Mine (17 page)

Was that a bad thing?

If she thought rationally, didn’t it make complete sense that Theresa’s name would come up every so often? Would Rachel really expect it not to? That was totally unrealistic, wasn’t it? Courtney had spent a decade of her life with the woman; just because she’d passed away didn’t mean her time with Courtney was erased. Rachel didn’t really expect that, did she?

Or maybe she did.

“She just sounds a little skittish to me,”
Amelia had said after Courtney filled her in on the evening.
“Give the girl some time. She’ll come around.”

Courtney wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe it with every fiber of her being. At the same time, she felt the proverbial phrase constantly appearing in her mind:
I’m too old for this shit.
Why couldn’t things be simpler?
You want to date me? Fine. Cool. Let’s date.
Why the push/pull? The back-and-forth? It was exhausting and she was beginning to resent having to deal with it at all.

Trying to keep her anguish invisible to her students, she rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips and stifled a sigh of frustration. Before she could analyze further, a light tap on her closed classroom door snatched her attention. It opened and a very large bouquet of flowers in every color of the rainbow entered the room, seemingly with legs of its own since Courtney couldn’t see who was carrying it.

“Ms. McAllister?”

Courtney recognized the voice of one of the office aides, Gina.

“Right here.” Courtney stood, trying hard to ignore the murmurs, snickers, ooohs, and ahhhs of her class.

“Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t have anyplace in the office to put these. I was afraid they’d get knocked over.” Gina was a rotund woman in her early seventies. She brushed her graying hair out of her face after she set the vase down on Courtney’s desk. Shifting from one foot to the other, she finally pointed at the flowers and whispered, “There’s a card.”

“I see that,” Courtney said with a nod, having no intention of letting Gina or her classroom full of teenagers in on who sent them. She wondered if they were from Rachel and was simultaneously embarrassed and giddy at the thought. “Thanks for bringing them, Gina. I appreciate it.”

They stared at one another until Gina sighed and took her leave.

The class was still abuzz with curiosity. Many of the girls looked on with envy and Courtney shook her head, still a little embarrassed, feeling the color that had washed up her neck and across her cheeks. Gina didn’t
have
to bring the flowers here. She could have found a way to keep them in the office. She’d done it to cause a stir, which she seemed to enjoy doing whenever the chance arose. Courtney supposed after working at the school for a hundred years like Gina had, you had to create your own excitement. Courtney grabbed the small white envelope off the plastic stand and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks.

“All right. Time’s up. Pass your papers forward.” Groans filled the air as papers shuffled and Courtney zipped along the front of each row, collecting the quizzes. The bell rang and the class seemed to pop out of their desks simultaneously, like a flock of birds that somehow just knows how to all take off together. “Have a great weekend. I’ll see you all on Monday,” she said, raising her voice over the din.

She’d only commandeered two phones today, so she withdrew them from her desk drawer and handed the first one off as its owner kept her eyes down. “Sorry, Ms. McAllister,” she muttered.

Courtney nodded.

Andrew Gray sauntered up the aisle just as slowly as he always did. Courtney waited for him, steeling herself for his entry into her personal space. He didn’t disappoint her and she fought with her own instincts to keep from stepping back. She made direct eye contact with him and never broke it as he took his phone from her hand. They stood like that for what seemed like hours, until Courtney was sure she was going to have to find a chiropractor to help with the kink developing in her neck from looking up for so long. Just when she was ready to scream or give in or both, Andrew grinned and winked at her. She flinched as if he’d poked her and then blinked in surprise.

Did he just wink at me? And—my God—did he actually
smile
?

“Nice flowers,” he said, his voice low, vibrating in the pit of her stomach. Then he and his phone were gone.

Courtney stood, dumbfounded at the strangeness of the scene that had just occurred. Andrew Gray had spoken
and
smiled at her. She whipped herself around in a circle and did a quick, superficial scan of her classroom, half expecting to find cameras and people waiting to jump out and surprise her. Finishing her perusal brought her back to the huge bouquet. She slipped the card from her pocket and opened the envelope.

It read simply:
Dinner was fantastic
.

The grin that spread across her face would not be contained, no matter how hard she tried to control it. With the kids all gone, she took the opportunity to bury her nose in the flowers. There was a white rose, several red and white carnations, half a dozen tulips, and a bunch of other varieties Courtney couldn’t name. The arrangement was beautiful and she felt suddenly light. Theresa used to send flowers whenever she found herself in the doghouse, and it never failed to get her out.
This totally makes up for not calling
, she thought. Then,
God, I’m a pushover.

She didn’t care. Rachel sent her flowers. She was flying.

The obnoxious buzz of the bell hit her like a slap and she glanced up at the clock, noting she was going to be late for her study hall. As usual. Grabbing a slip of paper, she jotted a note for the cleaning woman, letting her know she’d be back later to pick up the flowers and take them home. Then she zipped out the door of the classroom, still sporting a half-grin.

What was it about getting flowers that made a woman stupidly happy?

*

A staff meeting on a Friday afternoon was just about the dumbest idea Courtney had ever heard. Yet her boss insisted on scheduling just such a thing at least twice a school year. Each time, one of the teachers would remind him that maybe it wasn’t such a great time for a meeting, to which he’d wholeheartedly agree, and then they’d return to Tuesdays or Wednesdays again…until several months went by and he’d forget about the reminder and schedule another meeting for 4:00 on a Friday.

Courtney coasted into her driveway at 5:13, cursing her principal and thanking her lucky stars above that it was the weekend. The week had seemed to last twice as long as it actually had. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she went around to the passenger side and bent into the car to gently and carefully retrieve the vase of flowers, which she’d set in a box and packed with newspaper, hoping to keep it from tipping during the ride. She was pleased to note that she’d succeeded.

With great effort, she managed to get everything into the house in one trip, banging against walls and doors all the way in. A breath of relief left her lungs in a puff as she set everything on the kitchen counter and noticed the answering-machine light was blinking. She punched the Play button, then began to tidy up, pulling the vase from the box and arranging the flowers so they were displayed evenly as she listened.

“Hey, it’s me.” Mark’s voice filled the air. “Bills game. Four o’clock on Sunday. Lisa will be here and we’d like you to come. Bring your hot realtor if you want.” The mischievous grin was apparent in his tone. “And can you make that taco dip? Pretty please?”

She laughed. Mark loved her taco dip, so much so that the last time she made it, she’d caught him in the kitchen, away from the rest of the guests, eating it with a spoon.
Lisa will be here and we’d like you to come.
“We’d” like you to come? Wow. She made a mental note to call Lisa.

The machine beeped. “Hi, honey. Just calling to remind you about dinner tomorrow night. And don’t forget about shopping on Sunday. Around six. Love, Mom.” Courtney laughed again. Her mother, for some strange reason, always felt it necessary to sign her answering machine messages. It was simultaneously weird and endearing. She frowned as she realized she wouldn’t be able to make Mark’s on Sunday because she’d promised to go Christmas shopping with her mother, who loved to get an early jump on the season and who would be finished with her shopping before the beginning of November. Courtney had never quite managed to be that efficient.

“Hi, Courtney. It’s Rachel.” Courtney stopped what she was doing, listening intently as her heart rate picked up speed. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner. That was rude of me. I wanted to say thanks for dinner the other night. It was great and I had a nice time and…I should have said so sooner.” There was a pause, as if Rachel were trying to formulate her thoughts before she continued. “I was also wondering if you’d like to do something again sometime. Maybe catch a movie or something? And I’ll completely understand if you don’t. I wasn’t exactly…” She trailed off as if she was suddenly uncertain. “Well, anyway, just give me a call if you want.” She left her cell number.

Courtney punched the rewind button and listened to the message again.

And again.

And again.

What was it about Rachel’s husky voice that made Courtney feel it in various parts of her body—in a good way? And why did she feel downright giggly that the woman had called at all? Despite Courtney’s determination to classify Wednesday night’s dinner as a success, the fact remained that during part of it, Rachel had been somewhat rude and very judgmental, almost confrontational. Why wasn’t Courtney more annoyed about that? More wary? She wasn’t as tough and self-confident as Theresa had been, but she was no Milquetoast either; she wasn’t the kind of person to let others run her over with their opinions. And, frankly, the last thing in the world she needed right now—or ever—was to be dating some kind of bipolar psycho. So why did she want nothing more than to see Rachel again? To call her right this very second and take her up on her offer? Rachel had said nothing about the flowers, but it was possible she wasn’t sure if they’d been delivered yet and didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Courtney should call her to thank her for those, if nothing else. Right? It was the polite thing to do, after all.

After listening to Rachel’s message one more time, Courtney leaned back against the counter and sighed, feeling suddenly confused and tired because she had way more questions than answers and no idea what to do about any of them.

Chapter Twelve

It never failed to send a happy shiver through Rachel’s body when she showed up at Happy Acres to find that one of her charges had been adopted. Rex, the giant shepherd/Lab mix, had been adopted by a family with two kids and a lot of land. She breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. Dogs that big were hard to place. She was happy for him. And she was thankful.

Small dogs, however, were always the first to go. She clipped a leash onto a small, hyper mix of at least three breeds she could pick out by eye: cocker spaniel, Jack Russell, and poodle. He had been picked up as a stray and the Happy Acres staff had named him Charlie.

“Hi, Charlie. Want to go for a walk this morning?” The dog jumped at her thigh like he was on a pogo stick, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics.

“Off,” she said sternly and tugged the leash downward until he was in a sit. As soon as she stood back up, Charlie jumped again and Rachel repeated the command and tug. When he sat, she gave him a little piece of a liver treat from her pocket. After five or six times, Charlie was watching her expectantly from his sit, his big brown eyes soft and friendly, a dribble of drool on the side of his mouth as he anticipated the liver. “Good boy,” she said, pleased at his quickness and smarts, and rewarded him. “You’re not going to last long here, buddy, don’t you worry. Some lucky person is going to snap you right up. Come on. Let’s get some air.”

They strolled the grounds, Charlie stopping every couple of feet to either sniff something, pee on something, or both. Rachel grinned, knowing that was the terrier in him. They continued on their sporadic walk and Rachel let her mind wander to the subjects that were taking up most of her time.

First, Emily had called the previous week, finally. The doctors had given her an exact date for her C-section. November 2, the following Saturday. It was official. Rachel had found it a bit odd that it was on a Saturday, but apparently, there were doctors that actually had weekend hours.
Who knew?
She’d be in the delivery room watching surgeons cut open her sister and pull her niece or nephew into the cold, cruel world. She was simultaneously joyous and terrified.

God, what if I puke?

Not horrendously squeamish by nature, she still found the idea of seeing an actual medical procedure performed before her eyes a bit…unnerving. But she knew Emily had gone through a lot to make sure Rachel could participate, and she didn’t want to let her baby sister down. She was deeply touched and prayed to the stars above that she didn’t embarrass herself or Emily during the birth by doing something stupid. Like throwing up.

Shaking those thoughts of nervousness out of her head did nothing to make her feel more relaxed as she and Charlie wandered around the Happy Acres property in the chilly autumn air. Once she was no longer dwelling on the possibilities of hospital vomiting, her brain shifted to the other big thing on her mind: Courtney.

The minute she’d hung up from ordering the flowers, Rachel had suffered a mini panic attack. What was she thinking, sending flowers? What kind of message were they giving off?
You don’t send a woman flowers unless they mean something.
Of course, the other voice in her head, the quieter, less heard one, replied that they
did
mean something and if Rachel would relax and let herself go just a little bit, she might get a whiff of exactly what that something felt like.

She hated feeling this way. Worried. Uncertain. A little confused. They were emotions she was unfamiliar with, didn’t know how exactly to handle, and Rachel Hart was nothing if not sure of herself. Somehow, Courtney McAllister left her feeling…dizzy and off balance. At the same time, all she could think about was the next time they would see each other. Unfortunately, given their ridiculous schedules, it had been a couple of weeks. Rachel had wall-to-wall showings, Courtney had a week and a half of parent-teacher conferences, and they’d laughed about how stupidly hard it was to find a time they both had open. Rachel, though, refused to throw in the towel, and she got the distinct impression that Courtney wanted to see her just as badly.