Chapter 12
“I NEED YOUR help,” Brooke says when I pick up the phone the following Saturday.
“Hello to you too,” I reply, a little grumpy because right before Brooke called, my phone alarm went off reminding me that I swore to myself to clean my bathroom today. I’d ignore both the alarm and my vow, but I already ignored them last weekend. Now my soap scum is growing new soap scum. The job cannot be put off any longer.
“Here’s the situation,” Brooke ignores my bad mood, carrying on like I asked for specifics, “you remember Sydney’s daughter Caroline?
I abandon my scrubbing bubble spray and sit down on the lid of the toilet. “Of course I remember your best friend’s daughter, Brooke. Why?”
“She needs to come to Grace Canyon,” Brooke proclaims. “But Sydney can’t afford the tuition. ”
“Okayyy,” I stretch out the word. “Well, I’d love to help them out, but right now I have about zero discretionary income.”
“No, no,” I can hear Brooke’s answering eye roll in her tone, “I don’t want you to help pay for her to go there. I would’ve called Jill for that. No, I need your help getting her into the school on scholarship.”
“Brooke,” I let out a short laugh, “I’ve been teaching at Grace Canyon for a week. I don’t have much pull in admissions.”
“Yes, but I’m pretty sure you do have pull with a guy who does have pull with admissions. A guy who, from what I’ve heard, is a big proponent of increasing the number of scholarship students at Grace Canyon.”
Luke. I haven’t seen him since our conversation Thursday, and while I spent Thursday afternoon flying high on a cloud of happiness, I woke up Friday morning in a pit of anxiety. I’m thrilled that Luke wants to take me out four months from now, but how am I supposed to act around him in the meantime? And what if he changes his mind? What if I change my mind? What if he dies and we never get to go out? Okay, that last one is a bit dramatic.
Also, I may have spent my walk with Holly this morning composing an impassioned speech to give the elders and deacons of the church in an effort to convince them to nullify Luke’s contract. Clearly, I went with an emotional appeal over a logical one.
“Brooke,” I redirect my attention back to her, “I don’t really have pull with him. I mean, sure, we’re friends, but—”
“I saw you two last Sunday,” Brooke interrupts. “You were like two awkward teenagers both trying to figure out if the other person liked them.”
“Wow, that’s so sweet of you to say,” I reply dryly.
“What I mean is, the man clearly has a thing for you.” Even though Luke said as much on Thursday, it still gives me a thrill of pleasure to hear Brooke say it. “So all I’m asking is that you just tell him about Caroline and see what he says.”
“Brooke,” I hedge, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable—”
“Hannah, she’s being bullied!” Brooke cries. “And the school isn’t doing anything about it, because the kid bullying her is the daughter of the superintendent. They just keep blaming Caroline, going on about how she must’ve misunderstood Delilah or how she was being too sensitive.” Brooke scoffs. “How can you misunderstand someone calling you fat? Taunting you every day in the lunchroom? ”
“What?” The word comes out as a hiss. Anger clenches in my stomach. Someone called Caroline fat? And the school did nothing? As a kid who was a little chubby myself, I am more than a little outraged on her behalf. Caroline may not have the lithe figure of her mother, but she is a healthy, active little girl who, like all children, deserves to feel safe and respected at school.
“I know, it’s awful.” Brooke lets out a long breath. “So now you understand why I need you to help Sydney get her a scholarship to Grace Canyon.”
“Yes, I guess I do.” I sigh. I do want to help, but how do I approach Luke with this request when I barely know how to approach him in general right now. Hiya, Luke, remember me? We’re going on a date in four months. Just checking on a couple of things, first, are we still on for that date? Second, can we still hang out between now and then? Like as friends? Oh, and third, can you do me one small favor and see if the school has an extra $20,000 in their scholarship fund? It’s for a friend.
Hmmm…definitely need to nix the hiya.
“I knew you’d help!” Brooke trills. “No pressure, but she’d love to start as early as Monday.”
“Monday?” I parrot incredulously. “You’re joking. I won’ t even see Luke before Monday.”
“Then you’re welcome,” Brooke says simply.
“You’re welcome? For what?”
“For giving you an excuse to see your man before Monday,” Brooke replies smoothly. Before I can answer, she adds, “Okay, thanks. Call me tomorrow with an update. Love ya, sis! Bye!”
“Brooke!” I cry, but my words fall on dead air.
I slump back against the toilet tank. What am I supposed to do now? Sometimes I think Brooke lives in a different universe, one where dreams always come true, your hair is always perfect, and men are like produce: you just go out to the store and rummage through them till you find the shiniest one to take home. Not that she takes guys home, I just mean she thinks the only obstacle between her and any man is whether or not she wants to date them, because of course they all want to date her. She’s not full of herself either; it’s just proven to be true in the 28 years she’s been alive.
I, on the other hand, most recently dated a man who made me feel like the shiniest apple in the world for a little while, but ultimately decided I no longer held any value to him, on both a personal and professional level. Not to take the analogy too far, but he essentially threw me down on the ground and turned me into a bruised apple. Now I’m down here waiting for someone to decide to pick me up bruises and all. Brooke asking me to seek out Luke to ask him for his help feels too much like me rolling my bruised apple self in front of him, then going home stuck to his shoe.
The point is, I don’t want to force myself on the guy. I’m too fragile for that. For once, I’d like to be pursued. The one a guy sets his sights on, or whatever. Luke said on Thursday that he wants to go out with me when his contract ends, but he said nothing about wanting to see me in the meantime. And I really don’t want to be the first one to admit that I’d like to see him. I want him to be more desperate to see me.
Which is why in my late night daydreams yesterday, I imagined Luke standing at my classroom door Monday morning holding a cup of coffee for me and saying he missed me over the weekend and just had to see me. Obviously we’d keep things friendly, but the undercurrent of attraction would still be there, swirling around between us like an underwater tornado that has to eventually break the surface.
I stand up and spritz my face with water from the sink. Then I hurry to get down to the business at hand instead of getting caught up in yet another daydream. I douse the sink with my cleaning spray, watching as it foams up atop the porcelain. I suppose I could go with Jill and her family to church tomorrow. Luke will be there, after all, but Luke also knows I don’t usually go there, so it still feels like seeking him out.
What do pastors do on Saturdays, anyway? Finish up their sermons for the next day, most likely. But that surely doesn’t take the whole day. Does Luke spend fall Saturdays watching football like so many Americans? He did play football after all, so perhaps he’s watching the U of A game, cheering on his alma mater.
Or maybe he’s running a 5k.
Glad all my ideas about what Luke does when he’s not working are based on a Google search.
I finish my sink and move on to the toilet. Maybe Luke is doing some house cleaning this morning too. Maybe Luke even likes scrubbing toilets. There are people like that, after all. People who actually claim they find cleaning therapeutic rather than exhausting and gross.
Gosh, if Luke does like cleaning toilets he might be the perfect man. I should add that to my list of things I’m looking for in a future husband. Kind, funny, loves Jesus, likes cleaning toilets.
It’s a solid list.
There’s a knocking on my front door and my heart leaps in my chest. Maybe it’s Luke, come to make my daydreams a reality. I hurriedly set the toilet brush back in its container, strip my gloves, and check my reflection as I wash my hands. I frown at the wisps of hair escaping my braid, but there’s no time to fix it, the quiet knocking has intensified into a banging. A thrill runs through me as I rush to the door. It has to be Luke. Who else would bang on my door like this? He’s here and he’s desperate to see me. Desperate to tell me that he decided he couldn’t wait to take me out so he went before the elders and deacons and demanded they release him from the contract he signed—
I yank open the door, already a little lightheaded at the prospect of Luke sweeping me off to a romantic lunch, and my eyes land on…nothing. There’s no one there. Then I hear giggles and look down. Ellie is standing there with none other than Mia Stone. They’re wearing matching tie-dye shirts, pigtails, and mischievous grins.
“I told you Miss Garza lived in my backyard!” Ellie proclaims proudly.
Mia looks up at me with wide eyes. “Why do you live in Ellie’s backyard, Miss Garza?” she asks. “Why don’t you live in a normal-sized house?”
I blink down at them, trying to reorient my brain around the fact that my fantasy of Luke being at my door to take me out has been replaced with the reality of two little girls asking questions about the financial discrepancies between their parents and the rest of America. Is it my job as her art teacher to inform her that whatever gargantuan mansion she lives in is not a normal-sized house ?
Ellie saves me from having to give them a lesson on the different economic classes in America by announcing, “Miss Garza is my aunt and my daddy said she lives in our backyard because her ex-boyfriend is a butthead.”
I’m torn between embarrassment, the thought that I should correct her language, and being touched that my brother-in-law called someone a butthead in defense of me. He’s a regular Elle Woods.
“Ellie!” Jill’s voice cuts in as she rushes towards us looking harried. “Watch your language. Butthead is not a nice word. I’m sorry, Hannah,” she sighs. “I’m supposed to drive the girls to their first flag football practice at the school, but Max’s mom called desperate to talk about Thanksgiving plans, and then I couldn’t get her off the phone.” She eyes her watch and sighs. “So now I’m going to be late to my hair appointment, since the school is on the opposite side of town from my salon.”
“No, Mommy, you don’t have to be late. Aunt Hannah will drive us,” Ellie offers for me. “She’s a better driver than you anyway.”
Jill laughs. “Oh is that so?”
“Yes,” Ellie replies solemnly, “because she turns the music all the way up.”
Jill looks at me, and I just shrug. “That’s true. I do. ”
“Well, Ellie, when you need to be fitted for a hearing aid in a few years, I’ll know who to blame.”
“We have the windows down, mommy,” Ellie explains, “so all the sound goes out of the car. Our ears are fine.”
“I’m not sure you know how sound works,” Jill replies dryly. “But honestly, I’m so behind right now I don’t care. If your aunt is willing to take the two of you, then it’s fine with me.”
Ellie and Mia both turn wide-eyed hopeful gazes on me. “Pleaassseee,” Ellie begs, clasping her hands together and bouncing up and down. She’s hard to resist this niece of mine. Plus, I may be terrified of her mother, but I actually enjoyed having Mia in art class this last week. She’s fun and a little zany. Driving the two of them won’t be hard.
“With a cherry on top,” Mia adds, her unblinking eyes fixed on me like a sad little puppy who just wants one bite of your dinner.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh, “but I’m holding you to that cherry, Mia Stone.”
I guess I’ll figure out how to ask Luke about Caroline later.
***
True confession: I love driving Ellie around probably as much as she likes me driving her around. There’s just something so freeing about having a kid in the backseat. I can listen to whatever music I want and no one can judge me for being too old. If I want to let it go, both literally and musically, then we will get our Frozen on. If I want to blast some boy band songs, it’s cool, I have young fans with me. Or if, like today, I feel like listening to songs from when I was a teen, I can deem that as educational rather than living in the past. Like art, music education is an under appreciated discipline.
Mia, Ellie, and I have the windows rolled all the way down and are blasting a mixed CD I made when I was seventeen. It’s a pretty amazing CD, if I do say so myself, containing a wide variety of rap (which I mostly skip due to the young ears in back), pop, country, and even some oldies my friends and I used to love. The last notes of “Thunder” by Imagine Dragons fade out as we turn into the school parking lot, and the next song, my favorite on the CD thanks to a mini obsession I used to have with the movie Benny and Joon , starts to play.
Ellie and I start singing along, and Mia, who apparently doesn’t have a cool aunt like me and therefore doesn’t know the words, starts bobbing her head, hooked by the sick beat (like I said, I’m very cool and say all the cool things). When the line about getting drunk comes, I do what I always do when Ellie or Liam are in the car and turn the music down and belt out my own lyrics, “When I get drums, oh I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who plays drums next to you!”
It’s as I’m turning the music all the way back up that I see him. Luke. He’s standing by his bright yellow car, staring at me, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. Oh my goodness gracious! I slam on the brakes and sink down in my seat.
Why? Why am I always doing embarrassing things in front of him?
And why, oh why does he always have to look so good when I’m doing those embarrassing things?
He’s wearing black athletic shorts and a bicep hugging red t-shirt. A pair of Ray-Bans shade his eyes from the bright sun and a backwards baseball cap sits on his head.
I love a good backwards baseball cap.
“Aunt Hannah,” Ellie shouts over the music, “why did you stop here? This isn’t a parking spot.”
“There are no lines,” Mia pipes up as I hurry to shut off the blaring music. “You’re supposed to park between the two yellow lines, Miss Garza.”
“Oh, right,” I laugh. “Silly me. I’ll just move on over to the yellow lines.” My voice is coming out all high-pitched, and for some reason my arms won’t move.
“She’s not moving, Ellie,” Mia whispers loudly.
“Should we tickle her?” Ellie suggests, jolting me into action .
“No, no tickling!” My foot hits the gas, and I zoom into the closest spot, making the girls squeal as their heads jerk forward. My head jerks a bit too, reminding me of my wispy braid. Glad Luke looks like he could be in a Gatorade ad as a hot, high performance athlete, while I look like I’m coming off a rough day on the farm. I knew I should’ve donated these overall shorts to Goodwill last year.
I whirl on the girls. “What the heck is Pastor Abbott doing here?”
Ellie rears back in alarm, and I realize I may have spit a little.
“Sorry.” I attempt to dial down my crazy. “What I meant was, could one of you perhaps tell me why Pastor Abbott is here?”
“He’s our coach,” Mia supplies.
Of course he is. Of course Luke spends his free time volunteering to coach a bunch of kids. Lord, are you sure this temptation isn’t too much for me to bear?
“How lovely,” I manage to reply. It’s not that I’m not happy to see Luke— it’s actually fortuitous given my need to discuss the Caroline scholarship situation with him—it’s just that for once I would love for him to stumble upon me looking gorgeous in a little black dress with my hair curled and my makeup on both eyes surrounded by guys eager to take me out.
I don’t think that’s too much to ask .
Although I might need to buy a little black dress first.
“C’mon, Aunt Hannah,” Ellie whines, “we have to get to practice!“
“Oh look!” Mia cries. “Pastor Abbott is coming this way!”
“I hope he’s coming over to name me team captain,” Ellie says with a dreamy sigh.
“I hope he’s coming to tell me I got the starring role in the Thanksgiving pageant,” Mia squeals.
I hope he’s coming to tell me he went blind and deaf for the last four minutes and did he miss anything during that time?
“Hannah, hi.” His head appears in my window as he leans down, propping those sinewy forearms of his against the window ledge. “Hey, girls,” he adds, waving at Ellie and Mia, who shout their hellos like he’s still across the parking lot rather than two feet away. “Quite a jam session you three were having.” There’s a teasing twinkle in his eye that I find very cute, but I refuse to acknowledge that I’ve done anything worth being teased about. I am going to play it so cool, he’ll think he’s left Arizona for a more moderate climate.
“The Proclaimers are a Scottish rock duo from the eighties, Pastor Abbott,” I inform him in my best teacher voice. “I’m simply exposing the girls to arts and culture. And history,” I add for good measure, since he’s a self-proclaimed history buff.
“Not to mention vocal studies,” he replies without missing a beat.
“Exactly,” I say primly, but I can’t keep my lips from twitching. Our gazes are locked in a game of who will crack first.
“Can we get out of the car now?” Ellie whines, pulling at her locked door handle.
Right. Kids in the backseat. Game over.
“Sure thing, Ellie Bean.” I finally break eye contact with my friend Luke and hit the unlock button for the back doors. Ellie and Mia both tumble out of the car and race towards the fields behind the school.
“Hey, look for cars you two!” I shout after them. “And you’re welcome for the ride! And good-bye to you too!”
“You’re not staying?” Luke asks in confusion.
“Sorry, what?” It’s my turn to be confused. “Are adults supposed to stay?”
“No, I mean they’re welcome to if they want to watch, but it’s not required. Typically the coaches do stay though.” His voice is teasing.
“Coaches?” I echo. “You can’t mean me.” I look around like there’s some other adult in the vicinity he must be speaking to.
“Not you exactly. Max signed up to be my assistant coach,” he explains, “ but he couldn’t make it today because he’s speaking at a charity event. Jill had planned on helping out, but I got a text from her fifteen minutes ago that she had something come up and was sending you in her place. So, for today at least, you were going to be my assistant coach.”
That sneaky little minx.
“But I can tell by your facial expression that you knew nothing about this,” he adds.
“Well…” I hedge. “No, I didn’t.”
“Hey, then don’t worry about it,” he hurries to assure me. “It’s only ten kids. I can handle them by myself for today.”
“Oh, okay.” Disappointment flattens my smile. He’s giving me an easy out, when I would’ve loved for him to insist I stay.
“Although,” he taps his chin in thought, “I do usually like to give them a little bit of one-on-one attention on the first day, just to help them out with some basic ball handling. That’ll be hard to do without an assistant.”
I bite back a new smile. “So you want me to stay? Is that what you’re saying?”
Luke does a one shoulder shrug, all fakely casual like. “I suppose I would appreciate it if you did.” His voice has taken on a bit of southern twang. I’m not sure where it came from, but I am here for it. It’s giving him a cowboy vibe I very much like .
“Okay, I’ll stay.” I toss my keys in my cup holder (because at a school this rich, no one is going to steal my 2015 Ford Fusion) and step out of the car. “Hope it’s okay that I’m not really dressed in athletic wear,” I say, self-consciously moving my braid to one side and smoothing my hand over my overalls.
Luke gives me a quick once over. “What you’re wearing is fine.” He clears his throat and looks away.
“I know, I look like a farmer,” I say lightly, because clearly he finds me hideous in my overalls and black tank top.
Luke rubs his brow. “Not what I was thinking at all.”
“Painter then? Plumber?” I’m not sure why I’m pushing this, other than the fact that I hate not looking my best in front of a guy I’m interested in. Call me vain, but there you have it. “Mechanic?”
Luke chuckles, then lets out a long breath. “How about this, check back with me in four months, and I’ll let you know what I think about your overalls.”
Oh. That shuts me up. And now I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. He likes my overalls! Wonders never cease.
“Okay, I’ll check back,” I jump up, emboldened by this revelation, and grab the hat off his head, placing it on my own, “but I get to keep your hat until then.”
Luke swallows, and I suddenly realize I’m doing it again, flirting. I don’t want to make things harder for Luke. I need to be just his friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, removing the hat and offering it back to him. “I’m crossing lines I shouldn’t even be standing near. So, I’m just going to give you this hat back, then walk on over to the fields to report for duty, Coach Abbott.”
Luke studies the hand holding my hat for a long while. “You know what, keep the hat,” he finally says. “I’ve got another one in my car. I’ll get that one back from you in four months.” He shrugs, then yanks the hat out of my hand and sets it back on my head. “After all, friends can loan friends their hats on a sunny day.”
I beam up at him under the brim. “Certainly sounds friendly to me,” I agree.
Luke smiles back at me, but as we walk towards the field we’re both careful to leave a wide gap between us. I don’t mind though, because being here with Luke has already quieted some of the angst I’ve been feeling. He still wants to date me. Still wants to hang out with me.
I sneak a glance at his tall, handsome profile and let myself hope for just a minute. Maybe I won’t go home smushed onto the bottom of his shoe. Maybe I’m just the right apple for Luke.
Bruises and all.