6

Angie stuffed her clothes into the locker and then turned toward Megan. “Are you sure the teacher won’t mind having someone join the class in the middle of the session?”

“Oh, Ruth’s great. She loves having new students.”

A heavy wall of steamy chlorine met them as they headed out of the dressing room into the pool area.

She followed Megan’s lead, dropped two dollars in a basket, and then slipped into the shallow end of the pool. Thankfully, Megan found a spot near the back left of the group. Close enough where Angie could watch the teacher but far enough to the side so she wouldn’t be the center of attention. The other students appeared to be a combination of faculty and older women.

Ruth opened her Bible and read a scripture from Psalm 23 in a soothing tone. “‘He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake.’ May our Lord refresh your spirit and guide you today and every day.” She changed the music to some instrumental hymns. “Let’s begin.”

Motion to her right grabbed Angie’s attention as Adam slipped into the water behind the rest of the class.

She leaned over toward Megan. “I didn’t realize this was a coed class,” she whispered.

Megan’s brow wrinkled. “It’s not.”

Angie nodded her head his direction.

Megan grinned. “Oh, it’s just Adam.”

Just Adam. Knowing Just Adam was behind them would make concentrating on the instructor a struggle. Angie took a deep breath determined to focus all her attention on Ruth.

They moved from a warm-up to aqua-jogging for cardio and then did some leg lifts. Angie glanced behind her. Adam had moved to the deep end of the pool and was swimming laps. He had a smooth, even stroke.

Megan handed her a foam pool noodle, and they did some stretches and cool down movements. At the end of the exercises, Ruth led them in a closing prayer. If Angie hurried, she’d be gone before Adam noticed her. She climbed out of the pool.

“Hello.”

Angie turned.

An older woman with gentle blue eyes smiled at her. “You’re Angela Taylor, the new AP, aren’t you?”

Angie nodded and smiled. “Yes.” So much for a quick escape.

Megan took Angie’s noodle and returned it to the stack.

“I’m Lorraine Shipley. I’m a member of the school board, and I wanted to tell you how excited we are that you accepted the position. CBCS is a very special place. I taught third grade there until I retired, and my years at the school were life-changing. Maybe your time there will be, as well.”

“It’s already been more than I hoped for.” Angie’s gaze wandered over Lorraine’s shoulder as Adam climbed out of the pool and headed toward the locker rooms.

Lorraine reached out and squeezed Angie’s hand. “I’m so glad. Please let any of the board know if you need anything. We’re here to support you.”

“I will. Thank you very much.”

Megan sidled up to Angie. “So, let’s change, and I’ll take you home.”

“Could you just drop me by the school? I have a couple of things I need to finish.”

Megan elbowed her. “Miss Conscientious.”

~*~

Angie stepped back and looked at her office. All she had left to do was choose artwork for her walls. Today had been a good day…fulfilling. She loved everything about this place: the people, the philosophy. Even the little house. Although she’d been here less than a week, she belonged. More than she ever had in Fort Worth. She belonged in a way she never had before. On a heart level. And yet, deep inside that heart, a void waited to be filled.

She gathered her bag and purse from her office and locked the door. Thunder rolled and large raindrops splatted on the sidewalk outside. She should have checked the forecast this morning before she decided to walk. Too bad she hadn’t let Megan take her home.

The Lost and Found box sat by the door. She rummaged around until she found the only umbrella. Pink…covered with hearts and unicorns. She’d bring it back Monday.

She stepped out under the portico, gathered her bag close to get as much as possible under the miniature umbrella and headed across the parking lot toward the street.

A black sedan pulled up beside her, its passenger window lowering. “Cool umbrella, although I never took you for a unicorn girl.” Adam grinned. “Jump in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks.” She tossed her stuff in the back and then climbed in the passenger seat.

“You bet.” He put the car in gear and pulled up to the street.

“So, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I’m surprised to be seen.” He grinned. “Just dropped off some stuff for the bookkeeper.”

She studied his face. His skin was smooth except for a scar partially hidden by his right eyebrow. Dark brown, almost black, bangs striped his forehead. And even though he was clean-shaven, his dark beard shadowed his face. Will had a light beard and could go for days without shaving before his whiskers were noticeable.

“What?” He grinned at her.

Embarrassment warmed her face. “Um, looks like the lump’s gone.”

He brushed the hair off his forehead. “Yep.”

He slowed and pulled the car into her driveway. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much. I hope I didn’t make you late for something.”

“Nope.” Angling to face her, he rested one arm on the door and draped the other over the back of his seat. “Just a date with a book at The Perks.”

“The Perks?”

“The town coffee shop.”

She should have figured that out. “I need to get the address from you.”

He leaned his head to one side. “Join me. After all, I owe you a meal.”

~*~

Adam carried their coffees back to the booth in the corner. “A latte for you, and a decaf for me. Sandwiches should be here soon.” He slid into the booth across from her.

She forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“So, got big plans this weekend?” He cupped the mug with his hands.

She shook her head. “Just hanging around the house. Probably do a little reading and some more unpacking. Why?”

He shrugged. “Figured you might make a trip back to Fort Worth.” He took a drink.

She leveled her gaze at him. “Will’s at an administrator’s conference in Austin this weekend.” She smirked. “Anything else you want to know?”

He wanted to know a whole lot more but not yet. “Everything OK at the house?”

“Yes.” She ran her finger around the lip of her mug.

“Cable still working?”

“Perfectly.”

“I was surprised to see you at the pool.” He took a sip of his coffee.

She opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. “Well…I can assure you, not nearly as surprised as I was to see you.” Her posture relaxed.

He chuckled. “I bet.”

“Don’t take this wrong, but I think of water aerobics as mostly a women’s activity. Or guys who are trying to pick up girls.”

“Agreed.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Or guys that do it for medical reasons.”

Her face softened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Old back injury.”

The server set their sandwiches on the table.

She smiled. “I think it’s my turn to bless the food.”

~*~

Angie lifted her head after the amen. “Sorry about your back. What happened?”

“An accident.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

She blew across the top of her mug and watched him over the rim. Shaved and with his hair under control, he looked like a different man than she’d first met in the house. But maybe she hadn’t really looked at that man. She’d made a sweeping judgment based upon assumptions rather than truth.

He stopped chewing. “What?”

“I owe you an apology.” She set down her mug.

He placed his sandwich on the plate. “For?”

“Being so rude that first day at the house.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“But—”

He held up a hand. “No ‘buts’ in apologies.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the booth.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was so snotty with you that first day.”

He leaned forward. “And I’m sorry I lied to you about the paint color.” A crooked smile warmed his face. “Truce?”

They shook hands over the center of the table. “Truce.”

He leaned back and picked up his sandwich again.

“So tell me about the wreck.”

He knit his brows. “What wreck?”

She shook her head. “The one that hurt your back.”

“It was an accident.” He set the sandwich back on the plate.

“Well, aren’t most wrecks?”

“No.” His brown eyes locked onto hers. “It wasn’t a wreck. It was an accident.”

“Semantics.”

A darkness shaded his eyes. They searched hers, and she saw questions simmering within him. He took a deep breath.

“I was a junior in high school. Thought I was being called into missions. So my dad and I went on a trip to Nicaragua with our church the week before Christmas. There was this rope bridge. It was old—”

“Stop!” Grief crushed her chest. She grabbed both of his hands. “Please stop,” she whispered.

In silence he squeezed her hands back.

“I remember.” Sorrow knotted her throat. “I remember. Even though we didn’t know you, our church prayed for you and your group. We even sent cards with Bible verses on them. Every night I asked God to heal you all. And then your Dad…” Sorrowful tears tracked down her cheeks. “Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t remember the name…”

He stared over her shoulder as memories clouded his face. “When I finally got to leave the hospital at the end of January, my mom still had the Christmas tree up with the unwrapped packages under it. I remember exactly what she said. ‘I could choose sadness and loss, but I’m choosing Christmas.’” His gaze found hers. “So, every day I choose Christmas. The joy, the new life, the unconditional love, the forgiveness. I choose Christmas.”

~*~

Adam walked into his bedroom and headed straight to the closet. He flipped on the light and got down the cardboard box from the top shelf. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened it. He’d almost thrown it away when he was in college, but deep inside, he realized, like it or not, the contents were some of the last connections he had with Dad.

He set the box on the bed, dropped down beside it, and lifted the lid. Mom had trashed the envelopes years ago. He pulled out a stack of cards and rifled through them. The majority were from people he’d never met. Probably never would. And yet they shared a kinship. At the worst time in his life, he hadn’t walked the path alone.

He opened each one and glanced at the signatures and notes inside. About half way through, he found what he was looking for. One signed “Angela Taylor.” And she’d written a Bible verse on the inside. “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. Exodus 14:14”

He remembered this card, but not the name of the sender. The Bible verse had spoken straight to his heart. He’d set it on his bedside table in the hospital and claimed its truth every day. But many years had passed without him thinking of it until Angie mentioned sending one. He stood and carried the card over to his dresser and leaned it against the mirror. Right next to the picture of Dad and him leaving for the mission trip. Then he placed all the other cards back in the box and returned them to the closet shelf. Some days, he still needed to remind himself of this truth.