Least Likely to Fall in Love (4 page)

She tilted her head and the only thing sparing him a “C’mon, Dad” was that her mouth was still processing enough candy for one solid month.

“It’s the truth. Some of them get lucky and grow into reasonable men. Just save yourself some trouble. Wait for that to happen, okay?”

When she swallowed the last of her bowl of toppings, she snorted. “Dad, I’m not sure you should hit me with that much truth, you know?”

He nodded. “I’m totally cool like that.”

She picked up a napkin, wiped her mouth with it, and balled it up to shove it in the empty yogurt cup. “I’m just sorry Principal Mason got involved. Otherwise, this whole thing would have blown over.”

“Is this the first time they’ve picked on you?” Her eyes darted to his, and she started to slide out of the booth but he grabbed her hand to hold her in place. “Tell me. Please.”

She tried to laugh it off. “No, but it’s just been dumb names and a shove or two in the hallway, you know? Nothing like this.”

“Did you tell anybody?”

“No! No, I didn’t want anybody to know.” She wiped her chin on her shoulder and then ruffled the stack of napkins.

He let go of her hand and just felt helpless. He voice was quiet as he said, “I wish you’d told me.”

“Sorry. There wasn’t much you could do. Besides, if they’d just left it there, it was no big deal.”

He dropped his spoon in the melted mess of yogurt in his cup. “Do they pick on other kids?”

“Not like me, but yeah.”

Ryan resisted the urge to grab both of her hands in his. Barely. He wanted her safe and happy. “Anybody else tell on them? To a teacher? Or Principal Mason?”

She snorted. “Of course not. Everybody knows that just makes things worse.”

They were both quiet for a minute. Maddie glanced around the shop to avoid his stare but all he wanted to do was memorize her face right here and now. He wasn’t ready to talk about boys or to worry about violence. He wanted her to be the little girl who used to kiss the stuffed puppy he’d won at the state fair good night before he tucked the covers around her shoulders at night.

“Do you really think I need to talk to Principal Mason?” Her voice was quiet, but he could hear hope. She wanted him to say no and get her out of it. And now he was more convinced than ever that he needed as much help as he could get.

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s a good idea. She’s been trained. She’s a girl. She can confirm what I’ve told you about boys.” He winked at her rolled eyes.

As she slid out of the booth, she asked, “Were you ever bullied?”

He held her hand as they walked out the door and enjoyed every minute. The older she got, the less she’d allow it. He hated imagine her reaction if he admitted that he’d been the bully. “Nope. I guess I got lucky.”

“And I just know Mom never had a problem with bullies. She was probably so popular that the football team carried her through the hallway on a litter.”

He never knew how to answer questions or comments about Anna. He knew how much Maddie missed her and needed a mother, but living with her hadn’t been all that easy. And now that she was dead, living with her memory was harder. In Maddie’s mind she was a stunning combo of Betty Crocker and Miss Universe. In real life, she might have looked like Miss Universe, but she had the predictability of Mother Nature. She’d died in a car crash just before Maddie’s seventh birthday.

At the time, he hadn’t been sure their marriage would make it past the holiday weekend the whole family was planning to spend at the in-laws’ lake house. He suffered some guilt every now and then about how ready he’d been to make that break, but he’d never have wished Anna’s death on Maddie. He’d much rather face custody battles and alimony wars than know that his daughter would feel the loss of her mother for the rest of her life.

Now was one of those times Maddie needed a woman to talk to. Maybe, if Anna had lived, she’d have grown, too, been able to face something like this with grace and understanding.

And his mother… Well, she hadn’t ever been good at handling bullies.

As it was, he was proud of his daughter. Her maturity impressed him.

Maddie slid into the seat, buckled her belt, and then turned up the radio as soon as he got the truck started. She bounced and danced in her seat all the way home, so he didn’t have the heart to tell her to turn that racket down. He was too damned young to turn into his father now.

No matter what it took, he was never going to turn into his father.

“So, what do you know about Principal Mason?” He tried to make it a casual inquiry as he parked the truck and hit the garage door opener to close the door behind them.

Maddie’s head snapped around and her mouth dropped open. “Um, what?”

It was too late to back out now. He should never have opened his mouth but he couldn’t unsay the words. Damn it.

He tried to play it cool. “I was just wondering if you know anything about her. Seemed nice enough.”

The thing about having a smart daughter was that nothing slipped past her. “You were just wondering if she’s single, right?” Her clear blue eyes were horrified. Not a good sign.

A year after Anna died, he’d told himself he had to get out again, find Maddie a stepmother who would love her like she deserved. And after six months, a broken engagement, enough bitter fights about how he spoiled his daughter to last a lifetime, and nights watching Maddie cry into her pillow over hurtful words and being left behind again, he’d decided the mother Maddie deserved didn’t exist. He might be lonely, but he hadn’t felt a strong enough interest since then to take the chance with Maddie’s heart again.

“So that’s a no then.”

In a disgusted voice, she said, “The principal?”

He waved his hand and opened his door. “Fine. Never mind.”

Maddie hopped out and beat him to the door to the kitchen. “I moved here because you said it would be good for us. I left my friends and my school. The very last thing I need is my dad starting up some…affair with the principal.” She shoved open the door and Ryan followed in her wake. “Just please, Dad, spare me that, okay?”

Ryan tossed his keys on the counter and opened the refrigerator door to pull out a bottle of water. “Okay, okay. No need for the drama. It was just a question.”

Maddie dropped her backpack on the kitchen table and pulled out her Spanish book. When she pulled out a chair to get right to work, he was amazed again at her conscientiousness. He had no idea where that came from.

She said, “Seriously, worst idea you’ve had in a long time. Just let me recover from one social disaster before you bring another on me, okay?”

“Gee, thanks. You’re so good for my self-esteem, daughter.”

She gave him a thumbs-up as she flopped open the cover of the book and turned to the right chapter. And he was dismissed just like that.

He shook his head as he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. They’d moved in just before school started. Two months later it ought to be further along, but the boxes of stuff lining the hall didn’t bother him that much. They’d gotten all the necessities out.

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt on his way to the bathroom. At least everything they had managed to unpack was easy to find. The house was about twice as big as they needed, but he’d wanted to be sure Maddie was close to school. He didn’t want her on a bus for forty-five minutes in the afternoon. And he could afford it. His retirement planning firm was doing well even in the worst economy in decades.

He changed clothes quickly and moved into one of the spare rooms. As he set the treadmill for his afternoon jog, he thought about Lindy Mason, and Maddie, and bullies, and tried to ignore all the other pitfalls of the teen years he was going to navigate alone.

As he started to run, he imagined asking Lindy Mason out.

And committing social disaster, if Maddie could be believed.

He tried not to remember high school. Sometimes, in the early hours before dawn, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d remember things he wished he could change. Sometimes it was the Anna show and he’d replay their arguments. They’d been too young for a baby when Maddie came along, and the stress had come out in shouting matches. He wished now he’d been more patient with his young, beautiful, selfish wife.

And sometimes he remembered Lindy Mason. Now that he had a picture of how well she’d turned out, maybe those flashes would loosen their grip. Before, he’d only had a crystal clear picture of her face under frizzy bangs when the homecoming nominees had been announced in home room. For a minute, she’d been so happy to hear her name.

Then the first person giggled. And her face had crumpled. But she’d never cried a tear, not there. She’d finally rolled her eyes and asked to be excused so that she could get her name taken off the list. Just before she left, she’d met his amused stare and that had been the last time he’d ever managed to get her direct attention. It might have been the last time she raised her head at all her senior year.

He stumbled on the treadmill and had to scramble to get back in the rhythm. As the team captain, he’d orchestrated her nomination. He teased her. That’s what he did. If he hadn’t been such a prick, he might have stopped when it was clear she wasn’t laughing.

No matter how well she turned out, there was no way she’d forgotten. And the regret over that would keep him up tonight. He should spend the time thanking whatever benevolent spirit had gifted him with Maddie. She’d somehow managed to avoid her mother’s worst traits and her father’s. He loved her more than he’d ever imagined possible.

Now she was getting the medicine he’d deserved, and Lindy Mason was the woman who could help them both.

Karma might be a bitch, but she had a pretty good sense of humor.

As she slouched in the chair in front of Lindy’s desk, Maddie Myers flipped her phone over and over as if she wasn’t sure how to get things started but she couldn’t stay still and silent while she waited either. One foot in a heavy black boot was crossed over her knee, twitching in time with each flip. They’d quickly exhausted the uncomfortable “how are you?” and “the weather’s nice” conversation.

“So, I brought you something to look at, Maddie.” Lindy dug around in her massive tote bag and pulled out her senior yearbook. She’d thought it would be a good to prove she’d been a high school student many, many years ago.

“Class of 1997. I didn’t know they had yearbooks then. And it’s in color and everything.” The wicked gleam in Maddie’s eyes reminded Lindy of Ryan. The only difference was that she could appreciate Maddie’s teasing.

“Funny. We had to wait for the traveling photographer to show up in his wagon, but we got it done. Flip it open to the page I have marked.” Lindy rested both elbows on the desk and clasped her hands.

Maddie followed instructions and then scanned the faces in the senior class lineup. When she made it to Lindy Mason, her eyebrows shot up. “Um, nice highlights.” Lindy knew exactly what she meant. Instead of glossy brown curls, high school Lindy had frizz with bright white stripes. “And you use less makeup now.”

Someone with such affection for eyeliner shouldn’t throw stones, but she didn’t say it out loud. “You think? And that’s my best attempt at the Rachel haircut. Everyone was doing it.”

Better. Everyone was doing it better.

Maddie flipped back to the beginning to look through the candid shots. After three or four flips, she said, “Not much has changed at Lincoln, either. I’m pretty sure I sat at the same table for lunch today.”

She tapped one page. “Are those overalls, Principal Mason?”

They totally were. One corner of Lindy’s mouth twitched as she answered, “Well, yes, but they’re shorts, too. Everyone was wearing them.” She looked away for a minute and then added, “But not everyone
should
have worn them.”

Maddie nodded.

“So, I brought that in to show you that I know what I’m talking about. I didn’t have an easy time in high school, but the best news is that you’re going to graduate someday, go to a good college, and do great things. Some people have to grow up before they can be decent people. You’re lucky enough to be a good person now, but that means you’ll have to put up with the missteps other kids make.”

Maddie frowned. “Missteps? How hard is it to just leave somebody alone? Not everybody has to like me, but that doesn’t mean they have to pick on me, either.”

She made a good point, further proof that Maddie had her head on straight. She was going to be an amazing woman if she survived a new high school. “You’re absolutely right. I’m glad you understand that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Maddie turned a few more pages. “High school would be easier for me and my dad, too, if my mother was still around. Clothes. Boys. Even this move. It would have been nice to have someone else to talk to. When estrogen or estrogen-related activities roll around, he’s a basket case.” She glanced up to judge Lindy’s reaction and then back at the book. “He has no idea what to do with me once we hit the mall, you know? No matter how bad he is, my grandmother’s worse. And coming back to the school he graduated from sometimes seems too weird for words.”

Lindy laughed. “I get that. I bet shopping’s hard. But he’s pretty stylish. He knows more than you think.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, as long as it’s pink, covered in sparkles or a cartoon character, and suitable for an eight-year-old, he’s right on top of it.”

“Doesn’t want you to grow up.”

“Gran won’t even consider clothes without designer labels, and when I put them on, I feel totally fake, like I’m being dressed for some play my grandmother’s writing for me.” Maddie set the open yearbook on the desk. “I like the way I dress. T-shirts and baggy jeans are comfortable. Dad’s always insisting I have to be myself. When Gran suggested myself wasn’t quite good enough and I ought to aim higher, he sent me to the food court and the tension was so thick, I was glad to escape.”

“I bet you miss your mother at times like that.” Lindy thought Maddie was going to pretend everything was fine, but she nodded.

“I do.”

The long list of questions she had about Anna Bridges Myers raced around her brain, but now was not the time. She wanted to know what happened, how long Ryan had been on his own, and why in the world there wasn’t a Mrs. Ryan Myers Number Two. He was attractive, had his own business, and a wife would have made everything easier. None of those questions would have helped Maddie at this point.

So Lindy wondered, but she didn’t ask.

“Dad can live with the ironic shirts and jeans. They’re easy to choose, clean, and wear. All good things.”

Sure, all of that was true. Lindy considered whether or not there was more to it. “Comfort and individual style are great goals, Maddie. Do you ever wish you fit in better, though?”

Maddie shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Lindy nodded. “Not that trying to wear the right clothes is a guarantee against bullies. As you can see, I tried hard, too hard. My hair was wrong and nothing I tried worked for my body. And that’s not something you just know. Wearing the right clothes for you makes all the difference in the world, but someone has to teach you that or you learn it over a long, drawn out battle with every trend to come down the line.”

“Seems like you have a good handle on it now, Principal Mason.” Maddie frowned. “Is that weird for me to say? I just mean you dress professional and nice, like a principal should.” She pursed her lips, like if she kept going, the wrong thing would tumble out.

“Here are some things you might not know.” She held up one hand and ticked items off as she went. “You will never catch me wearing orange in public or wearing low-cut jeans. That’s not an easy thing to do with today’s fashions. Also, none of my jeans have sparkles on the pockets, because I just don’t need the grief, you know? My hair wants to be curly. Torturing myself with gunk, goo, and treatments won’t change that much. It also wants to be gray. That I can and will fight.”

Maddie pinched a pleat in her loose jeans.

“And to figure out those things, which are just the basics of what will work for me and what won’t, I had to go through stirrup pants and flannel T-shirts and baggy jeans and hoodies and running suits and a million other things.”

Lindy tried to think of the right words. “I wanted to fit in, mainly to be invisible. You might know something about wanting to be invisible.” Lindy bit her lip and waited for Maddie’s answer.

“Maybe.” Maddie turned a page in the yearbook. “You turned out all right. Did you have to get counseling from the principal, too?”

Lindy grimaced. “I wish. I’d have gotten over high school that much quicker. But I didn’t tell anyone, and I wanted to hide, pretend what was happening had no effect on me. Holding in that much emotion isn’t easy, and I’m still dealing with the not dealing. That’s why I don’t want you to treat this as if nothing happened. Trying to ignore bullies or pretend they have no impact on you can cause you trouble down the road.”

“Like what?” Maddie flipped back to the bookmarked page. “It’s hard to imagine anyone here being a bully, Principal Mason. In those tuxes and black drapey things, you all have the same level of uncool.”

She had a good point. It was hard to judge a book by its cover. “Those drapey things the girls are wearing are held together by a clothespin in the back, one size fits no one but everyone looks the same. I think it’s supposed to be sophisticated.”

Her eyes met Maddie’s and they both grimaced.

“I can only tell you what not dealing with my emotions meant in my life. Social anxiety. Self-esteem issues. An eating disorder. And entirely too much time wondering what was wrong with me.”

Maddie glanced up, and the doubt on her face made Lindy glad she’d insisted on meeting. Maybe Maddie was right, and this episode would have zero effect on her. Lindy hoped she was right. But if they’d let this one go and missed the next one, Maddie might be just one more kid who was lucky to make it out of high school in one piece.

Preventing that had been one of the reasons Lindy had decided to teach.

“That doesn’t have to be your story, right? You are too smart to let what other people think or do slow you down. You have a father who loves you and a good head on your shoulders.” Lindy clasped her hands together. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll do, Maddie.”

Maddie thumbed the corner of the yearbook pages. “So, you think the eyeliner’s a bad idea?”

Caught off guard, Lindy had to bite her tongue to keep from emphatically declaring it to be a mistake. “The mature educator in me feels a duty to say that sometimes heavy makeup can be a camouflage, a way to hide away.” She raised both eyebrows. “But you should go back to the overalls picture and ask yourself if that’s a girl who ought to be giving out makeup tips.”

Maddie’s lips twitched. “I’ll try a few days without the eyeliner. That would make my dad happy, too.”

Making Ryan Myers happy was the lowest item on her to-do list, but Lindy still felt a flutter of satisfaction that what she was doing was making a difference in Maddie’s life.

“Did people call you a lesbian, too, Principal Mason?” Maddie didn’t look up as she asked, so it was hard to tell what she thought about the names.

“No, that might be the new world. I got lots of names, usually variations on how big or nerdy I was, a few rude notes in my locker, stuff like that.” Lindy hoped she couldn’t tell she was skipping over big parts of the story.

And then, the problem with flashing her yearbook, the one that she hadn’t thought completely through, jumped up. “Is this my dad?” Maddie tapped on a photo. “I didn’t know you and my dad graduated the same year.”

Lindy squirmed in her seat while she frantically tried to come up with a way to gloss over her explanation. Desperate, she stood and looked out the window. “It’s about time for you to head home. Is your dad picking you up?” She walked around the desk and took the yearbook back before she crammed it in the tote on the floor.

Maddie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to check for a text. “Yeah, he’s out in the parking lot.”

Lindy briefly blessed Ryan Myers’s commitment to punctuality. He’d done her a favor by showing up early today, as much as she hated to think nice things about him. “Fine, let me walk out with you.”

Maddie slid out of the seat and threw her backpack on over one shoulder before she followed Lindy out of the office. They didn’t say anything else as they went.

“Oh, hey, Maddie, I almost forgot…” Lindy waved briefly at Ryan because she was going to just pretend everything was fine. It hadn’t work in high school but her plan stood a chance now. “Coach Ford wants a few students to help with an art project at the field house. When he asked Mr. Anderson, he recommended you. Your dad was talking about showing up on Saturday to help with the cleanup. Would you be interested in taking on a new art project for the school?”

Maddie raveled the end of her backpack strap. “Can I think about it? I’m not sure.”

“You bet. I understand your hesitation. Your dad won’t let them say anything to you he doesn’t like. And it might be fun.” Lindy patted Maddie’s shoulder. “Just thought I’d mention it. If you decide to help, they’re meeting Saturday morning. Coach Ford will tell you more about it.” And then she was headed for the safety of her car as fast as her heels would carry her. First order of business: hide the yearbook in the darkest recesses of the closet again. Second: eat a gallon of ice cream, her preferred method of stress relief.

Maddie glanced over her shoulder at her dad, waiting patiently in the truck, then said, “Hey, uh, Principal Mason?”

Lindy stopped at her car door and turned. Maddie said, “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Think about the art project, okay?” Lindy got in her car, backed out of the parking spot, and drove away. All without speaking to Ryan.

***

Ryan watched Lindy speed by in her tiny car. “How’d the first meeting go?”

Maddie dropped her backpack in the floorboard with a thud before she buckled her seat belt. “Fine. We talked about you, but not in the ‘does he think I’m cute’ way.” Then she wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t get any more ideas about making a move on the principal.”

Ryan shook his head, embarrassed that she hadn’t already forgotten his dumb question. That was the problem with a smart kid. He’d be drawing Medicare, and she’d still bring up that one time he asked about her principal.

“Okay, good to know.” He squeezed the steering wheel and told himself not to ask any more questions. Maddie could talk to him about whatever she wanted, but there was no need to tell him everything.

She turned her phone over and over, a new habit she did without realizing when she was working something out in her head. “So, you and Principal Mason have some history you haven’t told me about.” Ryan jerked to a halt at a stop sign. “Spill it. Were you asking about her because you were secretly in love with her or something?”

He shook his head. “We graduated together. I thought she was…cute. The end.” But he didn’t meet her stare as he said it. He couldn’t. He’d always had the hardest time keeping the truth from her. That’s why she’d been the second kid in third grade to know that Santa wasn’t real. He just couldn’t lie quickly enough.