Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(72)

“Oh, stop,” she said, putting down her wine and covering her ears.

He pulled a hand off her ear. “It could happen.”

She stared into his eyes. Hard. “My family is in San Diego!”

“You’ve been away from them for a month, I know,” Jack said. “You’ve probably never been separated that long before.”

But of course she had. “College,” she said. “But it was in L.A. and I went home almost every weekend.” At least, when she could see Denny. When Denny was in Iraq, she went home once a month, if that.

“You must be missing them a lot right about now. After a whole month.”

Oh, and what a month! A beautiful month of reunion with the love of her life. Better than she had dared dream. “I have a nice, furnished, two-bedroom apartment in San Diego,” she said. “Denny has one room over a garage.”

“Easy-peasy,” he said.

“Don’t!” she warned.

“Rick Sutter’s house is on this block. Two bedrooms. Small and cute. Empty. He might get back here in a couple of years. I hope so, anyway—he grew up here. He’s in college in Oregon and has his grandma in a nursing home up there so he can visit her often. But he hasn’t talked about selling the house so I think he’s hoping to come back. He might end up working with Paul.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “The kids would love it. Having you for a teacher. Right now, the people who can afford it are carpooling their kids all the way into the valley for private preschool. We ought to have one of those, too. Even if there aren’t more than a dozen preschoolers. Mel says the kids who miss that have a disadvantage.”

“I think you’re the sneakiest man I’ve ever known in my life,” she said.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told a time or two. But you have your plans. It was just a thought. I know better,” he said. “Too bad you have to miss the pageant, though, after all the time you put in helping.”

Ha! The pageant was just one thing! There were other, far more exciting things to her. Spending her days with children who were just learning to learn. Helping them construct art projects that showed their imaginations. Having learning games that were fun and funny. And field trips—she loved field trips! The parents of her kids were always running for their lives and hiding under beds to avoid being chaperones, and Becca loved field trips.

“You couldn’t do it,” she said to Jack. “You have to have it certified—the whole school. That’s the only way you get funding. You’d need a school board. You’d have to form a PTA.”

“Hey, if we can pull a bunch of church deacons out of this run-down, sinful town, we can manage a school board and PTA.” He grinned.

A bunch of guys came into the bar, all rosy-cheeked and laughing. Jack excused himself and set them up a few drinks, absorbed the latest news and left Becca alone to think. She had a good ten minutes before he was back. He wiped off the bar in front of her.

He studied her for a moment. Then he said, “If I screwed up your last night in town by tossing out crazy ideas, I’ll have to apologize.”

She turned those crystal-blue eyes up at him. “I kind of miss my mom,” she said. “She wasn’t exactly supportive of me coming up here.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t as last minute as I said. I was sort of plotting it….”

He turned a fake shocked expression on her. “No way.”

She smirked. “I really had no idea what I was walking into. It was quite a gamble. After all, Denny could have been committed.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not as though that’s the kind of thing he’d be likely to tell Rich.”

“It worked out for you, Becca. And I’m glad.”

“Thanks. He’s a really special guy.”

“You’re a special young woman.” He leaned on the bar. “Tell me something. Aside from Denny, who is now your slave till the end of time, what do you really want? What’s your big dream?”

She shrugged again. “It’s totally crazy,” she said, staring into her wineglass.

“Come on,” he urged. “Lay it on me.”

She looked up. She took a steadying breath. “When I was a little girl, I had a couple of teachers who were so awesome, I sometimes liked to pretend they were my big sister or aunt or even my mother. We had one of them to dinner once—Miss Tindle. She was young and sweet and made me love school. Then there was Mrs. Dallas—she helped me love school again after an awful teacher just traumatized me. I had a teacher in junior high, Mr. Hutchins… I loved that man. I had such a hard time in his math class and he still managed to make me feel smart. He was so funny, so patient, so there for every one of his kids.” She blinked. “That’s what I want. I want to be that teacher to some kids. I want some twenty-five-year-olds or forty-year-olds to say, ‘I’ll never forget Miss Timm—without her, I’d probably be nowhere.’”

He covered her hand with his big paw. “I have a feeling about you, Becca. I have a feeling you already are that teacher.”

She smiled. Then she said, “Are you serious about that prefab modular school?”

He gave a nod. “As a heart attack.”

“I think you might’ve just totally screwed up my plans for Christmas….”