The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(34)

He stared at her. “Six-one and six-two, depending which leg I’m standing on,” he said, raising a tawny brow.

And she melted into laughter.

They sat in the parking lot and laughed like fools. The ice cream was long gone or long melted when Iris took him back to his truck parked in front of the clinic.

* * *

On Saturday Grace was busy with weddings so Iris didn’t even have time to report in that the Friday night confrontation had been beyond interesting. Then Seth called on Sunday morning. He had a most charming lisp that left her struggling not to laugh. “Can we try dinner pleath? Maybe out of town where no one knowth uth? Like Cooth Bay?”

She held her hand over her mouth for a moment. “How is your lip?” she managed to croak out.

“Ith fat. What about dinner?”

“Sure. In a couple of weeks. I’m not going to make this real easy for you, Seth. I’m pretty wary.”

“I gueth I don’t blame you.”

She crumbled into hysterical laughter. In fact, every time she thought about him all weekend she smiled. Sometimes she just laughed out loud. From the grumpy way he insisted on eating even though he was bleeding on his bread, to his fear of needles to finally saying a nice good-night after ice cream—it all reminded her how much she had missed his company. But she was determined to guard her heart. He’d ripped it out once, she wasn’t going to help him do it again.

But she was still smiling on Monday morning even though it was chilly and wet with a steady drizzle under gray clouds. She wouldn’t be riding her bike to school many more days this year. It was definitely a driving day.

She stood in the hallway outside her office doorway, smiling and saying good morning to the kids. This was where she felt at home; this was where she knew she belonged.

Rachel Delaney walked by and said good morning. She had a fat lip, too. Not unlike Seth’s, except she was fortunate enough not to have stitches.

Iris snagged Rachel’s sweater. “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked.

Rachel smiled a lopsided smile, her hand going self-consciously to her mouth. “It’s all good, Miss McKinley.”

“Got a boo-boo?” Iris asked, looking at her lip.

Rachel chuckled. “Blame Cammie. We were working on a few cheers and moves over the weekend and I took a knee to the face. Pretty gross, huh? I guess it could’a been worse. She could’a broken my nose!”

“I hope that particular move is out of the routine now,” Iris said.

“I think we can get it,” Rachel said. “But I think I’ll be the jumper and not the catcher next time.” She tried her smile again.

Brett Davis sauntered toward Rachel, his eyes all sleepy and sexy. He came up behind her and slipped his arm through hers. “Morning, Miss McKinley.”

“How’s it going, Brett?” she asked. Unless she’d missed some breaking news, Brett was the big man on campus. He was a popular football player in a town where football was king. He was a year older than Rachel. They looked so perfect together, a regular Barbie and Ken, but they were sexy. Iris knew all about this yet would never get used to it, these children filled with heat and pheromones.

“Good, good. We killed Franklin High in Bandon Friday night,” Brett said.

“I heard. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, it was awesome.”

Then he led his girlfriend away down the hall, affectionately nuzzling her temple, slipping his arm around her waist. He was very like Seth had been—polite, good-looking, attentive. As far as Iris could see from her close watch on the academics of the team, he was also a good student. She wondered if Rachel helped him with his homework the way Iris had helped Seth.

Rachel seemed very good-natured and kind, and Iris had been watching. Her mother, Sassy, had been conceited and superior, dismissive of girls she deemed lesser and only interested in having a large collection of boys. Rachel hadn’t seemed to inherit that—points to Sassy for raising her well.

Iris stood in the hall until the bell rang. Then she tackled her desk. Each year in the fall, seniors were looking at colleges, at scholarships—sports and academic and those based on financial assistance—while Iris was scheduling testing. The sophomores and juniors were taking their first stab at SATs while seniors who hadn’t done well were trying one last time. She had prep classes scheduled. She was meeting with students in large groups to take aptitude quizzes to help them decide on a study path. There were college applications and selection for seniors. Besides graduation, this was the busiest time of year.

At midmorning, Troy stood in her doorway. “Got a minute?”

She looked up. “Of course.”

“She has a fat lip,” he said.

Iris smiled at Troy. There were few teachers who cared as much about every student as he did. He tried to convince his friends in town that he got a teaching degree because it was easy and that his real interest was in recreation, as much as he could fit in, his choices being particularly expensive. But Iris considered him an überteacher. He was excellent in absolutely every aspect.

“I spoke to Rachel this morning. She explained it as a cheer practice accident. She was trying out a new routine with her friend Cammie. Some kind of lift or throw or something and Cammie’s knee hit her mouth. Sounds reasonable.”

“Uh-huh. She seems to have one of those accidents every other week or so.”