himself off. What reason could he give? He’d been wallowing quite well in self-pity for the last couple of weeks? He’d lost all sense of direction and purpose? That he’d had a hell of a time knowing who he was since he’d returned to Mercy?
Better to leave the sentence unfinished.
Jenny started backing toward the door. “Well, I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll tell Dr. Davis it was all a big misunderstanding.”
She was going to leave. If she did, he had a feeling it would be another ten years before he saw her again. And next time, her last name might not be Wright anymore.
“Jenny, wait.” He took a step forward, then saw the cane against the wall, a stark reminder of why he was home in the first place.
She pivoted, her hand on the doorknob. “What?”
He tightened his fists at his side and gritted his teeth. “It was, ah, really nice to see you again.”
A strange look flitted through her eyes. Disappointment? Hurt? He couldn’t be sure. Half of him wanted to take the words back, to say something that would keep her here, but the other half disagreed.
“Yeah, you, too,” she said. “Tell your mother I said hello.”
And then she was gone. When the door shut, Nate turned off the hall light, yanked the cane up, and retreated to the sofa again. But for the first time, his sanctuary offered no comfort. Like a spring that wouldn’t stay down, the memory of Jenny inside his hallway kept popping up and poking at him.
By the time he picked up the phone, he’d already half made up his mind.
Chapter Two
On Monday morning, Jenny came in early. She’d come up with seventeen ways of telling Dr. Davis that Nate had turned her down, but rejected them all. Even if the whole thing had been a scheme by Grace Dole to reunite the two of them, or a grand idea to get Nate out of the house, Jenny knew she had to find a way to make the whole thing work out, for the sake of her class. If she came up with a good enough excuse for his absence, then it could buy her enough time to convince Nate to change his mind.
David Copperfield moved mountains. Surely she could get one stubborn marine to agree to help her class—and her career. She’d already kissed a pig. How much worse could convincing Nate be?
But being around him…all day, every day. In the same room, within touching distance. Could she do that? Ten years ago, he’d been the man she’d wanted to marry. The one she had laughed with, cried with. Kissed as if the world was going to end tomorrow.
Their world did. He’d joined the marines at seventeen and stopped coming home as often. The distance had made their bond weaker, not stronger. And eventually, one of them—she no longer remembered who—had said the words break up, and before she knew it, the dream she’d held for so many years had evaporated like summer rain on hot pavement.
It was better that way. She was happier. Granted, she was alone, but she no longer pounced on the mail truck, hoping for a letter or some sign that he was okay. That he still cared. She’d finally gone back to normal life.
Well, as normal as life could be with pink hair and a pig for a date.
Jenny pulled out a selection of new library books from her tote bag and set them up on a stand inside the reading circle.
“Miss Wright?”
Jenny wheeled around at the sound of Dr. Davis’s voice. Already? She hadn’t had time to prepare speech number eighteen yet. “Good morning, Dr. Davis.”
“Is Mr. Dole here yet?”
“No, he, ah, he couldn’t make it.”
Dr. Davis arched an eyebrow. “Really? I was under the impression he was eager to help.”
“I think your idea of bringing him in was a wonderful one,” Jenny began, weaving speeches number two and number eleven together on the fly, “and I think the kids would really respond to something like that. The boys’ top choices in books are almost always hero-related.”
The other woman frowned. “I can hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”
“But unfortunately, Mr. Dole—”
“Was running a little late this morning.” Nate entered the room, bearing his weight against a cane. A cane? She hadn’t noticed one yesterday.
Had he been injured? If so, that would explain why gung-ho, always-another-mission-to-take-on Nate was home for more than a minute.
She’d expected him to wear his uniform and was surprised to see him instead in a light-blue dress shirt and navy pants. He looked good, always had. Her heart, which didn’t seem to listen to her head or the warning siren telling her not to notice how he looked, skipped a beat at the sight of him.
“My apologies, Miss Wright and Dr. Davis.” He nodded toward each of them.
“I’m glad you could make it.” The principal extended her hand to shake his. “Miss Wright was under the impression you weren’t coming.”
“Just a misunderstanding.” He grinned. “I’m here and ready to help.”
“Good. I’ll get out of your way then.” Dr. Davis gave him a smile, then left the room.
Once the principal was gone, Jenny turned to Nate. His face, she’d realized yesterday, looked older now, more tired, as if the weight of the world wasn’t sitting so easily on his shoulders anymore. For a fleeting second, she wanted to reach out and make it easier for him.
She quickly shook off the thought. The days when she’d supported Nate were far in the past, and she intended to leave them that way. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Helping you.”
“When I left yesterday, you didn’t seem interested.”
“I, ah, had some time to think it over.” He took a seat on the edge of a desk. “I’m here for a week. Do with me what you will.” He grinned.
A week. She could last a few days in his presence and not lose her mind or her heart again.
Couldn’t she?
Jenny crossed her arms and leaned against the blackboard. “I don’t buy it. You’re as stubborn as a mule and once you’ve made up your mind, you never change it.”
“It’s been a long time, Jenny,” he said quietly. “People change.”
“Yes, they do.” She picked up a piece of chalk and turned it over and over in her palm. “Sometimes.”
The silence stood between them like a gate waiting to be unlocked. His deep-brown gaze met hers and she had to look away before all the thoughts she’d had over the last ten years came rushing to the surface.
I am over him.
But when she turned again to draw in the face that had once been as familiar
