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The button on the vending machine rattled and hummed, but the over-caffeinated can of soda didn't roll out. Darcy Malone grabbed the sides of the machine and shook. Nothing happened because she was half the size of the money-eating monster.
Darcy looked up at the teachers' lounge ceiling and let out a heavy breath. She gave up and walked over to the water cooler to stare out the window and think about snacks. At least it was a pretty fall day outside.
The quiet of the lounge was interrupted by two chattering voices as the door swung open.
"—on my side of the hall," one voice complained.
Darcy moved behind a potted palm tree and watched the last bus pull out. She pressed her forehead against the glass window and swirled a paper cup of tepid water in her hand.
"She thinks she owns all of the walls outside the classrooms," agreed another. "I'm so tired of looking at those leering jack-o-lanterns."
"I get that she's new and everything, but she's a substitute, not a real teacher."
The cup in Darcy's hand crumpled and soaked her fingers. She held her breath and scrunched down further behind the plant as her stomach sank. She was a real teacher and a real artist, too. She'd graduated from college almost six years ago with an art degree and a teaching certificate. Her entry to this year's Kansas Life and Memories Art contest was in the mail.
"I wish she'd go back to waiting tables at the diner," snorted the now familiar voice. "My students return to class covered in paint and bouncing off the walls."
"Oh, mine, too. We wouldn't have this problem if my niece had been hired, you know."
Darcy felt trapped. Even sneaking into the teacher's lounge after school was no escape from Tricia Darlington. The woman usually had bus duty.
"I'm going to tell her she can have the space all the way to the fire extinguisher," continued the muffled voice, "but the rest of the wall beyond that is mine."
Darcy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the potted palm. She tossed her paper cup into the trash can beside Mrs. Darlington and Mrs. Gavel. They were both gray-headed, plump, and wore too many rings.
"That sounds great," Darcy agreed. She smiled like she'd been a part of the conversation all along. Both women froze, one with a cup of coffee at her lips and the other with a mouthful of donut.
Darcy averted her eyes to hide the anger she felt but gave them a stiff wave as she marched out. She wanted to sling the break room door shut with a bang, but she eased it closed behind her.
Go back to waiting tables? She'd put in her time and worked hard to get through school. She'd even held two jobs last year to help Momma out while they waited for a teaching job to open up in Blessings.
Blessings, she snorted. She stomped down the hall and around the corner to her classroom. More like curses. She'd hated this town so much as a teenager she'd left it before she finished high school, but here she was again. Like it or not, she'd missed the beautiful green fields, tall trees, and quaint historic buildings on Blessings' main street, but not the people who judged her.
Living in Topeka had seemed like the answer, but after only a few years teaching in the city, she'd gone home to visit and realized how much her mother needed her.
The classroom smelled like burnt popcorn. Darcy left the door open so it could air out. Burnt popcorn may have left a bad smell, but the kids loved making popcorn art. She planned to use it for decorations during the month of November.
With a scowl, she put her hands on her hips. The room looked like a mess, and Mr. Jenkins, the warmest, kindest janitor in the whole world had asked her to make sure the chairs were on top of the desks at the end of each day. She'd forgotten to ask the last group of students to put them away.
Footsteps in the hall echoed behind her, but Darcy didn't turn around. She knew it was probably another herd of teachers complaining about the art classroom. They'd never accept her at Earhart Elementary. She was Darcy Malone after all.
***
A GIANT CHICKEN DARTED across the road. Wade Spears swerved to avoid hitting it. With a gasp, he caught the steering wheel in time to avoid skidding off the road and joyriding through a field of brittle corn stalks. A bright red barn stood guard in the distance, and he hoped no one was home.
With a glance in the rearview mirror, he watched the large wild bird flap away unhurt and realized it was a turkey. It'd almost become a turkey platter, and right in time for Thanksgiving. He smiled at the idea of Thanksgiving dinners past and realized he looked forward to seeing his family back in Tennessee at Christmastime.
A light on the car's dashboard blinked. Wade noted the gas gauge had dropped below the perfectly straight halfway mark. He tried not to fixate on the imperfectly crooked line the arrow made against the black background. It'd drive him crazy. He might as well fill up now rather than risk running out later.
Through the windshield, the closest historical town along the Santa Fe Trail seemed as green and golden as the rest of the state. The crests of the treetops looked like they'd been dipped in flaming orange paint, so he shifted his attention to the natural beauty around him that was perfectly imperfect and yet something he could appreciate.
He slowed as he approached a town limit sign: Welcome to Blessings, Kansas. This was the place. He glanced at the gas gauge again then at the address for "The Beautiful Blessings Bed and Breakfast" printed out on the itinerary beside him.
It sounded charming, but he wouldn't get his hopes up. His last stop had been a seedy motel endured for the low cost and good location. Luckily, it'd only been for one night, because the room smelled like stale smoke, and there was a ring around the tub. He'd showered in flip flops.
The highway narrowed, and his GPS informed him there was a gas station ahead. Wade squinted. It wasn't his usual chain. It looked like a mom and pop place instead, but at least the price was fair. He pulled in and headed for the closest gas pump. A blue two-door hatchback careened forward from the opposite direction and screeched into his spot. Wade swerved and slammed his brakes to avoid a head-on accident. Again.
"Geez!" Wade squeezed the steering wheel and caught his breath. He waved a hand in irritation, but the driver didn't seem to notice. She jumped out of the car with her face hidden behind enormous sunglasses and darted inside. He cruised around her vehicle to another pump.
A sign told him he'd have to pay upfront first, so he turned off the engine and headed inside for a soda. He wanted to stretch his legs anyway. It'd been a great drive. The sun was warm but the air felt cool, so he didn't need a jacket. It reminded him of autumn in Tennessee. His brother, Grant, had been right. He just needed a break and a fresh perspective. Taking a permanent job as a history professor would be life-changing.
Jangling bells announced his presence so he gave the station cashier a little wave. A row of glass doors in the back looked like the place to find a refrigerated drink. He trudged through the candy bar aisle resisting the urge to fill up on sugar. A young woman stood in front of the flavored waters with hands on her hips. She held a big pair of sunglasses in her hand.
"Dale Earnhardt," he murmured, half-amused. She looked pretty. Definitely a Midwest farmer's daughter, but with a city-girl air about her. Classic and country. If she noticed he was waiting for her to make a decision she didn't show it. Her eyes scanned each row as she rocked forward on her toes.
He was running out of steam. It'd been a long day. "Do you mind?" Wade cleared his throat, and she looked sideways at him.
A dead-pan stare said she did mind, but he slipped past her, pulled open the door, and grabbed a watermelon-flavored sparkling water. "Excuse me," he added in the awkward silence.
Her response was a cold nothing. He glanced back as he brushed past her and noticed her clothes were splattered with orange and green paint.
"Wow," he said before he could stop himself.
Cool, olive-brown eyes widened with offense.
"I mean," he chuckled, "it looks like you lost the paintball fight."
The woman's features softened, and she dropped her fist from her hip. "Art teacher," she replied, and he gave a nod although his heart melted a little. "That explains it."
"And I never lose at paintball." A small dimple in her cheek made him realize she was teasing.
"I'll have to watch out for you then."
She let out a small laugh with a whoosh of air. "Oh, do you play often?"
He tried not to smile and shook his head. "No, never. I don't like to get messy, but if I ever do, I'll stay on the lookout."
She chuckled and looked away. He made his feet move so he didn't stand there like an idiot admiring her hourglass figure and dusty-tan complexion. She was local no doubt and in a hurry to get home. Maybe she'd had a rough day, too.
After paying, he left to pump the gas. The art teacher came out a few minutes later with a bag of chips and an apple in her hand. She held them up as she walked past him. "Dinner," she joked, and he nodded.
On a whim, he put his hands in his pockets and watched her walk around the back of her car. "So, where would one get dinner around here?"
"In Blessings?"
He nodded. "Yeah, Blessings. Nice name. Do you live here?"
The simple question seemed to catch her off-guard. She frowned, thought for a second, then said, "I live outside of town."
"And work at the elementary school," he guessed.
"Yes." She smiled. "If you need dinner, the Wagon Wheel Diner is probably the best place to grab a quick bite." She left it at that and headed for her car.
"Thanks," he called.
The bright blue coup drove away in a cloud of dust with the faint sound of hard rock thumping down the highway. The gas nozzle jerked in Wade's grip. He frowned at his clumsiness and looked for a towel to wipe up the trickle of fuel sliding down the side of his car. The smell of gas permeated the air and drowned out the autumn fragrances of the warm afternoon.
Perfect. He'd smell like gasoline for hours now. He sighed and glanced up at the sky. The sun had turned a brazen shade of brass. Maybe the B&B listed on the itinerary would be an okay place after all. Blessings seemed nice. He hoped they didn't mind he smelled like a gas pump.
***
DARCY LIKED TO RUN in the early mornings when it was quiet and there weren't many people on the park's recreational trail. In the afternoons, couples took their dogs out for walks or families used the paved portions for little bike rides.
At school, she threw herself in the children's world, and at home, she had to be there for her mother. Plus, Momma kept the television on all the time watching reruns of old shows with annoying laugh tracks.
The air felt crispy. Giving her legs a good shake, Darcy set off at a light jog and headed into the trees. There were a few candy wrappers on the ground, and she frowned at the litter. Coming to an abrupt halt, she went back to pick them up. Footsteps sounded, and she moved out of the way for a couple in matching jackets to sprint by. One man raised a hand and she said, "Hi!" but the woman with him ignored her.
Typical. She'd probably gone to school with them both, but she couldn't remember their names. They certainly hadn't forgotten her. She waited a few seconds to let them get ahead and then set off again with the candy wrappers in her pocket. There'd probably been all kinds of mischief out at the park last weekend.
Darcy couldn't believe Halloween was over. The buildup to it had been so much fun at school, but she'd spent the holiday hiding at home and let her mother give out candy. Their memories of past Halloweens in Blessings weren't the best. They were a distant blur of loud parties, stupid choices, and often painful consequences.
Had she really egged homes and rolled the principal's house then covered his car in shaving cream? It was harmless, she thought, but she wasn't really thinking clearly at seventeen.
Picking up speed, she stretched her neck and took a deep, cleansing breath. The pounding of her feet made a hypnotic sound that urged her forward. The sky was lightening from a shade of pink to yellow-gold. Soon it would be blue. She closed her eyes and pictured the colors on a palette if she were to paint this moment.
Slamming footfalls echoed again, and Darcy moved aside. Someone came up on her, fast and running at full speed. She looked over her shoulder in case she was under attack, but it was a runner in shorts and a white tee shirt. He had a phone attached to his upper arm with wires that led up to the sides of his ears and looked like he was in a trance.
Darcy jogged to a stop and let the speed demon dash past. "Show off," she muttered as he whizzed by. Something about him looked familiar, and he must have thought the same thing about her, because he tripped over a root sticking out of a crack in the concrete and went airborne. Darcy watched in horror as he hit a knee and then rolled across the trail into the bushes.
"Oooh!" cried Darcy. Her heart went out to him. He was built like a runner and certainly dressed the part, but he didn't fall with style. She would have laughed at his comical cartwheel, but she knew the pain of flesh skidding across concrete. With gritted teeth, she rushed over to the man sprawled out on his back. His face looked pale and twisted with pain.
"Oh. My. Goodness. Are you okay?"
His limbs all seemed to be in order, but blood trickled down his shin. He moaned.
"Are you hurt?"
The runner opened his eyes, and she realized he wasn't someone from town. The dark blond hair, a little long and messy on top, was the same hair, and it was definitely the same jawline she'd noticed yesterday at the gas station. It was the visitor who didn't know what side of the gas pumps to line up on.
He studied her then in slow motion tried to sit up. A groan erupted from his mouth. "What did I trip over? You?"
"Me?" Darcy sat back on her heels. "No, it wasn't me. I was out of your way. See? She pointed toward the raised crack in the trail. "You tripped over that. There are bumps all the way down this trail. You can't run at breakneck speed like that." She raised her brows at him for punctuation.
"Hey," he drawled out. "Dale Earnhardt." He glanced down at his muscular, bleeding leg and drew it up to him. "I know you."
"What?"
"You know, the race car driver?"
"I'm not a race car driver. If you're talking about yesterday at the gas station, you were going the wrong way."
He blinked at her then looked down at his battle wounds. "That really hurt."
"I bet." Darcy tried to smother a small laugh, but it came out anyway. "I haven't seen anyone get that much air since my neighbor tried to skateboard over a lawnmower."
The man laughed. "Well, you're right. I'm not exactly known for my grace."
"I'm sorry I don't have a tissue."
"It's okay," he said in a thick voice. He scooted onto the side of the paved trail. Darcy sat down beside him. "I have a sock, but it's a little sweaty."
He looked at her in surprise.
"I'm kidding." She giggled. "I'm sorry, it's not funny."
"No," he said smiling, "it's not. It does hurt, and guess what, Earnhardt, I have a bandage."
Darcy raised a brow. "You carry bandages while you run?"
"I like to be prepared." He took off the Velcro phone holder around his arm and frowned at the phone case.
"Did you crack your phone?"
"It's chipped," he sighed. He pulled a bandage from between the phone and its sleeve.
Side by side, she realized he had nice eyes, blue, not brilliant but not gray or hazy either. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to almost hit you head-on," she blurted. "It's just everyone pulls in from the right, not the left, unless they're new to town."
"I'm just visiting awhile," he replied. Patting the bandage on, he held out a red, scraped palm. "Wade Spears."
Darcy took it gently. "You hurt your hand, and I'm Darcy Malone."
"Malone?"
"Yes, that's right."
The man's brows furrowed. "That sounds familiar. I'm researching the history of this town, the Santa Fe Trail era anyway, and it sounds like I've heard it before."
"The Santa Fe trail?" Darcy climbed up beside him as he stood. "Yes, my great-great-grandparents moved here before the turn of the century. I'm sure they were around."
"Ah," he said.
Darcy felt relieved he hadn't heard her name through other channels. "Are you a history buff or something?"
He nodded. "I'm a history professor, and I'm writing a book. I thought I'd stay here a few weeks to research the area in person."
"Wow, that's nice—travel the world, write a book. You must not have any cares in the world."
He narrowed his eyes at her like he disagreed but didn't elaborate. Something in them sparked questions. He studied her like she was an open book. She realized they stood face to face in the middle of the trail so she edged back to the side. "There's a lot of good information around here, and there's a historical society a couple of blocks south of Town Hall.
"Thanks." Wade smiled at her. It lit up his face and erased the critical stare she'd seen yesterday.
Darcy looked down the trail. "I better go, I can hardly get to school on time on a good day."
"You do that, and it was nice to meet you."
"You, too." He switched his stance back and forth on his legs, and she wondered if he was in pain.
"Would you like me to walk you back to your car?"
"I'm fine. I'll just walk from here."
"Okay, then." Darcy smiled again remembering the way he'd tumbled out of control across her path. Realizing he still intended to keep going her direction, she pointed back toward the parking lot. "I think you better go that way, and by the way, you're bleeding again."