Wednesday afternoon, Lana swigged her diet soda and looked at Rhetta. “You ready?”
They were sitting at a small table off to the side of the teacher’s lunchroom. Over at the big table, most of the other elementary school teachers were standing up, throwing away the remains of their lunches, gathering their things.
“No, I’m not ready.” Rhetta pointed at her watch. “We still have four whole minutes!”
Lana laughed and leaned back. “Going to be a rough afternoon. Maybe we can take the first-graders into the gym for an hour, have them run off their energy.”
“Called it already.” Mrs. McKenna, a gray-haired second-grade teacher, turned around from the refrigerator and grinned. “When you’ve done the last day before Christmas break as many times as I have, you learn to think ahead. It’s reserved for the next hour and a half for the second grade.”
“Oh, great.” Rhetta sighed. “My kids are going to be bouncing off the walls.”
“Three more hours, and then, bring it on, Christmas break.” Mrs. McKenna danced a little jig as she headed for the door.
The other teachers were clearing out, too.
“You got parents lined up to help at the party?” Rhetta asked.
“One of my four is sick, but two of the other ones are experienced. It’ll be fine.”
“I’ve got five scheduled. Can’t have too much support. Who’s new for you?”
Lana wrinkled her nose. “Logan’s dad. Flint Rawlings.”
Rhetta clapped a hand over her mouth. “He’s doing the party?”
“Yeah. It’s part of his attempt to give Logan more attention.”
“How are things progressing between you two? Are you paying attention to your feelings, like I told you to?”
Lana rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Why does everyone try to match us up? I’m just Logan’s temporary nanny!” But she knew why. Knew that she, at least, had a special energy whenever Flint was around.
Last night, after the snow had started falling, she and Logan and Flint had built a fire in the cabin and spent a couple of hours decorating. Which meant that she’d stayed for dinner—this time, with Flint cooking his famous Western omelets while she and Logan strung popcorn. Classical music had played in the background, and the evergreen branches they’d brought in had let out a piney scent, and it had been sweet and warm and wonderful.
“Spill it, girl,” Rhetta ordered. “You’re looking way too dreamy for just a temporary nanny.”
Lana shook her head. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with him, between taking care of Logan and working together on the Christmas pageant, but it’s not ever going to come to anything.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because neither of us wants a relationship.”
“You’ve talked about that?” Rhetta’s voice rose to a squeak. “Don’t you know that’s the first step to having a relationship? Talking about your history and telling each other you can’t possibly get involved?”
“It’s not like that,” Lana said, waving a hand. “He’s really scarred by what Logan’s mom did, abandoning him with a little baby. And you know me. The Lord meant me to be alone, and when I tried to go against that, I had the most humiliating experience of my life.”
Rhetta shook her head. “That’s going to be a story you tell your grandkids. How you almost married the wrong man, but then you found Mr. Right. At which point, cue the romantic music, you look at your silver-haired but still gorgeous husband and smile and kiss under the mistletoe.”
A vision of Flint as an older man flashed into Lana’s mind. He’d go gray first at the temples, lending him a distinguished look. His time in the sun meant he already had tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they just added to the character on his handsome face, kept him from looking like a pretty boy. That would just intensify as he got older...
She looked up to see Rhetta’s amused grin. “Come on, daydreamer. I’m right and you know it. But we’d better get to those crazy kids. The bell’s about to ring, and the lunch aides will have our hides if we’re late.”
Lana snapped her fingers. “Nature walk. Outside.”
“Brilliant. I’m so there.”
They headed toward the cafeteria, where the din of excited kids was rising from high to deafening.
“Do you think Flint Rawlings knows what he’s in for?” Rhetta asked, nodding toward the chaos ahead.
“He has no idea,” Lana said as she walked into the fray.
* * *
Flint climbed out of his truck, slammed the door and then, when he saw another mother headed toward the school with a tray in her hands, opened the truck door back up. Couldn’t forget the cupcakes. When one of the other party parents had emailed instructions, she’d assigned him to bake twenty-five cupcakes.
Which, first of all, didn’t she know that cupcake pans came in twelves? That was what Marnie Binder had asked when she’d lent him a couple of tins.
She’d offered to bake them for him, too, but he’d actually taken the afternoon off so he could do things right, and he’d decided that baking his own would make a better statement to Logan.
Only, he’d gotten in a hurry because of having to wait while the one extra cupcake baked. And the frosting had looked fine when he’d opened the can, but once spread on the warm cupcakes, it had melted into nothing.
Oh, well, they would still taste good. And he’d looked up a craft online and stopped at the discount store to buy the supplies. He was all set.
Loaded down with Tupperware containers and shopping bags, he walked toward Logan’s classroom, falling into step with another mother. The hallway reverberated with loud talking, shouts and laughter from the classrooms they passed. “Are they always this loud?” he asked the other mom.
“Wait until you get inside,” she said, flashing a smile. “And first-graders are the worst. This is my sixth child, so I should know.”
Inside Logan’s classroom, Flint saw that the chaos was, at least, organized. The children were all in their seats, although very wiggly, and Lana was leading them in a Christmas song.
“Keep going, children,” she said when she saw the parents coming in, “but let’s see who can sing the softest. Two whole verses that way!”
Gamely, the children tried to comply while Lana hurried to the door. “Whew, I’m glad you guys are here. Thank you so much for volunteering!”
“I’m used to it, that’s why I’m taking the lead.” A very blonde woman, dressed in Texas-tight jeans and high-heeled boots, whose name tag proclaimed her to be Jacqueline, stood up from the boxes she’d been kneeling over. “We’re ready to...oh, wow. What happened to your cupcakes?”
“They’ll taste good,” Flint promised, setting them down on a table by the door.
“The kids will love anything sweet,” Lana said distractedly. “Listen, if you’re sure you’ve got it under control, I’m going to turn it over to you. Addy’s aide wants to go help with her own son’s party over in Room 8, so I need to help Addy navigate the party. She doesn’t do that well with changes to her routine.”
“No problem,” said the mother Flint had walked in with, whose name was Aleesha. “Go ahead.”
Lana headed over to a girl in a wheelchair, whose arms were waving. Her moans were audible over the sound of the children’s increasingly loud singing.
Flint blinked and had to acknowledge that being a teacher was more of a challenge than he’d ever realized.
He tore his eyes away from Lana, who was comforting and distracting the child, to look at Jacqueline Blonde Boots and Aleesha. “I’m a novice at this,” he said right away, wanting to keep their expectations in line. “I have a craft ready, but otherwise, I’ll just do whatever you tell me to do.”
“I suspect you’re very competent,” the blonde woman murmured, leaning into his side in an unmistakable attempt at flirtation.
“Not competent at all.” Blatant wasn’t his thing, and he stepped away from her, which caused her to stumble a little.
She caught herself and gave him a dirty look. “Let’s start with the snacks. That’ll get their attention.”
“It will get them full of sugar,” Aleesha protested. “Should we maybe wait til the end for snacks?”
“I’m in charge of this party,” Jacqueline said, eyeing Aleesha in unmistakable challenge.
Aleesha shrugged. “That’s fine with me. You go for it.”
“Thanks, I will. Because she’s not going to be any help.” Jacqueline was looking at Lana. “She’s very young, isn’t she?”
“I think she does a real good job,” Flint defended Lana automatically.
Jacqueline sneered. “You would think so.”
Whoa, he’d rather deal with cattle or delinquent boys than room mothers any day.
“Kids,” Aleesha said, clapping her hands. “Line up to wash hands. We’re going to give you snacks first!”
The kids cheered and jostled and got into line, and Flint passed out napkins and his cupcakes while Jacqueline poured small cups of water and distributed chocolate candy. He’d heard her check with Lana about allergies, so he knew that wasn’t a problem in this class, but he still had to question the wisdom of giving the kids so many sweets. Logan, for one, would be bouncing off the walls. But then again, Flint was just a party-novice dad. What did he know?
The kids finished the food in minutes and started getting out of their chairs and talking loudly.
Flint rubbed the back of his neck, which was stiffening up. He had no idea how to proceed here, and Jacqueline had gone to the doorway to chat with another woman.
Logan started dragging Flint around, introducing him to his friends, explaining that his dad was a ranch foreman and could ride a horse. Flint fist-bumped and high-fived the kids as they walked around.
This made it all worthwhile. This was why he was here, for Logan, and he could put up with anything for...he sneaked a glance at the classroom clock...forty-five more minutes.
“All right, children,” Jacqueline said, coming back into the noisy classroom. She flicked the lights, and the kids got quiet. “Time for your craft, and Mr. Rawlings is going to take charge of that!” She sat down at the edge of the classroom and crossed her arms.
Whoa. He was on.
“Okay, everybody sit in your seats.” He knew that much. He went to the bag of stuff he’d brought and pulled out twenty packets of shoestrings. “Could you pass these out?” he asked Aleesha.
Then he broke open the first packet of marshmallow Santas. “Now, everybody watch. What you’re gonna do is make a necklace. Out of Santas. And Christmas trees, and reindeers.” He held up a couple of other packets of marshmallow treats. “Like this.” He poked the shoestring through the side of one Santa, pulled it on through, and added the next. Not much different from mending chaps. This was going great.
The kids started clamoring to do it themselves, so Flint just dumped the giant bag of marshmallow goodies on Lana’s desk and told them they could each come up and get one.
He hadn’t anticipated the stampede that followed. The packets were a little hard to get open, and one boy started crying because he’d had to take a packet of pink reindeers rather than the brown ones he’d wanted, but Aleesha smoothed that over and walked around with scissors, helping the kids open their packets.
Then one of the little girls started to cry.
She was close by Flint, so he squatted at her side. “What’s wrong? Can’t get the string through there?” he asked, holding out his hands to help with her necklace.
“I...don’t wanna...stab Santa,” she cried, putting her head down on her desk.
“I’ll stab him for you! Take that, Santa!” The boy next to her jabbed his shoestring end into his marshmallow Santa with glee.
“I can stab better than that!” shouted another boy, pulling blunt-end scissors from his desk and pummeling his marshmallow reindeer with them.
The original crier started to wail, and the little girl behind her joined in. “I don’t want to make a hole in Rudolph, either!”
A boy on the other side of that girl waved his hand vigorously. “Miss Alvarez, they’re hurting Santa!”
Suddenly all the kids were yelling and crying and arguing. Were the marshmallow Santas real? Were the reindeer? Would Santa get mad at them for making the necklaces and stabbing him and his reindeer in the process? And if Santa’s reindeer were hurt, would Santa still come to their houses to leave presents?
Even standoffish Jacqueline was galvanized into action, wading in to try to calm things down. Dimly, Flint heard her reassuring children that they didn’t have to stab Santa, that they could make a necklace out of marshmallow trees.
But although Jacqueline’s voice, speaking to the children, was sugar-sweet, the side-eye she shot at him suggested she thought he was a Santa stabber himself. And her daughter, also pretty and blonde, wasn’t any help. “My mommy wouldn’t do a craft that was mean to Santa,” she informed everyone within earshot, several times.
Aleesha, meanwhile, was busy with a group of boys, her own son included, who’d decided it would be fun to decapitate reindeer with the scissors from their desks. Aleesha had her lips pressed tight together and was shaking in an odd way, and finally Flint realized she was trying not to laugh.
Flint wasn’t laughing, though, because Logan wasn’t. He was tugging at Flint’s arm. “Make them stop it, Dad!”
Flint felt about two inches tall.
He glanced over at Lana, but she was kneeling in front of the girl with the disability, who was sobbing. She already had her hands full.
This was a disaster. What had he been thinking, coming to volunteer in Logan’s class?
Rhetta Douglass, a teacher he knew vaguely from town, stuck her head in the classroom door. “Everything okay in here?” she asked and then stepped inside. “Whoa. We were going to join our classes for the second half of the party, but on second thought, maybe I’ll just take my kids back outside.”
“We can take them outside?” Outside sounded like a huge relief to Flint, and the thought of it brought inspiration. He didn’t know if it would work, but anything would be better than being stuck in this brightly colored prison with twenty-some crying, screaming first-graders.
“Okay, listen up!” he yelled in the voice he used to get the ranch boys’ attention.
The room went immediately silent.
Flint blinked. “Line up and wash your hands, and then the moms are going to bring you outside. By the fence on the playground.”
He looked at Aleesha to make sure at least one other adult was on board. She gave him a thumbs-up, so he left the classroom and the building double time. As he sprinted for his truck, he felt a deep longing to jump inside and head back to the ranch, where at least he knew what he was doing.
But that was the key: he had to stick to doing what he knew how to do. He didn’t know if God answered the prayers of idiotic fathers completely out of their element, but he shot one up anyway: Please, make this work. For Logan’s sake.
* * *
Lana pushed Addy’s wheelchair toward the playground with trepidation. Most of the other children were running ahead, the classroom disaster forgotten. Aleesha, a lovely and easygoing room mother, slowed down to Lana’s pace. “We’ll get them doing something out here, and then I’ll go clean up the classroom,” she said, chuckling. “When I saw those children stabbing Santa... Oh, my. Only a father would think a craft like that could work.”
“Let’s hope he’s got something better up his sleeve.” Lana saw the children gathering around Flint at the playground fence. She felt guilty knowing she’d pushed Flint into volunteering to help with this party. And she should have recognized a recipe for disaster when she saw that Jacqueline Marsh was running the show.
“Wonder where he got all those ropes?” Aleesha asked.
Sure enough, Flint was tying loops into ropes, talking the whole time, letting Logan wear his cowboy hat and stack the ropes neatly beside his dad. As she and Aleesha paused to watch, Flint did a breathtakingly graceful throw and roped the fence post.
“I want to try it!”
“Me, me!”
Flint held up a hand and shook his head, and the children fell silent.
“Good. Now, watch my wrist. It’s all in the wrist.” He demonstrated again. “Got that? Okay. Now it’s your turn.”
All of the children clamored to go first, but Flint, having apparently learned his lesson inside, organized them into groups and lined each one up by a fence post, safely far apart so that no one would get hurt. He put Logan, already a good roper, in charge of demonstrating to one group, and after a moment’s conferring with Jacqueline, chose two more girls and a boy to lead the other groups—all ranch kids.
Addy moaned and wiggled, indicating that she wanted to be a part of things, so Lana pushed her wheelchair closer while Aleesha went back inside to put the classroom to rights. Lana didn’t expect Flint to know anything about making an accommodation for Addy’s disability, so she was surprised when he came over and squatted by Addy’s wheelchair. “I saved a special rope just for you,” he said, holding up a thin, lightweight rope with a loop at the end. “I need someone to rope that sage bush. Do you think you and Miss Alvarez could do that?”
Addy’s arms moved up and down joyously, and Lana squatted to help the girl lasso the little bush, shooting Flint a smile. Of course. He worked with special kids all the time, at the ranch. It made sense that he would consider Addy’s needs.
Flint moved over to offer advice and supervision to the rest of the children, and soon Lana saw him pulling aside a couple of smaller kids who were having trouble with the task. He spoke seriously with them, nodding over toward Lana and Addy.
The two children ran toward them. “Mr. Rawlings picked us out to come help Addy,” they explained.
Perfect. Part of what Addy needed was companionship. Lana gave Flint a thumbs-up and got back a crooked smile in return.
It warmed her to the core, and made it difficult to focus on the three children in front of her.
Flint and Jacqueline supervised the kids lassoing, and the other children ran out their energy on the playground. By the time the buses started to arrive, the kids were able to settle and march back inside—to a neat classroom, thanks to Aleesha—to gather their things. Addy’s aide returned to help the happy-looking girl prepare for her ride home.
As the children packed backpacks and jackets, chattering excitedly about Christmas and the vacation to come, Flint, Lana and Aleesha leaned against the chalkboard, watching. Jacqueline bustle among the children, helping and hugging them.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Aleesha said to Lana. “I’m worn-out from one hour with this many first-graders.”
“Me, too.” Flint wiped his face and hands with a bandanna. “I’m sorry I was such a dud as a room parent.”
Lana patted his arm. “It was your first time. And besides, you ended up doing just fine.”
“You rocked it!” Aleesha added. “My son, for one, will never forget this party.”
“I kept thinking,” he said, “that I could never do this on a daily basis. My heart would give out.”
Lana laughed and then clapped her hands to get the kids’ attention. “Boys and girls,” she said, “what do we say to our party parents?”
“Thank you,” they chorused. As they filed out, many stopped to hug Lana and the parents, including Flint. “That was awesome!” and “Best party ever!” she heard from some of the kids.
“I’m teaching my little brother how to make these at home!” proclaimed little Brianna Dixon, holding up her half-completed, very sticky necklace.
“You do that,” Flint said. Then as she left, Flint whispered to Lana, “Wasn’t she one of the criers?”
“You never know with kids. They change moods faster than a desert chameleon changes colors.”
“Dad, can I ride home on the bus?” Logan asked. “Mr. Smith said he’d give us candy if we behave.”
“You bet,” Flint said, ruffling Logan’s hair. “You were a good helper today.”
“So were you, Dad!” Logan said as he hurried after the line of children heading for the bus.
That made the women chuckle, but Flint blew out a breath, looking relieved.
“I’m going to take off, too,” Aleesha said, taking her son’s hand. “I’ve gotta collect the rest of my kids. That was fun! Merry Christmas, everyone!”
“Tiffany, come on,” Jacqueline said, gesturing to her daughter. “We have shopping to do!”
“Thanks so much for helping,” Lana said to the departing families.
“No problem,” Jacqueline said. “Bless your heart, you can call on me anytime you can’t handle something yourself. At least I know how to run a party.”
“Thanks.” Lana held back a laugh as she watched the woman strut away.
She turned back into the empty classroom. Empty, except for Flint.
“Hey,” he said immediately, “I’ll get out of your hair, but I just wanted to apologize again. I underestimated what it would take to entertain a room full of kids. Lesson learned.” He grabbed a couple of extra water bottles, held one out to her and took a long draw on the other one.
“The important thing is that Logan saw you were trying and you cared.” Her worlds were melding. This was her classroom, where she was in charge; and yet here was Flint in the middle of it, doing his best, showing that he was a good dad. A good person. Her heart was getting way too warm toward him.
“I respect what you do. Even more now that I’ve tried it.”
“Thanks.”
They looked at each other for just a little too long. Flint was a quiet man, but he wasn’t shy, and he didn’t break eye contact. In fact, he stepped closer. “Lana, I...”
“What?”
He shook his head. “You sure are pretty,” he said. “But even more than that, you have talent and heart. Don’t let anyone put you down.”
“I’ll...try not to.” She felt breathless.
And then there was more of that eye contact. When she licked her dry lips, his gaze flickered down and then back up. Lana’s heart was pounding, her breath short. She was thinking of how close he’d come to kissing her.
But on the heels of that, she’d overheard him saying he wanted only to be single.
And then she’d spent the evening with him and Logan, and it had brought out all her longing.
Man, was she ever confused.
“Hey,” Rhetta said, sticking her head in the door, “did everyone survive?”
“Barely.” Flint grabbed his hat and headed for the door. “I was just telling Lana, I have the utmost respect for what you teachers do every day. Makes roping wild bulls look easy.”
“Merry Christmas, cowboy,” she said, watching him go.
And then she came over and perched on the desk beside Lana. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt a moment?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well? Did you flirt with him? Set up a date?”
“No date.” Lana shook her head. “I’ll admit, I wouldn’t mind. But I have terrible judgment about men. I can’t trust my feelings.”
“You made one mistake,” Rhetta said. “Are you going to let that rule your life? Love is wonderful and so, so worth it.” She sighed. “When I think of what my life would be without Deron and the boys...”
“I’m not cut out for it,” Lana broke in. “Sure, I wish I had what you have, but I’m not good at relationships.”
“You’re just being stubborn,” Rhetta said. “I see how you look at him. And not only that, but I see how he looks at you. Are you going to stay single out of stubbornness, when God has dropped a wonderful man into your life?”
The words echoed in Lana’s mind as she gathered her things and drove to the ranch. The boys had done so well at yesterday’s rehearsal that she’d given them a night off from practicing today, allowing them to revel in their freedom from school for the next two weeks.
Flint had told her to take the night off, too, that he was off all day and was going to spend extra time with Logan.
She had a rare evening to herself. Rare, nowadays; she used to have evenings to herself as a matter of course and would have to hunt for things to do, take on extra projects.
Between the ranch and working for Flint Rawlings, her life had become pleasantly full. She wished it could continue that way.
But right now, she was exhausted, both from the crazy day at school and from the tension of being around Flint all the time, caring more than she should. She stopped for a fast-food salad on the way home, not wanting to do any cooking.
She’d soak in the tub and read the book she’d grabbed at the ranch library, one of the latest John Green novels for young adults. She liked to keep up on books for teens, since the boys tended to come to her for recommendations.
As she turned into the ranch, she saw Flint and Logan putting up a Nativity scene in front of the main house. The figures were from a store, but the stable was one Flint had been making in the barn. She’d thought it was for the pageant, but now she realized that he’d made an extra one for the ranch.
Logan looked up admiringly at his father, and Flint was talking seriously to him. The sight of the two of them working together tugged at Lana’s heart.
Flint and Logan’s relationship was healing. They were closer than ever. She drove by slowly, not wanting to let them out of her sight.
If she’d helped a little bit with that healing, helped Flint see how to spend the time that Logan needed, then she’d done something good. Helped out in a way they needed.
They would go on fine without her. Oh, Logan still clung on her some, and he’d still need female influences, a caregiver after school, for a good few years. But thinking of how Jacqueline Marsh had flirted with Flint, Lana knew that the handsome cowboy wouldn’t have any trouble finding a mom for Logan if that was what he wanted. He was a good man. And now he was making an extra effort to be involved with his son. At the playground or the park, he’d be snatched up right away.
She needed to get comfortable with that fact and move on.