then stared at her for a moment, hands on hips, lips curved up at the corners in what could only be a mocking grin before Paige realized she was blocking the aisle. She took a step aside so he could make his way to his new desk, but Paige couldn’t help herself and reached out an arm.
“And Mr. Campbell?” she said, tapping his forearm as he passed.
“Yes,” Liam said, turning to look at her.
“Do try to be on time to our meeting.”
* * *
“Okay, class, that’s all for today,” Liam told his first graders that afternoon. “Don’t forget to bring an object from home tomorrow. We’re going to be telling stories about them, and then on Wednesday we’ll get to start painting pictures of them. So pick something you really, really like. You’ll be stuck with it for a few days so you don’t want to choose something you can’t stand to look at.”
The musical sound of the kids’ giggles filled the room as Liam scrunched up his face in mock disgust. He finished collecting the students’ drawings and, as they filed out, Liam wiped his face and sunk into his chair, setting his feet on the desktop.
After the unfortunate introduction to the Assistant Principal, he’d been flustered, and it took him a bit before he recalled the lesson he’d planned a few weeks ago. Before today, he’d only met with Principal Matthews, who had hired him. But Assistant Principal Graham was something else—a force to be reckoned with—and he supposed he’d just have to get used to her in time. But he didn’t appreciate the way she’d lit into him in front of his students without allowing him to get a word in edgewise in the way of explanation. He planned on telling her so at their meeting in a few minutes.
With her shoulder-length blond curls and her baby blue eyes, she had looked like the human version of a spring day. He loved that she wore so little makeup and he could see fully the fresh glow of her creamy skin—even underneath the red-hot anger that had covered her face. Liam chuckled to himself as he thought of how mad she’d been—so out of proportion to the circumstance. She’d acted for all the world like a fire-breathing dragon and there’d been something about her seriousness that had made him want to push her buttons even more.
Not that he hadn’t been in the wrong. Liam never made it a practice to be late to work. In fact, he hated that he’d made a bad impression on his first day, which he’d have to work twice as hard to overcome. It was just that his morning art-therapy group at the hospital where he interned part-time could sometimes draw him in and he found it incredibly difficult to pull away from them, even though he knew the drive back to Peach Leaf would take an hour. Unlike the kids he would be teaching at the elementary school, the kids in the group he’d started as part of his dissertation research struggled with burdens that even their parents had trouble understanding—anything from minor speech impediments to serious emotional baggage caused by various types of trauma. It was Liam’s job to teach his patients various methods of expression that would allow them to begin working through their pain.
Helping kids uncover their deepest emotions was the first step to healing. Often art gave them a way to articulate their feelings about whatever distress had brought them to his practice. He could then converse with them about how to feel better. He’d seen all kinds of grief over his years as a certified art therapist and had witnessed the power that making art could have when it came to expression. Many times, his patients didn’t even realize what they were feeling until it revealed itself during the repetitive motions of painting or molding clay. It was an amazing thing to watch, and Liam hoped that someday soon, when he’d completed his doctorate, he could explore even further the potential of art in mending broken lives.
But he’d have to make sure to compartmentalize the two to keep from being late again. At least until he could make his dream of becoming a full-time therapist come true.
He did love teaching, especially the first graders who made up his last class of the day. They were still very young and, for the most part, sweet to their teachers and each other, but their minds were eager and fresh and were opening up to the world in ways that were exciting to watch. In the past hour, Liam had loved watching their creative brains at work as they’d begun their first drawings of the year. Seeing students learn about themselves through art was why he’d chosen to teach—at least before his master’s classes had introduced him to the captivating possibilities of art therapy. It was during those classes that he’d discovered how powerful self-expression through art could be in helping children understand difficult circumstances like death, illness or divorce—things that, without intervention, could cause enough disruption to stall learning during formative years.
As he walked to his meeting with Assistant Principal Graham, he vowed to make her understand that he loved and respected this job and that he wouldn’t be late again. He couldn’t risk losing his position if he wanted to stay in Peach Leaf, and he didn’t want to go back to his teaching job in Abilene.
At least not while Callie was still working at the school. Not after the way things had ended.
The city and his old job held too many memories. He needed a fresh start, a new beginning where no one knew his old family name, and where he didn’t connect moments with Callie to every landmark and street corner. In Peach Leaf, he hoped he could just be Liam Campbell, art teacher—not Liam Campbell, the divorced, black-sheep son of a famous oil tycoon.
When he departed Abilene, he’d left behind his broken heart and had no interest in ever seeing his father or Callie again. He had always wanted kids, but Callie had never taken to the idea. They’d gotten together in college and at that time, Liam hadn’t given it much thought because they’d been young. But as the years of their marriage had gone on and she’d resisted the conversation with more vehemence, Liam had eventually let it drop. And then she left him, and from where he sat now, following a messy divorce, he wasn’t sure that the possibility of children was anywhere in his future.
No, what he needed now was to look ahead and make his home here, away from the pain he’d left behind, and focus on his career. He refused to let any woman get close to him again—they had no place in his life. And after what had happened with his ex-wife, he was pretty sure they had no place for him either.
Which was why it was so frustrating that Assistant Principal Graham had gotten to him the way she had that morning.
As he neared the front office, Liam tried to push the thoughts of his failed relationship and the fiery assistant principal out of his mind. This past summer had been the roughest of his life, and he was ready for a new beginning. But something else was crowding his mind. He needed to talk to her about the interesting student in his last-period class. At first the kid hadn’t stood out to him at all; if anything, he’d blended in a little too well, being much quieter and far more reserved than a typical first grader.
But he did eventually stick out. The kid had been completely silent and hadn’t said a single word the entire class, while the others had been chatty little balls of energy. The students had all readily offered their names, wiggling in their seats as they’d raised their hands for a chance to talk and had interacted with him without any effort.
Except this one.
When Liam had taken attendance, the kids who seemed to be his friends told him the boy’s name—Owen. Liam hadn’t thought much of it—he knew firsthand from his group that some kids just took longer to come out of their shells, and pushing too hard could have a negative effect. But he’d make a point of talking to Owen tomorrow. And in the meantime, Liam would see if Ms. Graham knew anything about the little guy so Liam could give the boy extra resources if necessary. When he finished meeting with her, he’d go back to his classroom and check his student files to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
