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Deep and poignant, her soft “Tex-Mex” voice complemented her looks, but that could be another strike against her. Kirkwood Lake was a great town, but with the summer recreational season over, people would have too much time on their hands. That could make things tough for the woman to his left. As if taking the fall for a dishonest friend and doing prison time wasn’t rough enough.
But right now he had his own personal dragon to face. He stepped into the office, gave a brisk nod to Miss Patterson, Aiden’s teacher, and took a seat. “About my son...”
* * *
Rainey drew a deep, calming breath.
The deputy had surprised her in the parking lot. She’d turned, seen his cruiser and frozen.
His look said he’d wondered why, but when the principal called her by name, she’d read awareness in the officer’s eyes.
He knew who she was. What she’d done. And what she’d failed to do by leaving her daughters in others’ care for three long years.
You have been cleansed, my daughter, clothed in the light. Grace has come upon you as the dewfall....
She loved that image. Silent, encompassing, peaceful.
Then why did her gut clench? Her thoughts ran rampant, wondering what the girls’ teachers would say.
Rainey stared at the door, wishing her mother or sister could have come along. But they were shorthanded at their Western New York dairy today, and someone had to watch Sonya and Dorrie.
You won’t have to worry about being shorthanded if your customer base keeps shrinking.
With Rainey’s return, customers at the dairy had diminished, sales were down and profits eroding, all because Rainey had taken the helm a few weeks back.
Her mother brushed it off. Lucia McKinney embraced an “and this too shall pass” mentality. She believed things would work out in God’s time, one way or another.
So did Piper.
Not Rainey. She hadn’t come home to mess things up more thoroughly; she’d come back to make things right. Set the record straight. And reclaim her position as the twins’ mother, a role she’d abdicated to keep them safe when a rogue cop threatened Rainey’s freedom...and her baby daughters.
Old guilt pricked her new and growing faith. Her girls were having trouble in school.
Were they following her example? Were they incorrigible? Or were they just normal kids fighting change, as Piper and her mother insisted?
The murmur of voices in the room said the officer—Luke Campbell, she remembered—was being bombarded. Maybe they’d get it out of their systems with the big, strong deputy and go easy on her.
The door to the office opened.
Luke came out, looking none too happy.
Mr. O’Mara’s expression wasn’t any better.
The teacher looked aggrieved. None of this boded well for Rainey’s time in the hot seat.
Luke waved her in. “Your turn in the line of fire, I believe.”
“Luke, we—”
“Mr. O’Mara, I understand where you’re coming from.” Luke turned to face the principal, and from the clipped sound of his voice, he wasn’t pleased with what had been said. “But I’m not letting anyone label Aiden at this point in his life. Yes, he has emotional issues. We’re trying to fix that. But I’m not allowing him to be placed in a special education classroom because his teacher expects a kindergartner to instantly conform to a new situation.”
“But—”
“We’ll talk at conference time in November,” Luke insisted, and Rainey had to admit the guy had a point. Maybe some five-year-olds could adjust quickly to a new setting and new people. But was it that big a deal if a kindergartner took a few weeks to settle in?
She wouldn’t have thought so, but then she wasn’t an example of stellar behavior. And her lack of experience put her maternal instincts into question.
The teacher’s noncommittal face said she disagreed. Mr. O’Mara appeared caught in the middle, but he stepped back, defusing the situation. “We’ll keep you apprised of Aiden’s progress. Miss Patterson and I both thought you should be brought on board from the beginning. You know we don’t make these recommendations lightly.”
Luke faced the principal directly. “We didn’t used to, Frank. But kids get pigeonholed more easily today than in the past, and I’d like a little more time for Aiden to adjust. He’s not causing a problem, right?”
“No.”
“It’s hard to cause a problem when you do nothing,” Miss Patterson replied. Her tone of voice was condescending and sanctimonious, as if she’d just been appointed the resident expert on five-year-olds.
That made Rainey suck in a deep breath.
Educated people intimidated her.
Yes, she’d gotten her associate’s degree in veterinary technology while serving time. And she’d worked as a vet tech for three years outside Chicago. But a two-year degree didn’t put her on equal footing with a licensed teacher who’d obtained her master’s degree in early education.
Luke must have caught her apprehension from the corner of his eye, because he leveled a look at her, one that intimated they were in this together, and said, “I’ll see you outside, Rainey.”
The teacher’s gaze sharpened.
Mr. O’Mara showed no reaction. He just waved to Luke and turned toward Rainey.
A second teacher stepped into the room—Mrs. Loughlin, Dorrie’s teacher. Rainey knew her. She used to be a steady customer at the dairy store, and her kids had gone to school with Rainey and Piper. Would Rainey’s past color the older woman’s opinion? Should she consider sending the twins to the small Christian school over in Bemus Point, where her youthful indiscretions weren’t so well-known?
She’d think about that later. Right now she needed to face these professionals and prove she was capable of mothering her girls in proper fashion.
She sat. Miss Patterson took a chair to her left, Mrs. Loughlin to her right. Frank completed the circle by drawing his chair forward. “Thank you for coming in, Rainey.”
“I’m sorry I was late. I know how important it is for the girls to have a successful school experience from the beginning.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Miss Patterson’s thin smile said she agreed. Her posture said she doubted Rainey’s ability to ensure any such thing. “Sonya’s a delight. A true treasure. So sweet, so endearing.” Her insincere smile came with an incoming-missile warning attached.
Miss Patterson’s brains might intimidate Rainey. Her veiled contempt didn’t. “But?”
Mr. O’Mara frowned.
Mrs. Loughlin sat quietly, hands folded.
Miss Patterson leaned in, cool as a fish on ice at the Saturday marketplace. “She doesn’t want to do anything without her sister.”
“Identical twins are often very close.”
“It makes things difficult,” the teacher continued. “She stares at the door, willing it to open. She’s distracted every time people go by in the hall. And she doesn’t mix well with the other children.”
“Is she disruptive?”
“No.”
“Annoying others?”
“No. Just...off in her own little world.”
“So she’s having adjustment problems in a new setting, and with a whole new set of expectations from strangers. That sounds fairly normal for a five-year-old.” Rainey might not be licensed to teach, but Sonya’s difficulties didn’t seem out of the ordinary for her first month in school.
“Rainey, I think that sums it up quite well,” Mr. O’Mara said. His tone said he didn’t find the child’s prognosis worrisome. “And I think Sonya will do fine once she gets over her shyness and her fear. But I needed you to hear Miss Patterson’s concerns firsthand.”
“Which I appreciate, Mr. O’Mara. And now, what about Dorrie?” She turned to Mrs. Loughlin, and her hopes plummeted as she read the negative look on the older woman’s face.
Mrs. Loughlin wasn’t a bad person. Her son had wanted to date Rainey in high school and his mother had been against it. Rainey didn’t blame her. Staying away from Rainey’s crowd had been in his best interests.
Now she wished people could see the new and improved woman she’d become. She’d returned to Kirkwood Lake determined to set the record straight. What did she have to show for her first two months? She’d messed up her daughters and eroded the dairy’s customer base, and with the all-important end-of-year sales approaching, she needed to find some way to fix things.
Fast.
“They may look alike, but Dorrie is quite different from her sister in many ways. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, Mrs. Loughlin.”
The teacher listed Dorrie’s negative attributes first, which raised the principal’s brow. “She’s tough, bossy, opinionated, and would take over the class in a heartbeat if I let her.”
That sure sounded like Dorrie. Rainey met Mr. O’Mara’s gaze. “And how is this being handled in school?”
Mrs. Loughlin cut in before he had a chance to respond. “I’ve tried cautions, both verbal and physical. You know, a hand on her shoulder, a warning to slow down and wait her turn. I’ve employed studious ignoring, quiet reminders, and I’m thinking of setting up a sticker program to see if that helps the situation.”
“A sticker program?” Rainey repeated. “A reward program, you mean. Stickers for good behavior.”
“A move like that can be beneficial to all concerned.”
Rainey breathed deeply, considering.
They’d called her on the carpet because one girl was quiet and sad about being separated from her twin, while the other was being a rambunctious, noisy twit.
And they’d drawn Rainey in to let her know they wanted to do a sticker reward program to help encourage good behavior? Or to make the point that her kids were apples that hadn’t fallen far from the tree?
Yes, the girls needed to behave. They needed to learn. But they were only three weeks into the year.
Luke’s words came back to her. He’d said he’d readdress the issues at conference time in November if they still existed. Well, that sounded good to her. “I will be happy to do whatever it takes to reinforce their good behavior in school and at home. Their education is very important to us. And then we can meet again at their scheduled conference in November to reevaluate.”
“Us?” Miss Patterson asked doubtfully. She exchanged a not-so-furtive look with Mrs. Loughlin, and in that moment, Rainey knew she’d never convince these women of her change of heart.
She cleared her throat, mustered a smile and stood. “My family. The McKinneys. We’ll work together to help the girls.”
“Wonderful.” Mr. O’Mara stood and extended his hand. “I knew we could count on you, Rainey.”
His words blessed her. His countenance, too. And the flat look he leveled in the teachers’ direction meant he wasn’t thrilled with how the meeting had gone, but it wasn’t Rainey’s behavior that disturbed him.
It was theirs.
Rainey thanked them, pushed through the heavy, plate-glass door of his office and wound her way back to the front. Bottled energy surged forth now that the meeting was over.
Her heart raced. She had an urge to punch someone, but common sense drew her up short. She knew she’d changed. Others didn’t, so she shouldn’t blame them for living in the ashes of a past best forgotten.
And her heart tipped straight into warp factor when she stepped outside on this beautiful fall day and saw Luke Campbell waiting for her, just as he’d said.
Only she hadn’t believed him. Or even thought of it again until just now, but there he was, heading her way. He raised a hand to his forehead, shading bright blue eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon sun. Short, blond hair edged his deputy’s cap. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, he looked like a modern-day Celtic warrior.
“You survived.” He ambled forward, not appearing too happy. But something in his face—an expression that said he understood what she’d just endured and wanted to help—softened the rapid beat of her heart. The spike in her pulse. The knot of dread that formed in her gut every time someone peered at her and saw the old Rainey...
“Alive, but not unscathed.”
The glint in his eyes said he reciprocated the feeling.
“You waited for me.”
“I said I would.” He flicked a glance at the school, reminding her of his promise inside. “And I’m a man of my word.”
“Why did you wait?”
He fell into step alongside her. “I could tell Miss Patterson was spoiling for a fight. She’ll go easy on me because her younger sister is married to my uncle. I was afraid she might take it out on you.”
“Pretty unprofessional.”
Luke took three long steps before answering. “She lost her parents this past year. I know she’s been struggling. My aunt thought she should take a leave of absence, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Keeping busy might be good for her, but I’m not sure it’s in the best interests of her students.”
What a conundrum. Still, the deputy was right. The kids should always come first. But who was Rainey to judge? She had a host of grave mistakes on her record already. She turned his way as they reached their cars. “We’ll give her time.”
The deputy didn’t look convinced. “I don’t offer a lot of leeway when I’m talking about my kid.”
Add protective and loving to crazy good-looking and a pulse-stopping smile.
Add nothing. He’s a cop. You’re an ex-con. Even with your record expunged, you did time. And then you left your girls.
She had. She knew that. But she’d returned, determined to make things right. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if her return was selfless or self-motivated but that was her personal dragon to slay. “Ex-cons don’t get much leeway, either.”
To his credit, he didn’t pretend otherwise. “True.”
“Life might not offer do-overs, but everyone deserves a second chance.” She aimed her gaze up to his. “Don’t they?”
His face said maybe. Maybe not. From a cop’s perspective, his reluctance to agree made sense. From hers?
His reticence was another chunk in a well-built wall. A wall she needed to scale or break down, one brick at a time. She looked beyond him to the terraced village leading down to the water’s edge. Yellowing foliage blocked the shoreline view. Once the leaves turned completely, they’d fall. The holiday season would be at hand, her first Thanksgiving and Christmas with her girls in years. That was enough, wasn’t it?
Unless you shouldn’t have come back at all. The insidious whisper crawled up from somewhere deep within. The girls are struggling and your effect on the family business may prove disastrous. Who exactly are you helping by your presence in Kirkwood?
Her hands went cool and clammy. A shiver that had nothing to do with the fall weather crept up her spine. “My decision to come home—to fix things—might be more a detriment than a help,” she admitted. “And that’s the reality I wake up to each morning these days.” She turned and moved toward her mother’s car, knowing her past limited her future, but those do-overs she talked about? The ones that weren’t possible?
