Chapter 8
Kat stared at the group of sullen-faced kids. For once, she was glad she couldn’t read a child’s mind. If she had to guess, they were all contemplating how to make her assistant principal, Dora Burroughs, pay miserably for holding them after school.
Dora had the students writing sentences, which did nothing to help the kids see the error of their ways. It didn’t change the way they felt about themselves or allow them to give back to their community, either. Dora was an old-school administrator. She hadn’t liked Kat’s ideas of turning after-school detention into a club, but she wasn’t the head of SES. Kat was—at least for another year.
“I’ve got it from here, Mrs. Burroughs,” Kat said.
The older woman frowned at her, sending wrinkles diving from the corners of her mouth. She had white hair that still had a golden tint from the days when she’d been blond. Kat tried to imagine that Dora had gone into this job because she loved children, but Kat never saw any evidence of that. All she saw was the stern, unforgiving manner in which her assistant principal treated the kids who walked into her office. And unfortunately, Dora was the same way with the school’s employees.
Thank God, the school board hadn’t made Dora Burroughs principal at Seaside.
Dora scanned the group of six students, seated at their child-sized desks. “Have a good afternoon, children.” Then, without a word to Kat, she walked briskly out of the room.
Sucking in a breath, Kat forced a smile at the students. She’d taken them outside the other day to pick up litter on campus. Holding up six plastic trash bags now, she watched as the smiles in the room faded. “Oh, come on. It’s better than writing sentences, and a little sunshine is good for you. You can think about why you’re here as you make our school the best it can be.”
Val is right. I do sound like Pollyanna.
The students followed Kat down the hall and out onto the side of the campus, where the Seaside vandals had graced her with a new message yesterday. Stanley had taken care of that for her this morning, and hopefully the wall would stay clean this time.
Each child took a bag from her and veered in a different direction.
“Don’t stray too far!” she called, wishing Val had been able to stay later and help her. Micah was right. She did need backup, and asking Mrs. Burroughs was out of the question. So was asking Micah, who’d offered his services in exchange for something she couldn’t give him. She liked to think she was a strong woman, but when it came to her past, she felt like her heart was exposed, vulnerable to everything around her, which so often seemed to reflect the military life. Sure, she could’ve moved to a town that wasn’t so close to Camp Leon, but this was her hometown. She belonged here.
Kat jumped as one of the children screamed behind her. Turning, she saw several of them swatting at the air wildly. Then she heard a buzz speed by her ear.
Oh, no. Bees!
“It’s okay, children. Stay calm,” she said shakily, as a bee buzzed by her own head. It buzzed by again. She hated bees. “Keep calm,” she repeated, but her own heart rate was skyrocketing. When she was a kid, she’d once disturbed a hive and had to run for her life as they’d swarmed after her. Where had these bees come from?
All the students were screaming frantically now, even though there couldn’t have been more than a couple of bees. “Get away!” she heard several of them cry.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said again over their high-pitched terror, but she doubted they heard her. Or if they did, that they believed her. There was no doubt in her mind that they heard the next voice, though.
“Stay still and they’ll leave you alone,” a deep baritone commanded.
Kat froze. So did all the children. She was pretty sure she knew exactly who was standing behind her, and he’d just seen her doing the “bumblebee in your pants dance,” as her sister used to call it. Taking a breath, she willed her heart to slow down. Then, after a moment, she turned to see a big, strong man with ink black hair and chocolate fudge eyes standing with his arms crossed at his chest.
“You okay?” he asked.
It seemed like he was always asking her that question.
She nodded, turning to assess the children, who all stood frozen like little statues. Clearing her throat, she said “All right, guys. Looks like Mr. Peterson was right. The bees are gone.”
She watched as the students slowly relaxed, and then turned to Micah. “Thank you.” Her gaze moved to Ben who was parked beside him. “You probably would’ve known to ignore them, too, huh?” she said, her voice softening.
Ben nodded. “But if a bee was buzzing around me, I probably would’ve screamed like a girl, too, Principal Chandler.”
“She is a girl, buddy. She’s allowed to scream like that.” Micah’s smile widened as he looked back at her.
“I didn’t…we didn’t…” Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re teasing me, right? Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”
“Mad?” His dark brows lowered. “For what?”
“For going back on our agreement.” She turned to check on the students who were talking among themselves, and then faced him again.
He stood, big and tall, watching her. “I’m not mad. In fact Ben and I were just walking over to see if you were still open to letting us help. To show that there’s no hard feelings.”
Guilt curled through her stomach as she remembered their original deal.
Seeming to read her mind, he added, “No expectations. You don’t have to be my date. I understand.”
“I’ll do it,” she said quickly. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“That was the deal, right?” she said shakily. “And I always keep my end of a deal. I’ll go. I could use the help, and I think it’d be great if you showed the kids how to work outside. Kids need that stuff, right?”
“I think so.” Micah shoved his hands in his pockets.
“The school will provide whatever tools you need to work with the group. I want you to work with us. Both of you,” she said, looking at Ben. “And I want to go to the ball with you.” She met Micah’s eyes again.
Okay, the last line was a boldfaced lie. There was no part of her that actually wanted to go to the Marine Corps ball, but a deal was a deal and she’d do anything for these kids, including going out with a Marine.
Slowly, he reached out his hand for her to shake. “Then it’s a deal.”
Electricity shot through her as she slipped her hand inside his. That was another reason this was probably a very bad idea. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Explosive even.
Pulling her hand away, she released a shuddery breath. “Yep. A deal.”
—
The next afternoon, Micah looked at the six children making up the Friendship Club. None of them matched any of the America’s Most Wanted descriptions hanging up at the entrance to Dail’s Grocery Store. If he hadn’t seen the rascals laughing at the assistant principal behind her back yesterday, he might be tempted to say the kids looked sweet.
The first one lined up in front of him was Shaun, a redheaded boy, who was a little overweight. There was a splash of freckles on the bridge of his nose. He’d allegedly stolen another kid’s lunch for three days running and threatened to beat the kid to a pulp if he told.
The next two kids, Kyle and Bogie, were lanky blonds with eyes that actually sparkled with mischief. They’d tripped a younger kid in the hallway and made him drop all his stuff. Then they’d laughed along with everyone else in the hallway as the kid had cried.
Marcus was the small African-American kid with shiny new sneakers and a smile that ate up half his face. Micah wasn’t sure what he’d done to get tossed into the group.
Shelby Cooke was the only girl. She had long brown hair and wore a blank expression. From what Kat had told him, she’d been to hell and back in the last year. Her father was in jail these days and Shelby and her sister were living with their aunt, recovering from years of unspeakable abuse. Now, Shelby was striking out at the world and everyone around her.
Then there was Ben, who hadn’t done anything wrong.
Micah clapped his hands in front of him as he stared at the kids outside the Sand Fiddler’s wing. It was a section of the school that he hadn’t landscaped yet. Before the bell had rung, he and Kat had exchanged ideas for the group. The kids needed to stop treating others with disrespect and start doing worthwhile things that didn’t tear anyone down in the process.
Micah pointed to a couple pairs of gardening gloves and a few hoes on the ground. “See those?” He didn’t wait for the children to respond before handing out the three hoes and two sets of gloves. “There’s a job for each of you. Follow me,” he said, leading the kids, minus Ben, to the land that bordered the fence. While he instructed three of the children on how to use a hoe, Kat showed two students what a weed looked like. Since there were no plants behind the school yet, pretty much everything was a weed.
“This is stupid,” Shaun said, his brows merging into one bushy, rust-colored line above his eyes.
“So is stealing other kids’ lunches.” Micah pointed at the weeds and headed back toward his son, who was sitting quietly, hands in his lap and a tired look on his face. No doubt he wanted to work with the others, but couldn’t. The story of his life.
“I have a job for you, too, soldier.” Micah motioned for Ben to follow him to a wooden picnic table on the side of the school. On the table, he laid three pots, a bag of soil, a small shovel, and a packet of seeds. “You’re a smart guy, right? Get to it.”
A small smile cracked on Ben’s freckled face. “This is the best job anyway.” His voice lifted on the end of his words; swinging easily from disappointment to the happy child he tended to be.
Always looking at the positive. Another of the many things that Micah loved about his son.
He patted Ben’s back and headed to where Kat was standing.
“You have a job for me, too?” she asked, shading her eyes with her hand as he walked toward her.
“Why? Have you been bad?” he asked, not meaning for it to sound suggestive, but her cheeks flushed anyway.
“Only according to the school’s assistant principal.” She sighed, and then sat on one of the benches lining the walkway.
Micah sat beside her. When he did, he could smell the scent of her perfume. It was one of those flowery smells that usually gave him a headache. This one made him want to lean in and take a deeper whiff. “What’s she got against you?”
Kat shook her head. “I don’t even know. Maybe that I got the job she wanted. Or she thinks I’m screwing it all up.”
Micah glanced over. Sitting this close to her, he couldn’t help remembering the kiss they’d shared last week. It’d be so easy to do it again, and see if she still made that little whimper when their lips met. He’d thought about that whimper a lot. It was as sexy as the woman sitting next to him.
“If Mrs. Burroughs wasn’t a woman, I’d offer to kick her ass for you.” He grinned, watching Kat laugh beside him.
“Then we’d be just like these kids, solving our problems the wrong way.” She focused on the group with the hoes in hand. “Do you think it’ll work?”
She met his gaze and he had to force himself not to lift his hand and swipe a lock of hair out of her face.
“The gardening thing, I mean,” she said.
“If it doesn’t, you’ll have a bunch of unruly kids with green thumbs.”
She laughed lightly, still holding his gaze. “Better than a bunch of unruly kids with pages of handwritten sentences, I guess.”
“True.” He swallowed, rubbing his hands over the thighs of his jeans as he refused to blink. He also refused to lean closer, touch her, do all the things that he’d been increasingly fantasizing about. “Kat,” he said, unsure of what he’d say next. A Marine always had a plan of action, but interacting with Kat was uncharted territory.
They both looked up as Ben’s cry broke through the heat radiating between them. Bogie had his hands braced on the arms of Ben’s chair and was leaned in close to Micah’s son’s face. Micah got up and started stalking toward them. As he got closer, he heard Bogie’s words.
Stupid.
Cripple.
Loser.
“Back away,” Micah commanded.
Bogie straightened. “Just checking your son’s theory, sir.” A sarcastic smile molded to his thin, dimpled face.
“Theory?” Micah crossed his arms at his chest.
Bogie grinned, talking loud enough for the others to hear. “Ben thinks talking to his seeds will make them grow faster. Tell them, freak.”
“Hey!” Micah snapped. “You will not talk to anyone here in that manner.”
“It’s science,” Ben said, keeping his gaze low. “If you speak positive things over a plant, it grows faster. And it’s greener, too.”
Bogie snickered. “So, I’m testing to see if Ben shrivels up and dies if I call him bad words.”
Micah didn’t want to, but he instinctively glanced in Ben’s direction and saw the tears shining in his eyes. His son would always have difficulty fitting in with his peers. He’d always struggle. As he turned back to Bogie, he heard the other kids whispering behind him. The Marine in him definitely wanted to win this fight for his son, but he couldn’t very well take on a bunch of elementary-school kids—no matter how much he wanted to. And this wasn’t his fight. It was Ben’s.
“Go back to your work, Bogie.” His jaw was tight as he spoke; his words coming out like machine gun bullets, quick and powerful. Once Bogie had walked away, he squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “Take care of your plants, son.” Micah headed back to the bench with an anchor of guilt and worry weighing him down. He’d hoped this school would be different from the others, but Ben was the same child wherever he went. He was different, which wasn’t a bad thing. It just meant that the other kids noticed, and some would be mean.
That was something that Micah couldn’t control or change, and he hated that. He was Ben’s father. He was supposed to protect him, and he couldn’t. All he could do was stand by helplessly and watch his son learn yet another hard lesson of life.
Kat rested her hand on his shoulder as he returned to the bench with a heavy sigh and sat beside her. “If you think helping with the club will be too much for Ben, I understand. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
Micah shook his head. “No. I think this is exactly what he needs. It’ll be good for him to be here.” It just might break Micah watching. “He’s staying.” Looking at Kat, he added, “We both are. And those kids will learn some respect.”
—
The next morning Micah was yawning before the day had even gotten started. He took a sip from his coffee as he watched the men in his squadron arrive for a little basic training. They’d jumped out of a V-22 Osprey a thousand times, but he still liked to do refresher trainings every now and then, especially when there was talk of another deployment coming up next year.
He’d be a civilian by that time. As much as he hated to leave his men, it was what was right for Ben. And he was excited about the prospect of staying on the ground, working in the green, and just enjoying his role of being a dad.
“Working two jobs is starting to take its toll, I see,” Lawson said, coming up beside him. “You make plenty of money, man. I don’t know why you’re helping out at the school.”
Because I am preparing to leave the Corps. Lawson didn’t need to know that just yet, though. Micah shrugged and took another sip from his coffee. “Maybe I like to stay busy.”
“Sergeant in the Marines. Single father to a son with special needs. Sounds pretty busy to me. Want to know what I think?”
Micah slid a glance in Lawson’s direction. He usually didn’t want to know what Lawson thought, but he cocked a brow anyway. “That it’s time for you to get your hair cut again? And buy a new razor?” he asked, observing the shadow of growth along Lawson’s jaw.
His friend frowned. “This afternoon, all right?” He crossed his arms at his chest. “I think you’re high on Kat. And as a buddy, I have to tell you, it’s a hard crash coming down.”
“I don’t have time for romance, or whatever it is you’re insinuating.” He took another heavy sip of his java. “And, if you remember, Nicole was your brilliant idea.” Micah’s gaze sharpened on his friend. “And by brilliant, I mean bad.”
Lawson nodded. “Agreed. Sometimes that happens. Rare as it is. Besides, I never told you to date her. I told you to date her.” His voice dropped as he made air quotations around the word “date.”
Micah shook his head, unable to suppress a smile. “One of these days I’ll learn to stop listening to you. Like today, maybe.” He straightened, the coffee’s effects not yet meeting his tired voice. “Now go get your gear ready. We’re doing dry runs on the floor this morning. We’ll practice getting our gear on and then we’ll review the flight manual.”
Lawson shook his head. “We all know how to get our gear on properly. We’re not idiots.”
Yeah, but mistakes happened, and in their line of work, mistakes often cost people their lives. They’d both learned that the hard way. “Is that the way you talk to your superior?” Micah asked, keeping his eyes focused on the others. It was a low blow, pulling the rank card, but Lawson was under his command right now. Technically, Micah wasn’t even supposed to be hanging out with him or having him over for dinner every week—not that he’d ever let a rule like that stop him.
“No, sir,” Lawson said, staring at him for a solid second. “I hate it when it’s your time of the month, man. Just like a girl.”
Micah’s jaw locked. A little respect at work would be nice, though.
Lawson offered a sarcastic-as-hell salute and started moving toward the adjoining room, where the other Marines were gathered. “I’ll go get my gear, sir.”
“You do that, Phillips.”