Head Over Heels (7 page)

The teens had noticed, too. It had come to the point where they all called it Russ's computer, even though it was donated and, technically, the church now owned it. Still, no one would touch it until after Russ had used it, and until he was off helping someone else.

He was definitely a man of patterns—or habits. Marielle still had to decide which.

As he did every day, he sat in the chair, planted his feet firmly on the floor and fit himself against the seat, his back perfectly straight, as she was sure he did at his
office every day. He then raised his hands to the keyboard, positioning himself with good posture.

If he had said anything verbally to the teens about sitting properly and not slouching, Marielle knew what their reaction would have been. Yet, she'd already noticed that a number of them were following his lead.

He leaned to the side, pushed the button to turn on the computer, then sat back, back straight. Suddenly, he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“This is odd,” he grumbled. Instead of the usual pattern of data and the logo of the operating system, the screen remained black with white text across it. Russ leaned down, pushed the release button for the A drive and pulled out a disk. He hit one of the keys, and the computer resumed booting up.

“Look at this. Someone left a disk in here.”

Marielle shrugged and walked to stand beside him. “If you'll give me the disk, I'll ask around and find out who it belongs to.”

He held out the disk as requested, but then didn't let go when she grasped it. “You don't understand. Yesterday no one used this computer except me, because I was doing some updates. I never put this disk in. Unless you used it today and then turned it off, and left a disk in, that means someone else was using it between the time we left last night and when you opened up.”

“That's impossible. No one is here during the day except Pastor Tom, and he has a computer in his office.”

“If it wasn't you, then someone else was using this computer,” he insisted.

He tugged the disk back. “I'm going to see what's
on here.” He slipped the disk back into the slot and opened the directory. “This disk is blank.” He stared at the screen, then leaned back in the chair.

“Then no harm was done,” said Marielle. “I think everyone is here. Let's get started.”

When all the teens had moved into position, Russ gave them a demonstration on the next assignment, then sent everyone to a computer to try it themselves.

He turned to Marielle. “You're the one, above everyone else, who should be doing this. I wish we had one more computer.”

“It's okay. I'm grateful for what we've got. The important thing is for the teens to learn, and they are learning, thanks to Grant's donation and your good teaching.”

“But I won't be here forever. You have to learn this well enough to teach it when I'm not here, and you're spending less time at it than anyone else. Your sacrifice to let them have the computers first is noble, but not very practical.”

“I don't know what else to do.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Would you like to do the same as we did last weekend, and I'll go over it with you on Saturday? Only this time, we'll go out for a real dinner, not greasy hamburgers.”

“I don't know.” She knew he was right, and she wanted to take advantage of his offer. But with the bandage off, for the first time since they'd met, something seemed different. Spending the afternoon in the church basement upgrading her skills was one thing, but going out to dinner with a handsome man on a Saturday
evening was too much like a date. At the same time, she felt she should go because she knew he wasn't exactly pleased about being forced to stay and work at the youth center instead of going back to his real job. She didn't need a degree in psychology or human behavior to see that. She couldn't help wanting him to be happy to be there, to enjoy himself, and to feel that he was there more than to simply fulfill an obligation. She wanted him to see that in doing good deeds for the teens, he was doing some good for himself.

But the main reason she was having a difficult time deciding about dinner was that he was too much like Michael. She'd fallen in love with Michael easily. He was dedicated, a hard worker, loyal, and just plain old easy to be with. But the things that had so strongly attracted her to him were the same things that drove them apart. Russ shared too many of those qualities, and she refused to fall into the same trap a second time.

But Russ's presence at the center was an opportunity she couldn't turn away, no matter how she felt about him personally.

“We both have to eat,” he said.

“You make it sound so basic.”

He looked at her like he couldn't understand what she meant. “I just remember that by the time we were finished last weekend we were both starving. This time let's plan to quit a little sooner, and we can eat something worthwhile.”

“When you put it like that, sure. We can do that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish putting my supplies together for the preschool class on Sunday morning.”

“Have you got something prepared for later?”

Marielle nodded. “Yes. This time I made sandwiches. It's so much cheaper than pizza. I do that fairly often, and no one seems to mind.”

“I didn't mean supper, I meant a Friday night activity. But since you mention it, do you feed this whole group every Friday night?”

“Most of the time. If they went home to eat supper, there'd be less chance they'd come back. Feeding them is a good way to keep them off the streets and not hanging out at the local convenience store waiting for trouble to happen.”

“That's true,” he said, nodding.

Marielle returned to the desk and again began cutting out shapes. She'd only cut out four when Russ joined her.

“No one seems to need my help, at least not yet. Can I do something for you?”

“I'll never turn down such offers. This time I need ovals like this, circles like this, and sections like this.” She held up the different shapes for him to see. “We're making sheep, so that gives you an idea of the pieces I need.”

“I remember making sheep. You're going to have them glue on cotton balls, right?”

“So you did go to Sunday school as a child. I thought so.”

He lowered his head and began concentrating on cutting the perfect oval out of the black construction paper. “Yeah. I did the routine. Oops, I think I'm being called. Excuse me.”

Before Marielle could comment, he was gone.

“Y
eah. What a riot, huh?” Russ smiled at Marielle's laugh, which was warm, genuine, and simply made him feel good for being the one to make her happy. But his heart was pounding.

He was enjoying himself too much, proving that it had been far too long since he'd been out on a date.

Except this wasn't a date. This was work.

Sort of.

Marielle dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin, something he'd never seen anyone do before. “That was funny. Does Grant know what happened?”

“Oh, yes, he knows. Tyler showed it to him before we fixed it. Except Grant didn't think it was quite as funny as everyone else.” In fact, Grant hadn't thought it funny at all when one of their clients accidentally deleted a complicated flash sequence they'd spent days working on, and replaced it with an animated gif sequence his son had made that featured singing and
dancing rodents. “We changed it as soon as we noticed, but of course Grant was moaning and groaning about how many people in the world would have seen it first.”

Russ grinned at the thought. “Actually, almost everyone in the office had saved a copy of the animation on their own computers before we killed it off the client's Web site, it had been so funny.” His grin widened. “I saved a copy, too.”

Still smiling, she said, “I wanted to thank you again for all your help at the center. They're getting so much out of it.”

“I'm glad to help.” Not overjoyed, but he would settle for simply glad. He'd been helping at the center for nearly two weeks, and so far it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. But then, when the kids—and they
were
kids—were at the center, they weren't loose on the streets to cause trouble. He didn't know what they were like away from Marielle and her influence, but when Russ saw them, they were inside a church, being led by an adult church leader, and except for a bit of an overflow of bad attitude, they acted accordingly.

At that age, he hadn't been quite so well-behaved even though his mother had taken him to church and he'd done all the typical church activities. At the time, though, there hadn't been a youth group. There were only Sunday school classes, and in the summer, a low-budget vacation Bible school. When he was a child Russ had taken great comfort in God. He had talked to God, and God had listened. Then, as an adult, when he asked God for help, God did help. And Russ had been paying God back for his so-called grace ever since.

The waiter arrived with their meals, breaking Russ out of his thoughts. He politely bowed his head and listened when Marielle prayed quietly over their meals, and his answering “Amen” slipped out without his thinking about it.

He didn't want to get dragged back into the church life, but he found that when he was with Marielle, thinking about God, and thanking Him, almost came naturally. Russ didn't want to think that Marielle could influence him in his decision to step back from God and everything God wanted, but then again, he wasn't so sure that what he was doing was necessarily a bad thing, either.

As she took her first taste of her chicken, Marielle closed her eyes and sighed. “This is so good! Thank you for bringing me here.”

Russ glanced around the restaurant. It was nothing special or fancy. It was just a cozy little family restaurant with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. It specialized in home-cooked meals instead of burgers and fries.

“Will you quit thanking me for everything? I told you, we have to eat, and with a little planning we can eat well.”

She smiled graciously, causing Russ's stomach to do a little flip-flop, although he didn't know why. All he could do was watch her as she ate. Her hair was combed but not curled, and that gave her red streak more prominence. She wore jeans and a casual sweater, making her look more relaxed than she usually did.

“Okay,” she said. “It's just that I don't usually go to places like this, and I just—” The musical ring tone of Marielle's cell phone cut off her words. She fumbled in
her purse, checked the call display and flicked it open. “Hi, Brittany. What's up?” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “No! That's awful! No, don't worry about church tomorrow, and you can tell Erin not to worry about it, either. I'll see you next week. Bye.”

She turned to Russ, all earlier traces of joy gone. “I just lost my two helpers for tomorrow morning. Brittany's mother had an accident where she works. Since it happened on the job, her medical is covered, but Brittany has to stay home and look after her brothers and sisters. Erin is going to go help her. That means I'll be all alone to look after twenty preschoolers. What am I doing to do?” she moaned.

“Aren't any of the other kids, er,
youths
going to be there?”

“I heard Jason say that he was bringing Colin for the first time, so I can't ask them to do preschool.”

Russ spoke quickly before he changed his mind. “Then I can help you. How hard could it be? They're just kids.”

Her brows quirked. “Are you serious? Do you know what you're saying?”

“I know I'm not a parent, but I was a kid once, too.”

“And you think that qualifies you?”

“I don't know. What qualifies Brittany and Erin?”

“Uh…that they're girls?”

“Is this discrimination?”

“I didn't mean it that way. It's just that girls are better, uh…”

“Girls are better mothers? That's true, but men are better fathers.”

“Are you really sure you want to do this?”

Russ stopped to think. Did he? The reason he had offered was that she needed the help. But at the same time, he'd been thinking all week long that it was unfair that he was collecting a full salary from Grant, yet only working at the youth center Mondays through Thursdays three hours per day—nine hours on Fridays.

This week, he could count the four hours he'd spent today, but this was an exception—not that he would mind spending a measly four hours at the center on future Saturdays. Still, even if he did volunteer, although it wasn't exactly volunteering when his boss ordered him to be there, he would have to work thirty hours on Sunday to even come close to hitting the number of hours he usually worked in a week.

“What kind of time frame are we looking at for Sunday?”

“I have to be there early to set up, and then I bring a lunch for any of the youths who want to stay. We eat, and then Sunday is the one free day for playing online computer games. We usually finish up midafternoon.”

Russ mentally counted. “So including lunch, that means another six hours.”

“Something like that. But I certainly don't expect you to stay for all that time. That would be asking too much.”

Thirty-one out of sixty hours.

“It's not too much. Trust me.”

Marielle beamed, and Russ tried to tamp down his elation.

“That's great.” She told him the basics of controlling
preschoolers, and then the basics of handling the parents, which was apparently another challenge.

Russ found her instructions rather amusing, but tried to take them seriously because she had to be telling him for a reason.

When the waiter came to collect their plates, signaling the end of their cozy dinner, a pang in Russ's chest told him that he was sorry it was over.

He was jolted when Marielle reached for the bill. Russ covered her hand with his, halting her movement.

She looked up at him.

And his breath caught. Marielle had beautiful eyes. Most days he couldn't decide if they were green or grey because they changed depending on what she wore, or what mood she was in. Today, they were a darker green, and bright—almost dazzling in their greenness. He'd never seen such vivid eyes. He'd also never had the opportunity to gaze into her eyes so openly. They'd often been closer together, crowded side by side as he taught her things on the computer, but even though they were almost touching, they always had their attention on the computer.

Right now, the only thing he was focusing on were Marielle's gorgeous green eyes.

Her hand shifted beneath his. He feared she was going to pull away, so he automatically wrapped his fingers around her hand, holding it, feeling the warmth and enjoying the contact, even in its limited capacity, using the guise of not allowing her to scoop the bill out of the small tray as an unspoken excuse for holding tighter.

“No,” he said, his voice coming out rough and gravelly, not at all like it should have.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You said it was okay that I was paying for my own.”

Russ cleared his throat, hoping words would come out normal this time. “I changed my mind. I was the one who chose to come here instead of someplace cheaper, so that makes it my responsibility to pay. You can pay next time we go out.”

“Next time?”

“I'm sure we'll need to do more one-on-one tutoring just you and me next Saturday, too. Jason was right—there are entire month-long courses dedicated to learning that program properly. You need more time to learn it than just two easy lessons. Not to mention the other programs…”

“The lessons aren't really so easy.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “No. They're not. But you're doing really well.” Keeping her hand enclosed in his, he pulled the bill out from beneath their joined hands with his free one, left it on the edge of the table and pulled out his wallet.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking down at his hand holding hers.

“Keeping you hostage. I don't trust you. I haven't known you for that long, but it's long enough to see that you can be stubborn when you want to be.”

He also knew that all the meals she provided to the youth group had to be a financial sacrifice for her, which made him want to help ease the burden in the only way he could.

“I'm not stubborn. It's called determined.”

“Right. I'm determined, too. I'm also bigger than you, so I win by default.”

“You're being unfair.”

“Sometimes life isn't fair, and this is one of those times. This is my treat, and that's that.”

She sighed, signifying that he'd won, even though it hadn't been a battle. It had been a challenge, though, and he liked that.

He had to let her hand go when the waiter appeared to take his credit card.

He was fine chatting in his SUV while he drove her home, but by the time he walked her to her front door, he'd begun to wonder if perhaps Grant was right—that blow to his head and subsequent concussion had affected him more than he thought.

What he was doing and the way he was thinking about Marielle was wrong.

He didn't have time to think of Marielle, or any woman. He was too busy to date when he had his career to consider—especially now, when he was right on the brink of getting the promotion that would be the crowning glory of all he'd worked for to this point.

Marielle was being nice to him because she had a goal, too, and that was to do the best for the teens who came to the center. He was a means to that goal, and Russ knew it. He could accept that, and he'd gone into the arrangement knowing that.

But that didn't stop him from having a gut-deep urge to kiss her good-night. He was human, and he was male, and he was seeing a pretty woman to the door after taking her out for dinner. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself, and he was pretty sure she had, too. In any other circumstance, the night would have been a date.

But it wasn't a date. It was work. For both of them. For him, it was paid work; for her, it was volunteer work. But it was still work.

He felt no regret—that was the way it was. She'd once called herself practical. He was practical, too.

The second the door opened, Russ backed up a step, just to avoid temptation.

“I'll see you in the morning,” he said. “I know you're nervous about it just being the two of us, but it's okay. They're just little kids. Everything will be fine.”

 

“How did it go?” Jason asked as he walked into the now-deserted classroom.

Russ stared blankly at the wall. “Good. I think. I'm not sure. Marielle? How did it go?”

She turned to Jason, and Colin who was standing behind Jason. “It went well. Russ was a great helper.”

Russ turned and stared at the kiddie-sized tables, which were so low they barely came up to his knees. And thinking of his knees, they ached from so much squatting. From this day forward, he knew he would have a greater respect for athletes and the deep knee-bend exercises they were required to do. Athletes, and preschool teachers.

The tables were littered with so much cut paper that he could see only a few places where more than a couple of square inches of the table's surface showed through. Cotton balls were spread everywhere, more on the floor than the table. And the glitter. Marielle had warned him two seconds too late not to let the children hold the container. He was positive that glitter had been condensed
and vacuum packed, because that was the only way he could account for the volume now coating the floor.

“Jason, would you mind getting the broom out of the closet in the hall?” Marielle asked. “Here's the key.”

“Did anyone get the license number of that truck?” Russ asked. “What hit me?”

“About seventeen four-year-olds. But you lived, and I think it's time to celebrate. As soon as we clean up, we can eat. I brought lunch.”

He slowly took in the disaster in the room. It had been difficult enough to keep the children busy and entertained and ignore the ever-accumulating mess. Then came the mayhem of trying to control the children and make sure none of them snuck out of the room unnoticed before their parents arrived to pick them up. The whole morning had made his brain go numb. The worst day at the office was nothing like this.

Yesterday Russ would have argued and insisted on going to a local pancake restaurant for a warm meal. Today, cold sandwiches made the night before and warm-enough coffee out of a thermos sounded like a taste of heaven.