Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,66
chair. She’d forgotten what a big man he was. Bigger now, thicker than she remembered. “I appreciate your taking the time to see me. It’s so close to the holidays. I know how busy it gets.”
He held her in his gaze. “You know I’ll always make time for you.”
She felt her face warm and examined her knees. She could see the shiny pointed tips of his cowboy boots, the hem of his Levi’s worn white at the crease. Some women considered Hap attractive, and she supposed he was, in a beefy, athletic sort of way. He’d played professional football once, linebacker—or was it running back?—for the Dallas Cowboys, but the muscle under the heavily starched cotton of his western shirt had lost definition.
“How long’s it been since you were in the classroom? I was trying to remember.” Hap rounded his desk and sat down, and Abby relaxed a bit.
“Not since Lindsey was born.”
“Right, right.” Hap grinned. “I remember now—” he made an arc with his arms “—out to here when you quit.”
Her face warmed again. She didn’t know where to look.
He laughed a bit as if her discomfiture delighted him. “I think I’ve got a place for you.”
“Oh?” Abby’s heart sank.
“Do you know Charlotte Treadway? She teaches second grade at Clark Elementary where you taught. Same classroom even. Must be something in the walls because she’s going out on maternity leave, too, next week.”
“So soon.”
“It’s perfect, don’t you think? You’ll be comfortable starting there, and who knows, it could turn permanent. Charlotte might not come back for fifteen years either.”
“Well,” Abby said. “Thank you. I don’t know about it being permanent, though.”
“We can cross that bridge down the road. How about if we get you started on the paperwork? You can fill in the application online and then I’ll call you later in the week to work out a time for you to visit Charlotte’s classroom. How’s your schedule?”
“I’m flexible,” Abby said.
His phone rang. He put up a finger. “Can you wait a minute?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. To use the interruption to leave would appear rude in the face of his kindness. She clasped her hands in her lap, examining them to give Hap privacy. He was making it so easy for her, and she knew why. She wished she didn’t, that she could somehow forget.
That awful New Years Eve party when Hap, having had too much to drink, wept and rambled drunkenly on and on to Abby about his poor wife who was dying of brain cancer. Abby told Nick she thought it was Hap’s loneliness and despair that had led him to try and kiss her, to put his hands on her. She squirmed a little now at the memory. She remembered her shock, how for a matter of seconds, she had been paralyzed, and when she finally had managed to extricate herself from him, she’d done it quickly, without a word. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but she’d been so embarrassed.
Hap’s call ended, and he sat quietly looking at her, heating her face with his scrutiny.
Causing her to feel even more regret. “Is—is something wrong?”
“I’m happy to find work for you, but I need to know if you’ll be staying in Hardys Walk, if you’re keeping your house and all, because I have to tell you, I heard different. I heard you mean to sell, move back home with your mom.”
“Who told you that?”
He shrugged. “Several folks, but it’s not like anyone blames you, Abby. It’s a mystery how you can stand up under what you’ve been through. Not another woman I know can carry herself like you do.”
She touched her eyes.
Hap half rose, as if he meant to come around his desk and comfort her.
She lifted her hands. “No, it’s all right. I’m all right. Truly.” She managed a smile. But she could see he felt badly for her. She could see his bewilderment, too, and his desire. And as she left his office, she thought how much she hated trading on his sympathy, some long-ago feeling he had conceived for her.
* * *
“I never imagined being single again,” Abby told Kate on the phone later.
“He always did have a thing for you.” Kate sounded delighted.
“I’m not interested.”
“Not in him, I know, but you’re young still.”
“Don’t go there, Katie.”
“Okay, okay.”
Abby bit her lip, on the verge of apologizing.
“So when do you start?”
“After Thanksgiving.”
“Do you really think Hap will be a problem? Will you have to see him every day?”