Buch lesen: «Her Family Wish»

Chapter Two

Jude slid into the driver’s seat of his silver sedan beside Abby, mentally kicking himself as he fastened his seat belt and fished for the key. Talk about a bad first impression. He’d practically snapped at Ms. Hart—Hannah—over nothing at all, at least as far as she was concerned. She couldn’t have known that nothing was indeed something. He’d been hurrying past the art room on his way to his office when he’d heard Abby’s name from inside. The entire incident was his own fault for eavesdropping, but he had a right to know what teachers—and volunteers—were saying about his daughter.

Especially lately, with Abby’s first hint of teenage rebellion jump-starting like a Camaro off the line. A too-familiar headache pinched Jude’s temples, and he rubbed his forehead before cranking the engine.

From the passenger seat, Abby quirked a curious eyebrow. He tried not to notice the Look with a capital L and forced what he hoped resembled a carefree smile. “Sorry I’m late. Forgot something in my office.” And had been more than a little sidetracked along the way. He backed out of the parking lot, ready to get home and get out of his suit—and away from the memories of Hannah’s beautiful smile. “How was your day?”

Abby zipped the backpack shut at her feet and wrangled into her seat belt, ignoring the question and jumping straight into the obvious. “What’s wrong with you?”

He clenched his jaw. “Just a stressful day, honey.” He couldn’t tell Abby he’d snapped at a teacher’s assistant—not exactly the role model image he kept desperately trying to project.

Residual anger at his ex boiled in his stomach. Miranda, how could you put me in this position? Not that she could hear him anymore from whichever gravesite in California she resided in. In fact, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said ever since their jaunt down the aisle when they were practically teenagers themselves.

He drew a deep breath to clear his head. “More budget issues. The usual.” It wasn’t a lie. The strained school budget was stretching to the point of snapping like a rubber band, and he couldn’t help but flinch every time he came near the paperwork—or Head Principal Coleman, who had sent an email today indicating one of the school electives would be cut.

“I saw you go into Ms. Davis’s room after school.” Abby twisted in her seat to face him as he pulled onto the frontage road. “Did you meet Ms. Hart?”

Jude kept his eyes on the traffic, partly for safety but mostly because he knew Abby’s game. Her slightly-higher-pitched-than-usual tone proved she was feeling him out about the pretty new assistant. She’d used the same pitch about her fourth grade gym coach, her fifth grade room mother, and her sixth grade math teacher. Matchmaking ran thick in Abby’s blood—yet made him want to run the other way. He’d dated here and there, but no one had been worth risking his heart over. It looked like his dream of having a big family would have to wait a little while longer. He might be over Miranda, but the effects of the woman lingered like a bad perfume.

“Yes, I met her.” He kept his voice level, even as traitorous thoughts of Hannah flitted in his mind. His hands tightened on the wheel. So what if she was attractive? So what if her silky dark hair danced across her shoulders with each turn of her head? So what if her eyes shone such a rich brown it took him a full minute before he noticed the three-inch scar marring her cheek?

None of that mattered. Hannah took pictures for a living, and now taught the skill to the students—to his Abby. His stomach clenched as he flipped on his blinker. If this wasn’t a credit-counting elective and if missing several weeks wouldn’t set Abby back to the point of likely failing, he’d pull her out to avoid the whole photography unit. But that would raise questions—no one would understand why.

Especially not Abby.

“Did you think she was nice?” Abby pressed, yanking the tie off one of her braids and combing her hair with her fingers.

“I only spoke with her for a minute, sweetie.” Long enough to know he was glad this was a temporary course. He could grit his teeth for a few weeks and make the best of it. Surely Abby wouldn’t be corrupted to the point of becoming like her mother in less than a month—right? After all, photography wasn’t modeling. But it was close enough to make him uneasy. What if Abby learned so much about the behind the scenes part that she decided she wanted to learn about being in front of the camera, too?

That would be the first step of many—and one he couldn’t allow.

Abby flipped the visor down to check her reflection in her mirror. She rubbed her bare face with her fingers and sighed. “Lindsey was wearing makeup today.”

Jude fought the automatic parental response threatening to roll off his tongue about friends and bridge jumping. “We’ve talked about this before, Abby. Twice, actually.”

“But it doesn’t make sense.” Abby shut the visor with a snap as Jude pulled into the driveway of their modest, ranch-style home. “Most of the girls in my class wear makeup now. I’m almost thirteen.”

“You don’t need makeup.” Jude hoped his voice conveyed the same finality he felt in his heart. “And you won’t be thirteen for a few months.” Three and a half, to be exact, and he was clinging to every last second. Although it felt like Abby had been a teenager for at least a year already. He shifted into Park and turned off the ignition. And to think he used to dread the terrible twos.

Abby made no move to get out of the car. “I’m not talking about black eyeliner and hot pink lipstick. Just a little lip gloss and mascara.”

Maybe that was all for now. But as Miranda taught him, inches gave way to miles, and if Jude gave in today, Abby would be on the fast track to false eyelashes and stilettos. Begging to wear makeup would lead to begging for professional head shots and the next thing he knew, he’d have created a monster.

Again.

“Don’t push this. My decision stands.” Jude tugged off his seat belt, exhaustion knotting his neck.

She snorted. “If my mother were still alive she’d—”

“Abby!”

“What? It’s not my fault she died when I was little. You never want to talk about her, and that’s almost as annoying as your stupid rules.”

Abby might have the details wrong, but the main truth of that statement smacked Jude in the stomach like a boxing glove. She was right—he didn’t want to talk about Miranda. Didn’t want Abby to know the truth about her mom. The mother figure she’d made up in her head all these years had kept Abby from feeling rejected, kept her from insecurities she shouldn’t have to face at such a young age.

It just made Jude the bad guy.

Her tirade finished, and knowing she’d crossed a line, Abby wisely remained silent as she unbuckled her seat belt and threw open the car door. She stomped up the stone walkway to the house, where she waited with her back rigid for him to come with the keys.

Jude took his time pulling his briefcase from the backseat, giving them both a little space to cool off. Maybe he was being strict, but Abby didn’t understand. If she knew what her mother had done, had become, she’d get it. But he couldn’t tell her now, not during this sensitive time in her life. The teen years were hard enough without discovering your mother abandoned you as a kid because she preferred the bright lights and airbrushed pages of modeling to motherhood—and the recreational drugs that flowed in abundance and were her ultimate demise.

No, Abby shouldn’t have to deal with the same pain Jude spent nearly a decade muddling through. Since she didn’t have any memories of Miranda, Jude had mercifully put off the questions over the years, being just vague enough for Abby to draw her own conclusions. It was close enough.

And much better than the truth.

* * *

Hannah felt funny peering in the door to the teachers’ lounge, as if she were once again a student wondering what on earth the adults did in there all day. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but she wasn’t an official staff member, either, so the unease lingered.

She poked her head around the frame of the mostly deserted room and looked for Sophia, who said to meet her during her break before the last period. Hopefully Jude wouldn’t be inside. She couldn’t bear to face him yet after the awkward conversation from Monday. Hannah’s eyes darted anxiously to each table. Did assistant principals even use the lounge? Sophia waved from a corner table, and Hannah exhaled in relief as she made her way over.

“Decaf coffee? Stale donut?” Sophia pointed with a laugh to the unappealing array of leftovers, sitting on the counter by the sink cluttered with mugs.

Hannah made her way toward her, ducking her head to hide her scarred cheek as she passed a table of teachers hunched over what seemed to be lesson plans. “As, uh, tempting as that is, no thanks.” She smiled and adjusted the strap on her camera bag. “How has the rest of the week gone?”

“They’re slowly getting into it.” Sophia brushed some crumbs off the table, then crumpled her napkin and tossed it into the trash can. “They stopped asking ridiculous questions, at least.”

Hannah grinned. “That’s a start.” She tapped her bag. “I brought a lot of sample photos on lighting like you asked—even some pretty bad ones I saved from my practice days to show them the difference.”

“See, this is why I need you! You’re so much better than a textbook.” Sophia grabbed her purse and motioned for Hannah to follow her out the door. “Let’s go set up. The bell will ring in about ten minutes.”

They quickly laid out Hannah’s various photos and handouts, finishing as the bell rang. Students laughed and pushed their way inside the classroom, excited to get the last class of their Friday over with now that weekend freedom danced just out of reach.

“Come on, guys, settle down.” Sophia clapped her hands and managed to wrangle their attention. “Ms. Hart’s going to talk about lighting today.” She took the chair behind her desk and motioned for Hannah to start.

Abby’s eyes lit with anticipation from her seat in the front row, and Hannah smiled at her as she began her presentation. “Everyone knows lighting in photography is important. But sometimes too much light can actually be a bad thing.” Hannah held up a sample shot, where the flash had washed out the entire picture.

Abby sat on the edge of her seat, eyes following Hannah’s every move and drinking in each photograph as she went on. Too bad the rest of the kids weren’t as interested, though as Sophia had said, there was a definite change from Monday. At least they gave each photo Hannah passed around the room a cursory glance.

“Last week, Abby asked a question about lighting when taking a picture with a phone camera.” Hannah collected the last of the pictures that had been passed around and slid them back in their protective folder, then pulled the handouts she’d prepared from an envelope. “I’ve made you all a list of tips to practice when you go home. Next week let me know if you think you took better pictures based on this advice.” The kids accepted the handout, several of them looking longingly at their backpacks or purses where their phones nestled, turned off via school rules.

Sophia stood and pulled her own phone from her purse. “How about we take a few shots now with my phone and we can put Ms. Hart’s guidelines into practice.” The kids cheered, all vying to be first.

A knock sounded on the closed door a moment before it opened. Hannah looked up as Jude stepped inside, and her earlier hesitations flooded her body in full force. She took a deep breath and tried to keep a natural smile on her face. Maybe if she ignored the awkward conversation from Monday, he would, too.

Although it’d be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look so good in that gray pinstriped suit.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he called above the din of the students chattering excitedly as Sophia divided them into groups of four. “I was hoping to speak with Ms. Hart before my three o’clock meeting.”

Hannah’s heart stammered in her chest. Her? Why? Sophia shot her a puzzled look, appearing equally confused, but gestured for her to go ahead. “I’ll handle this. We’ll show you what we’ve accomplished when you get back.”

Hannah reluctantly met Jude in the deserted hallway, keeping her eyes down and feeling way too much like a student in trouble. The door clicked shut softly behind her and she crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak first. With her luck, she’d unknowingly offend him again. She didn’t want to get on the school administration’s bad side, especially when she wasn’t even a certified teacher. When the students had started actually growing interested in what she’d taught today, something shifted inside her. She didn’t just want to teach them—she needed to. Needed to feel productive, needed to feel like she was making a difference.

Needed to be needed.

“You look like Terrence McAllister did when I busted him last week for sneaking off campus.” Jude shook his head with a smile that slowly relaxed Hannah’s stiff position. “Am I that intimidating?”

She couldn’t help but offer a small smile in return. “Maybe it’s the suit.”

He laughed, the husky sound melting the last of her nerves. “I’ll be sure to have a word with my tailor.” His grin faded at the corners, and his deep blue eyes took on a serious sheen. “I’m sorry I made you uneasy the other day. I let a personal matter affect my reaction to your generous offer, and I apologize.”

Such formal wording—was that how he always spoke, or was that something he hid behind? Would be interesting to find out, to get to know him well enough to discover his quirks.

She certainly had enough of her own.

But then again, did she really want to get to know someone like Jude better, someone she could apparently offend so easily and never understand why? He’d apologized, so maybe it hadn’t been her fault after all. Maybe he just didn’t like receiving something—even something like photography services—free. A lot of men would take that as a slam on their pride. Still…

Hannah waited for more details, but he didn’t offer them, leaving her with only more questions. She rescued them both from the silence that was inching toward awkward. “I guess we’ve all been there at one point or another. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“No, it was my fault alone.” Jude shifted positions, casually resting his weight against the tiled wall. The motion sent an enticing wave of spicy cologne Hannah’s way, weakening her knees. Pathetic. Had it been that long since she’d been in close proximity to a man?

Actually, yes. Sad, but true. Hannah bit her lower lip. She shouldn’t go there. It would accomplish nothing. Jude was trying to right a wrong, nothing more. No way did he feel the attraction that threatened to level Hannah’s legs out from under her.

Not when she looked the way she did.

“I’ve been concerned about a school issue, and the stress from— Well, I overreacted. No excuses.” Jude hesitated and Hannah looked up, searching his gaze, eager to see his secrets but not sure why it mattered so much.

She looked away as a rush of warmth heated her stomach. Though she wasn’t on the payroll, Jude was still an authority figure, and she had no business teasing herself with what would surely be a dead end. If only… But no, she couldn’t go back down that road. She’d traveled it enough in the months after her car accident.

“Thanks for saying so.” She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze briefly before pretending great interest in the bulletin board on the wall. Then she realized she’d provided him with a full view of her scarred cheek, and she quickly turned the opposite way.

Jude’s gaze followed her motion, and a flush rode an unwelcome passage up Hannah’s neck. Definitely a one-sided attraction. He had no reason to be drawn to her, and a jagged, three-inch reason not to.

Hannah straightened her shoulders, determined not to let him see her vulnerabilities. It would get them nowhere. “If that’s all, I better get back to the class.” A roar of laughter burst from inside the classroom, and Hannah took that as her cue. She reached for the knob, and Jude held out one hand as if to stop her before letting it drop back to his side. The traitorous blush claimed new real estate on her neck and chest and she forced herself not to look away, to hold her ground. She had nothing to be embarrassed about.