A Flower for Angela (3 page)

Well, she'd just have to prove to him that the whole language process she followed was educationally sound. Ricardo de la Cruz was intelligent and—judging from her observation of his actions on the board and on television—open to new ideas. He had a reputation for investigating all sides of an issue. It would be up to her to show him her side. Straightening her shoulders, she continued, "Mr. de la Cruz, I have a proposition I'd like to make."

The challenge in her tone caught his attention. The faint lines radiating from his eyes creased as his gaze narrowed on her.

"You come and observe my class for a whole week, and then you can tell me what effective education is."

"I can tell you now, Miss Stuart, I doubt you'll convince me that competent teaching involves children crawling around on the floor while you sit
visiting
with your students."

"You have no idea what those students on the floor were doing, or, obviously, what
I
accomplished,” she protested, feeling an odd mixture of indignation and disappointment. Surely the Ricardo de la Cruz she admired couldn't be this determined to deny her a chance. "As a reporter you should know that first impressions seldom reveal the underlying facts. Investigate the evidence, Mr. de la Cruz, and you'll see what I'm talking about."

Amusement danced in his eyes and Angela took a step back. She'd challenged him on a matter of principle—and he was laughing?

"All right, Miss Stuart, I concede your point. I'll come visit. Perhaps in that time I'll be able to listen to your
regular
students, not just the selected top."

So that's what he thought. Angela couldn't mask her smile.

"You
didn't
meet the top today, Mr. de la Cruz. They were at another school where they attend the gifted students program twice a week."

The look of surprise on his face made the day's ordeal worthwhile.

He rocked back on his heels, assessing her carefully. "I have to clear my calendar and check with the station. It should only take a couple of days before I can come back."

"Fine." Angela extended her hand to shake on the agreement. "Why don't you begin next Monday?"

"Monday it is." He took her hand.

She had won the first round.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. de la Cruz." She meant that, even though he'd been stubborn about her issue.

"Ricardo, remember.” He winked, totally disarming her.

"Ricardo." She murmured, liking the way the Spanish name rolled across her tongue. She started to withdraw her hand, but he held on. Surprised, she glanced up and their gazes met. Alarmed, she stepped back.

He released his grasp and turned toward the door. "Until Monday.” With a confident wave, he strode out of the room.

CHAPTER 2

RELIEVED, ANGELA SIGHED.
She'd wanted to meet Ricardo de la Cruz for months, but never dreamed it would be under these circum-stances. Still, she'd held her own. He loved dealing with issues and now Angela had provided him with one.

Her mind churning with ideas, she set about making preparations for the next day's instruct-ion. Without a doubt, she'd make her point clear. Ricardo de la Cruz would recognize the value of her teaching techniques—or he wasn't the man she believed him to be.

Wrapped up in her plans, Angela didn't hear the door open. She jumped when Maria spoke, "So how did it go?"

"Don't sneak up on me like that!” Angela chided her friend.

"Was it that bad, or is this your usual end-of-the-day touchiness?"

"You know I'm always grumpy after I’m done teaching." Feeling drained, Angela hung up the last drawing on the wall and stepped back with a sigh of relief. She saw Maria's energetic smile and groaned. "How do you always stay so chipper? Don't you ever get tired?"

"I'm finally waking up about now. You know I'm a night person." Maria settled on the corner of the table. "So tell me, how did it go?"

Angela scrunched her face into a frown.

"Not good, huh? Did your class blow it?"

"They were great, as always,” Angela defended her students. "It was him." She threw up her hands in disgust. "He came in with his mind made up and missed all the important things."

"I find that hard to believe. He's a thorough investigator."

"So I thought." Angela began sorting papers. "But you know how slow people are to change their views on education. Look how long it took us to get some of the teachers to understand our methods. I'd just hoped that de la Cruz would be different."

"Maybe he was too busy watching
you
instead of observing what was going on.”

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you during the board meetings. Don't tell me he's not interested in more than your teaching." Maria crossed her arms and smiled.

"Ridiculous,” Angela scoffed.

"I don't think so."

"I hope you're wrong, Maria. You
have
to be wrong."

"What's the matter with male interest? It couldn't hurt your cause."

"No way! I'm never getting involved with anyone even remotely connected with work again." Angela began vigorously erasing the chalkboard.

"You mean because of what happened in Yuma?"

Angela nodded.

"That was six years ago, and it was a different situation."

Angela didn't want to be reminded of the past. She needed all of her energy for the present. "You're right. It was a long time ago, but I'm still not repeating past mistakes."

"Okay, okay!" Maria threw up her hands and laughed. "Let's hear about what happened. Just the straight facts—no emotional stuff."

Angela set the eraser down. Maria could be counted on to see the bright side of any situation. Thinking it might help, she related the events of the day while she measured out new paint for the easels.

"You're kidding!" Maria whistled when she’d finished. "He's going to be here a whole week?"

"If I survive a whole week.”

"If you get tired of him, he can come to my room. I'd love to take care of that hunk."

"Don't tease,” Angela warned. "I just might send him over and then what would you do?"

"I'd manage to keep him busy.
I
don't have any hangups about involvement with school personnel.”

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Yes, but this is more fun."

"Will this day never end?" Angela rolled her eyes and sighed. "These journals the children wrote need to be answered." She gestured to the pile of notebooks on the table, hoping Maria would take the hint and leave her in peace.

"Okay, okay, I'll go." Maria paused in the doorway. "Do you want a ride home?"

"No, thanks. It's out of your way."

"I don't mind."

“Really, I'd rather take the bus." Angela appreciated her friend's offer, but solitude appealed.

"You just want to finish the book you're reading."

"Right." Angela waved her friend away. Maria often teased her about taking the bus when she had a car she could drive to school. But Angela enjoyed the half-hour it took to arrive at her east side apartment.

She glanced up at the clock. An hour to go and she still had so much to do. At least tomorrow was Friday. The weekend was almost here and she'd be at her folks’ on Sunday. That would cheer her up.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON
,
Ricardo sat in front of the school waiting for Angela. She was late. School had let out an hour ago. He drummed his fingers on the leather casing of the steering wheel. Wouldn't the
Cholos
, the gang he'd grown up with, laugh at him if they saw him now—hanging around a
school
. Ricardo de la Cruz—junior high dropout.

Ricardo shook his head at the memories. His parents had been disappointed when he decided to quit school, especially his father. But at thirteen, he thought he knew it all. What was the sense in going to school when his olive skin and heavy accent barred him from achieving the American Dream? But he'd been wrong. Dead wrong. His attitude had really just been a copout to avoid the work and effort it took to “make it.”

The engine of the black Ferrari roared when Ricardo pressed the pedal. He loved his car, and, true, at times acted like a teenager with it. But he'd never had a decent car as a kid. Finally, when he was in his twenties and making money, he'd put all of his earnings into the older-model sports car, figuring he deserved his fun. He gunned the sleek machine again. Was it because he was showing off or because his muscles had tensed at the sight of Angela as she came through the school gate?
Both
, he admitted.

She walked toward him and smiled when she spotted him.

"Quite a car. It suits you." Her voice sounded like velvet. Just as he remembered.

"I'm not sure I want to know how you mean that." He watched her slender fingers skim over the shiny finish of the passenger door and suddenly imagined them tracing across his skin. "You don't mean my vintage age, I hope."

"Bold. Daring." A hint of teasing twinkled in her eyes. "Showy, too."

"You're not implying that I'm a showoff, are you?"

She grinned.

Ricardo felt an urge to pull her down into his lap. Instead, he opened his door.

"I didn't expect to see you until Monday," she commented, her expression serious now.

"After we talked yesterday, I went to the station." He stepped out of the sports car. "It took some maneuvering, but we're set for Monday."

"Great."

"Yes and no." He walked around the front of the car. "They released me for Monday but not for the whole week." He lifted his hand against her expression of protest. "We compromised. I can come every Monday for a month—providing the station doesn't have any emergencies to cover."

"That's fair."

"How about going for a drink and discussing the details?" He took the heavy bag from her hand, never expecting her to refuse.

"I can't." She tugged on the handle but Ricardo didn't let go. "I have to visit a student at home."

"It's Friday," he stared in surprise then gestured at the empty parking lot, "and past time to go home."

There was no way he'd let her get away. He'd been waiting for half an hour. She looked around and appeared annoyed that the hour had grown so late. Her grip on the bag loosened and Ricardo quickly set it in the backseat of his car.

"Hop in.” He could see it was time someone reminded her that there was a time for work and a time for play. "Surely you won't be working anymore today."

"I'll go,” she conceded. "But first I need to drop these off at Mariana's house. She's a student of mine and lives just around the corner."

"Stubborn," he accused her.

"She's been sick and I promised I'd bring her some homework."

He settled her on the cream leather seat and closed the door. She looked terrific sitting in his car, her blonde hair contrasting with the shiny black exterior.

It only took minutes to drive to Mariana's. The house was dilapidated, but that wasn't where Angela headed when he stopped at the curb. A shed in even worse shape than the house stood to one side of the dirt backyard.

Several bare-chested men lounged under a tree with cans of beer in one hand and cigarettes dangling from the fingers of their other hand. They stopped talking and every pair of eyes watched Angela's approach.

Alarmed, Ricardo slid out of the car and hurried to catch up with her, but he soon discovered his concern was unnecessary. Every man stood at attention and greeted her with respect when she passed by them
by
. They assessed Ricardo until he felt compelled to place a familiar hand at her elbow. Then he smiled and nodded a curt
hello
as he guided her inside the shack.

Ricardo watched with growing interest as Angela made herself at home in the crowded but clean interior. She casually sat on the edge of the bed that nearly filled the single room and patted the hand of the frail girl tucked under the covers.

"¡Hola!
Hi. Are you feeling better?" she asked in her accented Spanish

Ricardo leaned against the doorjamb and silently waited. "Homework," she'd said. He laughed to himself. A pack of papers
did
appear from her bag, but so did a Barbie doll, a storybook and a bag of oranges she claimed were off her tree. He noticed the obvious affection Mariana and her family had for Angela.

What a shame her teaching methods couldn't be commended! She truly cared about her students and had won their respect. Teachers who showed genuine enthusiasm for students from the inner-city
barrios
were rare. Her warmth and concern certainly contrasted with the teachers he had had as a boy. Many had been cold and strict, rigid and irritated with his curiosity and outspokenness.