Teaching Ms. Riggs. Stephanie Beck

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      Ten minutes later, Ben watched as Mark pulled away from the apartment building’s curb. He was so sweet. They’d laughed through the short drive. The entire time they’d sat and cracked each other up, and she’d had the strongest urge just to hold his hand.

      She adjusted her backpack and headed into the apartment, looking briefly at the front window when she remembered wanting a window planter. She made a mental note to talk to the superintendent about it soon. Maybe Mark could help her put something together. He was awful handy.

      What would an hour with him be like? She wondered how quickly holding hands would progress with a man like him. He’d mentioned church a few times and she also had a strong faith, so that made her think he’d court low and slow. Courting, an old word, but as Ben turned her key in the door lock, she thought it suited Mark.

      She flipped on the light switch and the bubbly, bemused feelings she’d indulged most of the day evaporated. An envelope waited on the floor with her name written in elaborate cursive. Ben didn’t lean down or bother to pick it up. She retraced her steps until she returned to the front porch, then pulled out her cellphone and called it in.

      * * * *

      “Uncle Mark, can I eat the chocolate ice cream?”

      Mark swore as the interruption made him jump, his niece breaking his concentration. Thankfully the jerk hadn’t done any damage to the birdhouse or to his fingers. He unplugged the saw and leaned back from the bench.

      “What chocolate ice cream, Kira? I bought vanilla.”

      “It’s double chocolate chip, and it looks good,” she called, and his memory clicked.

      “Ah, wait up, kiddo. I don’t think that’s ours.” He set the birdhouse higher on the counter so it wouldn’t fall and headed into the house.

      The place was a mess, papers strategically placed all over, dishes in the sink, and the floor needed to be swept. With school starting and the hay needing close attention, who had the time?

      He liked things to be neat and tidy but not enough to spend his whole damn day working at it. When the weather was nice and there were chores to be done, inside the house was the last place he wanted to be. He’d clean in the winter when he was stuck for hours on end and the kids were in school.

      “Who else would have ice cream in the freezer?” Kira demanded, standing up straight from where she’d been bent over the open chest freezer on the front porch.

      She was out of her school clothes and into cutoff jean shorts and a yellow half t-shirt she called a baby-t. He didn’t complain, not yet anyway. He figured he’d save it for a few years down the road when that sort of shirt meant something more than his little girl was hot and the air conditioner was acting up.

      “Well, I think it belongs to Ms. Riggs, Thomas’s chemistry teacher.” Mark plucked the box from her hand and looped the other ice cream tub’s red handle over her skinny wrist instead. “I gave her a ride home the other night and she must have forgotten it, so paws off, squirt.”

      “Uncle Mark, you’re so weird.” Her tone was a little sassy, but she stopped short of rolling her eyes.

      He was glad her manners were finally coming back. Since she’d come home from France, she’d been an eye-rolling, back-talking little heathen. It had taken a few bouts of chair guarding in the corner, but she’d straightened up relatively quickly and was back to being the girl he’d raised.

      He walked through the kitchen and to the living room. The air conditioner hummed and did its job in the little space, but it was days like this that made him want to put in central air. It was on the to-do list right after finishing the basement and putting in a new chicken coop.

      “Hey, Thomas?” Mark called up the stairs. The narrow staircase was more humid than the other rooms put together, but Thomas still preferred to do his homework in his room rather than at the table like he had as a kid.

      “Yeah?”

      “Where’s the paper your chemistry teacher sent home?” he asked.

      “What do you need?” The squeak from Thomas’s office chair announced he was moving for the request.

      “Ms. Riggs’s phone number. I gave her a ride, and she forgot her ice cream.”

      Thomas’s tall, lanky frame nearly filled the narrow enclave of the staircase. He bypassed his sister’s side room and hung from the pull-up bar he’d begged for years ago. “Here you go. Ice cream, huh? Are you sure you don’t like her or something?”

      “What? No, well she’s cute, but she had a couple of bags the other day at the store, so I gave her a ride to her apartment.”

      “I heard you gave her a ride yesterday too,” Thomas said with a smirk.

      The joys of living in a small town, Mark thought as he reached for the paper only to have Thomas snatch it back. “She’d gone to visit someone at the nursing home, and we both finished up at the same time,” Mark explained.

      “Riigghhtt. Did you know she’s a widow?” Thomas asked, still holding the paper out of his reach.

      “Which means she’s single and I don’t have to fight her off with a stick when she jumps me for bringing her ice cream to her house.” Mark hoped he sounded sarcastic, because the comment she’d made about his butt still crept into his thoughts more than occasionally. “Come on, I just met the woman and honest to God, how many women have I brought home?”

      “We aren’t here in the summer,” Thomas pointed out.

      “That’s true, and even when you’re nowhere in sight I still strike out. It’s as if the scent of a hormonal, cranky teenager and one right on the cusp of adolescence hangs in the air, and acts like chick repellant.”

      Mark had missed the back-and-forth with Thomas. The boy was smart and a joy to be around.

      He adored his niece and nephew, but the situation was complicated. That made any serious talk or thoughts of Ben something that required much more time than he’d given it. He wasn’t about to bring in a woman who wouldn’t understand, and frankly he didn’t have the time to date.

      “Yeah, like the cow poop isn’t enough to keep the women away,” Thomas teased right back and finally handed over the paper. “Do me a big favor and don’t knock her up your first time out. All the guys like her as a teacher, and you know babies make chicks crazy.”

      “Who tells you this stuff?” Mark demanded, laughing out loud. “I’m going to remember all of this crap for your wedding toast in ten years, and it’s gonna be a doozy.”

      Thomas laughed back, the threat an old one but a good one. So far Mark had potty training, little league, puberty and early thoughts on the opposite sex as speech fodder.

      He left Thomas to finish his homework and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed the old phone hanging on the wall and pulled it to his office slash laundry room, the cord long enough for him to sit at his messy desk with it. He probably should have bought a cordless one years ago, but he liked his old trusty one that worked even when the power was out and never had to be recharged.

      “Leave me alone! I’ve СКАЧАТЬ