Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,86

we stick together. When you get down to it, that’s the only option. Fortunately, it’s calm and beautiful most of the time. It’s also a frontier.”

“Denny’s right about one thing—it would be a good place to raise a family. Too bad I don’t have a job here.”

“That job thing? I could make that happen,” he said.

She leaned an elbow on the bar. “And how are you going to do that? I don’t think you need another cook or waitress.”

“A school. We’ve been wanting a school. At least, for the little kids.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said.

He turned away from her briefly, just long enough to pour her a glass of the white wine she seemed to enjoy. He put it in front of her. “Would tempting you work?”

“Ha ha. You don’t happen to have a school.”

“I could have one in a matter of weeks. Remember my friend Paul? He could throw up a prefab modular building in no time at all. The construction would insult him—he’s very proud of his work and never cuts corners. But the price and speed would fit right into this town’s needs.”

“Where would you put it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Probably down the street—there’s a lot of available land between the most populated part of town and Noah’s house. For that matter, I think the church basement is mostly available. But the town should have an elementary school.”

“How many teachers do you plan on luring here?” she asked, sipping her wine.

“I was thinking one. One teacher. And probably teacher’s helpers. It would be good if, for starters, the little kids didn’t have to ride that bus into the valley. When you add up all the kindergarten, first, second and third graders, there aren’t all that many…”

“Oh, stop,” she said, putting down her wine and covering her ears.

He pulled a hand off her ear. “It could happen.”

She stared into his eyes. Hard. “My family is in San Diego!”

“You’ve been away from them for a month, I know,” Jack said. “You’ve probably never been separated that long before.”

But of course she had. “College,” she said. “But it was in L.A. and I went home almost every weekend.” At least, when she could see Denny. When Denny was in Iraq, she went home once a month, if that.

“You must be missing them a lot right about now. After a whole month.”

Oh, and what a month! A beautiful month of reunion with the love of her life. Better than she had dared dream. “I have a nice, furnished, two-bedroom apartment in San Diego,” she said. “Denny has one room over a garage.”

“Easy-peasy,” he said.

“Don’t!” she warned.

“Rick Sutter’s house is on this block. Two bedrooms. Small and cute. Empty. He might get back here in a couple of years. I hope so, anyway—he grew up here. He’s in college in Oregon and has his grandma in a nursing home up there so he can visit her often. But he hasn’t talked about selling the house so I think he’s hoping to come back. He might end up working with Paul.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “The kids would love it. Having you for a teacher. Right now, the people who can afford it are carpooling their kids all the way into the valley for private preschool. We ought to have one of those, too. Even if there aren’t more than a dozen preschoolers. Mel says the kids who miss that have a disadvantage.”

“I think you’re the sneakiest man I’ve ever known in my life,” she said.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told a time or two. But you have your plans. It was just a thought. I know better,” he said. “Too bad you have to miss the pageant, though, after all the time you put in helping.”

Ha! The pageant was just one thing! There were other, far more exciting things to her. Spending her days with children who were just learning to learn. Helping them construct art projects that showed their imaginations. Having learning games that were fun and funny. And field trips—she loved field trips! The parents of her kids were always running for their lives and hiding under beds to avoid being chaperones, and Becca loved field trips.

“You couldn’t do it,” she said to Jack. “You have to have it certified—the whole school. That’s the only way you get funding. You’d need a school board. You’d have to form a PTA.”

“Hey, if we can pull a bunch of church deacons out of this run-down, sinful town, we can