7. Chapter 7
Rabble
A teacher.
Rabble’s brain short-circuited the minute she said the word kindergarten.
A teacher.
She studied at one of the most sought-after universities…to become an elementary school teacher.
He’d been ready to follow her to whichever school she chose, albeit at the community-college level, maybe, and support her goals. He had been prepared to work as many jobs as necessary, whatever hours needed, if it meant she could focus on her studies and achieve everything she wanted.
And yet he immediately saw her surrounded by tiny humans with dirty hands, messy grins, and a thirst for knowledge they didn’t understand.
It suited her and felt significantly more natural than a political career.
Rabble had always struggled picturing her stuck behind a big desk and pushing papers on someone else’s behalf.
He felt her gaze lock on him as he worked through his thoughts. Could she see it delighted him that she’d gone with her gut and not the career her father had pushed her toward all her life? Not that Rabble had the right to feel pleased. He didn’t have the right to feel one way or the other.
Still, he recognized that familiar pressure in his chest, especially when it came to her. Pride.
“Do you enjoy it?” he asked, his voice light and low.
Skye blinked, once, twice, and a peaceful smile graced her face. “I love it.”
His answering smile was unstoppable, even as he read the emotions that flitted across Skye’s expressive face: puzzlement, confusion, and something else.
Something like joy. Honestly, that felt about right to him.
Skye’s quiet defiance had always been one of his favorite traits and here she was again, throwing him for a loop.
“So, you came back after you got your degree, to teach?” He’d always wondered which of those fancy schools she’d decided on, if she enjoyed the pomp and circumstance. When she had only a week left to decide, he was already gone.
Digging into a bag of fake flowers, Skye shook her head. “No, I stayed here and went to community college.”
The screw he held poised between his fingers clattered to the wooden boards beneath his feet, and he gaped. She hadn’t gone? Why?
Skye’s eyes took on a subdued impish glint, like she wanted to surprise him but didn’t have the heart to play. Would she gain a sense of satisfaction by completely throwing him off? If so, she’d succeeded.
He lapsed into silence, letting Skye off the hook for more conversation despite the burning questions swirling in his head, causing his head to pound behind his temple.
What had changed her mind? Why hadn’t she gone off to one of those fancy universities or even one a little further away than fifteen minutes down the road?
They worked in silence for a few more moments before Skye muttered, “What, not even going to ask me?”
Rabble turned back toward her slowly and drawled, “Do you want me to ask?”
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you did.”
“Why didn’t you go, Skye?”
A contemplative look stole over her, and her gaze became unfocused.
“You were gone. Maybe it’s silly. We were only eighteen after all, but it seemed like the very reason I pushed myself was suddenly missing.
I didn’t care if I pissed off my parents anymore.
And I kept dreaming about those early days when we first met and just thought if more people had been there for you, maybe things would have been different.
I wanted to be someone who could help kids like you.
And me. Someone they could trust to care for them without any ulterior motives. ”
He heard what she didn’t say. Maybe he wouldn’t have left.
Rabble would be damned if his entire heart didn’t shatter into a million pieces right there in the middle of the warehouse with townspeople making loud noises all around them.
“And your parents were just okay with that?”
“I started school with political science as my major and almost immediately changed it.” A beautiful determination set her jaw. “Oh, Dad was mad, but I just stayed away as much as I could until he could be civil again.”
His jaw flexed, and he clenched his molars as irritation flashed through him.
Skye was a dreamer, and that had always been an issue for Max and Gayle Wellington.
They didn’t want a dreamer for a daughter; they wanted someone who would be worth something to society, at least, something that matched their idea of worth.
The little girl who lay near him, their faces parallel on either side of the fence, their cheeks almost touching beneath the six-inch gap, saw animals and shapes in the puffy clouds that floated by.
Her imagination had baffled and bewildered Rabble, but the stories she’d tell got him through the days and nights when his mother worked long hours.
He clung to those stories, memorizing every detail, reciting them to himself as he fell asleep.
Yes, he could definitely see her as a kindergarten teacher, and he bet she was a damned good one at that.
He tilted his head and leaned against the post he’d just secured to the trailer. “What’s your favorite part of teaching?”
She straightened, her eyes widened in surprise, and studied him curiously. “No one has asked me that before.”
Seriously? Rabble fought the growl that rose in his chest, threatening to spill over and out of him.
He had many choice words for her parents and none of them were nice or anywhere near cordial.
Their daughter was following a career she was passionate about, and they couldn’t be bothered to ask her about her work.
He supposed there were different types of abuse and neglect, and while Skye’s parents may never have laid a hand on her, the damage they’d done ran just as deeply as his own.
A softness replaced her surprise, and her eyes went distant.
“My students. I know that’s the cheesy answer, but it’s true.
In kindergarten, they’re just learning how to be their own person, what they like, what they want.
I start the school year telling them a story about making friends with someone who may be different from them.
Watching how they embrace that and the friendships that develop throughout the year is always a blessing.
Some of the most interesting pairings have come out of my classroom. ”
She met his gaze knowingly, and a surge passed through him, striking his chest and traveling through his body as he froze. She told their story to every student that came through her door.
How am I supposed to respond to that?
Looping a garland of flowers around her body, Skye climbed onto the platform, kneeled down at the base of the post, and focused on her project as if she hadn’t just completely tilted his entire world on its axis.
His chest felt tight, like his heart didn’t have enough space to pump, and his lungs refused to take in enough air.
He wasn’t used to the feelings roiling around in his head, and each time he tried to grasp onto the end of one thought, it would skate away from him and tangle with the others again. It was enough to drive him crazy.
“Skye.” His voice hushed, but she tilted her ear toward him, listening. If only he could hide the anguish that worked its way up his throat and choked him. “Thank you.”
She lowered her glue gun and locked eyes with him, those clear blue depths conveying so many thoughts she wouldn’t say aloud. Skye glanced away first, releasing him and providing him the space he needed to breathe, to process. Shrugging, Skye turned back to her work, “Nothing to thank me for.”
He kneeled down beside her as her long dainty fingers worked to untangle the floral garland. Tenderly, Rabble slid his hand over hers, stilling them as he stroked his thumb over the backs of her knuckles as he waited for her to pull away, to jerk out of his touch with disgust.
When she didn’t, he whispered, “All I ever wanted was someone to stand up for me, for someone to see me through the poverty and dirty clothes. You always did, and now you’re making sure no child who enters your classroom feels the shame that comes with being from the wrong side of the tracks. Thank you.”
A pretty blush graced her cheeks, and Rabble brushed a featherlight kiss over the smooth, pink skin.
He stood, putting distance between them, hoping the tension would dissipate and release the vice grip on his heart.
Neither of them spoke again, hammering nails, gluing and stringing garland in a tentative truce for the next couple of hours.
She must have been lost in her thoughts the same way he was in his, and neither was prepared to share.
Mechanical sounds filled the space, providing mind-numbing clamor for their deep thoughts.
If she appreciated the background noise as he did, Rabble wasn’t sure, but he was thankful for the chance to focus on the storm raging in his head.
He could hardly sift through the static and thunder to form anything that might resemble a coherent sentence.
Several hours later, Rabble leaned against the warm white metal siding of the warehouse, the ribbed edges digging into his back while he stared out at the gravel road. He flipped a pen between his fingers, fidgeting the way he used to with his lighter, before he’d given up cigarettes.
Skye had gone home a long while ago, leaving him to finish up his project for the day and clean up their tools.
He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that his whole life, that the entire world he had built for himself, was teetering on a ledge.
What would happen when it finally tipped?
And what would be left when the dust settled?