Chapter 7
Chapter 7
B y the time she set out for her first day of the new job, on a crisply cool morning in early September, Harper was sure she was in too deep, romantically speaking. Ever since the night of the big party across the road almost a month before, when she and Jack had slow-danced together under the whispering leaves of a cottonwood tree, the man had been on her mind day and night.
It was unsettling.
She was powerfully attracted to Jack, she could admit that, if only to herself, but the landscape of her heart was still ravaged, and raw to the touch.
George had hurt her, and badly.
A repeat performance would be devastating.
Surely what she felt for Jack was only friendly affection, though, not love. It was way too soon after that train wreck of a breakup with her ex-fiancé for anything like that.
Wasn’t it?
Her best friend, Devon, claimed it was high time she got back in the game, once Harper had told her, via both email and Zoom, about meeting Jack when he showed up unexpectedly at her front door that day, and then about the huge party he’d thrown.
Devon said she ought to go for it, because Jack sounded pretty darned good to her, and there was no telling if Harper would ever get another chance like this one.
Harper had explained that, though she and Jack had shared suppers and enjoyed movie nights in both houses, and even gone on a few horseback rides together—she was inexperienced and awkward, since she’d never ridden before—they hadn’t discussed the nearly visceral and vibrant pull between them.
By Harper’s reasoning, the phenomenon could well be one-sided. Jack seemed to enjoy her company, and there had been moments when he’d drawn tantalizingly near to her, as if he meant to kiss her—once when he was teaching her and Gideon to fish, down by the creek, and another time when they found themselves alone in Harper’s kitchen, side by side, doing the dishes.
He’d paused and turned to her, and the pause had been electrified, but just as Jack was about to zero in—unless that had been mere wishful thinking on Harper’s part—Gideon had bounded into the room, waving his phone. He’d just reached the next level in his favorite video game.
Now, as she drove toward town, and her small office in Copper Ridge’s middle school, Harper chided herself for dwelling on the situation.
Or, more properly, the non -situation. Her relationship with Jack felt more like a standoff than a budding romance.
Was she even ready for romance?
Even though Devon swore she was ready—Devon was chronically optimistic and securely engaged to a man who clearly loved her deeply—Harper’s doubts lingered.
Maybe she was on the rebound.
If that were the case, getting involved with another man so soon after ending things with George, even though it had happened months ago, might lead to catastrophic failure.
Harper wasn’t sure she could endure that kind of emotional pain again.
On the other hand, Jack O’Ballivan might be her last chance at real, lasting love, just as Devon warned.
Harper was in her late twenties, after all and, trite as it was to say so, her biological clock was ticking. If she wanted children of her own—and she most certainly did—time was definitely a factor.
She was pondering the possibility that she might be putting all her dreams at risk if she didn’t come to an understanding with Jack soon, when Ollie leaped from the back seat, landed briefly on the console, then settled himself comfortably on the passenger side.
Startled, Harper reproved, “I thought we agreed that you would stay put in the back.”
Ollie gave a little whine and studied her with liquid brown eyes.
Harper laughed and reached over to pat his tiny head. “Silly dog,” she said. “You’ll have to behave better than that if you want to come to work with me three days a week.”
Ollie tilted his head to one side, as if considering a response.
Harper had been given permission to bring her dog to work when she chose, as long as he behaved, and she’d settled on the three-days-per-week plan. A few days before, she’d brought a small dog bed, a duplicate of his favorite toy, a purple alligator, and various other supplies to the school and arranged all of it in a corner of her office, close to her desk but out of the way, too.
“This is a test, buddy,” she told him, as she pulled into the school parking lot and then the spot she’d been assigned. “Misbehave, and you’ll have to stay home alone on work days. Got it?”
Again, Ollie whined.
“Good,” Harper responded. Then she reached across the console and reattached his leash. Ollie was something of a rascal, though a sweet one, with a tendency to rush off in sudden pursuit of small animals, and Harper was taking no chances.
Losing Ollie, she reflected, with a touch of surprise, would be far worse than losing George had been. Ollie was her companion, her snuggle buddy. And, unlike George, he was entirely devoted to her—as she was to him.
It was a short walk to the entrance nearest her office, and Ollie trotted merrily along beside her, stopping just once to lift his leg against one of the bushes lining the sidewalk.
When they entered the building, Dot Mansfield was standing in the wide hallway, directing students toward their assigned classrooms.
She smiled at Harper, and at Ollie, now nestled against Harper’s chest and seemingly fascinated by the number of children passing before him. He probably thought it was a parade in his honor, Harper decided, with a grin and a nod of greeting for Dot.
“Bet you’ve got a full schedule for the day,” Dot confided quietly, when the hall was empty except for a few strays. “There was a fight on the school bus, and poor little Ellie Bennet is waiting in the principal’s office. It seems things aren’t going well at home and she’s refusing to set foot in a classroom because her clothes aren’t brand-new, like most of the other kids’. I feel so sorry for that child.”
Harper sighed, hoping the Bennet family wasn’t as bad as some of the ones she’d encountered during her career as a social worker. If Ellie was neglected, or in any kind of danger, she would, of course, be duty bound to report the matter to the proper authorities, and the results of taking such direct action might be difficult indeed.
Several times in Seattle, she’d received death threats from parents and other relatives of children who had been removed from their custody and placed in foster homes, and others had taken more direct revenge. She’d had the windshield on her car shattered, and her tires slashed more than once, and as if those things weren’t worrying enough, she’d acquired a stalker, who’d followed her for weeks before the police had finally nabbed him.
Sure enough, he turned out to be another angry parent. He couldn’t seem to make the connection between his own behavior and the loss of his young daughter; everything, in his opinion, had been Harper’s fault.
She shivered slightly at the memory, and Dot, being perceptive, took notice.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “You actually went pale for a few moments after I mentioned Ellie.”
Harper drummed up a smile. “I’m just fine,” she said brightly, wondering if she should have signed on with one of those personal counseling apps and worked remotely, instead of accepting this job. Several of her former colleagues had done this, and they not only had flexible hours, they were earning good money.
Just then, while Harper was reconsidering her employment choices, a bell sounded shrilly, signaling the start of classes.
Harper waved to Dot, and they parted, Dot entering her classroom on the other side of the hall and Harper heading into her office.
She’d just settled Ollie, now unleashed, in his dog bed and turned to uncover her desktop computer when a timid knock sounded at the door.
Harper breathed a silent prayer for kindness and wisdom.
Then she called, “Come in,” in the most cheerful and welcoming voice she could manage. She was expecting Ellie Bennet.
She sank into her desk chair when the visitor proved to be Gideon O’Ballivan instead.
His head was bent as he entered.
“Have a seat, Gideon,” Harper said gently, troubled to see that his shirt was torn and his hair mussed.
He obeyed without lifting his head. Said nothing.
“What’s up?” she asked, keeping her tone light. And remembering Dot’s earlier reference to the fight on the school bus that morning.
Still nothing.
“Gideon,” Harper prompted, after a few long moments, “look at me, please. And answer my question.”
Gideon’s responding sigh seemed to involve his entire body, but he did meet Harper’s gaze, finally.
“There was a fight,” he said miserably.
“So I’ve been told,” Harper replied. Ollie rose from his bed, walked over, and stood on his hind legs beside Gideon, scrabble-pawing at one leg of his blue jeans.
Automatically, and very gently, Gideon bent, lifted the little dog into his lap, and stroked him distractedly while he struggled for what he ought to say.
“I didn’t start it,” Gideon said, after another silence, and he sounded sad now. He looked at her with Jack’s eyes, and they were brimming with tears. “I really didn’t, Harper.”
“You’ll have to call me Ms. Quinn during school hours,” she pointed out, though, again, she spoke gently. “On the ranch, or at my place, I’m Harper.”
Gideon gave a nod, still petting Ollie. “Okay,” he said, his tone dismal.
“Once again, Gideon,” Harper persisted, “what happened on the bus this morning?”
“There was this kid named Justin, and a couple of his friends, who started giving me a hard time as soon as I got on.”
“About what?” Harper suspected she knew the answer—Gideon had been taunted about his mother in the past, and told that Jack probably wasn’t his father. Jack had mentioned that to her before.
“I missed a lot of school, when I was living with Mom,” the boy said miserably, “so I’m in special classes, until I catch up.”
Harper nodded. Jack had been tutoring Gideon in reading and math since his arrival at Diamond Creek Ranch, she knew, but the child was still far behind in his studies. In fact, the only alternative to joining the assigned classes was to go back a grade, or even two.
It was, she thought, a choice between two different but equal humiliations, and she felt sorry for Gideon. Wanted to hug him, ruffle his hair, get the little sewing kit out of her purse and mend his torn shirt.
But she could do none of those things.
Not here, not now.
“Go on,” she urged, when Gideon had fallen into yet another silence.
His face was muffled by Ollie’s fur when he gave a hiccuping sob and muttered, without looking up, “Justin said I was too dumb to be in seventh grade, and I ought to go straight on back to kindergarten.”
Harper did her best not to dislike the unknown Justin; that wouldn’t be fair. Nor would it be professional.
“So who hit whom?” she inquired.
Gideon gave a quivering sigh, wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, sniffled, and looked up. “I hit Justin, and he grabbed hold of my shirt and tried to slam me against a rail. The bus driver—a really big lady called Miss Evans—hit the brakes and separated us. Justin had a bloody nose, so his shirt got ruined, too.”
“I see.”
“Do you still like me?” Gideon’s voice was vaguely plaintive.
“Of course I do,” Harper assured him. “Which is not to say I think it’s all right to hit people, even if they’re teasing you. Didn’t something like that happen at the party, between you and Riley Carlisle? And now he’s your best friend.”
“He takes a different bus,” Gideon explained. Ollie had begun to squirm, so he set him down carefully, and the dog trotted back to his bed, curled up with his purple alligator, and went to sleep. “If Riley had been there, things would have gotten a lot worse. He would have torn into Justin like a buzz saw.”
“That’s all beside the point, Gideon,” Harper said reasonably. “We need to work on other ways of settling disagreements than punching people, you and I. And that’s probably going to mean regular sessions in my office, before and after school.”
“My dad is going to be so pissed,” Gideon said.
“Language,” Harper reminded him.
“I don’t know how to behave right,” the boy erupted, not angrily, but with passionate frustration. “Mom didn’t care what I did, as long as it wasn’t something she had to deal with. And I went to all these different schools, all over the place, and I never got a chance to make friends. I had to fight, because I would have been bullied and teased if I didn’t—kids made fun of my clothes and my mom and the way I always had to go to classes for dummies!”
Again, Harper had to suppress the urge to rise from her chair, round the desk, and haul this troubled boy onto his feet and into her arms.
You’re not his mother, she told herself. You’re a neighbor, a friend of his father’s, a counselor, that’s all. So stay in your own lane.
“I think you’ve learned a lot about good behavior since you came to live with your dad,” Harper said. “And you aren’t a dummy, no matter what anybody says. You just need to catch up a little, and I know you can do that. I hope you know it, too.”
“My dad says I’m smart,” Gideon conceded, looking and sounding chagrined again. “I think he’s just trying to make me feel better, though. I think Mom and those kids who picked on me were right. I’m about as smart as a box of rocks.”
“Not true,” Harper said.
“Can I go now?” Gideon asked.
“Yes,” she replied. Evidently, Jack hadn’t been contacted, told to come to the middle school and collect his son. “Time to go to class, but stop by the boys’ room and splash some cold water on your face first. And keep your temper, Gideon.”
Gideon nodded, looking a little less frazzled, but still upset.
Harper made a mental note to speak to Jack about the school-bus incident herself, even though she was pretty sure someone from the principal’s office would have notified him by now.
Gideon crossed the small room, opened the door—revealing a small blond girl dressed in mismatched and none-too-clean clothes, with her hand raised to knock—and looked back at Harper.
“Will you help me explain this to my dad?” he asked. “Please?”
“Yes,” Harper said. “I definitely will. Now, get going. You don’t want to miss class.”
Gideon nodded, eased around the child who was surely Ellie Bennet, and disappeared from sight.
“Come in, Ellie,” Harper said, taking in the little girl’s appearance.
Ellie was a pretty child, and she would undoubtedly be a beautiful woman when she grew up. The question was, what kind of woman would she grow up to be, given the start she was getting?
Harper meant to do her part to make sure the girl was set on the trail to a bright future, though she knew her efforts would be limited by the usual legal tangles and red tape.
Shyly, Ellie sidled into the office, letting the door swing closed behind her with a soft whoosh.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, with a touch of preparatory defiance.
“I’m not saying you did,” Harper pointed out smoothly. “Sit down, please, and tell me a little about yourself.”