Lessons Learned (7 page)

“That isn’t what I meant at all,” I said apologetically. “I meant someone with your opportunities. You could teach anywhere. Why would you want to teach here?”

This time, he turned his attention to the keyboard. He gently pressed one key at a time.

“The city can be a very unforgiving place. I needed some distance. I needed to teach where the students might actually appreciate it.”

“Sycamore Falls is certainly a far cry from the city.”

“I won’t lie; it’s been quite a culture shock. There’s no diversity here, and you really have to watch what you say. I told Mr. Johnson that I was a Democrat, and he looked at me like I’d spit on the American flag.”

We both laughed.

“The people in this town are truly good. They are hard-working and loyal—”

“—and deeply conservative,” Lucas finished.

“Conservative isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” I reminded him, “but there has to be a happy medium, I think. Having traditional values doesn’t give anyone the right to be judgmental or hurtful.”

He turned his face toward me and smiled.

“Agreed. So, if this place is so wonderful, why did you move to Memphis?”

“I had a scholarship,” I explained, “but I was also an eighteen-year-old girl who wanted to see more than the Appalachian Mountains.”

“I take it you didn’t like what you saw?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you moved back,” Lucas pointed out. “Something brought you home.”

I gazed down at the white and black keys, needing to focus on anything else but him. I didn’t want him to see the sadness in my eyes, because that would only lead to more questions.

“It was just time to come home.”

The silence was deafening, and when I found the courage to look his way, I could see by the expression on his face that he understood.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came home,” Lucas said, nudging my shoulder with his. “It’s nice to have a friend.”

“It is.” I smiled at him, relieved he’d so willingly let me off the hook.

“It will be especially nice when school starts. At least you’re familiar with the place.”

“Have you been inside the school at all?”

He nodded. “Twice so far. The first was when I was interviewed, and then later, to check out the classroom after I was hired.”

We went outside to sit on the front porch, spending the rest of the afternoon talking about Sycamore High and comparing it to our previous schools. Sycamore’s facilities were practically archaic, and while I realized state-of-the-art technology and million-dollar football stadiums were great, they didn’t mean a thing when it came to providing a safe place for students to learn.

Lucas seemed to agree. “I taught in the inner city. Our students had everything. E-readers. Laptops. You name it. But they also had to walk through metal detectors to get past the armed guards at the front door.”

“It’s not enough,” I whispered, my hands shaking slightly as memories of that horrible day flooded my mind. Suddenly, I could hear the sirens roaring in my ears and the terrified shouts of the students as they fled the cafeteria.

Bile rose in my throat, and I hastily jumped out of my rocking chair, holding onto the porch railing for support.

“Sarah?”

I closed my eyes and took long, steadying breaths. When I opened them again, Lucas was by my side.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I murmured unsteadily, gripping the wood a little tighter. “The casserole just isn’t agreeing with me.”

He slipped his arms around my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Leaning against him, I let him lead me back toward the living room. I collapsed against the sofa, and Lucas kneeled on the floor at my side.

“Sarah, you’re shaking. Are you cold?” He quickly pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around me.

“Will you . . . get my purse? It’s by the stairs . . . and some water . . .”

He was gone and back in a flash. I desperately tried to control my breathing as I dug for my medication. My shaking hands made it nearly impossible to get the bottle open, but the lid finally cooperated. Placing the little white pill against my tongue, I took a long drink of water and swallowed it down.

“I think we should call a doctor.”

“On a Sunday?” I laughed weakly as I leaned back, resting my head against the arm of the couch. I hated taking the medication. Absolutely despised it. But sometimes, it was necessary. “I’ll be fine, really.”

He sat down on the floor and gently swept my hair away from my face. The palm of his hand drifted across my forehead, and the sweet gesture made me smile. We stayed like that for a while—him caressing my face, and me struggling to bring my heart rate back to normal. The medication made me so tired, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I fell asleep.

The look on his face was heartbreaking.

“I’m fine, Lucas.”

“You keep saying that.” His voice was soft and soothing. “Say something else.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me what you love about Sycamore Falls.”

I snuggled deeper into the couch as his hand continued stroking my face.

“I love the seasons.” The warmth of the blanket and his tender touch made it difficult to keep my eyes open as my body finally began to relax. “The county fair comes every August and summers are spent fishing or swimming in the river. Fall comes, and everything that was so green in the spring turns to red and yellow and just blankets the mountain. Winters can be brutal but spring always comes back, thawing us out and making everything green again.”

It was a struggle, but I forced myself to open my eyes. His expression was soft and sweet as he gazed at me.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Lucas whispered. His fingertips traced my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.

“You’ll love it, it’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

It was a faint murmur, and it was last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep.

The soft plinking of piano keys echoed in my ears, and when I opened my eyes, the room was shrouded in darkness.

How long did I sleep?

I blinked rapidly, forcing my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the living room until they were able to focus on the man sitting at my piano.

“What time is it?”

Lucas turned around on the bench and smiled at me. “Just after eight. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” I pulled myself up, keeping the afghan wrapped protectively around me. “I shouldn’t have slept so long.”

Lucas rose to his feet and joined me on the couch. “Are you feeling better? Are you hungry? I could fix something.”

“I’m okay.” Several quiet moments passed before I finally stated the obvious. “You stayed.”

“I stayed.”

I was stunned. My ex-boyfriend had never stayed.

“Why?”

“Because you were sick, Sarah. I was worried about you.”

“I wasn’t sick, Lucas. Not physically, anyway.”

“Then what was that?”

I stared into the darkness and pulled the afghan a little tighter around my body.

“I have panic attacks,” I replied quietly. “It was a mild one, though. My therapist would be proud.”

“You have a therapist?”

“In Memphis, yeah. I check in with her by phone at least once a week.”

I had no idea why I was telling him this. Maybe it was because he’d witnessed it and I felt he deserved some sort of explanation. Maybe it was because he honestly looked concerned and was ready to call a doctor.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he’d stayed.

“Sarah, will you tell me what happened back in Memphis?”

It wasn’t a secret. Anyone could do a search on the Internet, and the story would be right there on the computer screen. There would even be pictures. The news coverage had been extensive, especially in the state, and it would be easy to find news story after news story describing the events of that day. What couldn’t be found in those stories, however, was how my life had completely changed, and those were the details Lucas would want to know.

“Someday,” I promised him with a whisper. “Will you tell me what happened in New York?”

His sigh was resigned and tinged with a hint of relief.

Maybe sharing war stories would help us both.

“Someday,” he agreed.

Chapter 6

Monday morning arrived, bringing with it the warmth of the country sunshine and a busload full of football players who were far too energetic for seven in the morning.

    “Good morning!” Tommy sprinted onto the porch as his team descended from the bus. The players were wearing their green hoodies with Sycamore Panthers stamped proudly in white on the back. “Guys, say hello to your new English teacher!”

A few of the players waved at me. From somewhere deep inside the huddle, there were even a few whistles, which Tommy promptly brought to a halt with the threat of gassers.

“What’s a gasser?” I whispered.

“It’s a conditioning drill where they have to run from sideline to sideline. They hate ‘em. Some are even puking by the time they’re finished.”

My eyes widened. “That’s . . . disturbing.”

“That’s discipline.”

Tommy had just started barking out orders to his team when Lucas drove up with Aubrey following close behind in her car. Lucas offered me a wave as he ran over to Tommy and the buckets of paint, while Aubrey stepped onto the porch with gigantic aluminum pans in each hand.

“There are more in the car and it probably still won’t be enough to feed this bunch,” Aubrey said before turning toward the team. “Tommy! Tell those boys to take off those new hoodies before they get paint all over them!”

The coach yelled out instructions while Aubrey and I made our way into the kitchen. Minutes later, some of the guys—now wearing their Panthers T-shirts—brought in the rest of the food, and we tried to make room for it in the refrigerator.

“Where’s the baby?”

“With my folks. We knew he’d just want to stay outside with his daddy all morning, and Tommy needs to focus on his boys. I just pray they don’t turn your house into a Kindergarten art project.”

“I have faith.” Besides, it couldn’t look any worse than it did now.

“Speaking of faith, what did Lucas think about our church?”

I carefully contemplated my words while leading her toward the living room.

“He thought it was very high-spirited,” I said, curling my legs beneath me as we collapsed onto the couch.

“You mean he thought we were loud.”

I laughed. “A little bit. He liked the sermon, though, and he said everyone was very welcoming.”

“Everyone was so happy to see him there. You should come.”

“Maybe.”

I didn’t mention his invitation to go to church. Instead, we started talking about school, and how we’d be sitting in classrooms at this time next Monday.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love teaching,” Aubrey said. “I just really wish I could stay home with Daniel. The first football game is next week, which means I won’t see much of Tommy except at school. Pray your future husband hates sports because being a coach’s wife can be the pits.”

I smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We spent the rest of the morning talking about the faculty, many of whom had been teaching at Sycamore High when we were students. We’d occasionally hear Tommy growling out orders, and his team would grunt some sort of response, making us both laugh.

“He’s very motivational, isn’t he?”

Aubrey grinned. “He can be, yeah.”

Lunchtime arrived, and the team was happy to sit along the wrap-around porch while devouring their ham and cheese sandwiches. Tommy took the time to introduce me to his players. I recognized the quarterback as the bag boy from the grocery store, and he ran right up to me, pulling me into a hug.

“You remember me, right?”

“Of course. How are you, Matt?”

“I’m good. Hey, we have to get you guys Panthers sweatshirts. The first game’s Friday night, you know.” He smiled at Lucas. “You have to bring her with you, Mr. Miller.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucas laughed, and I rolled my eyes. Even the kids were trying to play matchmaker.