Handprints. Myrna Temte
the western horizon, filling the sky with a soft, reddish glow. The air was cool and sweet, the scenery pretty as the road cut through alternating sections of productive farmland and new residential developments.
There were some big, beautiful homes out here, but she wondered how a public official like Mr. Granger could afford the steep prices the area demanded. Maybe he’d inherited a lot of money, or his wife had carried a hefty life insurance policy. Or maybe his family had owned one of the original homesteads.
It was none of her business, of course, but a healthy dose of curiosity rarely hurt anyone, and it made life much more interesting. The two-lane road followed the dips and rises of the spring-green foothills and the sparkling curves of the river. Abby rolled down the window, drinking in the soft, country sounds of birds and the rich, earthy smells of farm animals and freshly plowed fields.
Two miles later she spotted a barn-shaped mailbox painted with the distinctive black-and-white spots of a Holstein cow. Wrought-iron numbers bearing the Grangers’ address stretched across the top. She crossed the small bridge and drove down a long, gravel driveway into the farmyard. Turning off the engine, she sat behind the steering wheel and studied the property with interest.
She had expected an imposing, immaculate house and perfectly manicured grounds judging from Mr. Granger’s impeccable appearance and rigid personality. But while the white, two-story clapboard house was certainly imposing, its barren front porch and empty flower beds gave it a sad aura that reminded her of Kitty. Despite its neglected appearance, however, it had great potential to look homey and inviting.
If it were hers, she would spend the summer decorating that big front porch with wind chimes and wicker furniture with bright, even gaudy cushions, and filling those flower beds with color and life.
Abby slung her school satchel over her shoulder, then grabbed the plastic-wrapped plate of chocolate chip cookies and climbed out of the Bronco. Her stomach tightened with apprehension, but she straightened her spine and set off across the yard. Bracing herself for unpleasantness, she knocked on the door.
Seconds later she heard footsteps, the door swung inward and Granger the Grouch stood in the opening. On a purely physical basis, she found Jack Granger extremely attractive. His features were rugged enough to make his face really interesting. Though they were usually cold and distant, his blue eyes revealed a fierce intelligence that fascinated her.
She preferred men who weren’t quite so big, but she had to admit she’d admired his broad shoulders, narrow waist and long limbs more than once. Even a suit and tie couldn’t hide such a fit, well-defined physique.
His evening beard had sprouted. He still wore his suit pants, but the coat and tie were missing and his white shirt hung open at the neck. All the way down to the third button. The V of chest exposed was tanned and matted with crisp dark hair. Oh, goodness, that slightly rumpled look was an improvement.
“You,” he said, leaving no doubt whatsoever that finding her on his porch was anything but a nice surprise.
She smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Granger.”
“What are you doing here?”
Abby cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his angry gaze. Uh-oh. She pulled herself up to her full height, imagined herself taller. Much, much taller. None of it eased the tension crackling between them. She shoved the cookies toward his midsection. He grabbed for the plate, fumbled with it when she yanked her hand away too quickly, but saved it before it hit the floor.
“I brought a peace offering,” she said, while he was still juggling the plate. “I want to apologize for yesterday. I’m just…” She paused, groping for exactly the right words to express herself in a way he would not only understand, but accept. “I look at Kitty and she’s such a sweet little girl and I see so much potential in her, I’m extremely frustrated to see her floundering.”
“And you think I’m not?”
Abby held her palms in front of her shoulders, hoping that small gesture could soothe his irritation. “Of course you are. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I think there’s another avenue to explore in order to help Kitty, but I know you’re a caring father who’s doing his best in what must be a very difficult situation. I let my frustration and temper get the better of me, and I really am sorry for the way I spoke to you.”
The stiffness in his posture eased fractionally, and his voice lost its hard edge. “I appreciate your apology.”
She reached into the satchel, pulled out the sheaf of papers she’d brought along and handed them to him. This time she didn’t have to force a smile. He didn’t return it, but he studied her mouth as if he realized there was something new or different he should notice. Her lips tingled.
“This is a copy of our school district’s learning targets for first grade,” she said, pretending not to see the way he startled at the sound of her voice. “It lists everything Kitty should be able to do in order to move on to second grade.”
He set the cookies on something inside, then leafed through the first five sheets, his eyes opening wider with each page before he looked at her again. “All of this?”
Abby nodded. “And that’s just the district’s requirements. We also have EARLS, or Essential Academic Learning Requirements, and Benchmarks from the State Board of Education.”
“May I study this?” he asked.
“Keep it. I can always print another one off the district’s Web site. I thought it would give you a more realistic idea of how much Kitty still needs to learn before I can promote her.”
“I see.”
“Ms. Walsh?”
Abby glanced down and discovered a wide-eyed Kitty standing beside her father. The little girl wore the same pink shorts outfit she’d had on at school, and she was gazing up at Abby with a tentative grin that made Abby’s arms ache to hug her.
“Did you come to visit me?” Kitty asked.
Abby automatically crouched down until she was at eye level with the little girl. “I brought your daddy some papers and some cookies, too.”
“Really?” Kitty said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Abby replied. “They’ll taste great with some milk.”
“Are you gonna eat them with me?”
Seeing more animation in the little girl’s face than she had in weeks, Abby hesitated. She would love to accept the invitation to gather information for Erin, as well as for Kitty’s sake, but Mr. Granger’s warning scowl squelched that idea. She didn’t want to push her luck too far, after all. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I shouldn’t.”
Kitty craned her neck to look up at her father. “Ask her to stay, Daddy.”
“Ms. Walsh already said she can’t,” he said, his tone calm and quiet.
Kitty raised her chin to an uncommonly stubborn angle; Abby had rarely seen her care about anything enough to make a fuss. “But she’ll stay if you ask her. I know she will.”
Clearly surprised and not a little dismayed by his daughter’s argument, it was Mr. Granger’s turn to hesitate. While he obviously didn’t want to invite her into his house, he just as obviously didn’t want to disappoint Kitty, either. He looked so torn, Abby almost laughed.
“Well, Ms. Walsh?” he finally said, his voice little more than a grumble. “Would you like to come in for cookies?”
Abby couldn’t help chuckling at his grudging invitation. “Hey, when you put it that way, I’m never too busy to have a cookie with one of my favorite students.”
Kitty raised her head and gaped at Abby. The smile of sheer delight that immediately spread across the little girl’s face made the whole trip out here worth it, as far as Abby was concerned. Kitty dashed forward, took Abby’s hand and tugged her toward the threshold.
Abby took