Chapter 15
Sophie
I mooned about at the end of class, not eager to lug my bag of papers home for grading.
My apartment would be extra-lonely after my days at the Pruitt Farm.
I should have kept a roommate instead of getting a one-bedroom place.
I missed being around other people. Even my small apartment echoed eerily when I was on my own.
"Knock, knock," Juanita called, sticking her head around the door to my room. "We're putting together a curriculum meeting at Sing-along to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Want to come?"
"You're a lifesaver, Juanita," I said.
She scratched her head. "Sure you don't mean a bad influence?"
I grinned. "That too. But I'll take any excuse to avoid grading papers alone over a grilled cheese sandwich tonight."
Juanita tutted gently. "I keep telling you, only suckers grade as many assignments as you do. This is what parent volunteers are for, to help with some of the heavy lifting."
I rolled my eyes, used to Juanita's teaching philosophy. "Yeah, yeah. I have to know how they're doing, if they're getting it. Having someone else grade them isn't the same."
"Honey, they're eight. They've got time on their side. You, however do not."
"Who all is coming tonight?" I asked instead of carrying on the old argument about how I should be allocating my time.
"Sahar and Tom are in."
I grabbed my bag and keys. "Okay, let me stow these papers in my car, then I'm ready if you are."
Juanita followed me to the parking lot. We met Sahar, who taught third grade, and Tom, who taught fourth, and walked to Sing-along together.
At barely four in the afternoon, Campfire's sole bar was nearly empty; only a few old-timers lingered, sipping on beers. The stage was bare, a stark contrast to the steady stream of karaoke singers who strutted their stuff on Friday and Saturday nights.
I nodded a greeting to the owner, Trina, and we claimed a table.
"How were your kids today?" Sahar asked after we'd ordered our drinks.
"So cute," I offered. "We made leprechaun traps."
"I don't see how kidnapping is a good precedent to set," Tom grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"It's a harmless engineering project," Juanita said, flapping a hand at Tom.
He shrugged. "Just so long as it doesn't become a thing. My wife did Elf on the Shelf one year, and it's become the scourge of our existence."
"You don't think kids deserve a little magic?" I asked.
From the outside, Elf on the Shelf seemed like harmless fun. Then again, I didn't have to come up with days and days of silly scenarios to entertain my kids.
"Childhood is magic already," Tom claimed. "I don't see why giving parents more work is the answer. Raising kids is hard enough."
"Preach," Sahar said, lifting her beer.
"Personally, I wish we could give St. Patrick's Day a miss," Juanita said. "I sent not one, but two kids to the office in tears after a pinching incident."
Her story brought back memories of grabbing a handful of Davis in his kitchen. I only felt a tiny bit guilty for copping a feel. Was that only this morning? It already felt like a lifetime ago.
I glanced at my phone. Jo would be home by now. Had she and Davis had the talk?
I grinned, trying to imagine how that'd go down. Jo was pretty quiet, and Davis only spoke when he had to.
"What's that smile for?" Juanita asked.
"Nothing," I claimed.
"Are you thinking about your next balloon flight?" Sahar asked.
I shuddered. "Not even close."
"You're usually excited to tell us about your next balloon rally. Does your reaction have something to do with your limp?" Tom asked.
"Maybe" I ran a finger down the condensation on my glass. "I crashed at the Pruitt Farm on Saturday," I mumbled.
Juanita's dark brows drew up. "You what?"
"Crashed," Tom repeated. "Is your hearing aid battery starting to go?"
Juanita waved his concern away. "No, silly. I'm just surprised. You're okay?" she asked, turning to me with concern etched on her features.
"I got a little banged up. So did Davis. He tried to help me with my landing. I hurt my ankle, and Davis bruised his wrist."
Juanita rested her chin in her hands, smiling dreamily. "That man can catch me any day." She shivered delicately. "Good thing Roberto keeps me a happily married woman, or I'd give you a run for your money with that one."
At close to sixty-five, Juanita was old enough to be Davis's mother, but she was still a fit and attractive woman.
Her husband, Roberto, ran the local auto shop, and I doubted he needed to worry about Davis stealing her heart.
Roberto had gained notoriety by groveling in public to get back in Juanita's good graces.
He'd once apologized using his auto shop sign.
I suspected that was how Gwen and Zander had gotten the inspiration for their own sign war.
"I don't know if I could fly again after crashing," Tom said.
Sahar wrinkled her nose. "It'd take a lot for me too."
I shrugged, trying to downplay the fear I didn't want to acknowledge. "It was more a hard landing than a crash."
Tom raised bushy dark brows. "You say potato, I say potahto."
Sahar said, "I'd be saying never again."
I swiped my finger through the condensation on my glass, pretending fascination with the pattern I’d drawn. "I don't have that option. I've got lease payments to make and a balloon festival to host."
"I'm sure the Campfire Council would understand," Juanita admonished. "They're your friends."
"True. I could probably get out of my lease without too much of a penalty." I straightened my shoulders. "But I'm not a quitter. I love flying. Most of the time."
Just the thought of getting into the basket again, trusting in the burners to keep me aloft, had me breaking out in a cold sweat.
But I'd meant what I said. Dunhams didn't quit.
The same stubbornness that helped me get behind the wheel again after my accident would help me now. I'd find my way back to flying.
The first step was to get the burner fixed. Then I could do another test, though maybe this time I'd try a tethered flight. If I hooked into my rig, I'd only go so high. A baby flight seemed like a good way to get over my fears.
Tom shook his head. "I guess good for you, but you wouldn't catch me dead in a balloon again after crashing."
Juanita shook her head. "Tom, this is why you're not allowed to cover for me with the kindergartners anymore."
"What? Why?"
"Too sour."
He scrunched his nose. "I disagree, but if it gets me out of covering for you, I'll take it."
"See? Sour."
After another hour sipping our drinks and consuming orders of both nachos and Cajun tots, we walked back to the Bluff Elementary parking lot.
March in Campfire could be hit or miss on the weather front, but we'd lucked into an unseasonably warm day, sunny and in the fifties.
The afternoon with my colleagues had left me feeling relaxed, but I still dreaded going home alone.
I pulled up in front of my small apartment complex and climbed the stairs to the third floor.
My dad and brother had moaned about carting my stuff up the stairs when they helped me move into a place of my own, but in the next breath, my dad had expressed gratitude that at least I wasn't on a murder floor.
Not that Campfire had much in the way of crime.
The worst we'd had was the rash of pranks at our quarterly community events.
We'd been hit at every one with at least one mishap.
At a certain point, we could no longer chalk them up to bad luck.
We had a bad actor in play. One who'd been surprisingly sneaky, using teenagers to do their dirty work.
There was a special place in hell for someone who took advantage of the young and gullible.
I coached my students to solve their problems with logic and words, but even I wanted to smack whoever was behind the troubles we'd been having. It was one thing to disagree with the direction we wanted to take Campfire. It was another thing entirely to undermine your friends and neighbors.
Thinking about the trouble we'd been having inevitably led me to the upcoming balloon festival.
I needed to be ready to fly. We were playing a version of Hound and Hare, where I'd lift off in advance of the rest of the balloonists, find a spot to land, and set up a target.
Each pilot would try to follow me and drop a bean bag on my target.
The winner would get a gift card for $500 in free propane.
It was all in good fun, something to spice up the flights with sponsors.
I was proud of all of the businesses I’d been able to get sponsor agreements from.
It helped that, in return, their sponsored balloon would not only fly their business banner but offer two mornings of flights to the riders of their choice.
My apartment seemed stale after sitting empty while I recuperated at Davis's.
One sad pothos plant clung to life on my windowsill.
The rest of the apartment was decorated in prints of balloon rallies.
The photos—some of me flying, others of pilots I admired—always made me smile.
Hot air balloons were so bright and cheerful, it was impossible not to feel somehow lighter in the presence of their majesty.
My favorite was a photo of my first flight in Bee-gonia.
I'd been lit from within, taking up my baby for the first time.
Now I shuddered, dreading the idea of flying again.
Getting myself airborne soon needed to take priority.
I'd procrastinated taking my burner in, apprehensive about the drive to Spokane after my run of bad luck.
I hated driving the freeways, which meant the drive took longer than it should.
It didn't help that my desire to fly again was sitting near zero.
But I'd made a commitment to my friends and the town, which meant stepping up and serving as the Hare in a matter of weeks.
I flopped on my couch and grabbed my phone, grinning when I saw I had a text from Davis.
Davis: Can I take you to dinner this weekend?
My squee slipped out before I could fully process his words.
He must have spoken with Jo. I hugged myself, grinning.
Davis following through on a commitment wasn’t a shocker, but after months spent trying to pry him out of his shell, having him turn the tables and take the lead sent happiness singing through me.
There was only one minor hitch. I bit my lip. Davis wouldn't mind helping me out. Maybe it was cowardly to hold back, but if I told him the reason why I wanted to go, he'd volunteer for sure. He was solid like that.
Sophie: Sounds lovely. Could we go to Spokane? Business and pleasure? Then I can drop my burner off for repair.
Davis: Yes.
I wiggled in my seat, glad no one could see my happy dance.
Sophie: I take it Jo gave us the green light?
Davis: Appropriate for the holiday, right?
I smirked.
I felt lighter knowing Davis would go with me to Spokane. With Davis by my side, maybe my luck would finally change. Everything I wanted was within my grasp.
Sophie: I feel lucky already.
Davis: Get ready for me to shamrock your world.
I burst out laughing, surprised and pleased that he’d made the effort to tease me. The light-hearted response seemed out of character for him, but I chose to take it as another sign that he was into me.
Sophie: Promises, promises.