Chapter 22
Kat’s mouth went dry and her chest tightened as she walked toward the picnic table where Micah was sitting on Monday afternoon. The two newest club members were already hard at work, one looking sullen and not a bit remorseful over his acts of vandalism this school year. The other seeming to enjoy himself.
“Hey,” she said, soliciting Micah’s attention.
He was wearing mirrored sunglasses against the late October sun, but she suspected his gaze was washing over her, remembering what her body looked like without the iron-pressed blouse and long skirt. Remembering the other night when they’d devoured each other’s body in a heated frenzy, after which he’d left her a thank-you note and apparently created a garden in her backyard.
“I haven’t gotten a chance to say thank you yet. For Saturday night,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Which part?” he asked, lowering his voice.
She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, scanning the campus and making sure there were no little ears to overhear them. “All the parts, but the swing and the flowers is what I was referring to.”
He nodded. “I thought you could use a place to relax.”
He was her place to relax. She’d been very relaxed in his arms as she’d fallen asleep on Saturday night. “Well, thank you. It’s beautiful. How are our vandals doing?”
“They have an attitude as big as Texas, but a little work in the earth should do them good.”
Since the beginning of the school year, the flat piece of land behind the school had transformed into a large expanse of green sprouts and leaves, its delicious colors rising from the dirt. It was amazing, and the kids had done it with Micah’s help. And hers.
Micah gestured toward the boxes of handpicked vegetables. “A home-cooked meal will do the wounded warriors good. A lot of them won’t be going home for the holidays.”
She smiled. “The Veterans’ Center agreed to let us have the facility on Saturday, so we’ll be able to treat our heroes right. Do we have cooks for Saturday’s feast?” she asked.
Micah rubbed his chin between his fingers. “I have a few good men. Lawson owes me.”
“And Val and Julie offered to help. Probably more to look at the guys, but”—Kat shrugged—“whatever works.”
Micah’s attention turned to the tall, lanky man walking toward the back of the school with a notepad in hand. Glasses framed his angled face.
“He’s a reporter from the Seaside Daily News.” Kat stood and smiled.
“You’re smiling?” Micah asked.
“He’s here to do a story on our club. A real story. I invited him.” She extended her hand as the reporter approached. “Mr. Todd. Thank you so much for coming.”
The man shook her hand and then took Micah’s. “Wow. You were right, Principal Chandler,” he said, directing his attention to the after-school group.
“Please, call me Kat.”
“Kat. This place is amazing.” The Gumby-like man pulled a pen out of his chest pocket and started writing feverishly as Kat and Micah told him about the club, and how several of the kids who’d been assigned time after school were still here, because they wanted to be. They told him how the kids’ efforts would be feeding the wounded Marines this weekend to show their appreciation to them for serving their country.
When they were done walking the premises, the reporter stopped and stared at the wall of latest graffiti. Stanley had been home sick over the last week and couldn’t get to it. She wished she’d removed the paint herself.
“Kids will rebel everywhere,” she said, turning to Mr. Todd. “It’s what you do to handle it that makes the difference. No kid wants to misbehave. They want to be loved. They want to know they’re worth something. That they’re worth a lot.” Kat was getting all misty-eyed and tight-throated just talking about the Friendship Club. This was something that mattered, and it made a difference. She knew it did.
Micah’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Then he pushed his mirrored sunglasses up on his head and shook the reporter’s hand. “I can’t wait to read the article.” There was a tone laced in the comment. A tone that said it better do the school, and its principal, justice.
The reporter nodded. “And I can’t wait to write it. When I spoke to your assistant principal about the club the other day, she led me to believe this would be more of a sidebar article.”
“Mrs. Burroughs?” Kat queried.
“I ran into her at church on Sunday. Can’t hardly go anywhere in a small town without running into someone you know. I asked her about the club.”
“And what did she say?” Micah asked, still standing beside her. Kat could almost hear his muscles tightening in her defense, and she loved that about him. Even though she didn’t need rescuing, she liked the fact that he had her back.
The reporter shrugged. “I believe she said your little club was temporary. That traditional methods of punishment were more effective in changing kids’ behaviors.”
It was no secret that Mrs. Burroughs thought Kat was too young and inexperienced to be the principal at this school. But she never thought that Mrs. Burroughs would intentionally undermine her efforts to help the kids. This club wasn’t temporary and it had made a difference. Dora Burroughs was supposed to be her partner here.
The reporter placed his pen back in his front pocket. “After seeing it for myself, this is definitely front page material. The town will eat this up.”
“Thank you.” Kat shook his hand one more time, then watched him walk away.
“What are you going to do?” Micah asked, when their interviewer was out of earshot.
She shook her head, watching the kids maneuver a water hose to spray the plants. “I don’t know. It seems like my assistant has resisted every decision and action I’ve made since I became the principal here last year.”
“I can talk to her if you want me to,” he said.
This made Kat smile. Yeah, she’d love to see how Micah would handle that confrontation. But it was her battle, not his. “I don’t think so,” she said, resisting the urge to lean into him. “Maybe it’s just like with the kids. Maybe no adult wants to rebel, either.” She chewed her lower lip. “Maybe we could force her to dig holes and drop seeds. Perhaps that would fix her.”
Micah laughed softly. “Adults are a whole different story. I think your assistant doesn’t like the fact that someone half her age is telling her what to do. And I think that some part of her might want to see you fail.”
“So what do I do?”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re already doing it. You’re standing up for yourself, showing the world how wonderful you are. And you’re not failing.”
“Right.”
“I know I’m proud of you,” he said.
Kat tilted her head and looked up at him. “You are? That means a lot to me.” They held each other’s gaze for a beat, and then she shrieked as cold water drenched the front of her blouse.
The kids in the Friendship Club roared with laughter.
“Water the plants, not the adults,” Micah said, feigning temper. She knew him better than that, though. Under his tough Marine exterior, he was gentle. The kind of guy who’d make her a backyard oasis in the middle of the night.
She watched, laughing as he pretended to chase the kids for the hose.
“I’m going to get you guys,” he said playfully, moving much slower than she knew he could. Even Ben was wheeling his chair across the ground as fast as his right arm would push.
So the group still had a little rebellious streak. At least they’d kept up their angelic appearances for the Seaside Daily News reporter. She wouldn’t have wanted this water fight to end up on the front page tomorrow morning. Although that probably would’ve made Mrs. Burroughs happy. An assistant principal who wanted to see her boss fail wasn’t good for anyone, and the school couldn’t thrive with that kind of leadership.
Micah finally grabbed the hose and pretended to turn it on the kids, who shrieked with delight.
She’d talk to Mrs. Burroughs tomorrow, and try to come to a truce. If that didn’t happen, then she had a decision to make: continue being undermined or let her assistant principal go.
—
The following Saturday, there were more than enough fresh vegetables to feed an army on the table in front of Micah. Or a crew of hungry Marines.
“How long did it take for your aunt Clara to clean and cut all these things?” Lawson asked, dropping the last box on the table.
“I didn’t ask, but she’s a saint.” Micah glanced over the food proudly. “A hot, home-cooked meal is good for the soul. And after what these guys have been through, they deserve it.”
Lawson nodded, and they both grew quiet a moment. They both knew good men and women who’d lost far too much in the desert. They’d risked their lives, all of them. Some came home with wounds that couldn’t be seen—some called those lucky. And others had wounds visible for the entire world—the not-so-lucky.
“Put us to work,” a broad-shouldered Marine, Donny, said as he walked into the room. “We might be Marines for life, but we’ll be damn good cooks for a day.”
Lawson grinned, giving him and the other Marine who’d walked in a shove. “I don’t think so. You’re on cleaning duty.”
Donny’s smile faded. “Seriously? I thought I’d get some action behind the stove.”
“Have you ever had any action behind a stove?” Micah asked, tossing a glance over to Donny, a tall, lean Marine with a blond buzz cut and a California tan.
“Not exactly,” Donny brooded.
“That’s what I thought. We cook it and you serve it. The pretty ones always serve,” Micah said.
This comment spawned a deep frown from Donny. “Men aren’t pretty.”
“Tell that to Brad Pitt,” the other Marine, Mark, said, patting his buddy’s shoulder.
“Well, if I’m pretty, then you’re a damn Playboy bunny,” Donny told Mark, waggling his eyebrows. “Let’s call Hugh Hefner.”
When they were gone, Lawson dropped some chopped vegetables into a pan of hot oil, stepping back when it hissed loudly. “Don’t think I forgot about ribbing you on that spring in your step. I’m planning to finish that up later,” he teased.
Micah’s gaze trailed out into the banquet hall where Kat and Julie were walking in, lugging jugs of sweet tea. He smiled to himself. “And I’ll be ribbing you about checking out Kat’s sister later, too. Whether you admit to checking her out or not.”
Lawson straightened. “I’ll admit it. I’m a man and I do have eyes in my head. She’s hot.”
Micah pretended to glare at him. “You better keep your eyes and thoughts to Kat’s sister,” he growled. Because Kat was his.
He walked down to the center of the room and helped the two sisters with the jugs. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Kat. “Beautiful day to feed some Marines.” He bent and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted sweet, like she’d just taken a sip of that tea she’d lugged in.
“Ben’s not coming?” she asked, looking around the room.
“No, he’s with my aunt. He’d get bored with us old folk, and I wanted to focus on the guys today. And you. I thought I might focus on you.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of rose. He liked that about her, how she blushed too easily. It made him want to say more things to make her body flush. But Lawson was in the room, and Micah had no doubt he was taking notes so he could tease him mercilessly about it later.
“I promised Ben a father-son day tomorrow, so he’s happy about that.”
Kat met his eyes and smiled. “That’s sweet. Who’d have thought? A big, tough, sweet Marine.”
Frowning, Micah shook his head. “Don’t throw that word around too loudly. The guys are already teasing me.”
Val stepped up beside them and unloaded a box of homemade pies.
“Did you make those?” Micah asked, peeking inside. Lawson and Donny were beside her now, too.
“Those look like my grandmother’s used to,” Donny said, staring up at Val, who waved a dismissive hand.
“No big deal. There are three pineapple and two pecan in there.”
“Pineapple pie?” Donny and Lawson both said at the same time. They looked at each other.
A frown settled on Donny’s lips. “My grandmother never made pineapple pies.”
Val shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the attention. “I have to get the rest of my stuff out of the car.”
“I’ll help you,” Donny said, stepping up beside her, and causing Micah and Lawson to laugh. Donny didn’t volunteer for menial jobs. He usually had to be coaxed into doing jobs that no one else wanted to do—like serving instead of cooking.
Val ran her gaze over him and released a tired sigh. “Fine,” she said and started walking toward the door.
“That’s how she treats people she likes,” Kat said, when they were out of ear range.
“Charming,” Micah said, then howled when Kat’s elbow tapped his rib cage.
An hour later, there was a long line of men and women snaking through the room, stopping at each table to put a healthy serving of real, home-cooked food on their plates. Some were in wheelchairs, others limped or showed evidence of their wounds some other way. They all sported a smile today, though, and for that Micah was proud. The Veterans’ Center had a volunteer band made up of veterans who liked to play at the community functions, and their music filled the room as people ate, laughed, and enjoyed the day.
“A success.” Micah nudged Kat, who’d been standing behind her table and watching the contented crowd for several minutes. A small smile played on her lips. “Another success for Kat Chandler.”
“Thanks to you. It was your idea,” she said.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You made this happen. And the Friendship rebels, of course.”
“Friendship Club,” she interjected playfully.
“Right. Maybe now that they know they did something to make a difference, they’ll want to do more. That’s how you change the world. One good deed at a time.”
“There you go being sweet again.” Kat leaned in to him. “How about doing a good deed for me, Sergeant Peterson?”
Hooking his eyebrow, Micah didn’t need to ask. He knew exactly what she wanted, and screw being teased by his guys. He didn’t care. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, dipping to brush his lips against hers. “That’s the sweet version,” he said, pulling back. “You get the dirty version later,” he promised.