On Common Ground (Harlequin Super Romance) (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

L
ILAH
AND
J
USTIN
STOOD
on the platform of the Grantham Junction station as the express train pulled away bound for New York. It was Sunday evening around seven, and the parking lot was ghostly empty except for a few couples returning from Broadway matinees and a bevy of taxicab drivers lounging against their cars, hoping for fares.

“It seems like I’m always saying goodbye.” Lilah waved, then let her hand drop. “Yesterday it was my parents going back to Washington. Today, Mimi for New York.”

Justin put his arm over her shoulder. “Hey, Mimi is coming back in less than two weeks to help take care of Brigid while Noreen is with Matt in Congo. And until she arrived on Friday, you didn’t even know your mother would be visiting. So, even though she had to get back to her school, don’t you think it was an all-around good thing that she could come at all?”

Lilah stared up at him. “I always wondered what it would be like to know a glass-half-full person, and now I do.”

Justin seemed stricken. “Is it irritating?”

Lilah shook her head. “No, immensely comforting.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed his lips with hers. Then hand in hand they descended the stairs and ambled to Justin’s car.

Earlier in the day, rather than squeeze everyone into Justin’s car—despite her mother’s pleas that it would be fun—they had used Lilah’s rental car to drive to Newark Airport. Afterward, they’d coordinated dropping it off at the agency and driving back to the dorm, where she got her stuff.

“Look at it this way. You have me all to yourself—at least for the rest of the evening and tonight. Tomorrow reality sets in, and I need to go back to work,” he said, unlocking her side of the car.

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” She grabbed his hand and kept him close. “So do you plan to wine and dine me?”

“On a teacher’s salary? More like I was going to retrieve a six-pack of beer from my fridge and take it along to the little Mexican restaurant in the shopping center. And then, unfortunately, I need to do my lesson plans for the week because someone who will go nameless has dominated my time all weekend, preventing me from doing any work whatsoever.”

She gave him a mock pout. “Already we’re falling into a rut. Where did the first bloom of romance go?” Then she nuzzled his neck. “Don’t worry. I think it sounds fabulous. Besides, I’m totally backed up on my email, and now that I have the passport information from Noreen and Matt I need to book their tickets and put in for visas for Congo.” She ended with a kiss on his jaw. Then she looked up. “Hey, were you paying attention to anything I said?”

Justin shook his head. “Sorry. I heard you mention Congo and I suddenly had this idea. You want to come visit my kindergarten class?”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“How about tomorrow? I have this idea for doing a whole unit on Africa for the week. You can come in and tell them about the kids in the villages—what they wear and how they live. You’ve got some photos on your computer, right? Then we can have an activity table where they build a village.”

She nodded, though he hardly looked at her.

“And there’re all the animals. Fantastic. Perfect for art and a jungle animal science project—where we can also do some word recognition. Not to mention make pictures and write letters to your kids over there, describing their houses and stuff. And of course I’ll have to read them parts of Kipling’s
The Jungle Book
. And for math—” he seemed to focus on some indistinguishable point “—we can do something to figure out how far away it is.” Absentmindedly he reached down and opened her car door. “I have a giant floor map, and we can plot the airplane route or something.” He spoke quickly, moving his head up and down.

Lilah stood there with her arms crossed and just looked at him.

It took Justin a few moments to wind down before he noticed Lilah. “I did it again, didn’t I? Completely went off in my own little world.”

Lilah grabbed his upper arm. He had on an old Grantham Lightweight Crew sweatshirt, and she couldn’t help remembering how he looked in college—the same trim and lanky body, but his curly hair had been longer and unruly, and he’d had a perpetual two-day-old beard. He was the same, but not the same. Whichever way, she felt very lucky.

“It’s a wonderful little world, and I’d be happy to come to class tomorrow—honored, in fact. I just hope I know how to interact with five-year-olds.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a lot easier than adults—just nonstop.”

“Then I better get to bed early tonight, especially if we have to drive into Brooklyn after school tomorrow to get my stuff,” she said. She sank down into the passenger seat, by now used to the squeak it emitted. “You remember the plan, right?”

Justin circled the car and folded his body into the driver’s seat. “Not to worry. I didn’t forget about going to Brooklyn. It’ll work out perfectly. That way we can see my mother.”

Lilah coughed. “I thought she was in Italy.”

“Not that mother—my academic mother—Roberta. She’s dying to meet you.”

Lilah set her jaw. “Now I’m really beginning to feel the pressure. First your class, next Roberta.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Justin insisted, starting up the engine and putting the car in gear. But before he backed out, he gave her a quick but glorious kiss.

She was left levitating a few inches above her cracked seat.

Then he looked over his shoulder, backed out and shifted to first. He slanted her a sly grin. “We can go to bed early tonight. But do you really think you’re going to get a lot of sleep?”

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
SHE
WAS
exhausted but exhilarated.

Lilah sat on a pint-size chair, her visitor’s badge dangling in front of her, while she helped Noreen’s daughter, Brigid, and two other classmates make a hut out of Popsicle sticks, construction paper and library paste. The smell of the glue made her think back to when her mother still taught first grade. When she’d hug her at night before going to bed, she’d have that pleasing, sweet smell on her fingertips.

So far, the kids had figured out how to make the cylinder base, but they were deep in discussion about how to make the roof.

“We need a circle, not a square,” Brigid announced, rejecting a dark piece of paper.

“Do you have a compass?” Lilah asked.

“What’s that?” another girl with glasses asked.

“It’s something you use to draw circles in math class,” Lilah explained, trying to remember just how they worked. “It’s got a pointy part that you stick in the middle of the paper and then you put a pencil in a holder that’s attached to the other end and it goes around in a circle.”

“We’re not allowed to use pointy things in school,” a little boy said. He managed to get the words out despite chewing on the end of the string that went through the hood of his sweatshirt.

“That’s a problem, then.” Lilah sat back and crossed her arms.

“Did I hear someone say there’s a problem?” Justin came over and squatted among the children.

“We need circles to make the roof, but we don’t have a campus,” Brigid said with a frown.

“You don’t have a compass?” Justin repeated without making a big deal about correcting her. “Well, let’s think. How else can we make something round?” He put his chin on his hand. “Can you show me something else that’s round?”

Immediately, his question generated all sorts of answers, and more students gathered around the table, naming different objects.

“So if we have something round—” Justin picked up the coffee can of crayons “—how can we make something else round?”

“I know, I know.” Brigid clapped. She grabbed the can and put it on a piece of paper, then traced around it with a crayon. It was a wobbly job, but then she held it up for everyone to see.

“It’s a circle.” “Let me.” “I want to make one, too,” they shouted.

“The question is—is that the right size circle for the hut?” Justin asked. “Why don’t you draw circles of different sizes and see which works best?”

The table became a beehive of tracing and cutting.

But the little girl with glasses tugged on Justin’s sleeve. “I want to use a compass, but we can’t have pointy things.”

“Hm-m-m. Maybe we can make a compass without a pointy thing?” He looked at Lilah. “Suggestions?”

“What about a rubber band and a crayon. One person holds one end…” she ventured.

Justin held up his hand. “Great idea, but not too much advice in advance. Let me just hunt down some rubber bands.” He stood. “I know I have some in my desk, but at the front office they have those big ones that would be perfect. Could you watch the kids while I hustle down to get them?”

Lilah wasn’t sure of anything, and she raised her eyebrows dubiously.

“C’mon, a Grantham University education ought to be good for something.” He clapped to get the class’s attention. “Listen up, everyone. I’m just going to get some rubber bands so we can all make compasses. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, Ms. Evans will be in charge, but treat her nicely. She’s new here.”

He winked and headed out the door.

Brigid hugged her arm and looked at Lilah soulfully. “Don’t worry. We were all new once. You get over it.”

“
J
USTIN
,
IS
EVERYTHING
all right?” Justin’s principal, Frank Gunderson asked, while stationed at the open doorway of his office.

“Frank,” Justin said, coming to a halt. He was about to filch some rubber bands from the assistant, who basically would give him anything if he asked nicely. “Everything’s fine. Thanks.”

Frank stepped toward him, a note of concern still crowding his expression. “You left the children alone?”

“Of course not. They’re with our visitor—Lilah Evans, the founder of the international organization Sisters for Sisters and a recent award winner from the university. The class is getting a firsthand glimpse into life in Africa. It’s been very educational.” If he’d known Lilah’s grade point average, Justin would have given that information, as well. He was sure it was stratospheric, and that was just the kind of factoid that his principal found so meaningful.

“Yes, I heard you had a visitor. I was reassured that you followed proper protocol, checking her in.”

Justin didn’t remind Frank that he always followed proper protocol.

“You sure she’s capable of watching the children?” the principal asked. He was the type of person who sweated profusely on his forehead. Justin shouldn’t have held it against him.

That was the least of what Justin held against him.

“If she can deal with Congolese rebels, I think she can handle the class for a few minutes. I just came in search of large rubber bands.” Justin said the last in the direction of the assistant, who immediately jumped up and went to the locked supply cabinet.

Frank frowned, an indication that he didn’t seem to appreciate Justin’s sarcasm. “Well, you should get back quickly, but before you go I have something to say that shouldn’t take long.”

Justin waited.

“I’ve decided to take over day-to-day control of the curriculum. In particular yours.”

“I don’t understand?” And he really didn’t. He could only take the principal’s announcement as a direct assault on how he ran his classroom.

“You should have seen this coming, Justin. We’ve had this discussion before, or words to that effect. Take this thing of going off on some Africa tangent?” His frown deepened. “It deviates from the standardized kindergarten curriculum. The State exams are at the end of the week, and the other teachers are prepping their students.”

Justin counted to ten before he responded. “I’m sure my students will do fine. All the work throughout the year has been excellent preparation. And we will certainly take time to discuss what will be happening during the tests. We will even run through some typical questions—just like we’ve done sporadically throughout the year. Besides, in terms of using a whole week for last-minute cramming? In my experience, that’s not the way to go with kindergarteners. It just makes them uptight.”

Frank breathed in noisily. Clearly, he didn’t like being crossed. “We’ll just have to see. In my case, my mind is made up. From now on, you will provide me with daily lesson plans two days ahead of time that I will review and revise as I see fit. Our school has a reputation for excelling on standardized testing, and as principal I consider it of paramount importance for the welfare of our students.”

“Justin?” The assistant pressed a wad of rubber bands in his hand.

“Thanks,” he said to her with a smile. “If you’ll excuse me then, Frank, I’ll get back to my class. And don’t worry—you’ll have the requisition order for the rubber bands by the end of the day.”

Justin didn’t bother to wait around. “The welfare of the students, my foot,” he muttered angrily under his breath. He recognized a power play when he saw it. Even if his students performed on par with or better than the other kindergartens, Frank would come up with another excuse to take over his class.

There was no way he could remain under these conditions, but given that there were only two weeks left to the school year, it wasn’t as if jobs were still around for the choosing—especially in this economy.