Catching Fireflies (9 page)

He met her gaze, his curiosity apparent. “So, just for the record, why aren’t you married?”

Laura shrugged off what had been an increasingly touchy subject with her parents the past couple of years. Even though they lived in the Midwest and would probably rarely see her children if and when she had them, they seemed infatuated with the idea of grandchildren. Or maybe they were just eager to make up for the child they’d insisted she give up for adoption when she was barely seventeen, Rob’s child. None of that was something she intended to discuss with a man she barely knew. That shameful mistake—the pregnancy—wasn’t something she liked thinking about. Nor was relinquishing her child to strangers, even though she’d known in her heart it was for the best. Her mentor back then, Vicki Kincaid, had helped her not only to see that, but to bolster her spirits when she’d been the target of her classmates’ cruel remarks.

Instead of going into any of that, she explained, “I work with a lot of women. I don’t hang out in bars. Serenity’s a small town. There aren’t many opportunities for finding someone and falling madly in love.”

“Have you ever considered moving to a town where there might be more prospects?”

“Nope. I fell in love with this town the first time I came here for a job interview right out of college. Nothing’s changed my mind about wanting to stay here.”

“And you’re not lonely?”

She leveled a look into his eyes. “Mostly I’m content with my own company. How about you?”

For a moment, he looked disconcerted by the question, then confessed, “From time to time.”

“Then let me turn the tables. Why haven’t you married? You’ve admitted people are constantly throwing candidates in your direction.”

“None of them stuck,” he said. “And I learned a long time ago that marriage isn’t for me.”

“Trial and error?” she asked, suddenly getting it.

He smiled. “You could say that.”

“It must have been a pretty awful breakup.”

“You have no idea.” He waved her off. “Enough of that. It’s depressing.” He stood up. “And enough lollygagging, Ms. Reed. We’re going to finish this run, even if we have to do it at a snail’s pace.”

“I can run faster than a snail,” she protested, reluctantly getting to her feet and tossing her empty coffee cup into the trash.

“You’ll need to prove that before I’ll buy it,” he said. “Go. You set the pace.”

She forced herself to jog along, pushing herself to go much faster than she wanted to but mindful that she’d never break any speed records.

“Okay, you’ve matched a turtle,” J.C. admitted when they’d finally made their way around the lake and back to the car.

“I appreciate the recognition,” she commented wryly. “Where do you suppose Jan is?”

“Making her third loop, I imagine,” he said. “I know she passed us twice. Didn’t you see her wave?”

“You mean through my blinding tears?” she asked, only half kidding.

He nudged her in the ribs as he gave her a bottle of cool water. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad. You did it. Accomplishing something new should be giving you a huge adrenaline rush.”

She gave him a sour look as she sipped the water. “I’ll be sure to let you know when that kicks in.”

* * *

J.C. was barely behind his desk on Monday morning when Debra came stalking into his office, her expression radiating indignation.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “You invite Jan to go for a run, then bring another woman along. Who does that?”

“A man making it clear that he’s not interested in anything more than going for a run.” He gave her a hard look. “Was she offended?”

“Well, no, but that’s not the point. I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. I took your houseguest out for a run, as promised. We even had a nice breakfast afterward. I paid. She and Laura Reed hit it off. If Jan stays in town, I imagine they’ll be friends.”

“If I wanted her to make a bunch of friends here, I’d have thrown a party,” she retorted. “Believe me, I can do Southern hospitality with the best of them.”

J.C. worked hard to stifle a grin. “Jan’s a very nice woman, Debra. She’s smart, levelheaded and practical. I mentioned to Bill that we ought to look into adding a nurse practitioner. He said he’d be happy to interview her, if she’s interested in staying.”

“Well, why would she stay now, with you all but declaring yourself off-limits?”

“Because she’d love the job and the town?” he suggested lightly. “Those would be the wise reasons to make such a drastic move clear across the country.”

She frowned at him. “You are very annoying.”

“Only because you didn’t get your way,” he said. “Get Laine Tillis into room two, okay?”

“Already done,” she said with a sniff. “Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my job.”

“Much appreciated,” he told her with total sincerity.

That, he hoped, would be the end of her matchmaking…if he was lucky.

* * *

The starting bell for third period rang. Laura looked around the classroom and sighed. To her regret, there was no sign of Misty. Just as she was about to finish taking attendance, the door opened and Misty slipped in, hurrying to the very back of the room.

Laura heard a few whispered comments as she passed, but she couldn’t make out what was said. Whatever it was, though, put dull red patches of color onto Misty’s cheeks. Even from the front of the room, Laura couldn’t mistake the sheen of tears in the girl’s eyes.

Though she very badly wanted to get to the bottom of those comments, she decided to let it pass for now. She had a hunch one word would send Misty fleeing right back out the door.

Fortunately there was a test scheduled, which guaranteed absolute silence. There was a rustling of papers, a shuffling of feet, but no further whispering.

For the next forty-five minutes, Laura walked up and down the aisles, monitoring as the students wrote their essay responses. In the back of the room, she paused and gave Misty’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Misty glanced up at her, her expression filled with such misery that it nearly broke Laura’s heart.

“I’ve finished the test. Could I please leave now?” Misty begged.

Though she wanted to insist that she stay right here until the class ended in another ten minutes, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’ll give you a pass for the library,” she said quietly.

Misty gave her a grateful look, followed her to the front of the room, then all but ran out the door, leaving Laura to wonder what on earth she was supposed to do to fix this, whatever
this
was.

When the bell rang, she glanced at the students who’d been whispering earlier and picked one at random. “Trish, could I see you for a minute? The rest of you are dismissed. Leave your papers on my desk.”

Trish Peterson shifted nervously from foot to foot while her classmates left. Only after the last of them had gone, did Laura meet her gaze.

“I need to go,” Trish said. “I have P.E. next period and Miss Wilcox gets really mad if we’re late.”

“I’ll write an excuse for you,” Laura said. “Have a seat.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Trish asked. “I wasn’t cheating, Ms. Reed. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know,” Laura assured her. “But at the beginning of class, when Misty came in, there seemed to be a bit of a stir. I was hoping you could fill me in on what that was about.”

Trish’s eyes widened with alarm. “I don’t know what you mean,” she insisted, though it was obvious to Laura that she was lying. She’d been as chatty as her friends.

“You said something to Annabelle,” Laura reminded her. “A couple of the boys made comments, as well. Do you all have a problem of some kind with Misty?”

“Not me,” Trish said at once.

“Then who does?”

“No one, I swear it,” she said, her gaze darting around.

“I hope that’s the case,” Laura told her emphatically, hoping to get her point across that whatever they were up to wasn’t going to be tolerated. “Because I’d hate to find out you’re not being truthful.”

“Look, it’s got nothing to do with me, okay?” Trish insisted, her expression pleading. “Could I have that note now? I have to go. I’m the captain of one of the volleyball teams. I really need to be there.”

Though she wanted to pursue the subject some more, Laura reluctantly jotted out a note to Pam Wilcox, then waved Trish off. Though the girl had given away nothing, Laura was more convinced than ever that someone in her class was deliberately tormenting Misty and that others were going along with it. She just needed to figure out who, and how bad it had gotten.

* * *

Misty sat in the library with her head down on her books trying to keep herself from crying. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the rude comments the other kids had made as she’d hurried to her seat in Ms. Reed’s class. Worse, she knew Ms. Reed had heard them, maybe not the words, but the whispering. What if she started asking a lot of questions? She was already determined to figure out what was going on. If she’d called Annabelle or any of the others on the carpet after class, Misty was probably doomed.

When the bell rang, she was tempted to stay right here. Mrs. Martin, the librarian, wouldn’t care if she stayed. She could just show her the pass again and explain she was doing an extra credit project for English.

She was still debating whether or not to risk it, when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to find Annabelle scowling down at her.

“You need to watch it, slut,” Annabelle said.

She spoke in a sneering way that made Misty wonder how half the town could think Annabelle was some sweet little Southern belle. Of course, most people had never seen this mean side of her.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Annabelle prodded when Misty remained determinedly silent. “You are such a loser.”

Enough,
Misty thought, squaring her shoulders. “If I’m such a loser, why are you so obsessed with me?” she retorted, feeling a certain amount of pride in having finally spoken up to her tormentor.

“Obsessed? Are you kidding me? You’re just an annoyance.”

“Is that because your boyfriend wants to go out with me?” Misty asked, knowing she was pushing her luck but suddenly beyond caring.

Color rose in Annabelle’s cheeks. Her eyes glittered with fury. “You stay away from Greg, you hear me?”

“I’m not the one making the passes,” Misty reminded her. “If you’ve got a problem keeping him in line, tell him. Leave me out of it.”

Annabelle stared at her with momentary shock, then looked for all the world as if she was about to start tearing Misty’s hair out. She’d just reached toward her, when Mrs. Martin appeared.

“Girls, you need to keep your voices down,” she said, then frowned at Annabelle. “Do you have a pass to be in here?”

Annabelle flushed guiltily. “No, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you get to whatever class you’re due to attend before they count you as tardy.”

“What about her?” Annabelle asked.

Misty held up her pass. “All nice and legal,” she said with a sense of triumph.

Mrs. Martin smiled at Misty, then waved off Annabelle. “Run along.”

Only after Annabelle had gone did Mrs. Martin turn back to Misty. “I know perfectly well that pass was for last period, young lady, but it was obvious to me the two of you were having some kind of spat. Knowing how Annabelle can be, I assume she started it.”

Misty stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re blaming Annabelle?”

Mrs. Martin regarded her with a steady gaze. “Am I wrong?”

For the first time in weeks, Misty felt a tiny shred of hope. Still, confirming Mrs. Martin’s guess could lead to the kind of showdown she’d been hoping to avoid. Better just to be grateful for the support and keep silent.

“It was no big deal, Mrs. Martin. Really.”

The librarian didn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I’ll let it pass. Just promise me that if there is more to it, you’ll speak to me or one of your teachers and get it straightened out. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Misty said. “Do I have to go to my next class?”

“Just this once I’ll pretend that pass really is for an extra credit English project, just the way you told me when you came in.” She gave her a stern look. “Just don’t make a habit of this kind of thing, okay?”

“No way,” Misty promised readily. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Martin smiled at her. “I wish more of the students loved spending time in here the way you do and showed the same respect for the books. You’re going to make something of yourself one day, Misty. Don’t let anyone steer you off the path you’re on to do that.”

She walked away and left Misty in tears for the second time in the past hour, but these tears didn’t feel nearly the same. They felt good.

6

L
aura loved working on the town’s fall festival. Right after moving to Serenity, she’d been asked to serve on the organizing committee. It had been her first taste of how eagerly residents of the town threw themselves into these kinds of events. She’d signed up to work on the committee every year since. This year she’d been named the chairperson.

With only three days until the Saturday event, her committee was meeting every evening to make sure all the details were under control. She glanced around her living room at the other women. It was a really good group—Sarah McDonald, who was an on-air talent at the local radio station and married to the station owner; Raylene Rollins, wife of the police chief and owner of Laura’s favorite boutique; and Annie Townsend, whose husband, Ty, was a star pitcher for the Atlanta Braves.

She knew perfectly well that the three of them were the younger generation of the group known around town as the Sweet Magnolias, which meant they knew every mover and shaker in Serenity. They could get things done. This year’s festival had more official sponsors, vendors and music than ever before. Sarah’s husband had even called in a favor to get a couple of up-and-coming country singers to perform.

“Okay, I know you ladies are used to margaritas at your gatherings, but I thought we probably needed to stay stone-cold sober while we go over this final checklist,” Laura said.