Bliss and the Art of Forever (A Hope Springs Novel) (19 page)

Brooklyn let that sink in while she and Dolly finished laying out the refreshments, thinking, as they did, about the day she’d looked up after story hour to find Callum looming in her classroom door. And later, in his kitchen at Bliss, when he’d been so focused on her eating the spicy chocolate. Yeah, she mused, remembering the tingle of the chilies that had been only a little bit hotter than the look in his eyes. She understood sparks.

After lining up rows of cookies and brownies and cake bars—the noise in the gym growing progressively louder, the crowd larger, the aroma of barbecue more enticing, the banjo and fiddle music from the band on the lawn outside the main door competing with the noise from the carnival games—Brooklyn paid Dolly for one of Two Owls’ new Crackle-Top Brownies, sneaking bites as she sold the donated desserts.

Dolly was true to her word, introducing Brooklyn to everyone who stopped at their table. There wasn’t a person at the carnival the older woman didn’t seem to know. Brooklyn couldn’t remember ever meeting as many people in one night, or seeing as many homemade goodies in one place at one time. But not once in the ninety minutes since the carnival had started had she caught sight of Callum.

A couple of times while she’d been visiting with parents of children she’d taught in years past, she’d thought she heard his voice, but it had turned out to be her imagination. She’d even thought she’d caught a glimpse of his boots walking by, but they’d belonged to Luna’s husband, Angelo Caffey.

Her disappointment had been keen. Also ridiculous; she’d decided to take up Callum on his offer and use his place for storage. The decision had come out of nowhere, though, she supposed, she’d made it the moment the words left his mouth. She wanted a reason to see him again, one that didn’t have her using her class as camouflage. Like she’d said. Ridiculous.

And with that decision had come another: she would be putting her house up for sale, emptying it of everything she and Artie had owned. She’d keep only what she couldn’t live without. Her books, of course. Their collection of owls. A few pieces of furniture she loved too much to part with and knew she’d never be able to replace.

Whether or not Callum had room for everything remained to be seen. But it was the right thing to do, this break, and knowing the things she cherished would be in the hands of a man she trusted . . . How quickly she’d made the leap from not knowing him, only just meeting him, shying away from their involvement, to relying on him to keep her belongings safe.

A sudden burst of what sounded like thunder had her looking up from her brownie to see several children running through the gym screeching like banshees. It wasn’t the screeching she minded—the boisterous noise actually made her smile—or the thunderous slamming of feet on the floor; she was so used to seeing the same every day it almost didn’t register.

What did register was the little ones paying no attention to their surroundings as they played, and the two elderly gentlemen, both relying on canes as they shuffled together, deep in conversation, right into their path. Her heart jolted, and she imagined brittle bones hitting the hard gymnasium floor as she pushed out of her chair.

Dolly was already on her feet and headed to avert the disaster. Peggy Butters’s husband, Pat, beat her there, leaning forward to create a roadblock and catching the first of the kids to run by. The second dodged him, and the third, Kelly Webber, with Adrianne right on her heels, darted the other way, her outstretched hand snagging on Alva Bean’s cane.

Wade Parker, who Brooklyn knew was a volunteer firefighter for Hope Springs, stepped in and steadied Alva with a hand on his shoulder, and Brooklyn managed to lean in and snare both Kelly and Adrianne before they skipped their way past the mishap they had no clue they’d almost caused.

Her pulse racing, she knelt in front of the girls, holding Adrianne’s right shoulder and Kelly’s left while each gripped the other’s hand. It took a moment for her to find her breath and shake the adrenaline free. “Girls? I know this is a carnival and you’re having all kinds of fun, but it’s safer for everyone if you do your running on the grass outside.”

“But Andrew Patzka pushed the top off of Kelly’s snow cone with a stick because sugar is bad, then ran, so we had to chase him.” Adrianne gestured with both hands as if the motivation of the group of kids was everything.

“You almost knocked down Mr. Bean,” Brooklyn said, turning her head to where the elderly man was blotting his forehead with his handkerchief. “He doesn’t move as fast as you do. You could have hurt him and hurt yourselves, too, if you fell while going so fast. Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Harvey,” the girls said in unison, heads hanging, lips quivering, tears welling.

“Good.” Brooklyn hugged the two briefly, smiling at both as she asked, “Do you think you should tell Mr. Bean you’re sorry?”

Both girls nodded. Both girls said, “Yes, Ms. Harvey,” but before either could move, Adrianne’s grandmother stepped in and pulled her away.

“You come with me, Adrianne. We’ll let your father take care of this.”

Adrianne tilted her head to look up at her grandmother, her expression torn and dismayed. “But Ms. Harvey said—”

“I don’t care what Ms. Harvey said.” Shirley Drake held Brooklyn’s gaze as Brooklyn got to her feet, her face heating—
anger? embarrassment?
—until she was certain her cheeks were beet red. “This isn’t the classroom.”

“We’re supposed to be
’spectful
of our teachers,” Kelly put in, still holding tight to Adrianne’s hand.

“What’s going on?”

At the sound of Callum’s voice, Brooklyn turned, wondering if she’d ever been so glad to see someone. She couldn’t even mind that he’d arrived with Lindsay Webber. The other woman, her jeans tight, her shirt tight, her heels high, her perfume overwhelming, bent and lifted her daughter to her hip. Kelly’s legs went around her mother’s waist and her arms around her shoulders as she tucked her face to her neck.

Brooklyn looked from Callum to Lindsay to Shirley, then to Callum again, his gaze fixed fast on hers and making the skin at her nape grow damp. He was frowning, but with concern, not annoyance, his eyes sharp and bright. “What happened?”

“The girls were running—”

“The girls were being little girls,” Shirley interrupted before Brooklyn could finish. “Nothing more.”

Callum pulled Adrianne away from his mother and squatted in front of her. “Addy? Tell me what happened.”

“Me and Kelly were chasing Andrew Patzka because he broke her snow cone and we almost caught him but we ran in front of Mr. Bean and he nearly fell and Ms. Harvey stopped us and told us not to run inside and Grammy yelled at Ms. Harvey—”

“I most certainly did not yell,” Shirley said to her son as Callum stood. “I asked Ms. Harvey to let me deal with my granddaughter.”

“Now, Shirley. You know that’s not true. You didn’t ask Brooklyn to do anything,” Dolly put in from Brooklyn’s side. “In fact, I’m quite certain I heard you say you didn’t care what she said.”

Brooklyn reached for Dolly’s arm to keep her from adding more, but all Shirley Drake did was huff and turn to Callum. “Well?”

“C’mon, Addy,” Callum said, his jaw tight as he ignored his mother and grasped his daughter’s hand. “Let’s go find Mr. Bean and apologize.”

“Does Kelly have to apologize, too?” Adrianne’s eyes grew even wider than they already were as she looked at her father, her emotions nearly breaking Brooklyn’s heart.

“Kelly most certainly does,” the girl’s mother said, turning away with Callum, the two walking to the Hope Springs Emergency Services booth, where Alva Bean, who worked as a 911 dispatcher, now sat chatting with several city employees.

That left Brooklyn to return to the refreshment table with Dolly, but the two women had only gone a couple of steps when Shirley moved to block them. “I don’t appreciate being made to look like a fool in front of my son.”

“Was that directed at me?” Brooklyn asked. “Because I didn’t say a word about you to your son, and if you were speaking to Dolly, she did nothing but repeat what you said to Adrianne.”

“I told you before,” Shirley said, lifting a warning finger, her eyes behind her narrow black frames as harsh as her voice, “you need to stay away from Callum.”

Brooklyn had no idea how she’d misjudged this woman so completely, but she was through holding her tongue. “And I told you, I have no interest in Callum beyond his being the father of one of my students.” But then the devil sitting on her shoulder made her add, “Though if there were more to our relationship, it would be our business, and not your concern.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,
Ms.
Harvey. That is precisely where you are wrong.” Shirley came closer. “Everything my son does affects my granddaughter, and Adrianne’s well-being is most certainly my concern.”

“It’s mine as well. Which is why it was important to me that she understood what she had done wrong then, when it happened, not later when things had calmed down.”

“It’s not your place to discipline her.”

“I didn’t discipline her. That’s up to her father, not me. But if Callum has a problem with my talking to her, I’ll apologize to him.” Because she owed this woman nothing.

“See that you do,” Shirley said, then turned away, her kitten-heeled mules slapping against the gymnasium floor, before Brooklyn could gather her wits to respond. And, really, what was there to say? Callum’s mother had made up her mind: Brooklyn was coming between her and her son.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, Brooklyn shaking off the tension and doing her best to enjoy the night—and the huge sliced-brisket sandwich, with potato salad and baked beans, Mitch Pepper set in front of her when he brought a similar plate to his wife.

Brooklyn didn’t have much of an appetite, but she appreciated the kindness and dug in, Mitch entertaining her and Dolly with a story of feeding a young Kaylie her first plate of barbecue until both women were laughing around mouthfuls of food. And she’d actually gone two whole minutes without thinking about her encounter with Callum’s mother, when he arrived to remind her.

“You okay?” he asked, his hands on the table as he leaned close to her, leaving Mitch and Dolly to their conversation.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, taking another bite of potato salad, then reaching for her napkin with a shrug. She didn’t know if he was here to complain about her overstepping with Adrianne, or to thank her for acting as quickly as she had, or to buy a piece of cake.

“My mother,” was what he finally said. “Several people heard you and her talking after I left, and wanted me to know what she’d said.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, frowning down, his eyes angry, the tic at his temple a visible beat. “I’m sorry for that, and for not thanking you sooner. You helped prevent what could’ve been a pretty nasty accident.”

Funny how benign his posture, yet how dangerous the look in his eyes. “So was she right? About me needing to stay away from you?”

His jaw tight, he circled the table to hunker at her side, staring down at the floor. “She’s rarely right about anything. Not anymore. And as far as you staying away from me?” He shook his head, reached up and rubbed at his jaw, then lifted his gaze. “She couldn’t be more wrong. I really don’t know what’s going on with her—”

“She’s jealous.”

His mouth pulled curiously sideways, his dimple carving deep. “Jealous?”

“Of my time with you. My time with Adrianne. Though jealous probably isn’t the right word. Resentful might be better. Maybe even scared.”

Scraping a hand over his jaw, he shook his head. “I’d argue, but I’m not sure I’d get very far.”

“Because you know I’m right,” she said, reaching for a snickerdoodle the size of her hand in an effort to change the subject. “Cookie?”

“No thanks,” he said with an exasperated groan. “I’m going to have an entire Oreo cake to deal with.”

Part of her wanted to laugh. Part wanted to say
I told you so
. “So Adrianne won the cakewalk?”

“I’m not sure
won
is the right word. But, yeah. Addy got her wish. And I guess my mother got hers. She gets to be the good guy in her granddaughter’s eyes. And I’m the bad guy who made Addy apologize.” He shook his head. “I have
got
to get a new babysitter.”

He looked so exhausted, dark half-moons under his eyes, the worry of a father, the regret of a son.
Oh, Brooklyn. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Actually, there is an after-school program at the elementary. I didn’t even think to mention it earlier today when you were talking about Adrianne’s care and feeding.”

“Really?” he asked, his tone a mixture of hope and relief.

“It might be too late to get in this year but it wouldn’t hurt to check.” She couldn’t believe she was going to say it, but she added, “Lindsay Webber could tell you about it. She leaves Kelly there when the hospital has her on days.”

“Huh. Thanks.” And then he gave her a twisted sort of grin. “I guess information about the program went home at the beginning of the year?”

“I’m pretty sure it went home at registration before school started.”

Callum bit off a curse. “If I’d paid more attention to what was going on with Addy and school instead of Bliss . . .” He shook his head, cursed again. “Yeah, my mother got her hooks in deep, but I let her. And I don’t need to be unloading on you. Sorry, and sorry for earlier, and thank you. I should’ve been paying better attention instead of stuffing my face with barbecue.”

“Mr. Bean is okay,” she said, realizing the depth of her investment in Callum’s emotional battle. Realizing, too, and regretting, how soon she’d be pulling up stakes. “That’s all that matters.”

Just then, Grady Barrow came running up to Callum’s side. “Hey, boss,” he said, in a perfect imitation of Lena while giving a jerk of his chin to toss back his hair. “The Gatlins are about to announce the winners of the dessert competition.”

Callum got to his feet, chucking the boy on the shoulder. “Well, I guess we’d better go see whose ass I’m going to kick the hardest.”

“Sweet,” Grady said, and trotted off, the soles of his sneakers squeaking against the gym’s floor.