Chapter Twelve #2
“Oh, I could too.” Resting her forearms on the table, she leaned in closer. “In my mind it all looked very impressive. Big city. Big schools. Big ideas. And then I got there.”
His smile slipped. “Reality?”
“Something like that.” She traced one finger lightly through the condensation on her glass.
“It didn’t take long to realize I was just one very small cog in one very big machine.
There were policies and pacing charts and curriculum standards and committees and meetings about meetings.
Everybody talked about helping struggling students, but there never seemed to be enough time, enough training, or enough willingness to do anything that looked too different from what had always been done. ”
The candle flickered between them. Around them the low hum of the restaurant went on, but it seemed far away. Hanson leaned back slightly in his chair. “That had to be frustrating.”
“It was.” She nodded, just as the sound of laughter drifted in from the patio, nudging both of them to glance through the picture window again, where another cheer rose from the outdoor area.
Chuckling, Hanson shook his head. “I still can’t get over cornhole at a restaurant.”
“Did you expect anything different from the corn hole capital of Texas?”
“I’m not sure that I expected this.”
She pushed away from the table. “Come on. Let’s give it a whirl.”
His brows rose ever so slightly as though doubting she was serious when he shrugged and pushed to his feet. “If you’re sure.”
“Of course I’m sure. You’re going to see why we all love our cornhole fame.”
He extended his elbow to her and led the way to the outside play area.
Standing by an open court, she almost hated to let go of his arm, but he wouldn’t be able to play with her clinging to him.
Casually, she handed him a bag. “Okay. Arc, not force. Aim for the hole, not the board. Like this.” She calculated, swung, and tossed.
The bag landed near the top hole then skidded off the side.
“Well, not quite like that, but you get the idea.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I do. Tell me more about how you wound up back in Honeysuckle.”
While he took his time, eyeing the board, shifting his feet, swinging his arm as though the winning lottery numbers were at stake, she thought back to Theo. “I had a kid who had already been left back. I remember thinking how scared he looked every time the kid had to open a book.”
He threw. It sailed a foot over the top.
“A little less oomph.” She stepped beside him, aimed, tossed, landed in a low point hole, but at least this time it didn’t slide off the board.
“So what happened?” He went through the same moves on his next shot while she spoke.
“I read up on special needs. Found some low-level studies, papers. Implemented a few techniques. One day, Theo read an entire paragraph without struggling and the light in his eyes and pride in his smile was worth its weight in gold to me. Then came whole chapters, and finally complete books.”
The bag finally flew forward dropping short of the board.
“You’re dropping your elbow.” She moved beside him, adjusted his arm, stepped back. “Try now.”
“Okay.” He aimed, made a dramatic effort at showing him raising his elbow to the point she had to hide her grin with her hand—then the bag flew and landed to the left.
She bit her lip. “Okay. Here.” She stepped behind him, her hand over his, guiding the arc of the swing in one slow demonstration.
Neither of them said anything for the half second that lasted considerably longer than a half second.
The air felt suddenly warmer, her mouth went slightly dry and before she did something stupid like stand on her tippy toes and kiss him, she stepped back. “Try it now.”
He aimed. Tossed. The bag dropped through the hole. Turning to face her, the smile on his face was slow and entirely too satisfied for a man who’d been overshooting and undershooting for the last five minutes.
Her eyes narrowed. “I think I’ve been had.”
He shrugged. One easy roll of the shoulder. “So what happened with Theo?”
“He thrived. I took my newly tested program to the principal, tried the school board. Got nowhere. Still a small cog in a big city public school system.” She tossed the bag and stepped back for his turn.
“And that,” he grabbed another bag, “is how you wound up in Honeysuckle.”
“Pretty much. Mom said come home. I talked to the principal here, who was so excited and promised to implement my learning style efforts that moving back home was a no-brainer—and the best decision I ever made.”
Nodding, he turned and, casting barely a glance at the boards and none of the earlier histrionics, he tossed the bag. Hole in one.
“Yep.” She laughed shaking her head. “I’ve been had.”
“It was fun, though.” His grin remained intact and his eyes twinkled in a way she’d not noticed before, as if for the first time, he was truly comfortable in his own skin.
“Wait till I tell Alice we have a ringer on our hands.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and then laughed in earnest.
“Let’s see how you do with bocce.”
The next thing she knew she was standing in front of a long dirt lane holding the heaviest ball she’d ever lifted and having more fun than she ever remembered having in her whole life. All because of Hanson Taylor.