Samantha's Gift. Valerie Hansen

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СКАЧАТЬ the room. “Kindergarten was a good choice.”

      “Why? Because children are so loving at that age?”

      “No. Because you don’t look like you could hold your own in a pillow fight against anybody much bigger.”

      Rachel’s smile faded. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” She hustled him to the door, opened it and practically shoved him through. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Bates. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do before class starts.”

      “Sure. No problem. Have a good day.”

      Rachel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes shut tight.

      Not hold her own? Ha! She might not look tough on the outside, but inside she knew she was made of steel. Tempered steel. And the pain of the tempering process lingered. It probably always would.

      An unexpected call summoned Rachel to the office right after the dismissal bell. She was anything but thrilled. The first few days of every school year were very tiring, and the last thing she wanted was to have to face the principal this late in the afternoon. Refusal, however, was not an option.

      Sean was coming out of a classroom as she passed by. He beamed at the sight of her. “Hi.”

      “Hi. So far, so good?” Rachel asked pleasantly, trying to ignore the jolt of awareness she’d felt the moment she spied him again.

      “No problems,” Sean said.

      “Good.”

      “You okay? You look kind of funny.”

      Did her unwarranted reaction show? Oh dear! Hedging, she made a silly face at him. “Thanks—I think.”

      “Actually, you remind me a lot of a condemned man on the way to the gallows.”

      “Oh, that.” What a relief. “Probably because I feel like one. I’ve been called to Principal Vanbruger’s office and I don’t have the slightest idea why. That kind of thing always gives me butterflies in my stomach.”

      “Is there a problem?”

      “Who knows. It’s a little too early in the year for me to have earned a commendation for exemplary teaching, so I have to assume that’s not why he wants to see me.”

      “You never know. Maybe you’re about to get a blue ribbon for your skipping skills.”

      “Let’s hope not.”

      He fell into step beside her. “I’m headed your way. Mind if I walk along? Keep you company?”

      “Aren’t you afraid to be associated with a terrible rule-breaker like me?”

      “Not as long as I don’t catch you running with scissors,” he quipped. “I do have my limits.”

      “Glad to hear it.”

      Rachel couldn’t help chuckling softly. The man seemed to have the kind of nature that lifted a person’s spirits. That quality made him more appealing to her than any superficial attributes, like the fact that he was every bit as handsome as her friends had insisted during lunch, when she’d carelessly mentioned having met him.

      She and Sean reached the door to the school office. Rachel paused. “Well, this is it. Here I go.”

      “Want me to hang around till you’re done?”

      She was amazed at his sensitivity. “No. I’ll be fine. I just hate the idea of hearing that I’m not perfect.”

      Sean arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You look pretty good to me. Tell you what. If that guy Vanbruger picks on you, tell me, and I’ll go let the air out of the tires on his bicycle so he knows better the next time.”

      Amused, Rachel looked up into his kind face and caught a glimmer of deeper concern. He’d apparently been trying to distract her with his silly banter and was now waiting to see if he’d been successful.

      She assumed a pseudo-serious expression, made a fist and punched him lightly in the upper arm as she said, “Thanks, buddy. It’s good to know you’re standing by in case I need avenging. But I don’t think he rides a bicycle, so that’s out. Guess I’ll just have to take my chances.”

      Turning, she reached for the doorknob. So did Sean.

      His hand closed gently over hers. Their inadvertent touch sent tingles zinging up Rachel’s arm and prickled in the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

      She quickly slipped her hand from beneath his, hoping he couldn’t tell how bewildered her unexpected, fervent response had left her. Or how close she’d come to actually shivering just now!

      “Allow me,” Sean said, gallantly opening the office door for her and stepping back with a bow.

      Rachel took a deep breath and held it. She sidled through the open door without looking up or glancing back at Sean. Principal Vanbruger wasn’t the main reason for her nervousness anymore. Sean Bates was.

      Not only were her original butterflies still having a riotous party in her stomach, but the moment Sean had accidentally touched her hand, they’d invited all their friends—and a few hundred moths, to boot!

      Rachel’s bumfuzzled state of mind became of secondary importance the moment she entered the principal’s office and saw who, and what, was waiting for her.

      Her gaze lingered a moment on the two adults, then went to a withdrawn-looking little girl sitting on a chair in the corner, lower legs and feet dangling.

      The child’s shorts and T-shirt were faded and much too big for her, but that wasn’t the saddest part. Everything, from her posture to her placement in the room, screamed lonely, immediately capturing Rachel’s heart.

      Principal Vanbruger rose from behind his desk. “Ah, good. Ms. Woodward, I believe you know Ms. Heatherington, from Health and Human Services in Little Rock.”

      Rachel nodded. “Yes.” She shook the social worker’s hand formally. “We’ve met.”

      He gestured toward the child. “And this is Samantha Smith. Samantha, this is your new teacher, Ms. Woodward.”

      “Please, call me Miss Rachel,” she told the shy little waif. “All the other children do.” Wide, pale blue eyes stared up at her from a cherubic face surrounded by unkempt blond curls.

      Approaching slowly and pausing in front of the child, Rachel said, “I see we’re all out of my favorite kind of chair. Can I share yours? I’m pretty little. There should be room for both of us.”

      Samantha’s only answer was to scoot to one side. Rachel perched on the edge of the seat at an angle and laid her arm across the chair’s low, curved back. That not only helped her balance, it formed a pose of guardianship, offering unspoken protection in a world of staid, intimidating adults.

      “Samantha’s parents died,” the social worker said. “She’s in foster care right now. I’m working on getting her placed with relatives in Colorado, so I doubt you’ll have СКАЧАТЬ