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“It wasn’t their decision,” he said simply.
She couldn’t help envying him his long, dark eyelashes. She knew she had pretty eyes—guys told her that all the time—but she felt his were prettier. “No. It was yours. So...can you tell me why?”
“Why I chose you?”
“I know it isn’t what they all seem to think. You made that clear earlier.”
He took a sip of his own punch. “As far as I’m concerned, your competition has no...vision.”
“Am I supposed to understand what that means?”
His massive shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I wasn’t impressed with his work.”
“You were impressed with mine?”
“You’re talented,” he said evenly. “Perhaps more than you know.”
“I’m teaching art, not selling it. I’m guessing he was at least proficient.”
Elijah finally shifted that unnerving gaze away from her. “You have to understand certain concepts to be able to teach them.”
“What concepts are you specifically referring to?” she asked, but someone else approached him at that moment, interrupting, and he turned away without answering.
Since Eli fell deep into conversation with a woman who looked sixty or so and was concerned about a particular student Cora had no way of knowing, she felt awkward standing there waiting for the chance to speak to him again. So she gave them some privacy by carrying her punch over to the corner. She was looking for an unobtrusive vantage point from which to observe her birth mother. Aiyana was mingling with the staff. But then Cora saw the science teacher who’d sat next to her approach Aiyana and knew, when they both glanced in her direction, that they were talking about her. Sean Travers was expressing his reservations.
Disgruntled that this man she’d barely met would jump to conclusions based on her age and gender, and start to advocate against her, Cora finished her punch, dropped the paper cup in the wastebasket and left the library. Her phone kept vibrating in her pocket anyway, making her feel as if someone really needed to reach her.
When she got outside and felt she could check, caller ID indicated it was her father.
Gazing up at more stars than she’d ever seen in the sky before, she wandered around the campus as she spoke to him. Most of the students were away, at home if they had a home to go to, for a quick holiday before classes started in earnest, so the campus was quiet, especially this far from the outdoor basketball courts and the dorms.
“So are you going to like it there?” her father asked.
She tried to let the energy in his voice help lift the depression that had set in. “It’s definitely going to be a change.”
“A positive one, though, right?”
“Sure,” she said, kicking a small pebble across the sidewalk.
“Whoa. Is something wrong?”
“It’s just different, that’s all. I’m not used to smelling manure at night. Or seeing stars that shine so bright.”
“The manure can’t be pleasant, but the stars sound nice.”
“They are nice. And the manure isn’t all that bad, not if I stay away from the livestock pens. I guess it’s more that... I’m beginning to wonder what made me think I could handle teenage boys who have significant behavioral issues.” She’d mostly been thinking of her own emotional issues, not the responsibility she would feel to be a guiding light to teenage boys who’d lost their way. Was she bound to disappoint Aiyana and Elijah and let her students down?
She couldn’t abide the thought of failure.
“Don’t make it too complicated, babe,” her father said.
“In what way?”
“Everyone responds to love.”
“I have to do more than love them, Dad. I have to teach them. And what if they won’t let me?”
“If you love them, they’ll trust you. Love and trust come first. Then you’ll be able to teach. I promise you.”
She thought of Gary Seton. Maybe he had no “vision,” whatever Elijah meant by that. But she was willing to bet he’d be firmer when it came to meting out discipline. She didn’t want to punish anyone. “I’m not sure why these people hired me,” she grumbled.
“They must’ve seen what your mother and I see in you.”
“And that is...”
“You can do anything.”
Tears filled her eyes. She was tired, which made her emotional. But she was also experiencing a little culture shock, and she missed her family already. “Maybe I was a bit hasty making the decision to come here, Dad.”
“It’s only for a year, honey. Do your best. That’s all anyone can ask. And come see us when you can.”
She wiped her cheeks as she told him she loved him. But she felt even worse after she disconnected. She had good parents. The conversation she’d just had with her father proved it yet again. So why was she betraying them?
* * *
The moment she got back to her cottage, Cora went straight to bed. She had a lot of unpacking yet to do, but she figured that could wait. She needed sleep, knew it would help her cope with all the recent changes—as well as the uncertainty.
Fortunately, she felt a lot better when she woke up. She spent the morning unpacking the rest of her belongings and stacking the cardboard from the boxes in her SUV so she could take it to a recycling center. Then she decided to go into town to look around, have lunch and buy a few groceries. Someone—she guessed Aiyana since Aiyana had also been responsible for the flowers—had put a few essentials, like eggs, bread and milk, in her fridge, but the cupboards needed to be stocked.
Cora was halfway to town when she saw a man on horseback galloping down a dirt road off to her right. She would’ve thought nothing of it—she could only see the rider from the back as he wove in and out of the trees between them—but she recognized the man. It was Elijah Turner!
She pulled over and angled her head to see through the passenger window, trying to get a better look. He was something else. A puzzle. What drove him? What did he want out of life? Had he put the past behind him? How did he feel about the boys who came to the ranch? Did he see himself in each one? Where were the people who’d abused him? Did he have any contact with them? Was his work enough to fulfill him? Or was he seeing someone?
Maybe he was dating around...
Cora was also curious to learn how he’d gotten that scar on his face—but equally afraid to find out. What she’d read about him scared her. She didn’t want to imagine him going through any more pain and suffering than what she’d been forced to imagine when she’d read that article about him. She wondered if other people had the same reaction—if they shied away from him for fear they might have to walk into that darkness.
Movement behind him caught her eye, and she realized that he wasn’t alone. He had three boys with him. It looked as though he was taking some New Horizons students out for a ride...
She glanced into her backseat. She had her camera, had brought it to take some pictures of Silver Springs she could send to Jill and her family. She still planned to do that, but her fingers itched to take a few shots of him and those boys first. She’d never seen a man sit so comfortably in the saddle as Elijah. And she loved the way he kept looking back at the boys, like a mother hen checking her chicks.
This wasn’t about admiring Aiyana’s adopted son so much as it was about the symbolism she saw here, she told herself as she cut the engine. He represented a man who’d not only survived tremendous difficulty but risen above it. Someone who’d conquered his demons. And now he was helping others battle theirs. There was a great deal of artistic beauty in that, and she had to capture it.
She couldn’t get a clear shot from the roadside, however. There were too many trees in between.
After hiking down the embankment, she wove through the forest to get close enough. Luckily for her, or she never would’ve caught up with them, Elijah and the boys had stopped and were laughing and talking while drinking from a canteen Eli passed around.
She fastened her heavy telephoto lens to the expensive camera her parents had given her for Christmas last year and clicked away, using a fast shutter speed so that the pictures wouldn’t turn out blurry. In one picture, she captured Elijah laughing. She’d never seen him smile, not so easily. He was in his element out here, and he cared about the boys he was with. Those two things were readily apparent; she could see it in both his body language and his expression.
Cora was disappointed when he put the lid on the canteen, slung it over his body, where he’d been carrying it before, and charged up the next hill, making it impossible for her to get any more pictures of him.
As the boys whooped and hollered in their efforts to keep up with him, she hiked back to her car. They were having a blast. She could easily imagine any problem they had disappearing while they were out enjoying the beautiful scenery and the equally beautiful weather.
Witnessing the impact Elijah was having on the students at the ranch—by taking enough interest to guide them on a ride even during their “off” period—inspired her. He was embracing the spirit of his job. Like Aiyana, he was doing it for the right reasons. And so could she. She had a lot of love to give. Who needed it more than abused, neglected and angry teens?
How are you doing today?
Her father’s text came in just before Cora started her car. Better, she wrote.
Because...
Because coming here was no longer only about her. I feel like I could make a real difference with this job.
That’s the spirit!
Cora responded by sending a smiley face, put her phone down and headed into town, where she took quite a few pictures. It was a great way to investigate her new surroundings. Those were the ones she posted on Instagram and sent to family and friends who were eager to see where she’d moved. But it was the photographs of Elijah and the three boys that she downloaded onto her computer when she returned that night. She spent over an hour experimenting with different filters and other bells and whistles on Photoshop. In her favorite photograph, one where Elijah was smiling at the boy to his left, the lighting was perfect as it came through the branches of the trees.
She could win a contest with that shot...
“Hail to the conquering hero,” she muttered before she set her computer aside and turned off the light so that she could get some sleep.
Chapter Five (#u4a109276-5926-5904-9501-3b08d95e8f05)
Over the next few days, Cora put her classroom in order by making sure the large, commercial-sized kiln and sixteen throwing wheels in the pottery room were clean and in good repair. She also took stock of the clay and other supplies. The teacher before her had done a respectable job caring for the equipment and maintaining the necessary inventory, so it wasn’t too overwhelming of a job. She obtained permission to order some glazes she’d been hoping to get, as well as a new set of colored pencils and paintbrushes for each student, so she’d at least have the supplies needed to start the year off right.
By the end of the week, Cora was feeling pretty encouraged about beginning school on Monday. She’d been running into more and more students as the boys returned to the ranch and was looking forward to meeting the rest. Other than texting and calling her old friends and her brother, who promised to come out and see her soon, she’d had virtually no social life since she arrived, so she figured more distraction, work and activity would help fill that gap. The neighbor opposite to Sean Travers, Doug Maggleby, a math teacher at the school, chatted with her whenever he caught her out and about. But she’d started to avoid him, where possible. The more he talked, the more uncomfortable he made her. He liked to rave about politics, and she rarely agreed with his opinion. He’d also mentioned taking her to the movies even though he was clearly too old for her. She wasn’t looking forward to having to say no, but knew that was coming. So instead of visiting with him in the evenings like she had the first few nights, she’d sneak out of her bungalow and walk down to the pond to watch the sunset or stop by the horses’ pen to say good-night. If Mr. Maggleby happened to be in his yard working in his fall garden, however, she’d settle for having a glass of wine in her cottage and reading a book or going over her lesson plans.
She’d seen very little of Elijah since taking those photographs of him horseback riding with the boys. Although she wasn’t pleased by the fact, she’d developed a habit of looking for him whenever she was out. Occasionally, she’d spot him at a distance and couldn’t help admiring what she saw. But he seemed extra busy getting the ranch ready for the fall semester, so she was fairly certain she was the last thing on his mind.
Aiyana had been especially busy, too. Since Betty May had handled the purchase requisition for the art supplies, Cora had had no interaction with her birth mother—not until Friday afternoon. She was in the cafeteria between lunch and dinner, nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie while she finished reading the orientation materials she’d been given, when Aiyana came in, poured herself a cup of coffee and walked over to join Cora.
“Hello.” Instantly self-conscious, Cora closed the manual as her “boss” sat down.
“How are you holding up, dear?” Aiyana asked.
“Good.” She cleared her throat. “Great.”
“I’m relieved to hear it—and glad to find you here. This time of year is so crazy for me. I apologize that I haven’t had the chance to check on you. Did you get the supplies you requested?”
“Not yet. But last I heard they’ve been ordered, so they should arrive soon. Thanks for giving the okay on that.”
She took a drink of her coffee. “I told you how I feel about art. That isn’t where I choose to skimp.”
“I have to admit your attitude is refreshing. I’m not used to art being much of a priority.”
“The practicalities of running a school can often get in the way of even the best intentions,” she said. “Fortunately, right now, we’ve got some wealthy benefactors who are giving us the support we need.” She winked. “Makes a difference when we have a fair number of students with rich—and sometimes famous—parents.”
“Are we talking movie stars?” Cora hadn’t considered that possibility, but she supposed, since they weren’t far from LA, it was logical.
“A few. Others are the children of producers and movie execs, attorneys, doctors, that sort of thing.”
“Are the wealthy kids ones who are typically loved, or...”
Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “Oh, they’re loved, just a little more generously than would probably be best. From what I’ve seen, being given too much can be as difficult as being given too little.”
“Doesn’t that create quite a disparity? I mean...you mentioned taking in orphans who have no one to support them.”
“We have some of the richest and some of the poorest students in the state. But we make it clear from the beginning that everyone is on an equal footing here at the ranch. There is no favoritism, no bending of the rules because of who their parents are.”
“I can’t imagine that goes over very well—not for people who are used to receiving preferential treatment.”
“I’ve lost several students over that policy,” she admitted. “All parents agree to it when they enroll their child—but can change their minds once they want or need special treatment.” She pushed a strand of loose hair out of her face. “Regardless, I won’t bend. To me it’s a matter of integrity. And, if a parent will stand behind me, their son usually settles down and begins to learn the lessons they were hoping we’d teach him.”
Cora swallowed another bite of her cookie. “How does that play out in a social setting—for the kids, I mean?”
Aiyana took another sip of coffee. “Depends. We take a hard line on bullying, too—watch carefully for it. Most get the message early on that the rules are firmer here, but fair to all, and life falls into a sustainable rhythm. I don’t think we’re too terribly different from other high schools—all schools have some behavioral problems.”
“But you’ve taken on the behavioral problems other schools can no longer cope with. Doesn’t that ever make you feel...intimidated?”
“I wouldn’t want to go back and start over—I can tell you that,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “But now that we’re up and running, and I’ve got the momentum that comes from doing this for so long, it’s easier than it was. Still, I couldn’t continue without the community support I’ve received, not to mention the devoted teachers we have here—and Elijah, who has such a knack for communicating with these boys. Even if I can’t get one to behave, he usually can.”
Cora pictured Aiyana’s son on top of that horse. “Elijah’s your secret weapon.”
“Absolutely.”
She studied Aiyana’s face. Her mother was so pretty despite the lines that were beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth and the ribbons of gray in her hair. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but...”
“Ask me anything,” she said.
“I was wondering what nationality you are.”
She seemed surprised by the question—that Cora would have any interest in that—but not put off. “My mother is a Nicaraguan immigrant. My father was a white farmhand in the Central Valley.”
“Are they still alive?”
“They are. But my mother is no longer with my father. He was an abusive man, so I don’t have any contact with him, either. For many years now she’s been with the farmer who employed them both and has been so much happier. What about you? What nationality are you?”
Cora thought it might be too coincidental if she were to say she was part Nicaraguan, but that was good to know—filled in one of the many blanks in her life. Aiyana had said her father was white; from her skin tone, Cora assumed hers was, too. “I’m a mix, I think.”
“And your parents? Where are they?”
“In LA. My father’s a financial planner. My mother’s sort of a...socialite.”
She smiled at that. “Do you have siblings?”
“An older brother who’s larger than life and terribly handsome. Like a lot of people in LA, he’s a movie producer. What about you?”
“I have one older brother and two younger brothers, but I don’t see my younger brothers very often.”
