A Man of Honor (4 page)

Chapter Four

Preston hated conducting business in a small-town coffee shop, especially in the Buckleberry Bean, probably because he couldn’t get any of his business done. All the old-timers kept coming up to him and telling him how grateful they were that he was back and thanking him for his service. The owner, Bill Colley, kept bringing him fresh refills of his amazing dark roast, and his wife, Caroline, had slipped an extra cinnamon bun on his plate.

He didn’t need to be thanked or waited on hand and foot, although he had to admit that their humble thanks touched him. As a kid, he’d been the neglected son of a man who’d never had his shit together, and from a young age, he’d learned to do anything possible to stay the hell away from his own home. It was nice to no longer be pitied for being a hungry, scrappy kid who often volunteered to do chores for money to pay for his next meal.

Giving up on his work for good, he closed his laptop and punched his younger brother’s number into his cell. “I’m back in town for Nick’s wedding, but I want to see you for your birthday. Twenty-one’s a big one. How about we go to dinner?”

The line was silent as his little brother, Jared, thought on that. “Why didn’t you tell me Dad’s back in rehab?”

Preston paused. He hadn’t wanted Jared to know. He’d wanted his baby brother to just be a kid, not to deal with the endless worries that had plagued so much of Preston’s own youth. “I was waiting to tell you after your birthday. How did you find out?”

A snort. “He called me—not because of my birthday but because he remembered the cat’s alone in the house. He worries more about that stupid animal than he ever did us.”

A quick calculation told Preston it had been over a week since his father began his rehab stint, and Dirty Harry, a pure black cat, had been left to fend for himself. “Don’t worry. I can take care of the cat.” Even though he hated that animal, who hissed and spit and had terrible manners. “Did you send the check to the graduate school at USC? To reserve your spot?”

“Look, about that, Preston—”

Preston swallowed hard. He loved Jared with all his heart, but there were times he’d really rather be his brother instead of his parent. Unfortunately, he felt obligated to be both.

“I’m just not sure I want to go.”

Preston bit his lip to avoid saying what he really thought. When he was his brother’s age, his course had been laid out. He’d set his goals early and hit them hard so he wouldn’t end up like his old man. Now he had to make sure his baby brother did the same.

“I think I might want to work a year. My friend can get me a restaurant job—”

“But you’re used to being in school. Why not forge forward and get it over with?”

“I’m not sure if getting a PhD in psych is what I want to do.”

Preston forced himself to breathe in and out. His brother was a double major in philosophy and psychology. What kind of job was he going to get without going on to grad school? A vision of Jared sitting on the street in a burlap gown and Birkenstocks with a guitar and a hat for collecting change came to mind. Dammit, why hadn’t he insisted Jared get a degree in something more employable?

“Look, let’s talk about it when I see you. I’ll take care of Harry. So, can you do dinner Saturday night?”

“Um—thanks, Pres. But my friends are taking me out. Maybe later in the week?”

He was a little disappointed. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his brother held a grudge about his emotional distance these past few months. Preston really hadn’t told him much about his injury or its aftermath, not wanting to dump his problems on a kid who’d carried more than his share of burdens in his young life. As a result, he hadn’t been very available for his brother. “That’s fine, but be careful on your birthday. Friends will buy you a lot of shots. You need someone with you so you don’t do anything—”

Jared laughed. “Don’t worry about me, bro. I’ve got it covered. I’ll talk to you next week. I’ll try to make it home next Friday, okay?”

Preston ended the call and stopped a minute to collect himself. Suddenly, he envied Cat. Taking care of a roomful of sweet little five-year-olds seemed like so much more fun than handling the life-altering headaches of a college student.

He didn’t know exactly why he decided to walk over to the school a half hour early. Curiosity, perhaps. He wanted to see what Cat was like in teacher mode. Years ago, she’d talked about going into teaching, but her family had nixed it as being too low-paying for a respectable job. Journalism was a revered profession because Cat’s grandmother’s father, and his father before him, had been newspapermen who had started a string of papers throughout the state.

Preston crossed the main street of town to the grade school. When he got to Cat’s classroom, the scene through the open door made him blink in disbelief.

How the formerly tidy classroom could have dissolved into a battlefield of children milling about, construction paper pieces scattered on the floor, and glitter and glue everywhere, he had no idea. Cat sat in one of the tiny chairs right alongside the kids, helping twenty-two kindergartners with their Mother’s Day craft, smiling and laughing but also looking a bit frazzled.

Most of the kids were cutting and gluing in their seats, but others roamed about the room. One kid had his hand in the fish tank, and another was stretched out on the heater that ran underneath the windows taking a nap. Two boys chased each other around the perimeter of the room. A little girl was standing on a table with a plastic container of glitter and sprinkling it like fairy dust on another girl’s head.

“Joey’s got his hand in the fish tank,” a little girl tattled.

Cat looked up immediately. A boy Preston assumed was Joey pulled his hand out and looked defensive. “My fingers were full of glue, and I needed to wash them off.”

Before Cat could respond, a little girl ran up to Cat crying. “I got glue in my hair.”

“My fingers are stuck together,” another said.

“Tommy just tried to kiss me.”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

That’s when Preston stepped into the room and walked directly over to Cat. Bright pink and yellow and green construction paper clung to hair, and she had glitter on her blouse. She was chatting with the kids, praising them for a good job, and trying to field their questions left and right.

On second thought, he’d rather be back in combat than have to manage this tough crowd. He stood in front of the table. She looked up from her low vantage point, her bright green eyes reflecting a bevy of different emotions. Surprise, for suddenly seeing him. Maybe a spark of indignation, directed at him for having the audacity to walk right in uninvited. And relief. All three battled, and the relief won.

“Preston!” She stood up, tiny bits of brightly colored paper fluttering from her lap. She grasped his arm in a semi-desperate grip. “Oh, could you please take Brandon to the bathroom? Because I can’t leave and—”

Preston grinned. Couldn’t help it, because she looked a sight. Her blouse was untucked. Glue and bits of paper stuck to her fingers. A large chunk of hair had pulled out of her usually tidy ponytail. She’d never looked so beautiful.

Cat narrowed her eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”
Yes
, but not in the way she thought. Even stressed, she was doing her best to direct all these little kids in that kind way of hers. So he bit down on his lip to stop more laughter from escaping.

“You do look a little—”

She lifted one softly curved eyebrow. “Don’t you dare say overwhelmed.”

“I was going to say busy. And I’m not laughing
at
you.” He tugged at a loose curl of hair. It was silky and sprang back at his touch. “I’m laughing because you have glitter on your nose.” And it was really cute.

She swatted his hand off. “Listen,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’ll do anything if you help me out just this once.”

He raised a brow. “Anything?”

“Buy you a coffee, give you a ride…”

“Give me a ride?” He gulped. Visions entered his head of taking her up on that offer. But the offer he was thinking of had nothing to do with driving in a car.

“I mean, don’t you need someone to take you to PT or something?”

Before he could respond, Brandon danced the pee dance on one leg, a panicked expression on his face.

“I have a doctor’s appointment Wednesday in Charlotte,” he said. “Same day as your job interview. Maybe we could go together?”

Cat never got a chance to offer because Brandon hopped over. “Ms. Kingston, I gotta go!”

Preston motioned to the little boy to follow him out the door. “C’mon, buddy, I’ll take you to the restroom.”

Brandon looked to Cat for permission. “My mommy said not to go anywhere with strange men.”

“My mommy said that, too,” Cat said, taking his hand. As she passed Preston, she mumbled, “and I sure as hell should have listened to her.” She turned to Brandon. “Mr. Guthrie is a friend of mine, and it’s okay for him to walk you to the bathroom, okay, sweetheart?”

“C’mon, bud,” Preston said, opening the classroom door and motioning for the kid to go. Urgency must have overcome his fear, because he ran into the hall. For a second, Preston glanced at Cat and smiled. He wanted to tell her how adorable she was, but of course he couldn’t and besides, she’d hate that adjective. She’d want adjectives like “competent” and “qualified,” not “gorgeous” and “sexy” and “hot as hell.” To him, she was all those things. Even stressed, she was calm and reassuring to the kids. So unlike his own childhood, where yelling, screaming, and berating were the norm.

By the time he brought the kid back from the restroom, Cat was in the back of the room at the sink washing off someone’s gluey fingers.

“Is it time for them to go home yet?” he asked.

“I still have twenty minutes before dismissal.”

Preston spotted a guitar propped up against the teacher’s desk.

“Do I have your permission to help?”

She frowned. “I don’t need your—”

A little girl came up crying, tugging on Cat’s blouse.

“Oh, what is it, Tiffany, honey?” Cat asked, wrapping an arm around the little girl’s shoulder.

“Tommy just tried to kiss me! And he’s chasing me. Make him stop!”

“Tommy! You know the classroom rules.”

“They say keep your hands to yourself, not your lips.” He made exaggerated fish lips and smacked them together.

“Can’t blame a guy for wanting to steal a kiss,” Preston said in a low voice.

“No, but I can blame him for breaking the rules,” she said with a frown, and he got the feeling she wasn’t talking about Tommy. Seizing the opportunity to help her out, he ignored her disapproval and held up the guitar.

“Hey, Ms. Kingston, may I?” he asked.

Cat glance around at the general mayhem. Surrender lit in her eyes as she gave Preston a nod. “Permission granted.”

“All right then.” Preston turned around to face the kids. “Ten-
hut
!” he saluted and yelled out in a loud, authoritative voice.

The entire room went silent. All action halted.

“Who
are
you?” one girl asked.

“I’m Retired Army Captain Preston Guthrie, and Ms. Kingston is my friend, and I’d hate if anyone gave her a hard time on her very first day.”

“She’s just a substitute,” some little girl said.

Preston homed in on the little rascal. “Hey, do you remember how you felt on your first day of school? Were you a little scared? I bet you even wondered if you’d ever make any friends.” He turned to the kids, who were now silent and staring at him. “Now, when someone in the Army yells ‘ten-hut,’ we stop whatever we’re doing and stand at attention, like this.” He demonstrated by dropping his arms to his sides and standing up straight, pretending his leg wasn’t killing him to do it.

“Um, thank you, Captain,” Cat said, suddenly standing beside him, “but I have something to say first. I want to thank you all for being so nice to me today, on my first day. And for being so quiet right now. But before Captain Guthrie plays, I need everyone to line up at the sink to wash their hands. If you finish cleaning up really quickly, we can still have some music before it’s time to leave. Okay?”

The kids proved they were capable of lining up and quietly washing their hands. Cat had them sit in a semicircle around him while he pulled out the teacher’s chair and sat on it, keeping his bad leg stretched out.

“Let’s sing a song.” He began to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“That’s boring,” Joey said. “Play something better.”

“Man, you people are a tough crowd for kindergarten,” Preston said. But if he could handle a platoon on the streets of Kabul, he could handle a room of rambunctious five-year-olds.

“How about ‘Old MacDonald’?” Cat suggested.

“My brother can play ‘Smoke on the Water,’” a girl suggested.

That gave Preston an idea. He began plucking out the chords to “Louie Louie.” The kids went crazy. Soon he had them all singing and dancing along to the classic rock hit.

“What happened to your leg?” a little boy asked.

“It got shot at in the war.”

“You were in the war?” A little girl’s eyes grew wide.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Why did you do that?” a kid asked.

“I was fighting for our country. This great country of ours, the United States of America.”

He began to strum and sing Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA.” The kids sat there, quiet and still, thank the Lord. When he was done, he nodded at Cat. “Is it time to get ready to go home?”

She nodded.

“I think we should tell Ms. Kingston thank you for coming in today to teach us. Who wants her back tomorrow?”

The kids clapped. He sang a few lines from “So Long, Farewell” as a good-bye song that made Cat roll her eyes. He couldn’t help grinning at her. She shook her head, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up a little before she walked away to help one of the kids.

It had taken some work, but he’d finally succeeded in making her smile, and that made him grin even wider. He’d really enjoyed being here with her in this overdecorated classroom with a bunch of wired-up kids. He’d actually had fun. Laughing was something he didn’t seem to do much of lately, but with her it had come easy.