Chapter 3
three
. . .
Colby
The elementary school hallway smells exactly like I remember – a mix of disinfectant, school lunch, and that strange papery smell that seems to cling to every classroom.
I shift my weight from one boot to the other as I check the room numbers.
The familiar anxiety I always feel in schools starts creeping up my spine.
Even as a thirty-two-year-old man, these places still make me feel like that overweight, awkward teenager.
"Daddy!" Susie's voice cuts through the hallway noise as she barrels toward me from Ms. Reeves' classroom, her dark curls bouncing with each step. My chest tightens the way it always does when I see her – this perfect little human who somehow belongs to me.
"Hey, Sunshine," I say, scooping her up and settling her on my hip even though she's probably getting too big for this. She wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing tight. "I came to see your habitat project."
"Ms. Reeves said mine is the bestest one," she whispers loudly against my ear. "Come see!"
I carry her back to the classroom, nodding awkwardly at a couple of other parents who are filtering in for the showcase. When I step through the doorway, my eyes immediately find Ms. Reeves, and something in my chest shifts.
She's kneeling beside a little boy's desert habitat, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she points out something in his shoebox creation.
The soft cardigan she's wearing hugs curves that I've been trying not to think about since our first parent-teacher conference.
When she laughs at something the kid says, the sound travels across the room and settles somewhere beneath my ribs.
"Ms. Reeves!" Susie calls out. "My daddy's here to see my forest!"
Lacy Reeves looks up, and when her eyes meet mine, her smile widens. She stands smoothly, brushing invisible dust from her skirt before walking toward us. I set Susie down, and she immediately grabs my hand, tugging me toward her project on a table near the windows.
"Mr. Reynolds," Ms. Reeves says, extending her hand. "I'm so glad you could make it."
Her hand is soft and warm in mine, and I hold it a second longer than necessary. "Colby, please. Mr. Reynolds makes me sound like my old man."
"Colby," she repeats, and somehow my name sounds different when she says it. "Then you should call me Lacy when we're not in front of the students."
Susie pulls on my arm impatiently. "Daddy, look! This is where we go hiking!"
The shoebox forest is impressive – pine trees made of painted pinecones, a tiny creek with blue cellophane water, even small clay animals hiding among miniature bushes made of sponges painted green. Pride swells in my chest.
"This is amazing, Sunshine. Did you make all of this?"
"Ms. Reeves helped with the hot glue gun," Susie admits, pointing to various elements. "But I did everything else! See the trail? That's where we walk, and I put a tiny tent here because remember when we camped last summer?"
"I see it," I say, crouching down to get a better look. "You even got the little stones around the campfire. That's incredible attention to detail."
Lacy moves to stand beside us, her perfume a subtle hint of something floral. "Susie has quite the artistic eye. She told me all about your hiking trips while we were working on this. You two spend a lot of time outdoors, don't you?"
"Whenever we can," I nod. "Best way to tire her out so I can get some peace and quiet."
Susie giggles, nudging me with her elbow. "Daddy's joking. He says nature is the best teacher."
"Your daddy's right about that," Lacy says, and the warmth in her voice makes me look up at her. There's something in her expression that I can't quite read, but it makes heat crawl up the back of my neck.
"Susie," she continues, "why don't you go show Mrs. Wilkins how you made the river? She was asking about your technique earlier."
Susie nods importantly and skips off to the teacher's aide across the room. As soon as she's out of earshot, Lacy turns to me.
"I have to tell you, Susie is one of the brightest students I've had in years. Her vocabulary is advanced for her age, and she approaches problem-solving with such creativity." She smiles. "You're doing an excellent job with her."
The compliment catches me off guard. I'm not used to praise for my parenting – mostly I just hope I'm not screwing up too badly. "Thanks. It's just been the two of us since day one, so I'm kind of making it up as I go."
Lacy's expression softens. "She mentioned that her mom isn't around, but she didn't elaborate. I hope you don't mind me asking, but..."
"She died," I say quietly, the familiar weight of those words settling on my chest. "Complications during childbirth. Amniotic fluid embolism. It happened so fast the doctors couldn't save her."
"I'm so sorry," Lacy says, and unlike when most people say it, she sounds like she means it. "That must have been devastating."
I nod, watching Susie across the room as she animatedly explains something to the aide.
"It was. For a long time. Sara and I weren't actually together – we were friends who occasionally crossed that line.
The pregnancy was unplanned, but we were going to co-parent.
" I pause, not sure why I'm telling her all this.
"Sometimes I still feel that ache, you know?
Not just for me, but thinking about everything Sara's missed.
Susie's first steps, first words, all of it. "
Lacy's hand touches my arm lightly. "She seems like a very happy child. That says a lot about you."
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I forget we're standing in an elementary school classroom surrounded by shoebox habitats. There's a softness in her gaze that makes me want to step closer, to see if those lips are as soft as they look.
The moment breaks when Susie comes bounding back, launching into an explanation about how she used three different shades of blue to make the water look like it was flowing. I listen, nodding at appropriate intervals, but I'm hyperaware of Lacy standing beside me, our arms occasionally brushing.
As parents begin filtering out and kids start collecting their projects, Lacy kneels down to Susie's level. "Would you like to leave your habitat here overnight? We can put it on display in the main hallway tomorrow, and then you can take it home after school."
Susie nods enthusiastically. "Can everyone in the school see it?"
"Absolutely," Lacy promises. "It's one of the best habitats I've seen in years of teaching."
Susie beams, and I can't help but smile at her obvious pride. After saying goodbye to her friends, we head out to the parking lot with Lacy walking alongside us, carrying a tote bag and her purse.
"Thanks again for making time for this," she says as we reach the exit. "I know how busy work schedules can be."
"Perks of being a mechanic – I make my own hours," I say. "Mostly, anyway."
In the parking lot, Susie races ahead to our truck while Lacy walks toward an older Honda Civic. I'm about to call out a final goodbye when I see her insert her key into the ignition, turn it, and get nothing but a clicking sound. She tries again with the same result.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath, then glance back to make sure Susie didn't hear me. "Hey, Sunshine, wait by the truck a minute. I'm going to help Ms. Reeves."
I jog over to Lacy's car just as she's getting out, frustration evident on her face.
"Car trouble?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
She blows out a breath, pushing her hair behind her ear. "It was fine this morning. I don't understand what?—"
"Mind if I take a look?" I'm already moving toward the hood. "Sounded like your starter, but let me check to be sure."
Lacy steps back, gesturing toward the car with a sweeping motion. "Be my guest. I know exactly nothing about cars except that this one chooses the most inconvenient times to misbehave."
I pop the hood and check the battery terminals first – they seem clean and tight. "Try it again?" I call out.
She slides back into the driver's seat and turns the key. Same clicking sound. Definitely the starter.
"Good news is, I can fix this," I say, closing the hood. "Bad news is, not here in the school parking lot. You're going to need a tow."
She leans against the car door, a look of defeat crossing her face. "Fantastic. Just what I needed today."
"I can give you a ride home," I offer before I can think better of it. "And I can have one of the guys from my shop come pick up your car, take it in tonight. I could probably have it ready by tomorrow afternoon."
Lacy looks at me, surprise evident in her expression. "You would do that? You don't even know what I'm like as a passenger. I could be one of those people who control the radio and criticize your driving."
The teasing lilt in her voice makes me smile. "I'll take my chances. Besides, Susie would never forgive me if I left her favorite teacher stranded."
"Her favorite teacher, huh?" Lacy glances over at Susie, who's watching us curiously from beside my truck. "That's quite the endorsement."
"Well," I say, surprising myself with my boldness, "she's not the only Reynolds who thinks highly of you."
A flush colors Lacy's cheeks, and she tucks her hair behind her ear again – a nervous gesture I'm starting to find endearing. "In that case, I accept your offer, Colby Reynolds."
As I help her gather her things from her car, I can't help but think this might be the luckiest car breakdown in history.