Pine Country Cowboy. Glynna Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ the noise level rising with every passing second even with the classroom door closed. Unsmiling, she appeared to be pleading with her charges to settle down, but the kids didn’t pay her any attention.

      This looked to be a rescue operation.

      He opened the door and slipped inside. Then he shut it behind him, tossed his hat to the top of a supply cabinet and squatted to kid level, savoring the memorable scent of glue sticks and crayons. It took two seconds for the majority of the children to come running. The remaining two, probably summer visitors, hung back, watchful.

      The local kids crowded in close.

      “Hi, Brett! Can I wear your hat?”

      “Are you going to teach our Sunday school class?”

      “Did you ride your horse to church?”

      “Where’s Elmo?”

      Laughing, he glanced up at Abby, who didn’t look happy at the interruption. Couldn’t she see he’d come to her aid? He gave each child a hug, then shook the hands of the new kids, solemnly introducing himself and asking their names.

      “Brett is awesome,” Betsy Davis, motherlike, assured the visitors. “We love him.”

      “Yeah.” A ponytailed Mary Kenton, the pastor’s oldest daughter, gave him another hug.

      The others joined in with a cacophony of affirmations and the noise level escalated again. Conscious of the nursery across the hall and the adjoining first grade classroom, Brett stood and placed his finger to his lips. “I think it’s time to play—”

      “I do have a lesson prepared.” Abby lifted a teacher’s guide in protest as if suspecting he intended to hijack the sharing of God’s word for an hour of recreational pursuits.

      “Little red schoolhouse!” the local kids shouted in unison, guessing the game Brett had been about to suggest. Giggling, they hurried to be seated around a low, rectangular table.

      He shrugged as he shot Abby a grin that she didn’t return.

      “This is so cool,” Betsy informed the visitors as the chatter continued around the table. “His mom taught him this game.”

      “And her mom taught it to her,” Brett added. Grandma was a sly one. As a youngster, he’d fallen for it for years. Glancing at an obviously disapproving Abby, he merely waved her toward one of the diminutive chairs. “Come on, ma’am, you won’t want to miss this.”

      With a crease still etching her forehead, she pulled out a chair and carefully perched on it, almost as if expecting it to collapse like in the old Goldilocks tale. He gave her an approving nod, but didn’t coax out a smile.

      “Okay now.” Brett clapped, getting the attention of the still-jabbering children. “When I say the words little red schoolhouse...one, two, three, what do we do?”

      “We see who can go the longest without saying anything,” Betsy piped up, proud that she knew the answer.

      Abby’s eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. Catching on now, was she?

      “Does the winner get a prize?” one of the visitors demanded, his freckled face screwed up in concentration at the challenge ahead.

      Brett’s Jeremy had sported freckles, too. Blond hair and the biggest blue eyes, just like his mama. “There’s no prize. But it’s fun, so we don’t need prizes.”

      The boy didn’t look convinced, but Brett pulled up another tiny chair and sat down, too. Then he leaned forward to clasp his hands on the table and the children likewise clasped theirs. After a slight hesitation, Abby followed suit.

      “Are we ready?”

      Nods all around the table. A giggle from Mary garnered her a glare from the others.

      “Okay, here we go. Say it with me.” He made eye contact with each eager face, making sure all were on board. This was such a fun age. Or it could be when kids were healthy and whole, not laboring for every breath drawn into fragile lungs.

      “Little red schoolhouse...” a chorus of childish voices chimed in with his. “One...two...three.”

      Blessed silence descended as each child pressed lips tightly together, watchfully peering around the circle of faces in search of the first culprit to break the quiet.

      As the blissful moments stretched, a broad smile appeared on Mary’s face and several others pointed accusingly, hands clamped to their own now-smiling mouths to keep from saying anything.

      “She’s still in the game,” Brett assured softly. “She hasn’t said anything.”

      Mary gave them a “so there” look, lips tightening with renewed resolve. Brett winked at Abby, who slowly shook her head. He imagined she’d remember this crowd control ploy for some time to come. It was so quiet he could hear a baby crying in the nursery across the hall.

      Abruptly, the boy who’d demanded a prize gave a loud, overly dramatic gasp and gulped in mouthfuls of air. “I can’t breathe!”

      Initially startled, the other kids stared with rounded eyes. Then almost in unison, they cried out in grinning triumph. “He talked!”

      “You don’t hold your breath, silly,” red-haired Skyler admonished with a sigh of disgust. “Can we start over, Brett? He’s doing it wrong.”

      Brett leaned over to pat the visitor on the back, making sure he was okay. He was fine, but liked putting on a show.

      “That’s right, don’t hold your breath. You can breathe through your mouth or through your nose or...through your ears if you want to.”

      The kids giggled.

      Mary plugged her ears with her fingers and made a face of distress. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

      The room erupted in laughter, and Brett caught Abby’s eye. She was laughing, too, and his heart unexpectedly lurched. Man, was that glimpse behind the starchy-mannered exterior worth waiting for.

      The now-composed boy grinned. “I won’t hold my breath again. I promise.”

      “We’ll play one more time.” Brett again caught their teacher’s eye. “Then I believe Miss Abby here has a Bible story for us and probably something fun to make to take home.”

      Abby nodded and the kids turned to look at her as if noticing her for the first time. Another round of the game and the kids were settled down enough to focus on a Bible lesson. All except Skyler, that is, who gave Mary’s ponytail a tug. Brett hauled him into his lap and, after a halfhearted struggle, the boy finally relaxed against him, a too-familiar weight and little boy scent that brought back memories. Wrapping his arms around Skyler’s waist, Brett rested his chin atop the soft thatch of hair and nodded for Abby to begin.

      David and Goliath. A bittersweet heaviness settled into Brett’s chest. Wouldn’t you know it? One of Jeremy’s favorite stories. Right up there with Noah and the ark, Jonah and the whale, and Daniel in the lion’s den. Thankfully the Lord had gotten hold of that precious boy’s daddy just in time or he’d never have СКАЧАТЬ