Chapter 9
THE MORNING BELL at Grace Canyon rings at 8:15. Lexie Stone is at my desk at 8:17, her daughter Amelia, or Mia as they call her, standing by her side.
“Happy first day, Miss Garza,” Lexie trills, passing me an enormous fruit basket. “We got you a little something to welcome you to Grace Canyon.”
“Wow, thank you.” I survey the assortment of fruit contained inside the cellophane wrapping with awe. There are star-shaped kiwi pieces and flowers made out of melon balls and pineapple rings. Ooh there are some chocolate-covered strawberries in there too! Jill is going to flip! My eyes land on a card nestled near the top, the familiar logo for Blick Art Material gleams up at me. “Is that a—”
“Blick gift card,” Lexie tinkles. “It is indeed. The Stone family wants to make sure that you have the means to buy the supplies you need for the classroom.” As she says "classroom" she puts her arm around Mia, making her meaning clear. “Of course, I’ll be chairing a fundraiser later this year to help raise funds for our art program, but this gift card should help you out until then.”
“Wow, thank you.” A mixture of excitement and apprehension is brewing inside me. On the one hand, free money to spend on art supplies! But on the other, what if I disappoint the Stones? Lexie has the dangerous combination of being both demanding and influential. I’ve had such bad luck with careers lately, what if she makes this job into my next failed opportunity?
“We also brought something else,” Lexie continues, nudging Mia. “Mia, show Miss Garza what you brought.”
Mia, who by my estimation is eight or nine, grips a thick brown accordion file, and stares up at me, her brown eyes nervous.
“Mia,” Lexie repeats, “go ahead.”
Mia nods, then passes over the file. “This is my portfolio,” she announces. She says it with authority and a little jut of her chin, but I don’t miss that her eyes still hold uncertainty. I feel a swell of compassion for the girl, a sense of having a kindred spirit with her. I know how tough it is to be an artist in a very subjective world.
“Don’t worry, Mia,” I tell her kindly as I accept the portfolio. “I’m an artist too, so I know how nerve-racking it is to show someone your work.”
“Mia isn’t nervous,” Lexie says with a laugh. “Go ahead, darling.”
Mia nods and passes over the file. I open it with some nerves of my own. What if her artwork is awful? I’ll just have to pretend I like it, I suppose. After all, she’s only a child.
And her mother is scary.
I pull out the first piece, a smile ready on my face for no matter what I pull out, and the tension drops out of my shoulders.
It’s a drawing of a beachfront depicting a family walking along the shoreline. She’s done an excellent job with her use of color and lines, and there’s a nice balance between positive and negative space.
“This is beautiful, Mia,” I tell her, genuinely meaning it. I reach for another piece as Lexie beams happily. Inside the file I find an array of other landscape drawings, including a mountain scene, a forest scene, multiple sketches of the Grand Canyon, and a few different waterfalls. They’re all—
“Very beautiful,” I tell the mother-daughter duo, though my initial enthusiasm has faded slightly. It’s not that her artwork has gotten less impressive, it’s just, well…it all feels a bit flat. There’s no real passion in these pieces. I look at them and can’t help but wonder if Mia even wanted to draw these? She’s a kid. Has she even seen a real wa terfall? Or a mountain? The best one is the beach scene I first pulled out, because of the people she’d drawn in it.
“In this first one,” I hold up the beach picture, “you captured the emotions of the kids so well. I love that.”
Mia looks pleased, but Lexie frowns. “She did that one here at school, without her art tutor’s supervision. It’s a bit rudimentary, but she insisted on including it.”
I’m too busy processing the fact that Mia has an art tutor to consider the wisdom of my honest reply.
“I don’t think it’s rudimentary at all.”
Lexie bristles, and instantly I try to course correct.
“What I mean is, your daughter is very talented. It doesn’t seem to me that anything she draws could ever be considered rudimentary.”
“Oh.” Lexie looks pleased. She slides her arm around Mia’s shoulders. “She is quite talented, but I don’t want you to think that means she shouldn’t be corrected. From time to time she can let her art get a bit wild, if you know what I mean. Overly bright colors, random shapes with no meaning, that sort of thing.” She waves her free hand demonstratively.
I fight to keep my expression neutral. Overly bright colors? Random shapes with no meaning? The phrases feel like needles poking my skin, reminders of the criticisms I myself faced in my brief stint selling my pieces.
“I’m sure we’ll manage,” I say, forcing a tight smile.
“Alright then,” Lexie straightens her already straight top, “I really ought to get Mia to class.”
I nod, then look down at Mia. “It was nice to meet you, Mia. I look forward to having you in class.”
Mia offers me a small smile, then follows her mother out of the classroom.
I glance at the clock over the door. My first class should be here any minute. I take a few steadying breaths, then say a quick prayer.
Time to be an art teacher.
****
P-o-t-t-e-r-y w-h-e-e-l
I type the words in the search box and hit enter. It’s my lunch hour, and while I know I should be heading to the staff lounge and attempting to meet some of my fellow teachers, the lure of the Blick gift card from the Stones drew me to my computer.
Can anybody really blame me? Shopping for art supplies is one of my favorite pastimes. And this is shopping for art supplies on someone else’s dime !
I’d only been planning on having a quick glance around the website, but then I typed in my gift card numbers into the website and found out it has $500 on it! Five hundred!
And that’s how I ended up searching the Blick website for pottery wheels. I know, I know. I’m supposed to be shopping for supplies for the kids. I was just curious! Five hundred dollars would cover a good chunk of a new pottery wheel.
Not that I’m in the market. I don’t throw pottery anymore. Not since The Disaster.
Again, I was just curious. I’m about to close out of the window and head to the staff lounge, when there’s a knock on my door. A second later Luke sticks his head in.
“Delivery for Miss Garza,” he says when he catches sight of me.
“Delivery?” I wave him in eagerly. He steps the rest of the way into the classroom, revealing the contents of his delivery. Flowers! He brought me flowers?
“These are for you.” He presents the colorful bouquet to me, then flushes. “Sorry, that was misleading. These are for you, but they’re from your dad. They got delivered while I was in the front office, so I offered to bring them down to you.” He’s still holding the flowers out to me, so I hurry out of the fantasyland I was visiting where he was the one who brought me flowers to celebrate my first day and back to reality where it was actually my trusty dusty dad, and reach out to accept them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad, but I think it goes without saying that most women would prefer to get flowers from a guy rather than their dad.
But don’t tell my dad I said that.
“I’m surprised he didn’t get you a book or a gift card,” he adds with a wink, and I blush as I remember my anti-commercial romance rant last night.
“I am more of a gift card girl,” I admit, “but even I have to appreciate the gesture behind this one. My mom is a retired teacher, but back when she was still teaching my dad used to have flowers delivered to her on the first day of every school year. So I guess this is him continuing that tradition.”
“That’s a nice tradition.” Luke smiles. “Your mom must’ve been excited when you decided to go into teaching.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. She was.” A spurt of guilt runs through me. I just straight up lied to him. Sure, I’ve been lying the past few days through my actions, but just now I lied with my words. I can no longer tell myself I’m just omitting details he hasn’t asked about. Nope. I’m a liar.
“How’s your first day going?” Luke asks .
“Good so far.” I hold up my shiny black gift card. “Someone actually did get me a gift card as a welcome present.”
“Nice.” Luke peers at it. “What’s Blick? I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’ve never heard of Blick Art Material?” I’m aghast.
Luke laughs. “Remember, I’m a stick figure guy. The last time I bought art supplies…actually,” he reconsiders, “I’ve never bought art supplies, because the last time I needed art supplies I was still in elementary school so my parents bought it, not me.”
“Pastor Abbott!” I chide. “That is very disheartening to hear. Next you’ll tell me you only use number two pencils.”
Luke cocks his head. “There are other types of pencils?”
I gasp, hand to chest. “You’re joking? Tell me you’re joking?”
Luke lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m clearly an uneducated man.”
I shake my head. “And I clearly have to fix that. Here, come sit.” I rise and point to my chair. “I’m going to grab my drawing kit. I keep one in my purse.” I hurry over to the tiny closet where I stashed my belongings when I arrived this morning, and rummage around in my purse for the kit .
When I turn back around I see Luke peering at my computer screen with an amused expression. My pottery wheel search! I practically sprint back to the desk, slamming the laptop lid down with a little laugh. “Don’t let my internet searches bore you. It’s time for your pencil lesson.”
Luke lifts one eyebrow up in amusement. “Are you in the market for a pottery wheel, Hannah?”
“Nooo,” I stretch out the word. “This gift card,” I pick up the Blick card off the desk, “was presented to me with the intent that I’d be using it to purchase art supplies for the Grace Canyon students. Before you came in, I was simply exploring what exactly Blick has to offer for educators.”
“And that led you to your pottery wheel search?”
“Precisely.” I can’t meet his eyes. “Well, maybe not precisely,” I admit. “But in a long, windy, indirect way, yes.”
Luke chuckles. “So you’re a potter?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Not anymore, anyway.” I spread my hands wide around the classroom. “I’m a teacher.”
“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have other passions too. I, for instance, like to run in my free time, and I’m part of a local adult basketball league. ”
That explains all the muscles. I’m momentarily distracted by the image of him making a lay-up. Don’t judge me. Athletic prowess is my kryptonite. That’s the real reason I wanted to be a cheerleader in high school. Front row seats to the show.
I focus back on Luke. “Throwing pottery is no longer a passion of mine,” I state firmly.
Luke studies me for a second, and I almost shiver under his gaze. “That’s too bad,” he finally says.
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Well, if you were still into pottery I thought I’d show you something, but since you’re not…” he trails off with a shrug.
I stare at him, aware that he’s baiting me into admitting I still like making pottery, but unable to stop myself from grabbing onto the worm he’s dangling in my face. The worm that’s going to get me killed and eaten for dinner.
“What were you going to show me?” I blurt.
“Oh no, I’m sure you won’t be interested in it.” Luke slides his hands into his pockets all casual like.
“I think I would be interested in it,” I retort. “I have a wide variety of interests, you know.”
“Like history?” Luke quips, and I blush.
“Luke William Abbott!” I scold .
Luke snorts. “My middle name is not William.”
I shrug. “I took a shot.” And also made more problems for myself, because now I’m suddenly dying to know his middle name. “Michael?” I try to sound nonchalant, like I’m just making conversation. He sees right through me.
“Nope.” Luke crosses his arms across his chest and grins. “But I’ll tell you my middle name and show you what I was talking about, if you tell me why you gave up pottery.”
I scowl across my desk at him. “Pottery is like Bruno; we don’t talk about it.”
“Ah, but see what a mess the Madrigal family made of things by not talking about Bruno?” Luke points out and I blink at him in surprise. “I have nieces and nephews,” he says with a shrug. “I dare you to take me on in Disney trivia.”
“Oh really?” I can’t help but laugh at this extremely cute revelation. “Let’s do that then,” I suggest. “Instead of me telling you my whole pottery debacle to get my way, I’ll play you in Disney trivia. When I win, you have to tell me your middle name and show me whatever you were going to show me.”
Luke considers this. “What do I get when I win?” he asks with a cocky grin that I want to kiss off his face. Wait, I meant wipe. I want to wipe that cocky grin off his face. Oh heck with it. These are my private thoughts. I totally meant kiss.
“You won’t win,” I say cheekily, “because there’s absolutely no way you know more about Disney than I do. I founded the Disney Princess club at my elementary school. We met every Wednesday at recess for three whole years.”
“Aww, that’s cute,” Luke teases, then leans forward, placing his hands on my desk. I catch a whiff of his cedar and pine scent. “Too bad Disney doesn’t just make princess movies. I will own your third grade Toy Story excluding self.”
“Ha!” I snap back, placing my own hands on the desk and angling my shoulders so that I meet him halfway across it in a challenge. “Too bad I have a nephew that I frequently babysit for. I watched Toy Story two times last week alone.”
We’re only inches from each other now, and for a second I forget what we’re even talking about as I stare into his cerulean-colored eyes. I could lose myself in those eyes for hours, trying to figure out how exactly to recreate that color on paper, trying to figure out how to capture that spark I feel emanating from them. I move forward ever so slightly, drawn to him by some invisible force. His eyes flicker to my mouth.
And then the bell rings.
Like magnets that got flipped to the same pole we spring apart. I’m breathing hard like I just finished my morning kickboxing session. Luke rakes a hand through his hair, looking as out of sorts as I feel.
We almost kissed. I’m sure of it. Well, ninety percent sure.
Fine, at least eighty.
I’m definitely one-hundred percent sure that I wanted to kiss him.
“Lunch bell,” Luke finally speaks.
“I guess our trivia session will have to wait,” I say lightly.
“I guess so.” Luke nods.
I can’t think of what to say next. My mind is all a jumble.
“I better get back to the church,” Luke says without moving.
“Right, and I have afternoon classes to prep for.” I don’t move either. The bell may have brought both of us back to reality, but I’m worried if I go any closer to Luke, reality will abandon me once more and I’ll fling myself at him.
Which would be totally ridiculous. And inappropriate. And, considering this is our place of work, possibly harassment.
“Okay, then.” Luke seems to shake himself out of his daze, taking a few small steps towards the door. Disappointment punches me in the stomach. All our flirting and back and forth banter amounted to nothing. What about what he wanted to show me? And shouldn’t we make a plan for Disney trivia night? I’m happy to be in charge of snacks.
But no, he’s not mentioning any of that. I’ve scared him off with my wanton gazes and forward tone. He is a pastor after all. They probably do dating a little differently. They probably call it courtship for one. And they probably require that you be proficient at needlework, the piano forte, and, and…letter writing. Although I might be confusing pastor’s wives with the heroines in Jane Austen books.
Luke reaches the door, but then pauses, turning back to face me. “What’s the name of the little boy featured in the Toy Story films?”
“If that’s the kind of trivia you think will stump me, I’m definitely going to win.”
“Hannah, what’s his name?”
“It’s Andy,” I huff.
“Correct. Which is short for?”
“Andrew,” I reply slowly, confused as to where he’s going with this.
“Now you know my middle name.” Luke pulls the door open. “See you around, Miss Garza.” With a wink and a grin he’s gone.
My fingers move of their own accord, grabbing a piece of paper off my desk and methodically folding it accordion style as my thoughts take off in the direction of calligraphy and cream colored cardstock .
Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Garza request the pleasure of your company to celebrate the marriage of their daughter Hannah Caitlin Garza to Luke Andrew Abbott .
I sigh dreamily. I know, I know, I’m letting my imagination get carried away. I don’t care. Luke is funny and sweet. He’s good with kids, loves Jesus, and has a big heart.
Plus, he’s hotter than a pancake straight off the griddle. I might marry him just for the possibility that we’d have a kid with that dimple of his.
Whew-ee. I press down the final crease then pick up my folded paper and start fanning myself.
I’m still standing there, fanning myself when my first class of the afternoon arrives ten minutes later.