Just to See You Smile (14 page)

Cal had caught her look. “Joel, who doesn't she want to tell me about?”

“Drew Sutton.”

“No way!” she cried.

Cal asked, “What?”

“She pulled him off Benny Coles. Wrestled him to the ground in front of half the school.”

“Britte, of all the stupid—!”

“Hey, don't nag me right now, all right?”

Joel continued, “Then there's Gordon Hughes. He's been on her case for a while, complaining that his daughter doesn't play enough. He spoke with me about filing a formal complaint, bringing it up to the board.”

“Britte, what did he say to you? Any threats?”

“No. No threats. Just griping, like I get from at least four parents every year.”

“Cal,” Joel took the ice pack from her and started cleaning her left hand, “what do you know about the guy?”

“Don't know the man. What do you think?”

“He seems like a regular guy, your average overly distraught, interfering dad.”

Britte shuddered.

Cal's eagle eye noticed. “Britte? What do you think?”

“I don't have any proof, Cal. I can't accuse someone—”

“You're not accusing. Just give me something to go on. Your impressions may be enough.”

“No, I can't say anything. It goes against my cardinal rule of sharing information. Nine times out of ten, what anyone says in Valley Oaks is repeated and most likely turns into a rumor. I can't express an intuition that has no foundation. That's not information.”

“I don't want to scare you, Britte. No, on second thought, I do want to scare you. I want to scare the living daylights out of you. Listen. The back doors are wide enough for a clear view of the commons. The attacker easily could have seen Joel coming and ran off. He may come back because he didn't finish.”

She jerked at the words, but immediately raised her chin. “That doesn't change anything.” In spite of the brave words, her voice didn't hold its usual confident tone.

“You are the most stubborn— How am I supposed to nail the guy—”

“You don't have to. I don't know how I could ever press charges. I mean, Jesus tells me I have to forgive him.”

Joel stared at her. He felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

Cal snapped shut his notebook. “That's all well and good for you, but there are two guys—” His cell phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open. “According to this incoming number, make that
three
guys ready to tear your assailant's limbs off one by one.” He held the phone to his ear. “Yo, Brady. She's okay.”

While Cal talked, Joel knelt in front of Britte with another antiseptic pad. “Let me check your knee.”

She tugged the torn, loose-bottomed pant leg up. “You called him, too?”

“Left a message on his machine. I was glad I didn't have to tell him you were in the hospital.” He began to carefully clean the scrapes above her kneesock. “You know, between this and the scuffle you broke up, that makes twice I was glad for that.”

“I know.” She reached down and her fingers grazed his temple. “Thank you. Joel.”

Britte sat in Cal's cruiser. He drove her home while Joel followed them in her Jeep.

Mr. Kingsley.

The General.

Her knight.

Joel.

“Britte,” Cal said, “if you have any suspicions, you know the guy might hurt others. It's got nothing to do with your cardinal rule or forgiving him.”

She didn't reply. They'd already covered this, and she wasn't going into something as vague as the creepy feelings she felt around Gordon Hughes. Or the even vaguer notion that he abused his wife.

He couldn't really have done this, could he? It was beyond her comprehension that
anyone
was capable of it. If it weren't for her incredibly sore body, she wouldn't believe it even happened.

“All right, I'll do it without your help. But just promise me one thing.”

She heard the concern in his voice. Since she'd been in third grade, Cal had treated her like a little sister. Usually in the negative sense, but still…like family. “What?”

“Don't walk alone to your car. Don't be anywhere alone by yourself. Call me if you have to. Just don't take the chance. The guy was obviously waiting for you. You shouldn't even go home alone, especially at night.”

“No problem with that tonight.” Through the windshield she saw Brady standing outside her house, his truck parked on the street. He'd evidently used his key to go inside. All the front lights were on and the garage door was open. Joel was driving her car into it now. And here she came with the deputy sheriff. “Can we turn on your siren?”

He pulled into her driveway. “Promise me you will not get into a similar situation.” It wasn't a question.

“Promise.”

“Since you think you can forgive the jerk who did this, I take it keeping your word is also a cardinal rule with you.” When she didn't comment, his voice rose. “I'm serious!”

“Cal, I said I promise. I mean it. The truth is, I'm scared to death.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “And I mean it. Call me anytime for an escort.”

“Thanks for worrying.”

The car door opened on her side. Brady stuck his head in, looked at her, and sharply inhaled. Wordlessly he helped her out and hugged her. “Thank God you're all right.”

She heard the tears in his whisper, and, willing her own not to fall again, teased, “You call this all right?”

Joel and Cal joined them. Great. Now she had three big brothers. No…only two. Joel was in a category by himself.

Joel.
It felt good to say it.

Brady announced he was staying the night. Cal agreed it was a good idea.

“Brade,” she said, “you don't have to disrupt your life for this. Somebody got mad and pushed me down. I'm sore. I just want to take a hot bath and go to bed. End of story. Go home. You didn't call the folks, did you?”

“No. I figured no reason to wake them up.”

Joel cleared his throat. “Britte, if your brother doesn't stay, I'm staying.”

They all stared at him. It must have been his “General's” tone that stopped the conversation. She knew he meant it.

He went on. “None of us want you to be alone. You should not be alone tonight. Tomorrow night is negotiable, but not tonight. So who's it going to be?”

What she wanted was to fall into his arms again. For the whole night? That'd be fine with her.

He stepped over and put his arms around her in a brief hug. “You'd better choose Brady. Otherwise, the kids would have a field day. Stay home tomorrow. I'm calling for a sub first thing.”

She looked up at him. His face was hidden in the night shadows. “No, don't do that. I'll be there.”

He gently touched her bruised cheek and murmured, “Ice it some more.”

Cal offered to take Joel home and they left. She walked with her brother into the house, grateful not to be alone.

“Brady, thanks for staying.”

“No problem. Anything I can do for you?”

She shook her head. “Just make yourself at home. Keep the bogeyman away.” She rambled as she headed toward the hall. “I think the spare bedroom is presentable. There are bagels in the fridge. Why don't we leave a light on—”

Brady laughed. “Stop avoiding it, sis. When did this thing start between you and Joel?”

She paused and looked back at him. “Tonight. Pure adrenaline. It'll pass.”

It hadn't passed by morning, but neither had the aches and pains, nor the bruise on her cheek, nor the raw scrapes on her face. But she made it to school, early as usual. She
entered the back door and spied Joel across the commons. Not good timing. She was shaking like a leaf after parking in her usual spot out back and replaying last night. Even in the cold sunshine with Brady sitting nearby in his truck, she succumbed to an onslaught of sheer terror.

Joel met her in the center of the area. “Britte, I called a sub.”

“Well, call her back. I'm here.” She tried to smile, but it hurt.

“Why?”

To see you.
To see if his eyes were still warm. They met hers now. They were still warm. She felt intoxicated with the eye contact. “I never miss a day.”

“You look like you should be in the hospital.” He took the attaché bag from her hand and set it in on the floor. Gently, he grasped her hands in his and turned them over, inspecting the palms. Both were covered with gauze. “What are you going to tell the kids?”

“The truth. There's no reason not to, is there?”

“No. Maybe one of them knows something.” He let her hands go and picked up her bag. “I'll walk you to your room.” As they turned by the office, he stepped inside and told Lynnie to cancel the substitute. They strolled down the hall. “Are you sure you're up for this?”

“I'm always up for this.”

“Britte, you can give yourself a break now and then. That's one reason for lesson plans.”

“Uh, my lesson plans aren't ready.”

He stopped and stared at her. “You turn your book in every week.”

“But I, um,” she glanced away, “I just copy into it from last year's, which is pretty similar to the previous year's. In class I kind of wing it. I mean, I have a broad outline. I know where we're going, deadlines for tests, etcetera, etcetera.”
She looked back at him. “Things change, day by day. Different kids need different approaches. For example, in calc today, we've got to go over yesterday's lesson again. How I'm going to do that is stored here.” She tapped her head. “A sub could follow the book, but the kids would miss a valuable day. Goodness, that sounded repulsively egotistical.”

Chuckling, he touched her elbow and urged her along beside him to her room. “A bit. Miss O, you certainly had me fooled about the lesson plans.”

“I'm sorry. It was insubordinate.” She grinned and then winced. “Ouch. It hurts to smile.” She unlocked her door, flipped on the lights, and walked inside.

“Actually, I wasn't totally honest myself about lesson plans.”

“How's that?”

“I never read yours.”

“You what!”

He shrugged and went to her desk, where he set her bag. “It was quite obvious to me the first week of school that you know what you're doing. You certainly don't need me looking over your shoulder.”

“That's awful!”

“I couldn't exactly play favorites.”

Their eyes locked again, and she knew it wasn't adrenaline. She was a favorite? He had her fooled, too. “The memo!” She shrugged out of her jacket, draped it across the back of her chair, and slid out a drawer. “I taped it to the page you should have read last week.” She pulled out the notebook and opened it on the desk.

He peered over her shoulder. “Yep, still there, right where I would never see it.”

“I wouldn't either. I haven't opened this book since I gave it to you. Joel, I really am sorry. I tried to find you yesterday to apologize. My behavior was despicable.”

He leaned back against the desk to face her. “You don't have to apologize. I needed—I truly needed to hear those things.”

“But I had no right to say them with such anger.”

“You had every right. If you said you talked to me twice about the request, I'm sure you did. You obviously wrote the memo.” He glanced up at the clock. “In all the commotion last night, I forgot to mention I've got a special meeting with the board in about five minutes. I'd better get over to the superintendent's office and fix what I botched the other night.”

“The superintendent's— A board meeting just for my team thing?”

“Hey, your
girls
team thing is important.”

She smiled.

“Britte, you have my permission to call me on the carpet anytime I start strutting around like a general again.”

“I don't need
permission
. You better make that an
order,
General.”

He laughed, a hearty sound, a curious sound because it was…unguarded.

Pure adrenaline it wasn't.

Joel rushed down the hallway beside Liz, the student who had come to get him. He could see Britte. She stood outside her classroom, leaning back against the lockers, arms crossed, head bowed. It was only 8:40, halfway through first hour.

He motioned to the panic-stricken student to go on inside the room. Even before the door shut, he was slipping his arms around Britte's shoulders.

“Joel,” her voice was a gasp, “I can't do this!”

He pulled her away from the wall, and she sank against him. “You don't have to, Britte.”

“But I never run. Not from anything!”

“This isn't running. You've got to take care of yourself first.”

“The girls are scared. The boys keep staring, but they don't say anything. Nobody can work. This stupid incident shouldn't interfere! Those kids should be teasing me about it!”

“It's not a teasing matter. Shh,” he soothed, his voice muffled against her head. It crossed his mind that he had himself physically separated numerous teen couples in the hallway standing nowhere near this closely. “Lynnie took one look at you and told the sub to stand by. I'll take over until she gets here. I want you to go home right now. And that is an order, young lady. I'll go in and get your things. All right?”

She nodded.

Reluctantly, he willed his arms to let her go.

A few moments later they made their way out to the back parking lot. He sensed her fear, sensed that his arm around her would encourage her, but he kept his distance. He tried to convince himself it was because too many classroom windows faced their way, too many eyes were noting their progression. On another, deeper level he admitted that he didn't touch her because of the simple fact that he wanted to so badly.

She reached over and gripped his elbow. “I'll come back for practice at 3:30.”

“No, you won't. Let Anne and Tanner run practice. I will personally call them and tell them the situation. Britte, give this some time. Stay home tomorrow, too. It's the last day before Christmas break and only a half day. You won't miss that much.”

“I'm not saying I will, but if I do, please tell the sub to read the paper that's in my upper right-hand drawer. It has assignments for the break.”

“You taskmaster, you. Christmas homework?”

“Naturally. Where did I say the paper is?”

“Upper right-hand drawer. I won't forget.” He risked a glance at her. “Not this time.”

“I know.”

He squeezed the fingers that held his elbow. They reached her car, and he opened the door for her. As she settled behind the steering wheel, he leaned inside. “Now that I think about it, even though it's broad daylight, I don't want you going home alone.”

“Well, guess what?” Her voice wasn't back to full power yet, and her eyes kept filling. “I don't want to either. I'm going to my mom and dad's.”

“Good. I hope your mom will make you some chicken soup.”

Her smile didn't quite lift the corners of her mouth. Her eyes immediately teared up again.