A Shocking Request. Colleen Faulkner

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СКАЧАТЬ Jenna out, have a nice evening and then go back to his den and tell his dead wife face-to-face that there was nothing between him and Jenna but friendship. No spark. Ally understood “the spark.”

      Grant found himself passing the nurse’s office, passing the library headed straight for the kindergarten and first-grade wing. Headed straight for Jenna’s classroom as if she were a magnet.

      He rounded the corner, and nearly fell over Jenna, who was on her hands and knees on the floor of the hall, lining up wet paintings of what appeared to be apples…or maybe roundish fire engines.

      Grant made a noise in his throat, caught off guard. He had almost stepped on her.

      “Whoa,” she cried, glancing up, smiling. Jenna was always smiling.

      “What are you doing?” He slipped his hands into his pants pockets, not because he wanted them there, but because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them. Suddenly his arms were long, gangly appendages that seemed to serve no purpose but to make him look and feel awkward in Jenna’s presence.

      She began to crawl along the floor, spreading out the paintings along the wall. “We were doing watercolor painting this afternoon. Nice huh?”

      He glanced over her shoulder. “Nice.”

      “Hey, I called about that software again, but I’m not getting anywhere. The guy said teachers can’t place the orders, only ‘the brass.”’ She glanced up at him. “Think you’re considered the brass?”

      Today, she wore her golden-red hair in a ponytail the way his girls often did. It was the best hairdo he could manage when Ally had first gotten sick. He had branched out to pigtails, doggy ears and doorknobs, though ponytails were still his best ’do. But somehow the ponytail didn’t look the same way on Jenna as it did on his girls. On Jenna, it was almost sexy.

      He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Leave the number in my mailbox.”

      “Great.” She scooted along the floor, sliding more paintings against the wall, her fingertips tinted with wet red paint.

      Inside the classroom, Grant could hear the children lining up to be dismissed. He could hear Jenna’s assistant, Martha, giving last minute reminders. If Grant was going to get this over with, he was going to have to do it now. “Um…” he said.

      She didn’t seem to hear him. “Amy has soccer tonight. We didn’t find those Cliffs Notes for Hannah, so if you want me to, I can track them down tonight. I have a few errands to run anyway.”

      “Hannah should not be using Cliffs Notes. She needs to read The Crucible. I read The Crucible in high school; you read it,” he heard himself babble. He stopped short, and took a deep breath. “Jenna, you want to go out to dinner Friday night?”

      She glanced up at him, a soggy red paper in her hand with a name that resembled Anthony scrawled across it. She didn’t hesitate. “Sure. That would be nice.”

      Jenna smiled and Grant relaxed. Hadn’t been so bad after all.

      “Great,” he said. “Meet me at seven at that little French place you like?” He didn’t have the nerve to pick her up. That would, after all, make it a real date, wouldn’t it? “You know…separate cars in case I have to run home,” he explained.

      “Sure. Works for me.”

      The door to Jenna’s classroom opened, and kindergartners spilled out. “Oops, better get to the buses,” she said, getting to her feet.

      Jenna went one way with her fifteen kindergartners, including his Maddy, and Grant went the other way. Only this time, his hands were in his pockets because he wanted them there, and he was whistling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had whistled.

      Chapter Three

      “Daddy’s got a date,” Becka chanted from her perch on a stepping stool at the kitchen counter. She stirred the brownie mix rhythmically. “Daddy’s got a date. Daddy’s got a date,” she sang.

      “I do not have a date.” Grant pulled the homemade chicken potpie out of the oven. He hadn’t made the crust himself; it was refrigerator dough. But he still made a pretty mean chicken potpie, if he did say so himself.

      “Daddy’s got a date,” Maddy repeated from the kitchen table. She was busy making a splint for a stuffed cat’s tail. “What’s a date, Becka?”

      “I do not have a date,” Grant repeated, pulling the corn muffins out of the oven.

      “A date is when a man takes a woman to dinner or to a movie or something. Dad’s going on a date with Aunt Jenna.”

      “I am having dinner with Aunt Jenna so we can talk in peace.” Grant shut off the oven and slipped the flowered hot mitts off his hands. Jenna was meeting him at the restaurant, but if he didn’t hurry, he was going to be late.

      “Daddy’s got a date with Aunt Jenna,” Maddy sang, ministering to the stuffed tabby that rested on her dinner plate in front of her. “Daddy’s got a date with Aunt Jenna.”

      “Be quiet both of you,” Hannah said, coming into the kitchen. She was munching on a handful of celery sticks. “You’re making Dad nervous. This is his first date.”

      “Does no one in this house hear me? This is not a date.” Grant whipped off the red chef’s apron he always wore in the kitchen to protect his clothing and hung it on its hook in the broom closet. All he had to do was grab his suit jacket off the dining chair and he’d be ready to go.

      He had considered changing clothes after work, perhaps into a polo shirt and khakis. Something casual. But that would suggest this was a date, wouldn’t it? And he didn’t want to give Jenna the wrong idea. This wasn’t really a date. It was just…he was just…fulfilling an obligation to his dead wife. That was all.

      “Homework. Showers…” Grant began to tick off his mental list of reminders for Hannah who was baby-sitting tonight.

      “No homework tonight, Dad,” Becka said. “It’s Friday.”

      “Okay. But only an hour of TV,” Grant said looking at Hannah again. “No matter what these imps tell you.” He gave Becka a squeeze as he walked behind her. “And no matter what they try to bribe you with.”

      Becka laughed and licked chocolate batter from her finger.

      Grant leaned over Maddy to kiss the back of her head. “Bye, sweets. Be good for Hannah or I’ll tie you up by your socks when I get home.”

      “Bye, Dada,” Maddy said sweetly. “I hope you have a good date with Aunt Jenna. Don’t kiss her too much.”

      Hannah burst into laughter. Becka giggled.

      Grant looked wide-eyed at his two older daughters as if to ask, “Where did she get that from?”

      His girls just shrugged.

      Grant shook his head. He wouldn’t ask, else he would certainly be late. He took a deep breath. His stomach was nervous and his forehead was slightly damp. This was a СКАЧАТЬ