You're My Baby. Laura Abbot

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СКАЧАТЬ Beau Jasper’s eligibility?”

      “That would sure help. He’s okay for now, but I’ve gotta have him at the end of the season, after midterms.”

      “I need him for basketball, too. I hate to say it, but without him, we could be in deep trouble.”

      “We’ll be set if we can just get him through Pam Carver’s senior English class.”

      Grant grinned. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

      “Pam’s a good egg. Maybe she’ll cut him some slack.”

      “If anybody can pull him through, she can.” Half the boys in school were in love with Pam. Grant hoped that would be sufficient motivation for his high-scoring forward to make a decent grade. He turned to leave. “Hey, Coach, you, too, can smell good. Have a great shower.”

      Jack laughed, then joined his assistants headed for the locker room.

      Grant ambled to the door, stepping out into the sultry August afternoon. The low whir of a riding mower cruising between the lower and middle schools, the splash of sprinklers and the smell of new-mowed grass had him pausing for a cleansing breath. His gaze fell on the upper school building, its red-tile roof highlighted by the angle of the sun. Late August—the calm before the storm of the school year. Although he enjoyed the more relaxed pace of summer, he was always eager for school to start.

      Despite Shelley’s dim view of his calling, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Working with teenagers kept a guy young. Every day was different, and it was never dull.

      As schools went, Keystone was special. He glanced fondly around the campus—attractive, colorful landscaping, architecturally pleasant Southwestern-style buildings, well-maintained playing fields.

      Gosh, he hoped Andy would come to love it, too. But how many new schools had the poor kid attended? Could this one be any different for him?

      Grant turned abruptly and walked to his car. He could skip the daydreaming. Andy’s satisfaction would be a moot point unless he could find—and afford—the cool teenager’s version of Mary Poppins.

      Hell.

      PAM GRIPPED her straw purse and rounded the corner of the brick wall encircling Ginny Phillips’s patio. A profusion of colorful sundresses and the babble of high-pitched laughter greeted her. She faltered, a wave of stage fright threatening her composure. Act normal, she told herself, before sweeping across the lawn to join her female colleagues at Ginny’s annual back-to-school brunch.

      The first to greet her was henna-haired Jessie Flanders, self-proclaimed grande dame of the faculty. “Making a big entrance, Pamela?” Heads turned at the shrill of Jessie’s voice.

      Pam spread her arms and struck a pose. “Hello, dahlings,” she cooed, batting her eyes. Then she relaxed. “What else would you expect of the drama coach at our beloved Keystone?”

      A smiling Ginny hurried toward her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

      “What? And miss all of this?” Pam gestured to the pool, sparkling in the morning sun, and the lavishly spread buffet table. She could hardly tell Ginny she’d been delayed by a bout of morning sickness, even though Ginny, the upper school counselor, would be more understanding of her predicament than most.

      Ginny ushered her toward the beverage table. “You’re way behind the rest of us. Would you prefer chardonnay or white zinfandel?”

      Pam’s stomach did a half-gainer. Fortunately, just beyond her hostess, she spotted Connie Campbell. “Nothing right now, thanks.” She waved at Connie, who excused herself and walked toward them.

      Pam embraced her closest faculty friend. “Long time no see. How was Canada?” Connie and her husband Jim, the Keystone headmaster, had been married only a short time, and the trans-Canada rail trip had been their first true vacation.

      Ginny chuckled. “Don’t ask if you don’t really want to know. She’ll give you an hour’s worth of travel information.”

      “Listen to the woman.” Connie affected sternness. “You’re just jealous, Ginny, that you were stuck here in simmering Texas all summer.”

      “That makes two of us,” Pam said.

      “How was your summer session at U.T., by the way?” Connie asked.

      You’d be surprised. Really surprised. “Okay. I had a so-so seminar in literary criticism, but a dynamite course in post–World War II American fiction.”

      Just then the caterer appeared at Ginny’s elbow. “Excuse me,” Ginny said. “I’m needed in the kitchen. Help yourself to the wine.”

      Darn. Pam had hoped she’d sidestepped the issue of drinking. Her TGIF buddies Connie and Ginny would be the first to suspect something when she turned down chardonnay. She poured herself a glass of ice water.

      “No wine? You must be sick.” Connie made a show of laying her palm on Pam’s forehead.

      “Maybe later. I’m really thirsty from my rush to arrive more or less on time.”

      “Well, now that you’re here, let me introduce you to our new faculty members.” She leaned closer. “Is it my imagination, or do they get younger every year?”

      Pam raised her eyebrows in mock horror. “Surely it couldn’t be that we’re getting older?”

      Grateful to be led away from the wine and the potential for discovery, Pam circulated through the crowd. Without fail, several colleagues asked her the standard question: “Are you ready for school?” Ready? It would be miraculous if she could overcome her morning sickness each day before her first-period class.

      By the time the food was served, Pam had no trouble downing the curried chicken salad, fresh fruit compote and three of the lemony poppy-seed muffins. She refused to feel guilty about her gluttony—she was eating for two, after all. Thankfully no one noticed that water remained her beverage of choice.

      Jack Liddy’s very pregnant wife, Darla, sat at Pam’s table, reveling in talk of babies. “The only problem is that Jack’ll be in the middle of football season when Junior makes his appearance. Let’s hope I don’t deliver on game night.”

      “Not the best planning, huh?” Carolee Simmons, the French teacher said.

      Darla winked mischievously. “You have to do something in the off-season, you know.”

      “Will you be teaching until the baby comes?” Pam asked, as much for herself as because of her interest in Darla.

      “I’m trying to make it to the end of the first quarter, then a substitute will take over until I can return at the semester.”

      Carolee, single herself, leaned forward. “Won’t it be hard to leave the baby to come back to work?”

      Darla shrugged. “It’ll be awful. But what choice do I have? We’ll need the money.”

      Pam pursed her lips. “Occupational hazard of educators.” She, too, would have no option but to СКАЧАТЬ