His Son's Teacher Read online

  “Then why bother making him go at all, if the teacher isn’t going to be able to focus on what he needs to learn?” What kind of lame joke was that? Make the kid go through summer school for nothing?

  “Are you suggesting an alternative?” The counselor slid an awkward glance in Mr. Keener’s direction.

  Nick took a calming breath and looked down to see Matt rubbing the toe of one battered and wheel-less Heelys shoe against the other in agitation. The back of his neck was blood-red and he was having a hard time controlling his tears.

  Nick’s elbows dug into his thighs. “If I take on the expense of hiring a tutor, why would Matt need to attend summer school? Why not just hire a teacher myself, who would focus entirely on Matt and get him on track?”

  The counselor seemed surprised that he’d made the suggestion, as if she wasn’t used to parents cooperating. That might have been true with some of them, but Nick didn’t want Matt going through what he’d experienced growing up.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “Then Matt wouldn’t have to attend summer school?”

  Hope radiated from Matt’s red-rimmed eyes. “Please, Dad?”

  All three turned to stare at Principal Keener. “One-on-one attention is always best.”

  Mrs. Chambers cleared her throat, the little lines forming around her mouth as she did so, giving her a lemon-pucker expression. “That does indeed sound like a wonderful idea, Mr. Tulane. However, as good as the plan is, your difficulty will be finding a qualified person willing to take on a summer-long position. Hiring a college student as a summer tutor is one thing, but hiring a certified teacher is quite another. And the cost may be an issue. Very few teachers will be willing to give up their vacation for the kind of tutoring Matt needs, and those who are will demand a hefty sum.”

  “We’ll make do.” Money wasn’t a factor. He had his share of expenses with his businesses, but he and Matt led a pretty simple life and he’d been using Uncle C.’s bookkeeper’s financial guidance for a while now. Tucker Dawson might look and sound like a good ol’ southern boy, but he was a genius when it came to accounting and finance.

  The beeper at the counselor’s waist buzzed, and she glanced at her watch again. “I’m sorry. I have another appointment I wasn’t able to reschedule. If I think of anyone willing to take on the job, I will certainly give you a call. Otherwise we’ll see Matt on June sixth. Summer school runs five days a week, five hours a day for eight weeks. It’s all explained in here,” she said, placing another folder on the table in front of them and sliding it forward. “There are medical release forms, as well as a lunch menu and schedule.” That done, the counselor made her excuses to both Nick and Mr. Keener, murmured goodbye to Matt and left.

  “Nick, I want to apologize for not staying on top of this.”

  “Looks as if we’re all at fault.”

  “Well, I appreciate your understanding. This must have come as a shock, and I hate that it happened this way. You probably thought everything was fine, since we didn’t contact you again.”

  Nick didn’t comment. Matt was a good kid. Nick didn’t want Keener thinking Matt was a problem. “Everybody makes mistakes. I didn’t stay in touch with Matt’s teachers like I should have. I’ll be more aware of things from now on.”

  “Matt? Would you mind stacking the chairs we used on top of the tables?” The principal tilted his head toward the door. “Nick?”

  Dreading whatever might come next, Nick followed the older man out of the classroom and shut the door behind them.

  “Nick, I realize no parent wants to hear what you just did, but Matt will be fine. If you can’t find a tutor, don’t worry. The standardized tests the kids take every fall and spring are basic. You can tutor Matt at home, and combined with the summer-school program I’m sure he’ll be ready for them.”

  The guilt made Nick sick. “I’d like to say it’s no problem, but I’m afraid that’s not really feasible for me right now, Mr. K. I’ll do anything to help Matt, you know that. But I’ve lost two of my employees this week, and I’m filling in for Cyrus managing the restaurant until he gets back from vacation.” Nick ran a hand over his hair and massaged the back of his neck. How had he dropped the ball with all this, lost control? He was a parental failure.

  “Worst-case scenario is that Matt has to attend summer school and you hire a teaching student to help him out at home. Either way, I’m sure he’ll learn what he needs to learn. It’ll be fine—you’ll see.”

  Not when Matt would hate every moment of it. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Then it hit him. “Tucker’s wife, Suzanne, is a teacher.” And she’d be discreet. “Maybe she can help us out.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let me know what you find out.”

  “You’ll keep this quiet—between us?”

  The older man nodded, his sympathetic expression one of understanding. The man knew what it had been like for Nick, what it would be like for Matt if people knew. “Of course. This is between you, Matt and the school.”

  “It’s best that way. Otherwise you’ll have my father, mother and grandmother all down here on a daily basis.”

  “Heaven help me.” The older man shuddered at the thought of it. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Thanks.” Nick held out his hand. “I appreciate it.” The conversation over, Nick opened the classroom door. “Come on, Matt. Let’s go.” His son still looked as if he’d lost his best friend, and no doubt he was worrying about his punishment.

  “Don’t be too hard on him, Nick. He’s a Tulane through and through. Reminds me of your father, and you and your brothers. I spent a lot of years staring across my desk at you and Luke. Matt had the same look you wore every time I said I had to call your father. I can’t imagine you not putting yourself in Matt’s shoes, since you’ve been there so many times.”

  Nick nodded. Keener certainly had that right.

  Matt pushed the classroom door wide and stepped through. He dragged his feet, his backpack sagging from one shoulder. Father and son said goodbye to Mr. Keener and a few minutes later the late May sun hit them in the face.

  “So what do you think about all this?” Nick asked, unlocking the truck with a press of the key ring.

  “I don’t wanna go. I hate school. I wish I never had to go again!” Matt ran to the truck and yanked open a rear door, climbing inside and slamming it behind him.

  The moment Nick was behind the wheel, Matt wiped his face and stifled a sob. “Matt…”

  “Dad, please. Please. Don’t make me go. Everybody’ll think I’m stupid.”

  “Nobody will think you’re stupid.” Nick tossed the file folder Mrs. Chambers had given him onto the passenger seat, where it landed atop the latest bestseller on tape.

  “I am. Only losers have to go to summer school.”

  Nick ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. How many summers had he spent in school without any apparent success? Three? Five? “You’re not a loser, Matt. A loser wouldn’t take this chance to do better. I don’t want to hear you talking about yourself like that. Look, I’ll check in to hiring a teacher. If I can find one for a reasonable rate, you can stay home and no one will be the wiser. Okay?”

  “You promise?”

  “To try? Yeah, I’ll try. In the meantime, you’re going to be busing tables and doing dishes at the restaurant as punishment for lying.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “And no video games until further notice.” Nick added his best father’s glare. “Understood?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  JENNIFER ROSE SAT IN her car and stared at the entrance to the Old Coyote Bar and Grille. The last of the sun’s rays faded behind the Tennessee mountains surrounding the town of Beauty, giving everything a reddish pink tinge. She’d spent the afternoon finishing her student reports and taking care of all the details that came with the end of the school year, then she’d packed up her classroom and piled the stuff into her car. Now her hands were wrapped so tightly around her steering wheel that
her fingers ached.

  “You can do this,” she murmured. “You can do this. Just go in there and tell them you’re going, as if nothing ever happened. Doesn’t matter if it’s all a lie because your plans are ruined. They don’t need to know that. What business is it of theirs, anyway? Come fall, you can say things fell through and it’s no big deal. Just stop whining and do it. You can do—”

  Her car door opened suddenly. “Out.”

  Jenn blinked and then glared at Suzanne Dawson, the teacher in the classroom next door to hers, and her best friend since she’d moved to town. Usually a smiling, easygoing person, her friend glared right back at Jenn.

  “You’ve been sitting here five minutes staring at the restaurant and muttering to yourself like a crazy woman. Let’s go—I’m starving.”

  The words brought a scowl. It so wasn’t fair. Suzanne ate nonstop and looked like a twig. “Have you lost more weight?”

  “Nice try. You’re going in there. Forget about all the D-Day stuff. Let’s have some fun.”

  Easy for her to say. Suzanne had major plans for the summer. Snorkeling. In Hawaii. Lying on the beach with her skinny body in a bathing suit that was comprised of strings and patches. If Suzanne wasn’t such a nice person, Jenn definitely would hate her. “I will. I am.” I’m going to do this.

  Declaration Day was a longstanding tradition at Beauty Elementary, a way to unwind and linger with friends the teachers probably wouldn’t see much over the summer. Every year until now Jenn had enjoyed the gathering because she’d actually had plans for the summer. Real plans, not fake ones.

  “Then what are you waiting for? You can’t let that jerk of an ex end your life just because he thought the grass was greener in what’s-her-name’s pants. It’s time to move on.” Suzanne reached in and began tugging on her arm. “Come on, out.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming! And I know it’s time—it’s not that exactly.” But how could she explain? Suzanne wasn’t like her. She was outgoing and funny and always ready to party. She wouldn’t think twice about going on vacation alone. But Jenn?

  Stop being such a chicken. You should go. You should.

  Oh, why did vacationing alone seem so impossible?

  “You’re pissed because that jerk-off shouldn’t have treated you the way he did. You’re mad because you let him—”

  “I didn’t let him. I brought up the idea of getting a divorce first. He just beat me to filing.”

  “And now you’re wondering if you’ll ever feel normal again.” Suzanne’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose. “Am I close?”

  Sort of. Actually she’d felt relatively normal for a while now, compared to the off-kilter, how-did-this-happen daze she’d been in for most of the past year, but what if what she really had to have out of life was something…extraordinary?

  You don’t ask for much, do you?

  She’d tell them she was going, then she’d go to her parents’ house in Cincinnati and lay by their condo pool. No pictures? No problem. She’d say she lost her camera. Or maybe someone stole it—or she could print some pictures off the Internet. That would work.

  Jenn swallowed, took a long look at the restaurant’s entrance and groaned. “You left out the part about how our divorce totally destroyed my vacation plans. Forget Todd—”

  “Thata girl.”

  “He’s a jerk and I know it, but, darn it, I really wanted to go on that vacation.”

  “Then go. But watch your language,” Suzanne teased. “Sheesh, are you getting wild on me or what?”

  If only.

  The thought came out of nowhere, but Jenn meant it. Wild wouldn’t care about traveling alone. Wild would see it as an adventure and fun and…There were times when she really wanted to be wild. Wanted to know that all the doubts and insecurities about herself, instilled by Todd, weren’t true. Was she having an early midlife crisis? A post-divorce meltdown?

  Suzanne snickered and Jenn blushed when she realized she’d been talking aloud. What all had she said?

  “Let’s go figure it out inside. Come on—it’s time to have some fun. Aren’t you tired of moping around?”

  Unbelievably so. “You know I am.”

  “Then smile. That’s the first trait of a woman out on the town. Her flirtatious smile. Oh, pulleeeze, that’s just sad. Fake it if you have to.” Her friend’s voice lowered and a glint appeared in her eyes. “You can’t tell me you never faked it with I-think-I’m-a-god Todd.” She raised her hand, her thumb and first finger a couple inches apart. “Come on, be honest. Little wienie?”

  Jenn choked.

  “Ha, I knew it! That smile says it all—and it looks beautiful on you. Now, follow instructions and do this.” She held up a finger and tapped a front tooth.

  Jennifer glanced around the shadowy parking lot to see if anyone was watching them. “Suzanne—”

  “Do it.”

  Obedient, she tapped her tooth with her fingernail. What silliness was this?

  “Feel that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. Remember that later. Because right now you’re going to go in there, smile that beautiful smile every single time you think about Mr. Little Wienie Man and have a great evening with friends. Right?”

  “Wh-right,” She hated that she sounded like Elmer Fudd. “But why am I doing this?” She dropped her hand in a hurry as an older couple drove by and shot her a funny look.

  Suzanne grinned. “Stop it. Why are you worried about them—who cares?”

  “Right.” She shrugged. “Not me.”

  “Good. And that,” Suzanne said, holding her crooked finger up in front of her mouth, “is in case I forget to tell you later. When you can’t feel it anymore?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then it’s time to stop drinking.”

  An hour later, Jenn stared in wonder at Amy Warren. The first-grade teacher danced across the Old Coyote’s small dance floor completely uninhibited and, more importantly, not drunk.

  Despite Suzanne’s inane comment about knowing it was time to stop drinking when she couldn’t feel her teeth, Jenn and all the other teachers present were very aware of small-town public appearances and how a wrong move would reflect badly on all of them.

  The school board probably wouldn’t care if their teachers got together over drinks on the last day of the school year, but all those present had ordered soft drinks or iced tea so their professional reputations would remain intact and gossip would be kept at bay.

  Which meant Amy’s dancing had nothing to do with alcohol or reputations and everything to do with a lack of inhibition. And that begged the question…Was Todd right?

  So many reservations held Jenn back. She wanted to go to Paradise Island, but she was afraid. Who wanted to go on vacation alone?

  But look at the dance floor. She wouldn’t be alone there and she wanted to dance, and yet was she dancing? No.

  Chicken.

  With good reasons. The main one being her body and the extra weight she carried. Always a chubby kid, she’d long ago learned not to draw attention to herself. Since discovering her ex’s infidelity, all she had done was eat her disgust with herself, to the tune of a whopping twenty—oh, who was she kidding? thirty—pounds. In eighteen months. On a body that was already short and already soft, thirty pounds was a lot. One wiggle and everything on her jiggled. Who wanted to look like Jell-O?

  Rolling her eyes, Jenn grabbed her empty soda glass and got to her feet, unable to pull her gaze from Amy’s movements and the smile her friend wore as she danced and sang along to “It’s Raining Men”. How did she do that? How did Amy let go and have fun, dance, despite everyone watching?

  “Need another?”

  Startled out of her thoughts, she looked up and found herself face-to-face with a drop-dead-gorgeous man. The bartender? “Um…”

  A slow grin spread across his face. A heart-stopping, toe-curling, sex-me-down smile that mushed her insides into nothing in the split second it took the smile to reach his eyes.
br />   As if you’d ever stand a chance with a guy like him.

  On a scale from one to ten, she was a five at best. Maybe a six on a good day, and that was being way generous. He was a fifteen. And fifteens didn’t look at sixes.

  Unless they were a size six.

  “What would you like, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart? The waiter had called her ma’am, not that there was anything wrong with that, but it had made her feel old. And fat. Ma’ams were typically more matronly and…substantial. Weren’t they?

  The bartender wants a big tip. It’s called flirting, Jenn. Remember that? Sadly, it had been a while. “A Coke. Please. Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”

  His grin widened, as if he’d heard that one before and her face burned with embarrassment. No doubt he had rendered more than one woman speechless over the years.

  “You want rum with that?”

  She shook her head and handed over her glass, imagining she felt a tingle streaking up her arm when their fingers brushed. Yeah, right. The bartender was six-feet-plus of hard-muscled male. The tanned, outdoorsy, athletic type that put Todd’s nonmuscular lean build to shame. While he got her drink, Jenn tried to picture herself out with such a guy and failed.

  She hadn’t impressed her ex-husband, and she didn’t imagine short, pudgy and studious would appeal to a man whose biceps couldn’t be contained by the sleeves of his black T-shirt. If Todd had thought her boring, she’d be nothing short of coma-inducing to a man like this.

  “There you go. A Coke, straight up. Anything else?”

  How about you? She rolled her eyes at the foolish thought. Hey, at least you’ve got good taste. He would certainly be a great way to spend the summer. Maybe he’d want to go to Paradise? “No, th-thanks. What do I owe you?”

  White teeth flashed, all the brighter paired with his sun-darkened face and uniquely beautiful silver-blue eyes. Toss in the deeply etched lines bracketing both sides of his mouth and a day’s worth of stubble on his chin and cheeks, and gorgeous was a poor description. Pure, sexual fantasy was more accurate.