Summer Rose (22 page)

“Ah, Luc, finally.
Now
, we can get started.” Asa’s greeting interrupted her musings. She noted that his tone held a hint of rebuke, which seemed to roll off Lucas Michaels like rain off a greased windowpane.

Mandy gave herself a severe mental shake. Ogling the principal wouldn’t sell the board on her idea to cut down the alarming rate of teenage pregnancy in their small town. If the determined set of Lucas Michaels’ expression meant anything, convincing him wouldn’t be an easy task. But, if it meant saving one teen from experiencing the life Mandy had lived as the illegitimate daughter of an embittered, single, alcoholic mother, she’d face the devil himself.

She issued a silent affirmation to his stiff profile and to her own psyche.
I am not a loser, Mr. Michaels.

Being ordered to do anything went against Luc’s grain. The visit he’d made to Asa’s office days before still had the power to rankle him. Making no apologies for his tardy arrival, he took a seat in the unoccupied chair facing the board table. Putting his briefcase on his lap, he clicked it open, extracted a fat, manila file folder, closed the lid, and then placed the leather case beside him on the floor.

He deliberately avoided looking to his left at the woman who had urged Asa to call this meeting, a device Luc often used on a student to unsettle them enough to get to the bottom of a matter.

Luc crossed his legs, and folded his hands on the file, then smiled at the board members. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Luc. Thank you for coming.” Asa fumbled through some papers, never really meeting him eye to eye.

Was he feeling a bit guilty about what he had planned for this evening? Luc laughed inwardly. He couldn’t envision Asa feeling one ounce of guilt for anything he’d ever done in his life.

Asa pounded the table with his gavel and all conversation in the room ceased instantly. “Now that we’re all here, shall we get started?”

Luc made no reply. No sense pretending courtesy had anything to do with his appearance here tonight. He’d made Asa fully aware that he hated what they were doing. The other board members nodded in Luc’s direction.

He could hear the woman stirring in her chair.

He smiled inwardly.

Lack of composure would cause her to make a slipshod presentation, giving the board good reason to turn her down. With any luck, he might not have to play the heavy in this. Being cast in the role of the bad guy was not new ground to Luc. Many times before Asa had used him as his pivotal point and relied on him to not only side with him, but also to turn the tide in their favor. This was, however, the first time his job depended on it and the first time his conscience really bothered him.

He hated the control Asa was able to exert over him, but looked at it as a part of the job, even if, in his own mind, he knew it to be out and out blackmail. There was a pecking order in all occupations and unless you occupied the top seat, you learned to take orders without question. His father had ingrained that in him early on in his childhood.

Asa Watkins interrupted Luc’s thoughts. “Ms. James, I don’t believe you’ve met Lucas Michaels, our principal.”

“Mr. Michaels.” Though somewhat stiff, her voice held a very pleasing quality, the kind a man could listen to for hours and not tire of.

Continuing with his calculated plan to unnerve her, while keeping his gaze fixed on Asa, Luc merely nodded in the direction of the feminine voice.

“If you’re ready, Ms. James, you can get us started by filling us in on your proposal.” Asa smiled toward the source of an enticing perfume emanating in Luc’s direction. Flowery, soft. Not overpowering. Subtly suggestive.

Calculated
, he added with a brisk shake to his imagination. If she thought she could make points with her feminine wiles, then she was sadly mistaken. He’d seen his mother do this many times when trying to get his father to cave on some issue.

“Thank you, Mr. Watkins.” The raspy quality of her voice raked over Luc’s nerve endings, bringing tiny pin-pricks of pleasure to his senses.

A bedroom voice.

“As you all know, I’m the new social worker assigned to the Carson office. I’ve been here for three months, and in that time I’ve come across some alarming statistics about the rising number of teenage pregnancies, mostly concerning unwed, high school students. In the information I will give you tonight, I’ve noted the precise percentage and relevant data that will speak for itself.”

Reverend Thomas emitted a loud hiss of air. Mandy couldn’t ascertain if it indicated his agreement with her statement or his displeasure with the reality of the facts.

“I have done some research into preventatives and, if you’ll allow me, I’ll pass out some information I have gathered for a possible answer.”

Asa nodded his permission.

From his peripheral vision, Luc had a shadowy image of the woman standing, carrying a pile of papers, and walking to the table, where she passed out several sheets to each board member. Then she turned to Luc, papers in her outstretched hand.

He looked up into the face of one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen. His breath snagged. So this was Amantha James. So much for the old-maid-social-worker image.

Instantly, he recalled having seen her several times at the school. He’d had no idea why she was there and just assumed she had a sibling or a child enrolled and had come to see them for some reason. What he did recall is the astounding effect she’d had on his libido. It had taken days to erase her image from his mind.

“Mr. Michaels?”

Dragging his attention from her mesmerizing, coffee brown eyes and deeply implanted dimples, he accepted the papers. “Thank you.”

Was that squeaky voice his? He cleared his throat and gazed at the paper clutched in his hand. The words blurred. Feeling as if he’d been kicked by a horse, he drew in a labored breath.

After blinking several times, he was finally able to make out the words at the top of the page,
Baby Simulators.

“Robo babies,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Mr. Michaels, until I’ve explained, please don’t make any snap judgments.” Her voice betrayed a hint of impatience.

Keeping his gaze trained on the paper, he shrugged. “Be my guest.”

This was ridiculous. Was he going to let some ego-driven social worker rattle him? He’d never felt so completely off track in his life, at least not since his last bout with his father. Luc made it a point to keep his footing in any and all situations. Not doing so meant stepping into uncharted territory, and Luc never ventured into anything of which he wasn’t fully aware. He mustn’t forget that it was his plan to rattle
her.
He sat straighter, marshaling his forces for his attack.

“The baby simulator is a device to aid in family planning for teens. As you can see from the pictures in the flyers I just gave you, it resembles a real baby in every way, appearance, weight and temperament, as well as being anatomically correct.”

“Do you mean to say these . . .
robo
babies have . . . Well, that they . . .” Having been raised around a prissy mother who
just didn’t talk about such things in mixed company
, he couldn’t force the words to emerge. Luc glanced up to see several of the board members hiding a smile behind their hands. Luc felt like a complete fool, an adolescent too embarrassed to discuss sex in clinical terms.

“Yes, Mr. Michaels. As I said, they are anatomically correct,” the James woman said, a smile playing around her luscious mouth. He quickly averted his gaze. “The manufacturer made certain that the simulators would resemble real babies in
every
way. And I can safely say that I doubt if these characteristics will not come as a shock to any of the teens who will participate in this project.” The hint of laughter in her voice told him she obviously found his discomfort with the subject amusing.

“
If
it is approved,” Luc added pointedly.

“
If
it is approved.” A small concession on her part. She smiled at the board.

“Thank you,” he said, stiffly.

“I don’t understand how these simulators are going to prevent pregnancies.” Catherine Daniels, studied the paper in her hand, and then glanced at Mandy. “Wouldn’t this be akin to letting the students play with dolls?”

“No. It’s much more complicated than that. I might add here that we must think of them as babies and not dolls to get the potential caregivers to think of them in those terms as well.

“Now, if you look closely at the picture on page four of the information, you’ll see that each baby is equipped with a care monitor implanted in its back. This allows the teacher or project supervisor to monitor the type and frequency of care given the baby.” Mandy waited for the board to review the information.

“But why couldn’t we just continue to use the sack of flour or an egg? It’d be a whole lot cheaper, and I’m sure Bill would appreciate the business.” Reverend Thomas smiled, and then leaned his arms on the unopened folder resting on the table in front of him.

Laughter bubbled up around the table, and then died.

“The simulator has some distinctly human-like qualities that the egg and the flour sack don’t. The baby is programmed to cry at unpredictable intervals, twenty-four hours a day, just as a real baby will. Its disposition can also be adjusted from mild to very cranky. The head must be supported, and the baby cannot be allowed to cry too long, fall or be treated roughly. If any of these events occur, then that registers on the care monitor and the caregiver earns demerits.” Mandy resumed her seat and waited for more questions.

“As amazing as this technology is, I don’t understand how these
robo
babies are going to cut the number of teenage pregnancies, Ms. James?” Mandy tried hard to overlook the hint of suppressed amusement coloring Lucas Michaels’ voice.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the muffled agreement from the board, Mandy faced the principal. She set her expression to reflect the serious nature of her subject, rather than her irritation with him. “Each baby comes with a key to be inserted and held in a slot in the back of the simulator, then anywhere from one to thirty minutes will elapse before the baby stops crying. This is to show the caregiver that food or diaper changes are not always the reason a baby cries.”

“I still don’t see how this can be a deterrent. The caregiver can simply leave the key with a parent and go about their normal social life.” Luc knew firsthand about how easy it was to hand off responsibility and care for a child to someone else, even a robot child.

She addressed her explanation to the entire board. “Not in this case, which is part of the beauty of this simulator. The key is attached to the caregiver’s wrist permanently for the duration of the project, much like a hospital bracelet is attached. He or she is the only one who can minister to the baby. Therefore, if the caregiver leaves the house for whatever reason, the baby must go along. If he or she doesn’t take the baby and it cries in her absence, the baby will cry until the battery runs down and the caregiver will get demerits for neglect.” She turned toward Luc.

“Think of yourself as a teenager with a social life, Mr. Michaels. Taking this baby with you everywhere can be a real drag. Studies have shown that after caring for this baby for as little as a week, many teens have decided to wait to become parents and some have even opted out of parenthood altogether.”

A grunt and a nod of agreement came from Bill Keeler. The board stared at Mandy in rapt attention. Catherine Daniels concentrated on the information sheets.

Seemingly encouraged by their silence, Mandy went on. “The inconvenience of caring for the baby and the restrictions it puts on the social lives of the teen parent can be very effective arguments for not having children. Rather than having an adult preach to them about the responsibilities that go along with being a parent, they’ll actually live with it every day for a prescribed period of time. Of course, classroom re-enforcement will be given also, but the hands-on experience will validate what they learn in the classroom, bringing it home as no amount of preaching could.”

Luc realized that this woman had obviously done her homework. Tripping her up was not going to be easy, if they could at all. Her arguments held well-thought-out logic. How could he argue with logic? New respect for Ms. James surged through him. This was not some empty-headed twit that Asa could snowball.