17. Reece
17
“Reece! Please, come in!” Mr. Gomes says cheerfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners like he’s truly happy to see me. He offers me his hand, and we shake as if I haven’t hugged this man a million times at various gatherings around town.
“Thank you so much for seeing me,” I reply, taking the seat across from him.
“Of course. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to connect before now.” His tone is sincere, and we talk about his trip and some of the more mundane things happening in Love Beach before he pulls a manila folder from the center drawer and places it on the desk in front of him.
“I’d really like to know why you think I’d be a good fit here,” I ask, and his returning smile is knowing as he pushes the folder toward me.
“I had a feeling after the last time we spoke that you were under the impression this position was a favor to your family.” I hold his gaze but remain silent. The words are uncomfortable, but I appreciate him giving them life—because he’s right, I have wondered about that.
A lot.
Mr. Gomes nods toward the folder, and with thankfully steady hands, I lift it from the desk and flip it open. Dozens of articles with my name stare back at me for events I helped put on, awards I’d received, and thanks from the school and community.
“Each candidate had a folder like that—things that went beyond just showing up for their job. Your folder is remarkably bigger than the rest.” My cheeks heat as he continues, “Your family has always been a pillar in our community but that”—he points at the stack of papers—“is what you’ve managed to accomplish out in the world all on your own.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, thumbing through the pages and smiling at the memories of moments past.
“Your father, and especially your brother, have taken every opportunity to tell me how impressive your teaching career has been. And I have to agree.” He nods again at the folder in my hands. “Your enthusiasm and heart precede you, Reece. Teaching at any level requires a certain disposition, and I’d argue that’s especially true for wrangling high school students.”
“They’re certainly a challenge.”
“A challenge you’ve met head-on and exceeded the expectations put forth. I didn’t offer you the job because your father and I have a standing golf date or because your brother always makes sure he’s available for demonstrations or assemblies in the district.”
I blow out a breath and stare out the window over his shoulder as I let his words sink in. This is what I’ve wanted.
What I’ve always wanted—to be seen and valued for what I bring to the table. And now that I’m here, it’s more difficult to accept than I imagined.
“You can have more time if you need to think about it,” Mr. Gomes says carefully as if he’s worried I might bolt at any second. But I shake my head because he’s wrong.
“I’d very much like to accept the position.”
Mr. Gomes’s smile is immediate as it stretches across his face, and I can’t help but do the same as I feel the invisible weight lift from my shoulders. The last thing I ever wanted to do was end up back in Love Beach with a million “I told you sos” and disapproving stares.
But I guess I also forgot all the magic I’d found here too. I’d missed the sand and the ocean and being wrapped up in Isaac’s arms every night.
I missed him.
And honestly, I could go anywhere for a job, but I want a life too, and the only one I want to live it with is Isaac.
“You had me sweatin’ bullets, and I was born and raised in South Carolina, Miss Baylor.” He winks and I chuckle as he stands. “Let’s show you to your classroom and then we can swing back here and grab your paperwork.”
“That sounds perfect.”