Fixer-Upper (Spinning Hills Romance 3) (11 page)

And the last thing she needed was to be reminded that Johnny didn’t think things through. She was trying to view him as an adult who’d worked hard and deserved a chance to prove himself, and not as the teenager who’d helped her consistently lie to her parents, sneak off, and take on someone else’s problems.

Brian’s sigh came out sounding as if he were right next to her. “I know, and I’m not making fun of him, or saying it wasn’t a nice thing for him to do, but . . . Does he even know how big those puppies are going to get? I mean, what if they turn out to be Saint Bernards? Where would he keep five huge dogs in the winter? It’ll be a shame if he ends up letting the kids down.”

Marissa could tell that’s what Brian thought would happen. It was possible. Now that she thought about it, it had been a rash decision, and she shouldn’t have encouraged him to make it. Judging from everyone’s reaction so far, nobody else would’ve cheered him on. It seemed as if she and Johnny were destined to support each other in well-intentioned but foolhardy endeavors. “I don’t know, I think it’ll work out,” she finally said.

“You always think it’s going to work out.” It was said with tenderness.

Marissa closed her eyes. Her mom called out from the hallway, breaking in to her muddled thoughts. “I guess . . . Anyway, I’ve got to go. Mom’s calling me for dinner, and you know how she gets.”

Brian chuckled. “Yeah, I know how she gets. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, babe. Say hi to Johnny for me.”

A
s Johnny walked up to the school carrying a quarter-gallon of paint and painting supplies for his office, he noticed how dirty the exterior brick walls were, too. The entire school could do with a good power-washing and a fresh coat of paint, but he knew there was no room for it in the budget.

He made a mental note to call a few local businesses to see if they could donate supplies. Manpower would not be a problem. He knew he could count on his brothers and a few friends to help, and there were surely parents and staff who’d also love to get it done.

“What you got there?” Mrs. Dunne asked when he got to the office lobby.

“Serenity Verdigris.” Johnny held up the paint pail.

“I like the sound of that.” Mrs. Simmons came out of her office, folded her arms, and smiled.

“I’ll get it done after school today and host an office warming party tomorrow. I expect brownies, flowers, and gift cards,” he said before heading off to his office.

“Let me know if you need any help—wouldn’t want a pretty boy like you to break a nail,” Harold, the custodian, called after him. The older man and Johnny had become fast friends the day before.

“Sure. You can give me a manicure when I’m done,” Johnny tossed back.

When he got to his office, he picked out the files of the kids he’d met yesterday in the parking lot, rereading them and making notes about who had named which puppy what, thinking they’d appreciate it if he remembered.

He passed Marissa’s classroom on his way to Amy’s, and a chorus of “Mr. A”s called out to him. The sound brought a huge smile to his face.

The entire class now knew about the puppies, and he was bombarded with questions. He proudly showed off all the pictures he’d taken the day before. The critters were so dang cute, he’d taken at least a dozen. “Chico is camera shy, but Milo is a camera hog. The little dude photo-bombed every single picture,” he told them. “See, that’s his rump in this picture, and that’s his little paw in that one.” Everyone laughed, but Marissa stayed away. Johnny left to go to Amy’s classroom to continue teaching the kids a few basics about tools, figuring Marissa was eager to get started on her day and he was holding her back.

Late that morning, Johnny got his very first referral. He looked up from his desk to see Javier leaning on the wall outside his office, scowling and looking tough.

Johnny motioned him in. Javier slouched in, tossed a crumpled-up note onto the desk, and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face hard. Johnny didn’t look at the note. “What’s up?” he asked.

Javier shrugged. “Can you read?” he asked.

Johnny met Javier’s hard-eyed stare with a serious one of his own until the boy looked away. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s in the note?”

“I ain’t telling no shrink my shit. You wanna find out, read.”

Johnny raised both eyebrows. “You sound like my brothers.”

Javier looked a little surprised at his calm response, though he tried to hide it. Johnny turned the picture of him and his brothers around. Cassie had taken a picture of the three of them in front of one of Sam’s most run-down properties, and Holly had framed a copy for each of them. Javier had intended to merely glance at it, but something must’ve caught his attention, because his eyes lingered on the picture. “Some dump you live in,” he said.

Johnny turned the picture around. “It’s a dump, all right. But we don’t live in it. We fix houses up and then sell them for profit.” He gestured to the floor beside the desk, where he’d laid the framed pictures he was planning on putting up after he painted. Javier glanced down at the half-dozen before and after pictures of houses. The turnarounds were impressive, and before long, Javier was studying them, though he kept his disinterested mask on.

Johnny was glad he’d thought of displaying them somewhere, even if just the floor for now. After a while, something in Javier’s expression shifted. It was barely noticeable, but Johnny was hopeful his far-fetched plan might work.

The neighborhood surrounding the middle school was made up of mostly fixer-uppers. Immigrants were coming in and fixing up the houses, but many houses were still in disrepair. Johnny hoped the pictures would show the kids that transformations were possible, if people were willing to work hard enough. “You fix that?” Javier finally asked in a nonchalant tone, while gesturing with his head to one of the pictures.

Johnny turned toward the picture. “Fixed what, exactly?” he asked. “The house?”

“The holes,” he said with a shrug, not looking at Johnny.

“The missing mortar between the stones there?” he asked, pointing to the only “holes” he could see in that particular picture. Javier nodded and Johnny said, “Yes. It was a pretty easy fix.”

Javier was silent, but he shifted his feet a few times, and it was obvious he was wrestling with something. Again, without looking at Johnny, he said, “My abuela’s house has holes. Isaac’s house had it, but he fix it up with his dad.”

Johnny knew from Javier’s file that his grandmother was his guardian. His parents appeared to be out of the picture.

They were silent again for a while, until Javier finally pushed off the wall and said, “You gonna read the note, Mr. A?”

Johnny considered him for a moment. “How about you tell me what’s in the note, and when we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can talk about me teaching you how to fix the stones on your grandmother’s house.”

Javier’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Johnny caught a faint glimmer of hope, followed quickly by distrust. Without looking at Johnny, he slouched into the seat in front of the desk as if he couldn’t care less about the note, the stones, and the world. He shrugged yet again. The boy was a pro at it. “I said I don’t wanna go with no stupid Russian, even for fake.”

It took Johnny a moment to figure it all out. A girl named Aleksandra was from Ukraine. She was a talented ballerina and had picked up every dance move quickly, and Javier probably thought Ukraine was part of Russia. Johnny guessed Aleksandra and Javier were to be the leads, but Javier didn’t want to pretend to be in love with her.

Johnny studied the boy. Telling him why and how he was wrong would go in one ear and out the other, and only make him more stubborn in the process. Soon, though, when he’d earned the kid’s respect, they could talk. The other kids looked up to Javier and would follow his lead. “I think you know you owe Miss Medina and Aleksandra an apology. Aleksandra is a talented dancer and a sweet girl, and she deserves your respect. A quick and serious ‘I’m sorry’ will do. If you do that, and if you treat everyone in the class with respect and keep contributing the way I saw you contributing yesterday, I’ll teach you exactly how to fix the stones on your grandmother’s house and give you the materials you need to do it. I’m going to try to get my brothers to help me scrape, paint, and spruce up the school next Saturday. There’s a shed out back that needs mortar, too, and you could help me with it and learn. If you get your grandmother’s written permission, you can meet us here at eight in the morning.”

Javier looked unsure, but they struck the deal. “Can I help with the other stuff, too?” he asked before leaving.

It took all Johnny had not to show how thrilled he was by the offer. An indifferent, “Sure,” was all he said, knowing Javier would back out the minute he suspected that was exactly what Johnny wanted him to do.

Later that afternoon, he poked his head inside Marissa’s classroom to see if she needed help recording their progress, but he was quickly flooded with requests to help out at the school. He looked over at Marissa, wondering if she thought he was crazy for wanting to spend a Saturday fixing up the school for free. But Marissa looked overjoyed. “We’ll need some training, but once you tell us exactly what to do and how to do it, I’m sure we’ll be a big help.”

“We?” Johnny lifted an eyebrow.

“We.” Marissa looked at him as if her help was an obvious and forgone conclusion. “The kids will need permission to help out, but some of their guardians don’t speak English. I can translate a permission slip for the Spanish speakers, and I can try to have a friend who works for a translation agency find people to translate the other languages before then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Johnny nodded his head and smiled. The kids cheered. Johnny remembered a time when he and his brothers had also been excited to paint. There was something about it that always got kids excited, until they figured out how much work it actually was. He wondered how next Saturday would go.

Marissa tilted her head and studied him. “You know, a normal person would not be grinning. A normal person would be wondering what he’d gotten himself into.”

“And a normal person wouldn’t have volunteered to come along for the
loco
ride,” he pointed out.

The kids laughed. “Yes.
La brigada de locos
.” Veronica pumped her fist. Johnny didn’t need a translation for that one.

Marissa followed Johnny out the door. She was dying to know what had happened in Johnny’s office. “What did you say to Javier?” she asked.

“Did he apologize to you and Aleksandra in a serious manner?”

Marissa nodded.

“Then I guess what I said worked.”

“But did you talk to him about hurting other people’s feelings and about saying discriminatory things and about respecting—”

“Did
you
talk to him about all those things?” Johnny interrupted her.

“Of course I did.”

“Then why did he end up in my office?” he asked.

“Because he wouldn’t listen.”

“Exactly.”

Marissa gave him an imploring look. “Can you just answer my questions? These are my kids. I want to know what happened.”

Johnny’s lips twitched. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to exasperate you, I promise. Now, unwrinkle your nose, unpout your lips, and listen to me. I didn’t even try to talk to him about all that because I knew he was already set against listening to it. I have to earn his trust and respect first. You’re already well on your way to earning it. I know because I could tell he was mad that he’d upset you. Soon he’ll want to earn
our
trust and respect. And then, he’ll be more willing to listen.”

She looked back to make sure no one else was nearby. “Is that why you asked him to help out next Saturday? You should’ve seen him. He came in acting very important.”

“Is that what he said? That I asked him to help?” Johnny chuckled. “Let’s just say Javier and I came to an agreement. But because I need him to trust me, I think it’s better if the agreement stays between him and me.”

Marissa’s shoulders sagged with relief. Johnny was clearly thinking much further ahead than she had been. She needed to forget about the puppies turning into Saint Bernards. “Agreed,” she said. “You know, sometimes I wish I could get into their brains somehow and just”—she made an evil genius face, lifted her hands to her head, and pretended to poke and prod with her fingers—“tweak and adjust their teenage moods.”

Johnny laughed. “You look slightly unstable when you do that.”

She shrugged and turned to go back into her classroom. When she reached the door, she looked back. “Maybe I am slightly unstable—I can’t wait till next Saturday!” She then walked into her now-noisy classroom and excused everyone for lunch. They shuffled out while she tidied her desk and took out her lunch bag. It was another sunny day and she longed to be out under the expansive blue sky, but there would be time enough for that later. Plans for the musical were going so well, she wanted to finish filling out the grant application so Amy could look it over.

Veronica stayed behind and came up to her desk when everyone else had left. Her eyes were all lit up. “
Usted y el señor. A harían una linda pareja.
¿
No le gusta?
”

Marissa gave Veronica a repressive look and answered in English, knowing Veronica knew enough to understand her answer. “Mr. Amador is just a coworker, Veronica. I have a fiancé.
Novio.
” She smiled at her then. “So don’t get silly ideas into your head, okay? You’re here to learn, I’m here to teach, and he’s here to support.”

“But Mr. A so handsome,” Veronica tried in English. “You no like him?”

Why was matchmaking such an irresistible hobby for people of all ages? And
was
it matchmaking? Marissa searched Veronica’s face, looking for any hint of improper admiration for Johnny. She couldn’t find any. Her remark had only been an observation. Johnny
was
handsome, after all.

But he was also funny, understanding, caring, and helpful. And cocky. So many kids needed the former in their lives. It would be so easy for one of these girls to think she was in love with him. Marissa wished she could get rid of that worry. It was like post-traumatic stress disorder or something. The slightest thing brought back thoughts of Ana Maria. It wasn’t healthy. “I like him as a coworker. He’s a good one.”

Marissa suddenly remembered that she and Brian would be looking at houses the Saturday that the Amador boys and the kids would be working on the school. Would he mind postponing that and spending the day with the
loco
brigade? Johnny might welcome having an old friend on hand to help out.

When she stopped by the office to get her mail from her in-box that evening, she saw Johnny’s long shadow spilling out onto the hallway from his office. She knew he’d been painting, and part of her wanted to stop by and see how it had turned out, but she didn’t want to be alone with him.
Why didn’t she want to be alone with him?
She shook her head. Because after everything that had happened, it was still awkward. It would get easier with time.

She must’ve made some noise, because he stepped out just as she reached for her mail. “Hey. You still here, too?” He smiled. He was wearing a faded, paint-splattered Reds T-shirt and an equally old and splattered pair of jeans. His sleeves were rolled up.