Reluctant Housemates Page 17

  JACK’S HUMOR KEPT RACHEL going for the rest of the day, especially during the time when doubts crept into her mind. Maybe she was causing too much trouble. If she hadn’t taken this job, the Pilgrim Cove football team would be intact and perhaps go on to victory. Morale in the school would be high. The community would be happy with the strong football team. Now maybe her entire hometown would be sorry she’d returned. She had certainly not anticipated uncovering such a mess.

  She purposely chatted with Mrs. Drummond during the teachers’ lunch period to confirm the grades she’d given the two boys.

  “No homework turned in, no tests passed. No passing grade,” Mrs. Drummond said. “I thought sports were supposed to improve the boys’ ambition to do well. That’s what they tell us, anyway.”

  “Normally it does, Mrs. Drummond. I’ve had wonderful success in my other two high schools. But here—” she shook her head “—it’s not the same.” She wasn’t going to go into any detail yet. No names. No accusations.

  “You mean, ‘Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark?’ Or should I say, Pilgrim Cove?”

  Rachel didn’t respond.

  Mrs. Drummond patted her on the arm. “You’re doing a good job, Rachel. An honest job. I’m proud of you.”

  Rachel couldn’t speak. Just stared at her old nemesis.

  “Don’t look so surprised! You’re Lou Goodman’s daughter, aren’t you? I’ve got eyes! You care about the students, just like he does. Or did.” She sighed. “I miss him. I miss our book talks. Always enjoyed keeping up with Lou. A very smart man.”

  Rachel listened hard. So interesting to see her dad from the perspective of his peers. “Go visit him at the public library. He volunteers there a lot.”

  “I know. And I have. But it’s not the same. Oh, well. Life goes on.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Drummond,” said Rachel. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

  She returned to her office to find Tom Sullivan waiting for her. She liked the coach but didn’t quite know what to expect from him.

  “How can the boys get back on the team?” he asked without preamble.

  “They can qualify for next year’s team,” she replied, “if we’re only talking football. They can qualify for winter sports if they get their grades up next marking period, which ends at Thanksgiving—also the end of the football season. So, I’m afraid that football is over for them this year.”

  “Are there any ways around this? Anything we can do? A special exam, maybe?”

  He was a problem solver. Not a blamer. “I like the way you think, Tom,” she said, arms behind her as she leaned casually against her desk.

  A knock sounded at her open door. Her nephew, David, stood there for the very first time since she’d started her job. She glanced at Tom. “Word sure travels fast around here.” Then she motioned David inside.

  “Nobody’s home,” he said, “and I feel sick. Can you give me a ride?”

  “Of course,” she replied, walking to him and touching his forehead.

  He pulled away. “I’m not a baby.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” She returned her attention to Tom. “About our discussion—I’ll review the MIAA handbook carefully over the next day or two—in fact, you should, too—and we’ll talk again by the end of the week. In the meantime, they’re benched.”

  “Fair enough,” said the coach, walking to the door. “And thanks, Rachel.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Then she signed David out and drove him home. As he unbuckled his seat belt, he turned to her.

  “Aunt Rachel, can’t you let them play? Give ’em another test or something. They’ll study this time and pass.”

  The boy was flushed, and Rachel wondered if his illness was a reaction to the situation with the boys.

  “I wish it were that easy, David, but it’s not. If they pass the next marking period, they can play winter sports, like basketball or ice hockey. I’m doing a little research on other options, but don’t count on anything.”

  “Maybe Jack can think of something,” replied David. “He always comes up with great ideas.”

  Rachel chuckled. “He’s smart, but he doesn’t have the power to change the MIAA rules. Sometimes, David, the best lessons are the hard lessons. Jimmy and Steve will buckle down to their schoolwork from now on. In the meantime, go inside and get some rest. I’ll call you later.”

  She never got the chance. Her phone at Sea View House rang that evening, and when Rachel picked it up, she heard her brother’s voice.

  “What the hell is going on in that school, Rachel?”

  She plopped into a kitchen chair, happy to take advantage of its support. Her brother’s tone promised another confrontation. “What’s going on is called standards, Alex, or following the rules. And how’s David feeling?”

  “Not well, thanks to you.”

  “What do you mean, thanks to me?”

  “The kids are on his back because you’re his aunt. They think he can make you reinstate those boys. And they’re leaning on him.”

  Now Rachel sat up straight. “Define ‘leaning.’ Has he been threatened?” she asked, her muscles tensing in every limb. “Alex, I’ll file charges with the Pilgrim Cove police if this is true. No student will get away with threats.”

  “No. No. Not threats exactly, but they’re making him uncomfortable. Harassing him in the halls. In the lunchroom. In class. Why are you being so hard-nosed?”

  And why did nothing ever change between her brother and her? “I didn’t write the rules, Alex. Those boys each failed two out of four major courses. Therefore they cannot play.”

  “So, bench them for a week or something. Lousy academics is more reason for them to play and make their mark for an athletic scholarship. You used athletics to go to college. Why shouldn’t they?”

  Why did Alex continually harp on her history? “These boys don’t just have lousy grades, they’re failing! My grades may have been poor, but I did manage to pass my courses. And you always seem to forget that I scored high on my boards.”

  “Well, good for you,” he replied sarcastically. “David won’t.”

  Her heart sank. Her brother’s call was really about his own son. He was a worried parent. “Alex, I promise you that David will find his way. He has a good mind. A creative mind. Give him the space to develop his abilities without breathing down his neck.”

  “After you become a parent, you can give me advice. Not before. Damn it, Rachel! I was hoping things would be different this time, but you’re still a spoiled brat. Always wanting your own way and still getting it. Like when we were kids. I was the one who had to work after school when I wasn’t baby-sitting you. I was the one who had to get straight A’s. I had to buy my own glove and cleats and pay my own admission to a movie. And I was only fourteen. So don’t ever, ever say that I was their favorite child. That’s crap.”

  The phone clicked in her ear. She couldn’t move. Didn’t have the strength. The receiver fell from her hand, bounced on the table and landed on the floor. The house was silent except for the sound of her own breathing. Her dreams for a better relationship with her brother were gone.

  So why was she reaching for the receiver and dialing his number? She heard it ring. Heard Susan say hello.

  “Your husband’s an idiot, Sue. But would you please put him on the phone?”

  “Gladly. I’m happy that these leftover resentments are finally being aired. I like peace in my family.”

  Silence.

  Then her brother’s voice. “What?” he barked.

  “Take your sky-high IQ and use it, Alex. There are ten years between us. Our parents were ten years longer into their marriage when I came along. When Mom went back to work and you baby-sat, there was finally a second income. More money in the family.

  “What do you want from me, Alex? I was eight years old when you went to college. Tell me, how did I ruin your life?”

  Silence again.

  “It seems to me,” said Rachel in a
quiet tone, “that you have it all. You’re happily married, have two great kids, a job you love…so I ask again, how did I ruin your life?”

  This time he replied. “My brain says you’re right…I guess it’s my emotions that are fouled up. I can’t believe how hard it is to get rid of those memories. They must be embedded or something.”

  “You’ve got two great kids, but they’re different from each other, just like we were. If you don’t let them flower in their own way, Alex, they’ll end up like us! Is that what you really want?”

  “No, no. I don’t. I’d like them to be friends.”

  “And what do you think our parents want of us?” she asked softly. “What do you think I want, Alex? That was part of the reason I took this job.”

  “Truly?”

  “Believe it.”

  “Okay, Rachel. I do believe it. We may have our faults, but the Goodmans don’t lie.”

  “That’s right. We do other things that come back to bite us!” She tried to lighten the mood to match her heart. Her brother believed her, and that was a step in the right direction.

  “I do love you, Rachel. But I need time to get to know you as an equal. I need to get over the past so I can embrace the present.”

  “Oh, Alex. Thank you. I can’t ask for more.”

  She replaced the receiver, and went in search of a tissue. The Goodman family was going to be fine. Her relationship with her dad was strong; the one with her brother would be the same.

  She glanced at her ceiling, toward the Crow’s Nest. Jack was away that evening, dredging up more water samples and taking them into Boston. She was on her own.

  Outside, darkness had fallen, and Rachel noted the days getting shorter as autumn headed toward winter. The air inside wasn’t cold, but she shivered. For the first time since renting Sea View House, she felt isolated. Vulnerable. She made a point of locking the windows and setting the alarm system.

  She changed into a sweat suit, donned thick socks and meandered into the comfortable living room, her reading material in hand. The MIAA manual. All the rules governing interscholastic sports. She stretched out on the chintz covered couch and opened the book, but her mind wandered back to the school and to the personalities of those involved. Too bad people were so much more complicated than rule books. And then she thought about herself. Was she not also guilty of seeing the world through her own filter? Trying to foist her ideas on others? But wasn’t that why she’d been hired in the first place?

  She’d probably fail here. In her own hometown. She ached at bringing such disappointment to her parents when they’d had such high hopes at the start. She sighed deeply. But the playing field hadn’t been level, and she’d stumbled into something that was bigger than she was.

  Had any athlete ever failed a course in the years since Bob Franklin had taken over as director? Or was he too clever for that? Maybe he gave the okay for the less important contributors to flunk to avoid suspicion.

  And maybe she was simply writing a script for a bad movie! Maybe she was blowing everything out of proportion. How would she ever find out? She knew that grades were saved in the computer system, but the task of assessing each athlete’s value to a school team for the last several years would be almost impossible, especially since she didn’t know the youngsters herself.

  Her dad had always preached that knowledge was power. She looked at the book in her hand. If she were going to go down, she’d do it fighting. She began to read.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “WHAT SHALL I TELL the BOYS today?” Tom Sullivan hovered in Rachel’s doorway the next afternoon.

  Rachel managed to dredge up a tiny smile. “I need more time to evaluate what I read last night. I need to figure out if it’s worth turning the school upside down.”

  The coach’s eyes narrowed. “I reread the handbook, cover to cover, too. Maybe we can come up with something. Two heads are better than one.”

  Her smile became easier. “I know.” She checked her calendar. “Tomorrow, lunchtime. Let’s talk here in my office. In the meantime, the boys don’t play.”

  “Okay.” He waved and left. Rachel rested her head in her hands.

  What a day! Nonstop phone calls, visitors. Jack had stopped by every five minutes—at least, it seemed that way. If he were an M.D. instead of a Ph.D., he’d have checked her heart rate every time. She knew she looked awful because the mirror didn’t lie. She could probably pack the bags under her eyes. She was running on little sleep, a lot of caffeine, a whole lot of nervous energy.

  And now Dr. Bennett stood in her doorway, a deep crease in his forehead, yellow legal pad in his hand.

  “Got a minute?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  He closed the door and held out the pad. “I’ve been on the phone with practically every member of the school board. They’ve been getting calls from parents who want to know what’s going on regarding the football team. And I mean lots of calls.”

  Her heart sank. He was going to fire her right now, after less than two months. How unique was that? “I guess I’m not surprised. At least, not too surprised.”

  Dr. Bennett sat down before he replied, before he held her undivided attention with only his glance. “Rachel, you’re going to have to fill me in on every detail. On your conversations with everyone involved. Teachers, parents, staff and students. I need to know how to respond to these calls.”

  Had she heard him correctly? “You mean, I still have a job?”

  He chuckled, but not happily. “My dear, there’s always the possibility that I’m the one who won’t. In the end, the operations of the entire school fall on me. Including any scandal. I’d hate to retire early under a cloud.”

  “What?” Rachel jumped from her seat. “Dr. Bennett, you’re the best thing that ever happened to our students. You’ve got the biggest heart, you understand adolescents better than anyone in this building…the kids line up to talk to you. They stop you in the halls. I’ve never seen a principal like you. The board can’t fire you!”

  She shouldn’t have drunk so much coffee. Too restless to sit down again, she walked behind her chair. “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry. You’re worth too much to this school. Who cares about Bob Franklin, anyway?”

  But he was shaking his head and smiling. A genuine smile. “My goodness, Rachel. Thank you. Your loyalty makes me proud. I knew I was right to hire you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied, sounding like a ten-year-old.

  His laughter made her feel a little better, and an hour later she felt a whole lot better after their discussion. Not that the facts had changed, but sharing them relieved some of her stress. He agreed to join her and Tom at lunch the next day. Together, they would try to determine if there was a way of legally reinstating the two boys on the team. Rachel wanted to be prepared with a plan or two before the meeting. When Dr. Bennett left her office, she turned to the pages she’d marked in the handbook the night before and began writing.

  She noted when the building emptied out. Somehow the quiet pervaded even the inner sanctum of the administrative wing.

  Jack came by and tried to talk her into working at home. He left calling her a “stubborn woman” to her face and who knows what under his breath. She’d promised him a walk on the beach at whatever time she got to Sea View House.

  “Go, go home,” she’d said, shooing him away.

  He just stared, his eyes dark with frustration. “Damn it, Rachel! You’d make a saint angry! Why do I even care?” That’s when he left, mumbling too low for her to hear the rest.

  But his words nagged at the back of her mind. She’d try to explain later that she had to see her projects through to the end. She couldn’t relax until her commitments were met.

  It was eight o’clock by the time she was satisfied with her preparations for the next day’s meeting. She glanced out her window. Darkness had descended. No moonlight brightened the night sky that evening. Rachel locked her office, set the alarm and left the bu
ilding by the side entrance. She pushed the door hard until it locked behind her. Then she walked to the front parking area where her vehicle rested in its assigned spot.

  And her world spun out of control again.

  Flat tires. The two facing her were flat and the car was level. So all four had been slashed. A paper was on the windshield. With bold black letters. But she couldn’t read it from where she stood. Her heart began to pound.

  Someone had sent an ugly message. Were the boys behind it?

  The parents? Their friends? She backed up against the building, trying to hide herself in deep shadow. Should she try to return inside the building? Would she be safe running to the car?

  She opened her purse and reached for her cell with sweaty hands. The phone slipped and crashed to the concrete. She groaned and fell to her knees, her eyes still scanning the parking area. She stretched her arm blindly in front of her. “Got it!” she whispered.

  Without any delay, she raced for her car, grabbed the note, used her remote opener and…froze. Couldn’t move. The back window of the Explorer was shattered. Fragments everywhere inside and out. It took a moment to breathe. With shaking hands, she pushed the phone’s on button. The face lit up. She felt tears run down her cheeks as she punched Jack’s number and climbed into the front seat.

  HE COULDN’T MAKE OUT HER words at first. All he recognized was her voice. In the end, he got to the school in under two minutes.

  As soon as he pulled up next to her, she jumped from her vehicle. He went to her, held her tightly and guided her to his truck, then kept her on his lap in the front passenger seat. He felt her shivering, all the way down to her feet. He had no blankets, so he wrapped her more snugly in his arms.

  “It’s all right now, sweetheart. Shh… Shh…” He made soft noises, but his muscles tensed, ready for action. Problem was, he didn’t know who to blame. And his first concern was Rachel.

  Finally, she just lay against his chest, her breathing back to normal. He kissed her hair, her temple. She didn’t seem to want to budge. And that was fine with him. “You’re safe, Rachel. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”