless you hit them over the head.”

“You also have your whole life ahead of you, Jewel. Don’t

lose it over one guy. I had a guy I liked in high school. We

were in love, or so I thought. When it came time for us to

graduate, I realized Ron had made other plans—and they

didn’t include me.”

The waitress came and slid their orders in front of their

noses. The mound of French fries reached nearly to Lindsay’s

chin.

Jewel laughed. “Don’t they give you a ton of food here?”

42 “You’re not kidding. I have enough oil here on my plate to

lube a car.”

Jewel giggled. “So what happened to you and Ron?”

Lindsay tentatively picked up a French fry. Even with the

amount of fat and calories she was consuming, that first bite

tasted better than anything she had eaten in ages. “He was

accepted in a college way out in California. I didn’t want him

to go. We talked it over. We said we would keep in touch.”

Lindsay paused. “We never did.”

“Really? Wow, that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, it was real bad. I was heartbroken. I tried writing,

but if you haven’t figured it out yet, guys don’t write letters.”

Jewel rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I’ve left a million

notes at Troy’s locker. He ignores them.”

Lindsay took up another French fry. “Anyway, I’m just sharing

this with you so you don’t get your hopes wrapped up in

one guy. You never know who else might come along in your

college years. You may end up like we did, with both of you

attending colleges across the country and a heart that hurts

worse than if you handled a hot iron.”

Jewel shook her head. Her curly hair swished around her

shoulders. “That won’t happen to us.” Under her breath she

added, “I won’t let it happen. Troy and I will make sure we go

to the same school. We’ve talked about going to a community

college or something once we graduate.”

Lindsay turned her attention to the plate of food resting

before her. Life’s lessons were important to share, but that’s

about all she could do, and she knew it. They conversed a

while longer about Jewel’s topic of interest. Lindsay heard all

kinds of good things about Troy, from the way he studied for

a test, to the way he wore his hair. Jewel nearly idolized him.

43 Yet in the back of her mind Lindsay recalled Jewel’s complaint

that Troy did not share her sentiments. How she

wanted to keep this young woman from feeling the pain of a

broken relationship. Yet sometimes the best course of action

was to let these young people discover for themselves whether

the decisions they had made were the right ones.

Lindsay returned home to an answering machine blinking

a cheerful pattern of lights. She listened to each call, to find

the last one from Jeff Wheeler. He left a lengthy message,

informing her she had left behind a prize in the auditorium

and would she mind retrieving it. He would have it in his

classroom. Lindsay picked up the prize bag and began rummaging

around, wondering what prize she could have left.

The only thing that came up missing was a key chain, which

may have accidentally fallen on the floor. “He can keep it,”

she declared. I’m not wasting time or emotional energy facing

Jeff Wheeler again, just to pick up a silly key chain.

All at once the phone rang. “Hello, Lindsay Thomas

speaking.”

“Miss Thomas, this is Jeff—I mean, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Yes, I received your message that I had left an item in the

auditorium.”

“It’s one of those class key chains.”

Lindsay could hear the chain jingling over the phone. “Mr.

Wheeler, keep it as a prize incentive. Tell the students that

whoever sells an additional two items, they can have their

names put in for a drawing.”

Laughter ricocheted in her ears. Lindsay felt her anger on

the rise.

“They don’t care about a key chain. Hardly any of them

have cars.”

44 “Oh. Well, then, you can keep it. Call it a gift.”

She heard his hesitation. “I need to ask you a few questions

about the sale. Would you mind stopping over early in the

morning before classes begin? I get there around seven. We

can go over a few things, and you can pick up your key chain

at the same time.”

Lindsay pulled out her personal data assistant and checked

the appointment schedule. She would have to make this a

quick visit. She had a start at eight o’clock sharp on the opposite

side of the county. Great. Jeff Wheeler again succeeds in

upsetting my schedule. I sure hope this fundraising campaign of

his

pays off, because I’m losing time and money.

“Can you come?”

“Okay, I’ll be there at seven.” She nearly told him of the

other start she had at eight but, remembering his instability in

the past, decided not to bring it up. Still, Lindsay had the

distinct impression that something was different about Jeff. She

couldn’t put her finger on it, but there seemed to be less

animosity.

Lindsay glanced down at the lady Silly Slammer with

the pursed red lips, staring up from the open prize bag. “No

way. It couldn’t be.”

45 Jeff didn’t know why he awoke anxious and jittery. The thought

of swallowing down a hunk of scratchy toast made him nauseous.

He made a cup of coffee and tried reading the newspaper

after retrieving it from the doorstep. The words made

little sense. He glanced around the duplex he owned and found

it in complete disarray. History texts stood stacked like small

towers on the floor. Class papers were strewn across the coffee

table. Dirty clothes lay in the hall. And two days’ worth of

dishes filled the sink. Not a pleasant atmosphere, especially if

he were ever to entertain some eligible young lady in the near

future. Jeff cringed at the mere notion. No women like that

existed in his circle of influence. If they did, they were

independent and single-minded and refused to gravitate to his lonely

field of interest.

The thoughts did little to quell his nerves, especially when

he thought of Lindsay Thomas fulfilling the eligibility status.

He shook his head. Okay, so he was rattled by the strange

sound of kissing emanating from the trunk of her car. Get it

through your thick skull, Jeff. It was a prize and not a symbol of

some future event. Besides, Lindsay most certainly had a boyfriend.

She was that outgoing, friendly, attractive, with

shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes to match. She was

dating someone, no doubt about it. He was just plain, ordinary

Jeff, the history teacher. She had made it crystal clear that

history belonged in a Dumpster and not in her curio cabinet.

46 Jeff swallowed down the rest of his coffee and grabbed his

leather briefcase, stuffed to the gills with books and paperwork

His thoughts shifted to the day’s lesson plan—a lecture

about the Constitution—and the field trip he had planned

with some of his brighter students this coming Saturday. In

an afterthought, he grabbed the Christian tour guide that

outlined the many monuments and other areas of historical

interest in Washington, D.C. The idea of leading the students

on a tour and pointing out the nation’s Christian heritage

excited him. He discovered in the course of his readings how

many of the glistening white marbled edifices heralded

Scriptures or acclamations of God. In a nation where the

news daily batted around the question of separation of church

and state, the city of Washington, D.C., proclaimed God on

nearly every governmental building and monument. This was

what he wanted to show the students—God’s hand on a

country, even if he wasn’t allowed to expound on that fact in a

public school classroom.

Jeff winced, thinking of the teacher who had accosted him

that one morning while he read his Bible in the lounge. Then

he smiled. There were other ways around the issues that

divided people. And with God’s help he would teach the students

not only historical facts, but also of the One who made

it all happen.

Arriving at school, Jeff decided to forego the donut and

coffee break in the lounge and head straight for his classroom.

The schoolroom was his sanctuary, a place where his enthusiasm

for history pierced the minds of the young. The huge

chalkboard still had the homework assignment etched on it.

He wondered how many of the students had read about the

Constitution in their textbooks last evening. He knew what

47 they were thinking. Why bother learning about a document

written eons ago? If only they could understand that their

very rights as citizens of the United States stemmed from that

important piece of parchment. Perhaps he could think of

ways to stimulate their need to understand the document and

history itself.

A faint knock sounded on the door. Jeff turned to find an

attractive woman standing in the doorway, outfitted in a black

pantsuit, holding a briefcase in her hand. Lindsay Thomas

looked stunning, as if she had just walked off the front cover

of some beauty magazine. Her brown hair reflected a myriad

of gold and auburn tones in the classroom lights. He saw her

shift the briefcase from one hand to the other. He had come

face to face with Miss America.

“Good morning, Mr. Wheeler,” Lindsay announced. “You

said you had some questions about the fundraiser?

For a moment he couldn’t speak. He saw her shift the bag

again. The gaze of her liquid brown eyes averted to the chalkboard

before settling back on him.

“Yes, I do. Come and sit down.” He presented her with

a chair.

Lindsay strode over and took a seat. She checked her

watch.

Business all the way, he thought. What does she do for fun, I

wonder? Does she like touring museums? Visiting a battlefield?

Reading books in the special collections section of the university

library? He shook his head. No, those were the things he

liked to do. She probably enjoyed having her nails done, sitting by a pool, or shopping at the mall. At least that’s what Jeff’s older sister, Candy, liked