Luke’s glare said she’d finally made a good point.
“So we’ll get a key for that door, but only grown-ups will use it. And if you need thinking time away from the other kids, what should you do?”
Sonya shrugged.
Aiden glared at her, much like his father was doing.
“Tell a grown-up,” Rainey instructed. “Grown-ups are on your side. I promise.” She settled a look of honest, trusting patience on each child in turn, praying the sincerity of her words would reach them. From what she could see, she was successful, and she wasn’t afraid to thank God for that.
If only there was a similar way to comfort the distraught father standing opposite her. The deep contours of his face said calming him down wasn’t going to be quite as easy.
* * *
Luke felt Aiden’s body relaxing in his arms.
Mr. O’Mara looked more comfortable, too, as if he was buying Rainey McKinney’s spiel.
Buying it? Of course he’s buying it. She made perfect sense, while you were about to jump off the deep end, trying to make Aiden’s life “Secret Service safe.” Let the kid fly a little.
His mother had scolded him about that not long ago, and Luke didn’t talk to her for nearly a week, but finally had to give in. First, because she was right. Second, because he couldn’t go seven days without her chicken biscuit pie.
He drew a deep breath and felt his overanxious heart start to settle down.
“Mr. O’Mara, did you have something you wanted to add?” Seeming quite at ease, Rainey shifted her attention to the principal.
He shook his head. “I think you covered it all, Rainey.”
“Then you—” Rainey set Sonya down and squatted next to her “—scoot back to your classroom, and behave yourself. The bus will bring you home in one hour.”
“You’re not taking me home now?” Sonya looked scared, as if worried what her teacher’s reaction would be. Luke wondered the same thing himself, but Rainey simply shook her head.
“You need to be brave every day. And follow directions. That’s how life is, cupcake, and I’d be doing you no favor by babying you.”
Luke wanted to hug Sonya. Reassure her. Tell her everything would be all right. Then hold her hand and take her home.
To his surprise, Sonya sent a resigned look to her mother, then walked slowly down the hall. She turned to glance over her shoulder as she stepped into the kindergarten room, but Rainey kept her gaze averted, as if she expected the daughter to follow directions.
And the kid did it.
Luke eyed Aiden.
He should do the same thing. Put his son down and let him go face the dragon lady on his own.
He started to set Aiden down, but the boy clung to his neck. He didn’t say a word, didn’t whimper or whine, but that stranglehold on Luke’s neck spoke volumes. “I’m going to drop Aiden off with his sitter, then send him back on Monday.”
“All right, Luke.” Mr. O’Mara looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. The principal had made a wise choice, considering Luke’s current mood.
He walked out of the building just behind Rainey and wasn’t sure if she was hurrying to stay ahead of him, or to make certain she escaped before Sonya or Dorrie did something else. Either way, he needed to thank her. “Rainey.”
She turned at the edge of the parking lot. “Yes?”
Luke shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank you. You stayed calm and levelheaded. It helped. A lot.”
She waved him off as if it was nothing, but Luke knew better. Staying calm under pressure was a wonderful trait, something he prided himself on.
Except when it came to Aiden.
He followed her to her car at the back of the full lot. “Have you thought about what I said the other day?” He shifted the boy slightly in his arms. “You saw Dorrie in there. You heard how things went down. I think it could work in everyone’s favor.”
Rainey stood perfectly still for a long, drawn-out moment, then smiled at Aiden. “We’ve got nothing to lose, right?”
“Right.”
She hesitated again, then nodded. “How about if I bring the girls over tomorrow afternoon? The store is busy on Saturday mornings, but if Noreen can take over by midday, we’d have a few hours together. Dorrie wants to show me the tree house and Sonya wants me to help her take care of the animals.”
“Bring your barn boots,” Luke warned. The image of Rainey hanging out in the barn, feeding his menagerie, brightened his thoughts. That was something he’d have to think about later.
Rainey laughed. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She slipped behind the wheel of her mother’s car and backed out of the spot carefully. Aiden lifted his head and offered Luke a penitent expression. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in a tragic voice, a voice that took Luke back nearly three years.
He hugged the little guy, withdrew the booster seat he kept in the cruiser’s trunk, and fastened Aiden into the backseat. “No more locked doors, okay?”
Aiden nodded, but as Luke settled himself into the driver’s seat, he glimpsed a tiny look of satisfaction on his son’s face reflected in the rearview mirror. It vanished as soon as they made eye contact, but Luke hadn’t gotten to be a decorated deputy by accident. The kid had smirked, knowing he’d pulled one over on his teacher, the principal and now his father.
Which meant Luke’s mother was right. Again. Aiden knew how to play his dad and wasn’t afraid to pull out all stops to avoid going to school. But what could Luke do about it other than order the kid to stay in class, in his seat, and pay attention?
Luke called his former sister-in-law and asked if she could watch Aiden an hour early. She agreed, and he headed to the opposite side of Kirkwood Lake, stewing over his choices.
Rainey’s kid was back in class, following the rules.
His was heading home, essentially getting a reward for misbehaving.
Luke didn’t have to wonder which kid learned the better lesson. The realization that Rainey had instinctively handled the situation more effectively than all the other adults around her, including him, made him realize he might have a thing or two to learn from Rainey McKinney himself.
* * *
Regret waged war with common sense as Rainey drove back to the farm. Sonya’s expression of woe had tugged at Rainey’s heart, even though she’d pretended ignorance.
“Better they cry now than you cry later....”
Her mother’s words struck home. She’d gone easy on Rainey as a child. And Rainey
