Chapter 4 #2
While I’m out on the playground supervising, I keep going over that night with Rhonan in my mind, wondering if he ever mentioned that he lived here.
I had only found out about the job a few days before I drove through Asheville and saw that flyer for the bull riding contest that I didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I won.
Honestly, I forgot all about the contest because I was far more preoccupied with Rhonan, which was better than any inconsequential prize I could have won.
Besides, I did it for Lydia. And for myself.
Fifteen minutes pass in a blur and then I’m leading twenty-five kindergarteners back into the cafeteria. Each child gets three tickets for the speakers they want to hear more from, and the teachers move around the room helping keep order.
My eyes keep finding Rhonan no matter where I’m standing, but he’s focused on speaking with the kids.
He’s thoughtful, takes his time with each one, and hands out sheriff’s badge stickers to every child that comes to see him.
Fletcher Adams’ line is the longest of all, but that comes as no surprise to anyone.
Apparently, since he got engaged to Laney Hart—who I found out is also Ellis’s aunt—his popularity has only grown.
I’m busy watching Fletcher help a boy try to hold a football with his too-small hands when a voice beside me makes me jump.
“So, seems like we’re in a bit of a pickle here.”
Rhonan.
I look up at him to my left, finding him looking right back at me. “Dill, sweet, or butter?”
He frowns in confusion. “What?”
“The kind of pickle. Personally, I’m a dill gal, but I can go for a sweet pickle on a pulled pork sandwich.”
His smile falls. “Vienna, this is serious.”
Sighing, I turn away from him calmly and fix my attention on the kids, even though my stomach is tying itself in knots that are going to be a bitch to untangle later. “Look, I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t think you did.”
“Really? Because the look you gave me earlier felt pretty accusatory.”
He clears his throat. “It wasn’t meant to be. I just…don’t know how to feel, seeing you here.”
“I—I’m sorry, Rhonan,” I say on a shaky breath because, even though he might not believe me, it’s the truth. The second I left that night, I regretted my decision. But there was no way for me to explain why I did without giving away too much.
There’s too much at stake.
“You left without saying goodbye.”
“I know.”
He clears his throat. “I thought…” Shaking his head, he says, “You know what? It doesn’t matter what I thought because now…”
“Now I’m your daughter’s teacher,” I finish for him.
“And the last thing we need is gossip.”
“Agreed.”
He straightens his spine. “Good. And by the way, your dog is a menace.”
My head whips back in his direction. “My dog? How do you know about—”
“Daddy!”
Ellis runs up to us, cutting me off, and I’m left wondering how he could know about my puppy, Roscoe.
Rhonan reaches down and scoops her up, securing her in his arms as the scowl on his face transforms into a smile. And unfortunately, seeing him with his daughter just makes him that much more attractive.
“Hey, sweetie. Are you having fun?”
She shrugs. “Not really.”
His brows knit. “How come?”
“Because I already know what I want to be when I grow up,” she answers matter-of-factly.
Rhonan chuckles and turns to me. “Oh yes, Ellis is going to be a princess.”
Ellis shakes her head. “I used to want to be a princess, but now I want to be a queen.”
Rhonan draws his eyebrows together. “A queen, huh? Since when?”
“Since Elsa is a queen with ice powers, and Auntie Dilynne told me that queens have more power.”
I stifle my laugh behind my hand as Rhonan replies, “She did, did she?”
“Yup.” Then Ellis turns to me. “Or I wanna be a teacher like you, Ms. Lewis.”
My hand falls to the center of my chest as I try not to get emotional. I’ve only known this little girl for three days, but I can already tell she’s going to steal my heart. “Aw, that’s so sweet, Ellis. Thank you.”
“What has Ms. Lewis taught you about being a teacher?” Rhonan asks, drifting his gaze over to me for a second before focusing back on his daughter. I try not to take that look too personally, but for some reason it feels that way.
I may have only been here for three days, but certainly I’ve made some kind of impact on these kids.
Ellis ponders her answers and then shrugs. “She gets to be the boss of the class, and she’s really pretty. I like to be the boss too.”
My shoulders fall slightly, but I’m also amused. “That’s really sweet, Ellis. Being in charge is fun, but it’s also a lot of responsibility. And you should remember that pretty isn’t a character trait.”
Rhonan and Ellis both stare at me at the same time. “What does that mean?” she asks.
I take a second to consider how to explain this to a five-year-old, because I wish this were something I had learned at a much younger age.
“Being pretty is not nearly as important as being kind, inclusive, and hardworking. Being beautiful doesn’t automatically make you a nice person.
I hope that when you’re with me, you feel that I’m kind more than anything else. ”
I can feel Rhonan watching me, but I keep my focus on Ellis. I don’t think my heart could handle seeing his reaction to words that speak to every woman’s insecurities, including my own.
“You are really nice, Ms. Lewis.” Ellis wiggles out of Rhonan’s arms, and wraps her arms around my legs. When she peers up and meets my eyes, she continues, “But you’re really pretty too.” Glancing back at her dad, she asks, “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?”
I don’t dare lift my eyes still, but the sound of his voice affects me far more, I fear. “Yes, she is.”
“Ellis! We’re getting ready to leave!” Dilynne shouts across the room, standing next to Laney and Fletcher, and two other men I introduced today that I’m having a hard time remembering the names of.
I let that be the moment I meet Rhonan’s eyes. “I’ll let you go.”
“Come on, Daddy. I want to say goodbye.”
Rhonan keeps his eyes on me but doesn’t say anything. He simply follows his daughter’s lead until he finally breaks our gaze and joins his friends, leaving me standing there, wondering how I’m going to survive the next two and a half months of Rhonan Hart run-ins.
***
By the time I pull into my driveway and turn off the ignition, I can barely remember the drive home.
One thing I was woefully unprepared for when I signed up for this job was how overstimulating it would be.
The kids are so sweet and for the most part, well-behaved, but there’s never a quiet moment.
Questions fly from their mouths at record speed, someone always needs something, and the social dynamics of five-year-olds could rival some soap operas that have been on air for decades.
Needless to say, I’m deeply grateful there’s a bottle of wine in my fridge to help take the edge off and help me process the past twenty-four hours.
“Roscoe!” I call out once I unlock the front door to my rental house and set my purse on the kitchen table. “Mommy’s home!”
Usually, he’s eager to greet me on the other side of the sliding glass door, or already darting through the doggy door that leads to the backyard. But the glass pane is empty except for the streaks from his nose and tongue.
Getting a puppy wasn’t in the cards, at least not so soon in this new life of mine.
But last week, while I was standing at a gas station staring at the community board, right between a flyer for a mechanical bull riding contest and an ad for piano lessons, I saw one for German Shepherd puppies at a local rescue.
I always wanted a dog but was never allowed to have one, so I took it as a sign.
Lydia would have said it was a sign too.
It’s at that moment, as I head for the backyard to find my dog, that I wonder what she would say about my predicament with Rhonan.
Oh, I’m sure she’d be pressuring me to do something about it, like asking him on a date in the name of moving on like I should be.
But thinking about how we were always so different is making the sadness from the past few months reappear.
That familiar wave of grief brushes the edges of my heart as I head to the backyard in search of Roscoe.
“Roscoe? Roscoe?” My voice is loud enough that he should hear me, but I don’t see him anywhere, and there’s not too many places to hide.
The yard is bare except for the wild grass that grows all over the ground here, and there are only two spindly trees that wouldn’t hide a squirrel, let alone a puppy.
“Damn dog!” A voice comes from over the fence to my right, sharp and irritated.
Roscoe’s bark rings out, igniting urgency within me as I race to the fence. But when I look over it, I can almost hear Lydia’s laugh in my head.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Rhonan is chasing around my puppy while Ellis laughs on their deck.
“Daddy! He just wants to play!”
“He needs to play in his yard,” Rhonan says, lunging for Roscoe as he darts to the right and races up the deck steps, skidding to a stop when he reaches Ellis.
“Sit, puppy.” Ellis points to the deck below her, and much to my and Rhonan’s surprise, Roscoe obeys. “Good boy,” she says proudly, scratching his head.
Rhonan’s hands land on his hips as he stares up at his daughter from the yard. “How did you get him to listen?”
Ellis pets Roscoe’s head as he tries to lick her hand. She giggles.
“The dog would probably stop running around if you’d stop chasing it.” Joanne says dryly from the porch, behind Ellis.
Wait. I thought that was her house. What are Rhonan and Ellis doing there?
I seriously hope Joanne is just another relative they’re visiting.
“How the hell am I supposed to get it to go back home, then?” He pushes a hand through his hair, the same hair that I itched to bury my fingers in last week.
God, that night feels like another life at this point, and certainly one that can’t be mine.