A STORYBOOK FINISH
by Lauralee Bliss


3 LAURALEE BLISS is a multi-published author of award-winning inspirational

fiction. Lauralee enjoys writing

novels that are reminiscent of

a roller coaster ride for the reader.

Her desire is that readers will turn

the pages until they reach the end

and come away with both an entertaining

story and a lesson that ministers

to the heart. Besides writing, Lauralee

home schools her son and enjoys gardening, roaming

yard sales, visiting historical sites, and hiking a mountain

trail. She invites you to visit her web site at:

www.lauraleebliss.com

Books by Lauralee Bliss

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4 A Storybook

Finish

Lauralee Bliss

5 To the fund-raising reps and workers of Great American and

their families, many of whom are ardent readers and supporters

of my books. Thank you so much!

With thanks to Stephen McDowell and the Providence

Foundation for the use of their book, "In God We Trust Tour

Guide" in the writing of this novel.

A note from the author:

I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond

with me by writing:

Laura lee Bliss

Author Relations

PO Box 719

Uhrichsville, OH 44683

ISBN 1-58660-8347

A STORYBOOK FINISH

Copyright 2003 by Lauralee Bliss. All rights reserved. Except for

use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in

whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or

other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Heartsong Presents, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box
719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of

the Bible.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events

is purely coincidental.

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

6 Once upon a time lived a crazy, stressed-out, fund-raising

consultant.

She arranged programs for schoolteachers who wanted to raise

money for student projects. He, a mean, grizzly man taught in a

dark foreboding classroom at Western High, and he was the one she

feared the most. Every day he would pace back and forth before his

chalkboard, wondering how he would tongue-lash the poor fundraising

consultant the next time she called. And every day she

would brave the phone lines to carry on a decent conversation with

him. She tried to help him organize a program that would raise the

money he needed But, alas, she didn't know if triumph or failure

existed in her future.

Lindsay Thomas snapped open her eyes and giggled. What

a fairy tale that would make. The mean teacher versus the innocent

fund-raising consultant. The only question was, Would it

have a happy ending? She shook her head. Enough of that. I

have work to do.

She pulled out a checklist and scanned it. Sponsor folders,

prize poster fliers, classroom envelopes, team goal charts. Uh,

prize bag full of toys, prospect lists--" She halted and whirled

to the empty cabinet. "My brochures for the sale! If my

brochures aren't delivered today, I can't kick off that fundraiser

in the morning at Western High. That history teacher

will have my head on a silver platter.

Wading through the cardboard boxes in her office that

contained previous shipments, Lindsay managed to reach the

7 front door of her apartment. On the stone steps sat three

mangled boxes bound with tape, dropped off by the delivery

man. No doubt they had been tossed in the back of some

dirty truck like garbage. The ripped corners of the boxes

revealed the slick, colored paper poking out of their shrink

wrap. The corners were crinkled from the rough treatment.

With a groan, Lindsay dragged in the first box that

must have weighed forty pounds. She inhaled a breath to calm her

rapid heartbeat and lugged in the other boxes. She then

plopped down on the carpet to complete the destruction the

delivery service had apparently started.

At least they're here. She sighed. The brochures showed pictures

of chocolates and other treats the students would sell to

family and friends. Now she had everything to kick off the

fund-raising event bright and early the next morning.

When the history teacher, Jeff Wheeler, had called on the

phone a few weeks back, asking her for a painless promotion

so the junior class could raise money for the prom, Lindsay

was delighted. She loved the idea of doing a program at her

alma mater, Western High. She talked him into signing up

for a program in which the students would sell items from a

brochure and which guaranteed the money he requested.

Instead of the usual enthusiasm she received from teachers

eager for revenue to meet their needs, Jeff Wheeler had

grumbled. "Why I was appointed to do this is beyond me," he

said gruffly. "I've been in this school only a year, and they lay

this responsibility on me. They must like the idea of initiating

fresh blood. 'Here's the peon of the teaching force. Let him

run the fund-raiser for the junior class.'"

"I'm sorry to hear that, but--"

"I was hired to teach history, the same as you're hired to

8 conduct fund-raisers. I never spotted the junior prom on my

list of teaching responsibilities. It's just another thing I have

to do. My plate is full enough as it is."

Lindsay wondered if the guy was really this uptight or if life

in general treated him badly. Maybe his wife had burnt the

morning toast or shrunk his favorite Rugby shirt in the wash.

He rattled on about the quizzes he still had to correct while

Lindsay thought back to her own junior prom and the wonderful

time she'd had with a guy named Ron. She had pleasant

memories of the evening--great dancing, good food, and a

lovely corsage with a scent that carried her across the dance

floor. She'd never spent more on a dress in her life.

Unfortunately, after graduation, Ron left for college on the West

Coast. They hadn't spoken in years.

Jeff Wheeler continued. These students need history more

than a prom, if you ask me. No one can tell you anything about

the history of our nation. When I ask the classes what ship the

Pilgrims sailed on, they say the Carnival Cruise Line."

"i'm sure they're just joking," Lindsay managed to say when

Jeff paused to draw a breath. She never knew guys to be talkative,

but this one had already outdone himself in ten minutes.

Maybe he had to get things offhis chest.

"One student actually put that answer on a test. I took ten

points off his paper. His father called me up, asking me why I

took off ten points when the question was worth only three.

When I told him I wouldn't tolerate that kind of answer on a

test, the father said I had no sense of humor. He said I should

give the kid twenty points for creativity. Sure I would, if this

were a creative writing class. This is history. They're supposed

to know historical facts. I wish the parents would also understand

that."

9 Lindsay looked at her watch, thinking about the other

clients still awaiting her attention that day. She wondered

how long he would ramble on. This was a primary fault of

hers, the inability to cut off clients when they were in the

midst of a diatribe. She felt that if she did interrupt she would

face a cancelled contract. That would mean less in sales and

less money in her pocket.

"And I might as well tell you," he went on, "I'm not thrilled

about working with salespeople. I've had bad experiences with

telemarketers. And those vacuum cleaning people who knock

on your door in the middle of dinner, forcing you to eat a

plate of cold spaghetti--"

Lindsay dearly wanted to interrupt and move on to other

things. She prayed the sales figures for this group would outweigh

the time lost in contacting other clients.

Jeff continued. "The kind that want to pick your pocket

when your back is turned. I don't trust them. The only reason

I'm even doing this project is to try to get my foot in the door

of this school. I want to do some great things, like a history

club, for example. Or maybe even a history quiz bowl. But all

that needs money."

"Sounds like some fine ideas the students would appreciate,"

Lindsay interjected, surprised she could sneak a word in edgewise.

"Perhaps after this project you would consider raising

money for those events?"

"This is plenty for me to handle right now. If this fundraiser

is a bust, then it won't happen. How do you plan to ensure its

Success?"

"We have a wonderful prize program to motivate the students

to sell."

"What kind of prizes? Not that cheap stuff you spend five

10 bucks to win at the county fair."

Lindsay proceeded to tell him about the prizes: animated

phones, lava lamps, cameras, CD players. She also told him

about the first-day prizes and how the beginning of the sale

was critical to its success.

"Well, Miss Thomas, I expect it to be painless and profitable.

I haven't the time or the gumption to deal with problems.

Fund-raising is a necessary evil, but there's nothing I

can do about it. I'm saddled with it. You understand, correct?"

Lindsay offered a salute to the phone sitting on the desk

while answering with a calm, "I'll do my best to ensure a

satisfactory program, Mr. Wheeler." She knew the importance

of instilling confidence in an irate teacher as she had been

taught to do in sales school. Yet all she wanted to do was get

off the phone and run to the bathroom for an aspirin to

relieve her headache.

"Just be sure you raise me the money I need, and everything

will be dandy."

This guy's a genuine toad on a lily pad, she thought, returning

to her prep work for the fund-raising start. How someone

could live with a person like that went beyond her sense of

reasoning. During the last few days leading up to the sale,

Lindsay contemplated the success of the project. The idea of

initiating a program with an agitated sponsor did not bode

well for its success. Lindsay, however, was determined to make

it work. She had dealt with teachers' emotions in the past.

She would put her best foot forward and do what needed to be

done to raise Jeff Wheeler the money he required. In the end,

he would sing her praises. That was the essence of her job as a

fund-raising consultant.

Lindsay carried a stack of brochures to the office, nearly

11 tripping over a cardboard box left from a shipment of prizes.

Prizes, she knew, were the key to motivating the students to

sell. If they sold a certain number of items from the brochure,

they won the prizes: from banks filled with candy to stuffed

cartoon characters, to a radio or even a talking telephone.

She had sat up for hours one night studying the prizes,

making mental notes on how she would present the items to

generate enthusiasm among the students. In the conferences

she attended, the speakers told the sales reps how to make

the most out of their presentations. Playing with the prizes

in front of the student body was part of the game plan. She

went over it all step by step, everything she would need to

relate to the students, all the information in the mere twenty

minutes Jeff Wheeler had allotted for the assembly. Again,

she winced at the tone of his voice that spoke of his control

over the situation.

"You get a twenty-minute assembly, and that's all I can

give," he'd told her when she discussed aspects of the presentation

only yesterday. "I have enough trying to teach my

classes with the amount of time they give me on the schedule.

Please don't waste time going over details unrelated to the

sale. Make it short and simple."

"I feel sorry for his wife," Lindsay grumbled, placing the

materials she would need for the next day inside a crate. The

Bible says contentious wives are the ones that live in the corner

of a roof. What about contentious men? Do they live in the basement?

Actually, he belongs in a pond where he can croak out his problems

to his heart's content. I'm not to blame for his predicament with

the junior class. She exhaled loudly. Her breath fluffed the pale

brown bangs sweeping across her forehead. All I do in this job

is deal with other people's hang-ups. No wonder I have no energy

12 left to handle my own.

Her hands began to shake while trying to put a folder of

envelopes inside the crate. This pent-up anxiety over Jeff

Wheeler and the presentation would never help her in the

end. She paused in her work to offer up a prayer for God's

favor. Not long ago, she had heard a famous preacher share

words of wisdom about one's thought life. No matter what she

might construe about Jeff and his personality, she must shift

her mind to good thoughts about the upcoming program.

Think on things that are true and of good repute, she recalled

from Scripture. Okay. The students are gonna love the prizes. The

Silly Slammers and Goofy phone will talk right on cue so the entire

assembly goes wild. In the end, Jeff Wheeler will smile and thank

me for a job well done. Lindsay nodded at this array of thoughts

that replaced the doubt.

That evening she doused any remaining flames of worry

with music from her favorite CD, along with a relaxing bubble

bath. Everything will go fine, she reasoned to herself, tracing a

path through the bubbles. Jeff Wheeler will be civil, and the

fund-raising program will be a huge success. Oh, Lord, only You can

make that happen.

JeffWheeler rubbed his index fingers across his temples, feeling

a sudden headache coming on. It didn't do him a bit of

good to get stressed out over a silly fund-raising project, yet

he couldn't help it. Having been at this teaching post only a

year, he was still trying to get used to the way things were

done at Western High. What he didn't plan on was teachers

looking down their noses at him. Nothing like this had happened

at his last teaching position. At first he thought it was

the way he dressed. Or maybe they had all flunked history

13 and he reminded them of their failures.

He recalled a confrontation with a teacher who had stopped

by the lounge shortly after he landed the job. Jeff had come

there for a cup of coffee and some peace of mind. He poured

the coffee and decided the best place to find peace was in

the Bible. The teacher stumbled upon him reading his Bible.

Her face turned the oddest shade of red. Her eyes bugged out

of her head as if he held a pipe bomb in his hands.

"Don't tell me you're going to indoctrinate our students

with that thing!"

The "thing" resting on Jeff's lap happened to be a book of

power with life-changing capabilities. The teacher threw back

her head in a huff when he told her he was merely reading it

to find some peace. For Jeff, the Bible meant life. Without

that book, he would've likely ended up a drunk somewhere in

a dark alley.

Jeff had grown up in a family where success was measured

by academics. He loved history and always had his face in a

history book, courtesy of his professor-father who kept him

well-supplied. The students took to calling him The Worm

because he read so much. In college, it was the same. The other

students would party away, and he would be in the library. At

last, the pressure to conform became too great. He took to

drinking beer like everyone else. The drinking made him

popular and helped him forget the responsibility and the

pressure, or at least he thought it did. He drank frequently

after that.

A few months later, several young men invited him to a

Christian meeting, and there he found Christ. From that day

forward, he studied the Bible, along with his history books,

and never touched another beer. God was in control, except

14 when Jeff allowed situations to rob him of his peace, like this

junior class fund-raising venture.

Jeff grimaced when he thought of the money going toward

the junior prom. It dredged up memories of his high school

days. He recalled how he was one out of four guys in the entire

class who didn't attend. Not that he didn't try. The girl he

asked-said yes, then turned around and accepted another invitation

behind his back. Jeff had buried his hurt all those years,

only to have it rear its ugly head now in a bag full of memories.

He looked down at the leather Bible resting on the coffee

table, the binding falling apart and papers jammed in it. If

only life could be easy. If only he didn't allow the pressure to

get to him. He needed that Bible now, more than ever.

Jeff slid onto the sofa. Before him on the coffee table, amid

quizzes to grade and his worn Bible, rested the paperwork for

the fund-raising project. He noticed the signature on the contract.

Lindsay Thomas. She had nice handwriting and a nice

name too, even if she seemed a bit too domineering for his

taste. Her control over the project gnawed at him. She had to

understand something. This was his show, not hers. His reputation

was on the line if things didn't work out. He had made

so many plans, too. Failure was not an option. This fundraiser

had to succeed.

Just then the phone rang. He grabbed it up to find the loud

voice of Mrs. Coates, the English teacher, barking on the

other end. She immediately asked him why he had scheduled

a fund-raising assembly during her English class, of all

things. When he politely told her he too was losing time from

his own class, her voice escalated.

"Well, this can't happen, Jeff. I've scheduled a vocabulary

test, and I'm not postponing it. You'll have to move this

15 assembly of yours to another date."

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her he didn't want to do

the dumb project in the first place, but teachers like her had

stuck his name on it without his consent. If she didn't like

how he ran things, she could do it herself. He never said any

of those things. Mrs. Coates was a bigwig in the school, having

been there longer than anyone. He swallowed a retort and

asked, "What day would work out for you?"

Her voice dropped a decibel. "Next Tuesday, I suppose."

"Tuesday. All right. I'll switch it with the fund-raising

consultant."

The phone clicked in his ear. So much for relieving

pressure. No I've added more to my life. He looked up

Lindsay's phone number to tell her about the change. It rang

endlessly. He tried four different times, without success.

"Probably out with her boyfriend, grabbing dinner and a late

night movie," he grumbled, tossing the cordless phone on the

couch. Why that fact would bother him, he didn't know.

Right now, his head and his confidence felt as if they were

being crushed between two lead plates. His fingers reached

for the Bible. God, help me get through this.

16 "I see you like to stay out late."

Lindsay glanced up to find JeffWheeler staring at her and

the crate of supplies she carried into the auditorium. With

thirty minutes remaining before the presentation, Lindsay

hoped to set up a good display and still have time to gather

her wits. Instead, she found the sponsor glaring down at her

with his piercing blue eyes. If he didn't seem so fierce at that

moment, she might have gazed at his eyes more intently,

thinking how they reminded her of a clear March sky. "Excuse

me?"

"I tried calling you at least four times last night. I didn't

even get an answering machine. Not a very good business

practice."

Confusion assailed her. Did the phone ring? I never heard it

ring, and I was home all evening. Don't tell me it's not working

again. Oh, God, help me. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wheeler. I was home

last night, but my phone has been giving me trouble lately."

"Better get it fixed, Miss Thomas, or you'll lose your customers.

At any rate, I'm sorry to have to inform you that I

must postpone the presentation."

"Postpone the presentation," she repeated. No! You mean I

dragged all my stuff here, got everything ready, even had an

anxiety attack, only to find out I'm not even doing the presentation?

She swallowed the rising indignation in her throat. After all it

was her fault. He had tried to warn her last night about the

17 change in plans. Now half the day was shot because of a

phone malfunction.

"Can you?"

She stared at him blankly. Can I what?"

JeffWheeler's blue eyes snapped at her like angry waves of

the ocean. "Can you do it next Tuesday?"

Lindsay set down the crate with shaky hands, realizing this

man and his project had worn down her nerves to frayed bits

of wire. She leafed through her briefcase, trying to find her

personal data assistant, which seemed to have vanished into

thin air. Frustration and embarrassment began to build.

Normally calm and confident, Lindsay felt as if the wind had

been let out of her sails, leaving her adrift. "I'll have to call

you, Mr. Wheeler, and figure out a time that will work."

"It has to be next Tuesday." He nodded and whirled on one

foot, giving the impression of a principal who had just reprimanded

a student.

Lindsay huffed, heaving a huge duffel bag full of prizes

over one shoulder. With both hands, she picked up the crate,

the briefcase balanced on top. She crawled down the hallway

to her car, wondering what she would do now.

Suddenly the prize bag slipped off her shoulder. The crate

fell from her hands, throwing her briefcase off and scattering

brochure packets. The duffel bag also fell with a clunk to the

floor, accompanied by the sound of breaking plastic.

"Oh, no!" she cried, opening the bag to check the damage.

The phone had broken, with Goofy's head now resting at the

bottom of the bag. What else can go wrong today?

"Can we help?" came a pair of voices.

Lindsay glanced up to find two high school students staring

down at her with large eyes. Instantly, they placed their textbooks and notebooks on the linoleum floor and helped her retrieve the brochures that had skated
down the hall in their

plastic shrink-wrap.

"Thanks so much," Lindsay said, stacking the brochures

back into the crate.

"Are you selling something?" asked the young woman.

"I do fund-raising," Lindsay said, brushing back a tendril of

brown hair that had fallen across her face. "I was supposed to

start the junior class fund-raiser today"

The students looked at each other. "Hey, we're in the junior

class. We were told about the fund-raising project in Mr.

Wheeler's history class."

You mean he actually mentioned it? Lindsay then recalled Jeff

Wheeler's dream of promoting history activities in the school

if he succeeded in impressing his fellow teachers with a

knockout sale. No doubt he needed the project to go as well

as she did.

"Yeah, we were kind of surprised when they cancelled the

assembly," remarked the young woman. "Mr. Wheeler said it

had to do with Mrs. Coates. They couldn't do it today because

it would interfere with Mrs. Coates's English class."

"Not that we care," added the young man. "We were in for

this big vocab test. I didn't even study for it. Did you, Jewel?"

"Not me," said Jewel. "I had that science test to study for. I

didn't have time earlier in the week because Mr. Wheeler had

us write a paragraph about a cause of the Revolutionary War. I

wrote about the proposition that all men are created equal."

"And I told you that's from the Gettysburg Address during

the Civil War!" exclaimed the young man." 'No taxation

without representation' is a quote from the Revolutionary

War period."

18

Jewel turned to Lindsay. "You see why I hang around

with Troy? He knows history better than anyone. He's Mr.

Wheeler's favorite student."

"If you studied more, you'd be the favorite," Troy said.

"History is fascinating."

Lindsay listened to the exchange with interest, despite the

fact that more precious minutes were ticking away from her

business day. Favored student status, eh? Perhaps God was

smiling on her after all, despite the postponed project and the

splintered Goofy phone. "Say, Troy?"

"Yeah?"

"When I kick off this fund-raiser next week, I'm going to

need some help. Care to be my assistant?"

"Sure!" he said enthusiastically. "What do I have to do?" I'll let

you know when the time comes. I think it would

be good for the morale of the class, and for your teacher, if a

student were helping out with the fundraiser."

"Can I help too?" Jewel inquired; her large, expressive green

eyes reminded Lindsay of her birthstone, emerald. "We kind

of do things together."

Lindsay could plainly see the attraction between the two.

They were likely boyfriend and girlfriend. "Sure, you can

help." She took a notepad out of her briefcase and scribbled

out their names, along with a brief description of each. Troy--

a long-legged guy with brown hair and freckles, teacher's pet.

Girlfriend Jewel---green eyes and curly brown hair, only up to

his elbow in height. "Got you down on my list. Mr. Wheeler

and I have to settle on a date for the assembly When you find

out from him when it is, come to the auditorium on that day.

I'll be setting up a table near the stage. I'll need you to help me

form teams among the students. You both can be captains and

19 pick students to be part of your team."

"Great!" they said together with smiles erupting on their faces.

"I hope we make tons of money with this," Jewel commented.

"Troy and I are really looking forward to going to the

junior prom."

Lindsay watched them touch hands and smile at each

other. While she once entertained thoughts of love as a

young person, she realized now the dangers that followed

those who tripped on emotions at a youthful age. Jewel and

Troy seemed sweet and innocent. She hoped they would not

hurt themselves by overstepping the boundary. "As long as

you're here, how about helping me carry these bags out to

the car?"

Each student obliged. One carried the prize bag, the other

the crate. Lindsay managed her briefcase. "Thanks a bunch,"

she said when they arrived at her compact car parked in the

circular drive before the School.

"See you at the assembly!" they called.

Lindsay smiled before blowing out a sigh. At least she was

grateful for something after wasting half a day. She had a

miraculous run-in with one ofJeffWheeler's pets--a student

who loved history as he did. With young Troy assisting her,

she couldn't help but get on Jeff's good side and run a better

program. "Thank You, God."

Lindsay made it through a day of making sales calls and

meeting teachers before driving home. Nestled in a folder on

the passenger seat were two more contracts with teachers

eager to raise money. Despite the bad start to the day, the rest

had gone well. And to think, she now had an excellent way to

win over Jeff Wheeler after gaining Troy's help with the

junior class project. This might turn out to be one of her more

20 profitable fund-raisers, despite its precarious beginning. The

thought excited her.

When she arrived home, Lindsay opened her bag and took

out the Goofy phone damaged from the fall earlier that day.

She sighed, realizing how costly this was to her presentation.

Goofy had captured the attention of hundreds of students

with his automated head that lifted when the phone rang,

alerting the owner to the call. She simply must have a working

model in time for the junior class presentation. Lindsay

rubbed her chin until she thought of a fellow fund-raiser in

the next territory. Skip Grearson would help her out if he

didn't need his own Goofy phone for a presentation. Often,

Skip and she would mail each other sales brochures if one of

them ran short for a project.

"So you need Goofy," Skip said when she called. "No problem.

No, Katy, she doesn't mean Mr. Goofy. I'm talking about

the Goofy phone, the one Daddy uses in his work."

Lindsay laughed when she heard Skip explaining to his

five-year-old daughter that she didn't need a favorite stuffed

animal named Mr. Goofy. Lindsay once took a tour of the

Grearson home and was introduced to Katy's vast stuffed animal

collection, which filled her entire bed. Lindsay wondered

where the little girl slept. She then had the tour of the playroom

and indulged in Katy's favorite meal cooked in her play

kitchen--plastic eggs, sunny-side up, balanced on a small

plate, accompanied by a hunk of fake chocolate cake. "Yes,

please tell her I'm not asking for one of her many stuffed

friends," Lindsay told Skip with a chuckle.

"So you want me to send it by bus? It will get there tomorrow

at noon."

"That would be great. With this sponsor, I'll need all the

21 help I can get. Maybe the Goofy phone will help lighten him

up a little."

"Tough one, eh?"

"The kind that dislikes anything to do with fundraising.

Then he gives me the ultimatum. If this program is a bust,

he'll blame me and me alone. Don't you just love it?"

"That's when you need Hank's input."

Lindsay sighed. "Don't I wish." Hank was their territorial

manager who came several times a year to watch them start

fund-raising projects. He offered advice for making profitable

programs and dealing with troublesome sponsors like Jeff

Wheeler. "I should call him out here, but then it will look as if

I'm incompetent. No, I'm going after this, Skip. After some

easy programs, I need a challenge. And Jeff Wheeler's junior

class fund-raiser is my challenge of the semester."

"Then go for it. I'll get the Goofy phone out to you."

"Thanks again. And give Katy a hug for me."

Lindsay put down the phone and sighed, thinking about

Skip's family. At times she wished for a family she could call

her own. A husband who would sweep her off her feet and

little ones to tuck into bed, ready to hear bedtime stories.

Occasionally, she would wander the toy aisles in the department

store, gazing at the products and figuring out what she

would like to buy for a boy or a girl. Yeah, but you need a guy

and marriage to make it all happen, she'd remind herself. A guy

like Ron from her high school days. Lindsay shook her head.

Ron was out of the picture. She didn't even have his phone

number. Maybe she should scout him out on one of those

find-a-lost-classmate Web sites. Knowing her luck, he was

probably married with a boatload of kids.

The ringing of the phone made her jump. She picked it up.

22 "Hello, LindsayThomas speaking."

"Ah, I see your phone works, Miss Thomas."

Every nerve stood at attention. Shivers, like spiders, raced

down her spine. This is ridiculous, she chided herself. I refuse to

let this guy get under my skin. I'm going to be confident and

friendly. "Hello, Mr. Wheeler. I have my organizer right here

with the appointment schedule and--"

"Well, all right!" he proclaimed.

Lindsay couldn't tell if he were kidding or being sarcastic.

She decided to ignore it and act professional. "You said you

wanted to kick offthe the fund-raiser next week?"

"Tuesday."

Lindsay looked at Tuesday. She already had two starts--

one at a day care and one for a music department. "I'm sorry,

but next Tuesday is pretty much booked. How about--"

"Tuesday," he repeated. He then added, "Please."

Jeff Wheeler, why are you making my life so difficult? "I'll try

to move one of the starts," she said, realizing how much she

was going out on a limb for this guy. Maybe intuition was at

play--the smell of a huge profit that tingled the neurons.

Skip often said Lindsay could predict how well her groups

would do better than anyone in the company. And she

smelled a strong aroma of profit with Jeff Wheeler's little

class, if she could get by all the quirks.

"When will I know?"

"I'll let you know tomorrow. Thank you for your call."

Lindsay replaced the receiver and stared at her personal data

assistant. So much for my appointment with the director of Over

the Rainbow Day Care. It's now been replaced by Mr. Humbug's

junior class. Lindsay closed her eyes and tapped her heels

three times. "Send me to the beach," she said with a smile,

23

before turning to the computer.

While scanning for e-mail messages, she saw a pop-up ad

for finding old high school classmates. Again she thought of

Ron. Dare she try to discover what had happened to him? So

many of her classmates had moved away. Only a few were

left in the area, and through the years they had lost touch

with each other. Her forefinger responded, clicking the

mouse button that sent her to the site. She keyed in her old

high school and scanned the list of registered classmates,

recognizing several names from long ago. Cassidy Richards, the

prom queen. John Evans. Michael Jones. She inhaled a deep

breath. Ronald Mackley. There he was, big as life. Lindsay's

fingers shook as she searched for his e-mail address, only to

find that she must sign into the program and pay a yearly

fee to access his portfolio. "Of course," she muttered, reaching

for her purse and a credit card. "Nothing's ever free in

this world."

At last she accessed his personal database, including his email

address. She noticed he still lived out in California. She

saw no family data. Her fingers trembled as she typed out a

simple e-mail message to him. I wonder what he'll say, she

thought, clicking the mouse. He was one of a kind in her

book back when they were in high school. The two of them

were quite popular. Lindsay and Ron often gathered a crowd

of schoolmates together for lunch. After-school hangouts at

the local diner became a daily routine. And quiet nights on a

side road they had come to call Lovers' Lane brought back

memories of his sweet kisses. Lindsay sighed. She should

never have let him go off to college clear across the country.

Either that or she should have followed him to the moon

instead of staying here in Dullsville, USA, where nothing

24

exciting ever happened, except for her challenging run-ins

with Jeff Wheeler.

Before retiring that night, Lindsay accessed her e-mail to

find a note waiting for her.

Hey, there

Great hearing from you. Wow, has it been eight years

already? Hard to believe. Glad to see you're doing what you

do best, making otherpeople happy by raising them a bunch of

money. I've got a great job here at a computer firm. Haven't

been back East much, but I hope to someday.

Sure, I remember high school and you. That was a great

time. Lots of fun with the gang.

Gotta run. See you.

Ron

Lindsay blinked. No mention of a family within the context

of the reply, but no warmth or personal interest either. She

sighed and turned off the computer for the night. She should

never have expected a spark after all these years. The flame

had long since gone out.

25 After all the planning and anxiety over the presentation, the

day of Jeff Wheeler's junior class fund-raiser arrived. Lindsay

refused to indulge in a cup of hazelnut coffee as she often did

in the morning. She feared an upset stomach with the way her

nerves were on edge. Despite the relaxing bubble bath she'd

taken last night (she'd taken a similar one last week before the

project was postponed), she felt uneasy. Her mind went

through the list of materials required for the presentation. If

she lacked anything, Mr. Wheeler would be sure to mention

her incompetence. She checked her notes on his favorite

students, Troy and Jewel. If she could grab them before the

program began, it would put her in a better position.

Lindsay arrived at the school with plenty of time to spare.

She made several trips to and from the car, carrying in the

materials. On the way in with the duffel bag slung over her

shoulder, she found Jeff Wheeler standing in the rear of the

auditorium. He seemed to be perusing the place like a director

scanning a set before a major shoot.

"Good morning, Mr. Wheeler," she greeted him in a bright

voice. "Nice day out today, isn't it?"

"The students will be here in about a half hour," he

answered. Were his hands shaking, or was it her imagination?

"What's that?" He nodded at her duffel bag.

"Sample prizes to show the students. They can earn them

if they sell enough items. We talked about it on the phone a

26 few days ago." Lindsay set down the bag and withdrew the Goofy

phone, shipped out on the bus from Skip last week.

"Now this is a great prize. Let me demonstrate it for you."

Lindsay pushed the start button, and Goofy did his thing--

first the snoring, then raising his head and announcing the

telephone call.

"Are you joking?"

"Isn't it fun?"

"I'm not sure if fun' is the word I would use. What else is

in there?"

Lindsay almost took out a Silly Slammer but decided he

would dislike those as well. Instead, she showed off the more

sophisticated prizes: a camera, a hands-free headset--"very

popular with cell phones nowadays," she explained to his

expressionless face, a CD organizer, a personal radio.

"What these students need is something that stimulates the

mind. An encyclopedia set on CD, a museum pass, or a gift

certificate for a bookstore. That's the problem with kids

nowadays. They waste their brains on Play Stations; then you

wonder why they come to school brain-dead."

"Uh... ," Lindsay faltered. "We've found that students sell

better if they have a goal to reach. And of course you do want

them to make money"

He nodded and followed her to the front of the auditorium.

"So what's the rest of this stuff?"

At least he's curious, she mused. "Brochures, charts for the

teams--

"Teams? This isn't a sports team, you know. It's the entire

junior class."

Lindsay felt her cheeks flush. She cleared her throat.

know, Mr. Wheeler, but the class will do better if the students

27

divide themselves into teams. Accountability among the students

helps them sell more." She paused as his gaze centered

on her. He did have the most attractive set of blue eyes, but

this was hardly the time to contemplate that. "We find that

students are more likely to relate to their peers. In fact, Troy

and Jewel will be helping me out with this part." She searched

for a positive reaction to this announcement but found none.

"Miss Thomas, all I want you to do is hand out the

brochures and tell these kids what they're selling. If you must

show those prizes, go ahead. Remember you have only twenty

minutes. That's all I can give you."

Lindsay felt herself begin to fume. Does he really want to

earn money? Obviously not, with these kinds of ultimatums. He

just wants to have it done with and then blame me if the whole

thing fouls up. She inhaled a deep breath, trying to control her

nerves. Keep cool, Lindsay. Don't let him rattle you. Remember

the adage that the customer's always right. "Hah, what a

joke," she said, then felt warmth spreading over her face when she

realized her statement had been audible.

Jeff whirled at the sound, staring as if his eyes would pop

out of his head. Without a word, he strode off to the rear of

the auditorium.

Lindsay pushed the embarrassing moment aside to set up a

display of prizes on a blanket of blue velour with the company

logo stamped on it. Afterward, she pulled out a sheet of paper

printed with a simple introduction. She hoped Jeff Wheeler

would at least provide her a decent introduction before the

faces of two hundred students soon to occupy the auditorium

seats. With great trepidation, she ventured to the rear of the

room where he was busy consulting with another teacher.

"Yes?" he asked, without giving her a glance.

28 "I wanted to give you this sheet that outlines a suggested

opening statement for the fund-raiser. Since the students

don't know me from Adam, a good introduction will get their

attention."

He took the paper and set it on a seat before resuming his

conversation with the teacher. Lindsay managed a lopsided

smile before hustling down to the front of the auditorium.

The students had begun filing in to take their seats. She put on her best smile for the curious faces arrayed before her. All at once she singled out Troy
and Jewel, who marched up

front. Hope soared within her. She quickly told them to

gather more team leaders together. Lindsay then handed out

the team sheets, asking the leaders to pick names for their

teams and assign groups of fellow students to be a part.

"Glad you both are here," she added in a low voice to Troy

and Jewel. "I really appreciate it."

"Sure," Troy said. "Anything to get us out of class."

"Look--I could use the names of some of your football

players and other toughies in the class. Also I could use your

support during the presentation. When I ask a question, for

example, shout out an enthusiastic response every so often. Be

motivated, and that will help a great deal."

"Sure." Troy then rattled off a list of names.

Lindsay nodded in satisfaction. With all that accomplished,

she strode to the front of the auditorium to await Jeff

Wheeler's introduction. Minutes ticked by. The students

became edgy. Several of them walked the aisles, visiting.

friends. A few shouted at Lindsay, asking her why they were

here. Lindsay tried to remain patient, waiting for what

seemed like an eternity for Jeff to come out of hibernation.

At last he strode to the front of the auditorium with the

29

paper in his hand. "Quiet down," he ordered the class. "All

right--we're having this special twenty-minute assembly so

Miss"--he paused and looked at the sheet--"Miss Thomas

here can give her little spiel about what stuff you're going to

sell to raise money for the prom. I want everyone to be quiet

and give her your undivided attention for twenty minutes.

Then it's back to class." Without looking her way, he meandered

up the aisle and took a seat.

Lindsay felt like dying on the spot. Obviously the man

knew nothing about motivating students, let alone giving her

a pinkie of help with the presentation. The apathy would certainly

trickle down unless she turned it around quick. Lindsay

inhaled a breath of determination.

"I'm sorry I had to take you out of your history class with

Mr. Wheeler or any of the other classes you have this period.

I know how much you were looking forward to that surprise

quiz on the Revolutionary War that Mr. Wheeler planned to

spring on you today."

At this, the students ceased in their private conversations

and stared at her. Some laughed nervously. Others threw

looks to the rear of the auditorium where Jeff Wheeler sat

with his arms folded.

Lindsay smiled. She had rescued the students' attention

with the carefully choreographed introduction. Thank You,

Lord. "As you know, we're here to raise three thousand dollars

for the prom and other junior class activities. I'm sure you all

want to hire the best band for the prom--am I right?"

"You bet!" shouted a rowdy student.

"Only the best for our class," Troy added.

"Good. And since the band has to be hired within the next

few months, we need the money now. You want to see one of

30 the hot items you'll be selling?"

"Yeah," came a chorus of voices. "

Lindsay reached into a bag tucked behind the display of

prizes. "After much thought, I've decided you should sell one

of Mr. Wheeler's favorite snack foods, sure to make a hit with

your neighbors and friends. And of course Aunt Mabel and

Cousin Elroy will want crates of it." Lindsay held up a can of

Spam, to the roar of the student body.

She glanced to the rear of the auditorium and saw Jeff

Wheeler jump in his seat as if struck by the joke. For an

instant, she caught the crook of a smile on his face before he

lapsed into his usual grim expression.

A burst of confidence shot through her. Lindsay continued

with the presentation. She displayed samples of the merchandise

on the brochures and the amount each student was

expected to sell by the end of the program. "And for all those

that reach their fair share of twelve items by tomorrow, we

have a special gift for you. A class T-shirt with a mug shot of

Mr. Wheeler printed on it."

The students laughed and turned in the direction of their

history teacher. He sat straight up in his seat. Again Lindsay

detected the quiver of a chuckle on his lips as if he were trying

to stifle a laugh. "Really, though, we have great senior class

T-shirts printed in fun colors. Now the main question of the

day is: Should we also have the opportunity of earning

prizes if we sell enough chocolates to Mom, Grandma, and

Cousin Louise?"

Affirmations trumpeted the room.

"You mean, you don't want to raise the money simply out

of love for your history teacher? Just think what Mr. Wheeler

could do with all the money you bring in. How about

31

brand-new, thousand-page textbooks? Or loads of paper to

print up all those quizzes and tests? Maybe even a new

video system to watch endless movies on the signing of the

Declaration of Independence."

Smiles decorated every face. Lindsay loved the students'

reactions to her comments. In many ways she felt like an

actress in a stage production, only this was more enjoyable.

She entered the next phase of the presentation, the prize program.

There she showed off radios, mugs, banks and stuffed

animals they could earn. "And I'm sure you football players

would just love to cuddle up with a little bear."

Groans met her ears.

"Oh, and I can't forget my furry friends who have something

special to say about every subject." Lindsay held up several

fur-covered Silly Slammers that shouted humorous

sayings when they came in contact with a solid object. I hear

that when you get back to your history class Mr. Wheeler is

going to give you that surprise quiz. So what do you think of

that, Slammie?"

She threw one of the furry slammers to the ground. An

exclamation of"Oh, no!" echoed throughout the auditorium.

Lindsay then tossed another Slammer with huge red lips to a

muscular boy. The loud noise of a kiss erupted. The students

roared with laughter.

Finally, may I introduce you to my friend Goofy. When

you are waiting for a call from that long lost love--Troy and

Jewel know what I mean--and the phone rings to announce

your dream come true, guess whom you hear instead?" She

pressed the start button, and Goofy's voice echoed throughout

the auditorium, to the laughter of the student body.

"There you have it, gang! So let's do our share for the senior

32

class and make this the best prom ever in the history of

Western High."

A round of applause completed the presentation. Lindsay

handed out the brochures to the students who filed past her

display, looking over the different prizes they could earn.

When the assembly concluded and the students left for their

classes, Lindsay busied herself with packing up the prizes.

She was pleased with the positive response to the program,

despite the rocky beginning.

Jewel strode up to Lindsay after the assembly, a frown

etched on her once cheerful face. Lindsay thanked her for her

support and offered her a class key chain as a gift, all the

while wondering about her sadness.

"Thanks," she said. "I just wish what you said would come

true."

Lindsay stepped back, caught off guard by the remark.

"What do you mean? I know I joked around a little, but--"

"I mean about Troy calling me and telling me I'm his dream

come true. I wish he would."

"Jewel, you're young. There's plenty of time for a relationship.

Don't take it too fast."

"We've been friends since grade school. I've loved him for

years." She bent her head. Golden-brown ringlets cascaded

around her shoulders. "He only thinks of me as a playmate."

Lindsay stood for a moment, still holding a Silly Slammer

in one hand, before turning to stuff the item into the duffel

bag. "Tell you what? Are you doing anything after school?"

"Just homework. Why?"

"Well, there's that greasy spoon---er, that diner---down on

Hickory Street. The one with the big neon sign. Why don't

you meet me there after school lets out, and we can talk?"

33

Jewel lifted her face and stared at Lindsay with her flaming

green eyes. "Really? Wow, thanks."

"Sure, no problem. And give this to Troy." Lindsay handed

her another key chain before Jewel scurried up the aisle. She

watched Troy and Jewel examine their key chains, speaking

words she could not hear. Jewel then turned and gave her a

smile. Lindsay sighed. There was much more to this job than

acting up in front of the student body. Many of these young

people needed some single-minded attention. She nodded,

excited that God might be able to use her in Jewel's life.

Suddenly, a loud "Ahem" echoed in her ear. Lindsay whirled

to find Jeff Wheeler staring down at her with his piercing

blue eyes.

"I guess you find it effective to abuse the teacher in your.

presentation?"

Lindsay sucked in her breath, preparing for an onslaught of

harsh words. Instead, she caught a twinkle in his eye. Could

the day's start have put a crack in that rock solid heart of his?

"I must say, your presentation was quite unusual. Where do

you come up with the punch lines--like selling the can of

Spam or the mug shot of me on a T-shirt?" He appeared

ready to chuckle out loud but pressed his lips together.

"They teach you different techniques in sales school for

getting the students' attention," she said, fumbling to place a

leftover packet of team charts back in the crate.

"You seemed to have them eating out of your hand. If I

could get that kind of response during my classes, everyone

would get A's. Then again history isn't exactly a good time to

be a stand-up comedian."

"Maybe that's why I never liked history much." Lindsay felt

the heat rise in her cheeks. How could she have made such a

35 comment to a history teacher, and having just kicked off his

program too? "That is to say, I didn't have a very good

teacher," she added quickly. "He would just stand there in

front of the class and read out loud from a textbook. There

were no visuals, no guest speakers, no field trips, nothing."

She turned and packed up the rest of the crates, feeling

warmer by the second. For all she knew, Jeff Wheeler might

have a similar teaching style. Two insults in two minutes did

not bode well for an already strained customer relationship.

"I like visuals and field trips," he answered, to her relief.

"That's why I need this fund-raiser. There's a lot more at

stake than just the junior prom, you know. Everything I have

planned rests on it." He whistled a sigh that illustrated his

desperation.

For the first time, Lindsay could see beyond the hardened

image of Jeff Wheeler to a man who had a load of responsibility

resting on his shoulders. "Just encourage the students

every day in your class, Mr. Wheeler," she said earnestly. "Run

the prize program. Phone in your first day's totals, and we'll

see if we need to boost the prizes. Keep a thermometer chart

as I showed you, and remind them of the project each day."

Without a word, he headed up the aisle and toward the exit.

Lindsay stood there, staring at her mountain of stuff, wondering

if any of this was worth the effort. Only time would tell.

36 From the dingy exterior to the overgrown bushes, the

Hickory Diner was nothing to write home about. Lindsay

parked the car across the street from the place and stared at

the flashing neon sign that blinked the word Food. She

chuckled to herself, wondering what else the place would

serve if it didn't serve food. She rose out of her car and stuffed

the keys inside her purse. Several people shuffled into the

establishment where she used to hang out with Ron so long

ago. She could still feel the strength of his arms curled around

her, cradling her close, as they walked into a place where the

smell of oil assaulted their nostrils.

Lindsay walked inside. Little had changed since her high

school years. The booths were still the same red plastic, the

linoleum floors milky and the countertops even more so.

Waitresses, clad in their pressed blue uniforms, shuffled

among the customers, carrying trays loaded with food that

would turn anyone's thighs into barrels. Lindsay knew she

shouldn't order anything, but the large chocolate shake in a

frosted glass and the heaping plate of French fries that spilled

over onto the tray looked very tempting. She slid into a seat

and waited for Jewel.

Along the counter on revolving stools sat customers of various

ages, eating their food. One held a huge burger in his

hands. Another dipped French fries methodically into a puddle

of ketchup on his plate. At the far end, a young woman

37 slurped down a soda while talking furiously to a guy holding

another of the diner's famous greasy hamburgers. They all

seemed so young to her. Either that or she was getting old.

Lindsay shook her head. She was young too. Never been married

and, right now, no real love relationship. She had her

whole life ahead of her. A mere eight years ago, she would

have been the young woman at the counter, talking to the guy

holding the hamburger. Ron would turn to her, lower the

burger to his plate, and tell her that all her questions would be

answered at Lovers' Lane.

"Excuse me? Hello?"

Lindsay looked up from her daydreaming to find a familiar

face. His eyes were blue, his face rigid, and his lips pressed

together as if in disgust. Oh, no. It can't be.

"I can't believe I ran into you. I guess this is my lucky day."

Lindsay gaped at him, unable to believe her ears. She was

grateful not to have eaten anything, or it would have lodged

in her throat and caused a fit. "Mr. Wheeler!"

"I need more brochures. I ran out of them soon after you

left. Most of the students took several."

"I have more in my car." Lindsay rose and headed for the

car with JeffWheeler trailing behind.

"How long have you been doing this fund-raising bit anyway?"

he asked.

"Five years. My car's parked right over there."

"Five years? I never would've guessed it. You seem pretty

new at this."

Lindsay fought to keep a retort buried within. Only yesterday

she'd received a comment card from a sponsor, praising

her abilities as a fund-raiser. This guy has no idea what he's

talking about. "Actually many of the teachers I work with are quite

"To be honest, I'm pretty skeptical about this whole fundraising

deal." He sunk his hands into the pockets of his

trousers. "It didn't help that I dy appointed to be the role of

sponsor for the junior kids, without prior approve. I

into school on opening day to my

up on the wall, next to a list of duties. "They'll love you,

Wheeler," teacher said to me. you have to do is

finance the class prom, which is the gh point of the ye.

Remember that each junior class is responsible for rfising the

mon You won't have any problem, d it be .'"

I have heard all this before, Lindsay thought, rummaging

around for the brochures. Her face began to ow when

she did not find any in crate.

Jeff continued. "So I went ead d held a meeg th

e class ocers, asng em for ide about rfising money.

Of course, I ew absolutely noing. Teaching American

history is what I do best. recommended I coect dues

from eve sdent. He paused.

When Ldsay lood up, he stng offinto space.

"I ced assembly of the entire class, as you d today. I

don't md teaching sdents at a time, but tng to

keep the attention of two hundred is pure insanity. I told

them why we needed the money and asked them for dues.

Guess what happened?"

I can't begin to imagine. Lindsay oed sently. "Yes, Mr.

Wheeler?" She moved to e re of e c, hoping she had

cked oer paget ofbroches benea e pri b.

"een showed up e class dues. een out of

38 two hundred students. I knew right then I needed help raising

the money. There you have it." He walked to the rear of

the car and peered inside. "Did you find those brochures?"

"I'm sure I have them somewhere." She winced, wishing

she had not made the comment audible. She didn't need to

display ineptness. She opened the prize bag and tossed toys

around, when a loud kissing sound erupted from the Silly

Slammer with the huge red lips.

JeffWheeler leapt back as if he were struck. Lindsay bit her

lip in dismay. If things were not embarrassing enough. ...

At last she found a packet and turned to give it to him, only

to find he had retreated down the sidewalk. He shook his

head. His fingers dug into his pockets as if he were trying to

crawl away inside them.

Oh, no! Lindsay groaned. Does he honestly think I made the

sound?

"I guess Lady Silly Slammer is up to her old tricks again,"

she said hastily. She handed him the brochure packet.

"Was that one of your prizes?"

"Yes," she said, adding silently, You didn't really think I would

be making lip noises at you, toad of Western High.

He took the packet without a word and spun around on his

heel. Lindsay watched him go, amazed by his sudden silence

after all the tongue flapping he had done. Why had the sound

of kissing from a Silly Slammer caused such a reaction?

Surely he didn't think that-- Oh, get it out of your head,

Lindsay, ol' girl.

After she locked the car and headed for the diner, she

found Jewel striding up to the restaurant, accompanied by

a brawny guy. A large tattoo was prominently displayed on

his arm, which he had planted firmly around her. Lindsay

39 squinted, quite certain the boy wasn't Troy. Either that

Troy had eaten spinach for lunch and now spoked hue muscles

th anchor taboos, he Pope2 the Sorman.

"H, ewd," ndsy sd th

"He." Sh2 cked a strand of hair behind on˘ ˘ar and

slowly sfipped out of the y's asp. "Robbie, I goa go."

"See you later, Jewel." He gave her a and sauntered

off, long a notebook in e r. e paper fluered as it

saed back into his hands. Out of e notebook flew one of

the brochures handed out that morning in Lindsay's nd

rsing presentation. It came to rest in e street.

Lindsay blew out a sigh. ere was one less student seng.

She must have ibited a sge expression on her face,

for Jewel shook her head and sd, "It not what you thi

Robbie and I e oy iends. His morn d my mom work

in e same facto so we ow each oer."

"Sure, no problem." But I can tell you r a ct, that y is

eyeing you the way Bms did Olive

"Hey, was that Mr. Wheeler I saw standing by your car?"

Jewel asked, stepping through the door Lindsay held open.

The aroma of fried onions wafted ough e . A wtress

hurried by with a huge basket of onion rings like large,

golden, eing hoops and a mug of soda.

Lindsay was amazed Jewel could see from that distance,

especiy whBe being manhandled by Robbie, a.Ea. Brains.

"He needed more brochures for the se, which is a good

thing. That means the students e enthusiastic." Except for

Brains, who let s broe f into e street.

"I'm gonna se ' I get at Goo phone you mentioned.

I'm gonna get it, pk it right by my bed, and wt for Troy to

c d te me he loves me." Jewel sat down in the seat across

40

from Lindsay. When the waitress came, she gave a long order

of food including a chocolate milkshake, a cheeseburger,

French fries, and onion rings.

Lindsay swallowed hard, not relishing the idea of having to

look for new clothes if she consumed that type of fare. When

she noticed Jewel and the waitress both looking at her expectantly,

Lindsay forced down all modesty and ordered a milkshake and a plate

of fries. Jewel relaxed in her seat and gave a

smile. Lindsay chuckled, knowing she was now accepted into

the fold, grease and all.

"So did you, Robbie, and Troy all go to the same grade

school?" Lindsay asked.

"Yeah, we were all in the same classes. Robbie was a bully

back then. He picked on Troy all the time. He called him

'brain.'"

This is turning out to be more like Popeye all the time. Maybe I

should have Troy over and make him a spinach quiche to help

build up those muscles. Lindsay nearly laughed out loud but

managed to choke down the emotion so Jewel wouldn't think

she was laughing at her. Girls could be funny that way. Any

whisper or laugh could mean someone was talking about

them behind their backs. At least Lindsay used to think

that way.

"That could be a great compliment if you look at it right,"

Lindsay said when a tall, frost-covered glass was placed in

front of her, brimming with a thick, chocolate milkshake. "I

always try to turn things around if I can. Can't let cross words

get to me, or I wouldn't go anywhere in life."

Isn't that the truth. She thought how easily she would've

thrown in the towel with Jeff Wheeler's program, had it not

been for sheer determination. She bent her head and offered a

41 silent prayer, then took a drink through the straw. A cold,

creamy sensation slipped down her throat. All at once she was

back in the old days with Ron, sharing a single milkshake

with two straws and laughing away.

"I just love these shakes," Jewel commented. "Anyway, like I

was saying, we all grew up together. Robbie and Troy never

got along. I got along with both of them okay."

"Did you ever think that the two of them might be competing

for your attention?" Lindsay asked.

A strange look came over Jewel's face.

Lindsay hastily rephrased the statement. "What I mean is, if

they both don't get along with each other, but they do get along

with you, do you see how that could set up a confrontation?"

Jewel shrugged unconcernedly. "Robbie is just someone I

know. Troy is ... well ... no one can replace him." She took

another long sip on the straw. "Robbie understands."

"I'm not so sure. I don't think either of them understands.

Troy might not feel the same way you do. And Robbie would

as soon take his place if the opportunity arose."

"Troy will understand, and so will Robbie," Jewel insisted.

"I just have to give them time. Guys are slow. They don't get

it unless you hit them over the head."

"You also have your whole life ahead of you, Jewel. Don't

lose it over one guy. I had a guy I liked in high school. We

were in love, or so I thought. When it came time for us to

graduate, I realized Ron had made other plans--and they

didn't include me."

The waitress came and slid their orders in front of their

noses. The mound of French fries reached nearly to Lindsay's

chin.

Jewel laughed. "Don't they give you a ton of food here?"

42 "You're not kidding. I have enough oil here on my plate to

lube a car."

Jewel giggled. "So what happened to you and Ron?"

Lindsay tentatively picked up a French fry. Even with the

amount of fat and calories she was consuming, that first bite

tasted better than anything she had eaten in ages. "He was

accepted in a college way out in California. I didn't want him

to go. We talked it over. We said we would keep in touch."

Lindsay paused. "We never did."

"Really? Wow, that's too bad."

"Yeah, it was real bad. I was heartbroken. I tried writing,

but if you haven't figured it out yet, guys don't write letters."

Jewel rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it. I've left a million

notes at Troy's locker. He ignores them."

Lindsay took up another French fry. "Anyway, I'm just sharing

this with you so you don't get your hopes wrapped up in

one guy. You never know who else might come along in your

college years. You may end up like we did, with both of you

attending colleges across the country and a heart that hurts

worse than if you handled a hot iron."

Jewel shook her head. Her curly hair swished around her

shoulders. "That won't happen to us." Under her breath she

added, "I won't let it happen. Troy and I will make sure we go

to the same school. We've talked about going to a community

college or something once we graduate."

Lindsay turned her attention to the plate of food resting

before her. Life's lessons were important to share, but that's

about all she could do, and she knew it. They conversed a

while longer about Jewel's topic of interest. Lindsay heard all

kinds of good things about Troy, from the way he studied for

a test, to the way he wore his hair. Jewel nearly idolized him.

43 Yet in the back of her mind Lindsay recalled Jewel's complaint

that Troy did not share her sentiments. How she

wanted to keep this young woman from feeling the pain of a

broken relationship. Yet sometimes the best course of action

was to let these young people discover for themselves whether

the decisions they had made were the right ones.

Lindsay returned home to an answering machine blinking

a cheerful pattern of lights. She listened to each call, to find

the last one from Jeff Wheeler. He left a lengthy message,

informing her she had left behind a prize in the auditorium

and would she mind retrieving it. He would have it in his

classroom. Lindsay picked up the prize bag and began rummaging

around, wondering what prize she could have left.

The only thing that came up missing was a key chain, which

may have accidentally fallen on the floor. "He can keep it,"

she declared. I'm not wasting time or emotional energy facing

Jeff Wheeler again, just to pick up a silly key chain.

All at once the phone rang. "Hello, Lindsay Thomas

speaking."

"Miss Thomas, this is Jeff--I mean, Mr. Wheeler."

"Yes, I received your message that I had left an item in the

auditorium."

"It's one of those class key chains."

Lindsay could hear the chain jingling over the phone. "Mr.

Wheeler, keep it as a prize incentive. Tell the students that

whoever sells an additional two items, they can have their

names put in for a drawing."

Laughter ricocheted in her ears. Lindsay felt her anger on

the rise.

"They don't care about a key chain. Hardly any of them

have cars."

44 "Oh. Well, then, you can keep it. Call it a gift."

She heard his hesitation. "I need to ask you a few questions

about the sale. Would you mind stopping over early in the

morning before classes begin? I get there around seven. We

can go over a few things, and you can pick up your key chain

at the same time."

Lindsay pulled out her personal data assistant and checked

the appointment schedule. She would have to make this a

quick visit. She had a start at eight o'clock sharp on the opposite

side of the county. Great. Jeff Wheeler again succeeds in

upsetting my schedule. I sure hope this fund-raising campaign of

his

pays off, because I'm losing time and money.

"Can you come?"

"Okay, I'll be there at seven." She nearly told him of the

other start she had at eight but, remembering his instability in

the past, decided not to bring it up. Still, Lindsay had the

distinct impression that something was different about Jeff. She

couldn't put her finger on it, but there seemed to be less

animosity.

Lindsay glanced down at the lady Silly Slammer with

the pursed red lips, staring up from the open prize bag. "No

way. It couldn't be."

45 Jeff didn't know why he awoke anxious and jittery. The thought

of swallowing down a hunk of scratchy toast made him nauseous.

He made a cup of coffee and tried reading the newspaper

after retrieving it from the doorstep. The words made

little sense. He glanced around the duplex he owned and found

it in complete disarray. History texts stood stacked like small

towers on the floor. Class papers were strewn across the coffee

table. Dirty clothes lay in the hall. And two days' worth of

dishes filled the sink. Not a pleasant atmosphere, especially if

he were ever to entertain some eligible young lady in the near

future. Jeff cringed at the mere notion. No women like that

existed in his circle of influence. If they did, they were

independent and single-minded and refused to gravitate to his lonely

field of interest.

The thoughts did little to quell his nerves, especially when

he thought of Lindsay Thomas fulfilling the eligibility status.

He shook his head. Okay, so he was rattled by the strange

sound of kissing emanating from the trunk of her car. Get it

through your thick skull, Jeff. It was a prize and not a symbol of

some future event. Besides, Lindsay most certainly had a boyfriend.

She was that outgoing, friendly, attractive, with

shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes to match. She was

dating someone, no doubt about it. He was just plain, ordinary

Jeff, the history teacher. She had made it crystal clear that

history belonged in a Dumpster and not in her curio cabinet.

46 Jeff swallowed down the rest of his coffee and grabbed his

leather briefcase, stuffed to the gills with books and paperwork

His thoughts shifted to the day's lesson plan--a lecture

about the Constitution--and the field trip he had planned

with some of his brighter students this coming Saturday. In

an afterthought, he grabbed the Christian tour guide that

outlined the many monuments and other areas of historical

interest in Washington, D.C. The idea of leading the students

on a tour and pointing out the nation's Christian heritage

excited him. He discovered in the course of his readings how

many of the glistening white marbled edifices heralded

Scriptures or acclamations of God. In a nation where the

news daily batted around the question of separation of church

and state, the city of Washington, D.C., proclaimed God on

nearly every governmental building and monument. This was

what he wanted to show the students--God's hand on a

country, even if he wasn't allowed to expound on that fact in a

public school classroom.

Jeff winced, thinking of the teacher who had accosted him

that one morning while he read his Bible in the lounge. Then

he smiled. There were other ways around the issues that

divided people. And with God's help he would teach the students

not only historical facts, but also of the One who made

it all happen.

Arriving at school, Jeff decided to forego the donut and

coffee break in the lounge and head straight for his classroom.

The schoolroom was his sanctuary, a place where his enthusiasm

for history pierced the minds of the young. The huge

chalkboard still had the homework assignment etched on it.

He wondered how many of the students had read about the

Constitution in their textbooks last evening. He knew what

47 they were thinking. Why bother learning about a document

written eons ago? If only they could understand that their

very rights as citizens of the United States stemmed from that

important piece of parchment. Perhaps he could think of

ways to stimulate their need to understand the document and

history itself.

A faint knock sounded on the door. Jeff turned to find an

attractive woman standing in the doorway, outfitted in a black

pantsuit, holding a briefcase in her hand. Lindsay Thomas

looked stunning, as if she had just walked off the front cover

of some beauty magazine. Her brown hair reflected a myriad

of gold and auburn tones in the classroom lights. He saw her

shift the briefcase from one hand to the other. He had come

face to face with Miss America.

"Good morning, Mr. Wheeler," Lindsay announced. "You

said you had some questions about the fundraiser?

For a moment he couldn't speak. He saw her shift the bag

again. The gaze of her liquid brown eyes averted to the chalkboard

before settling back on him.

"Yes, I do. Come and sit down." He presented her with

a chair.

Lindsay strode over and took a seat. She checked her

watch.

Business all the way, he thought. What does she do for fun, I

wonder? Does she like touring museums? Visiting a battlefield?

Reading books in the special collections section of the university

library? He shook his head. No, those were the things he

liked to do. She probably enjoyed having her nails done, sitting by a pool, or shopping at the mall. At least that's what Jeff's older sister, Candy, liked
to do.

"I see you have the thermometer chart up," Lindsay noted.

48 "Good. This will help the students remember their goal and

how much they need to sell to reach that goal. Today you

should find out the first day's totals. This will give us an idea

of how to proceed."

Her business-like attitude grated on him. If he could only

find out more about the flesh-and-bone woman existing

beneath the cold business attire. "What exactly do you mean?"

"I mean, if we need to give the students further incentives

to sell more. After a few days they start to slow down. You

want to keep the momentum going. When the weekend rolls

around, you also want them to sell to church people, relatives,

and so on." She opened her leather briefcase and pulled out a

stack of small cards. "This is where cash cards come in handy.

I'll leave a packet with you to show the students when they

come to class."

Jeff reached for the cards. Lindsay's fingers were long and

slender with nails painted a juicy, ripe plum. Several rings

dotted those fingers, but no sign of a diamond. Her fingers

trembled slightly as they brushed his, or maybe it was his

imagination. "What are these again?"

"Cash cards. If the students sell five or more items over the

weekend, they get one of these cards to scratch for cash. The

cards come in various amounts--one dollar, two dollars, five,

ten, twenty-five, up to one hundred dollars. Because this is an

incentive, the teacher pays for this part of the program."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if I like this idea, Miss

Thomas. First you want kids to gamble, which really goes

against my beliefs. Then you expect me to cut into my profit

to pay for it."

He watched a slow flush crawl into her cheeks. The defensive

shields went up quicker than a galactic star fighter. "Mr.

49

Wheeler, this is not gambling. Gambling is when you waste

money on a game of chance. This is simply providing the students

with a personal goal. They'll work harder if they have

the opportunity of winning cash for themselves. Let's face it--

we all need a push sometimes to work harder. We do better

when we feel we are striving for something."

"Well, their goal is the junior prom, not extra cash in their

wallets. If they don't meet it, they don't have a dance. It's

pretty simple."

Lindsay picked up the cards and put them in her briefcase.

She stood to her feet. "I'm sorry I suggested this. I don't

agree with gambling, either, but I think of this as a paycheck

for a job well done. If they sell well, they earn something in

return."

Jeff frowned over the way this meeting was turning out. Not

only had he rattled her, but he found himself turning edgy as

well. He stood, reached out a hand, and touched Lindsay's

arm. She spun in his direction, with a look of surprise on her

face. "I know I don't have the expertise you do. If you think

this will help them sell more, then we'll do it. I want this

project to succeed."

The jagged lines creasing her face softened at once. Her

hand dug into the briefcase and withdrew the cards. The

trembling fingers returned. "So you want them?"

"Sure." He took the cards. All at once the door to his room

banged open, accompanied by loud voices. Jeff's star pupil,

Troy, walked in, followed by Jewel, who trailed him like a

puppy dog.

"Hey," Troy said easily.

"Oh, it's Miss Thomas!" Jewel exclaimed. "We went to the

Hickory Diner yesterday, Troy, and had a great time. I never

50 knew teachers could be sweet."

"Yeah, maybe you ought to have her be a chaperone on the

trip, Mr. Wheeler."

Jeff blinked, realizing what Troy was referring to--the trip

to Washington, D.C., this weekend when he planned to take

ten of his star history pupils on a tour of the sites. He'd

mentioned to Troy his desire for finding one other adult to

accompany them, for the safety of the group. He had asked

several teachers but found none available. "I'm sure Miss

Thomas has other plans."

"You don't have other plans, do you, Miss Thomas?" Jewel

asked. "I think it would be sweet for you to come along. We're

gonna have a great time. How about it?"

Jeff waited for a look of consternation to form on Lindsay's

sleek face at this sudden invitation. He stood there, counting to

five, anticipating the certain no, she had a dinner date that

night with handsome Harry or a hair appointment at the salon.

"I haven't been to D.C. since I was little. If it's okay with

your teacher--"

Jeff nearly fell over. His knees began to wobble. He grabbed

the corner of his desk to steady himself.

"Of course it's okay with Mr. Wheeler, right?"

"Sure," he croaked.

Lindsay went over to Jewel and began talking with her in a

hushed voice. Jeff observed the interaction between the two.

He couldn't help but marvel how Lindsay integrated with the

students, much in the same way she'd captured their attention

that day in the auditorium. Maybe she wasn't all Goofy

phones and Silly Slammers, business and boyfriends. Maybe

there was more to her than met the eye.

51

Later that night Lindsay called Jeff to discuss the students'

reaction to the cards. After she slogged her way through the

sales pitch, explaining how effective the cards would be in

motivating the students to sell over the weekend, he waited

for the other items on her agenda.

"Oh, and about the trip this weekend to Washington, D.C."

Here it comes. She has a list of ideas for running the trip,

like she did the fund-raiser, as if she has the history degree.

"I will totally understand if you don't think it's appropriate

for me to go," she began. "I realize I'm not on the school faculty.

In fact, it's probably better if you had a fellow teacher go

instead. Or maybe a parent."

Jeff had been all set to remind her this was his trip and he

knew exactly what to do and where to go. Instead, her innocent

inquiry caught him off guard. No other teachers were

interested in participating. No one in high school liked

American history that much. The teachers were more into

ancient civilizations and European history. At times, Jeff felt

out of place talking with them. He recalled one debate with a

teacher who passionately pleaded the cause of England during

the American Revolution. Jeff countered the statements

with patriotic quotes, using documents to support his claims.

The debate grew quite hot until Jeff inquired if the man's

relatives had Loyalist leanings. That comment drew a look of

hostility and a slammed door in his face.

"Mr. Wheeler?"

"There isn't anyone else. The teachers are busy and I never

asked any of the parents. If you want to go, that's fine with

me, but I thought you disliked history."

"I do if I have to sit at a desk and listen to a teacher read

out of a textbook. I like taking trips, though. I guess I'd better

52 like it with all the traveling I do for my job."

"So you don't work only in this area?"

"Oh, no. My sales territory spans six counties. It seems as if

I spend more time in my car driving to appointments than at

the schools conducting business. Not to say I don't like to

drive, because I do. Sometimes, though, I wouldn't mind if all

my schools were just around the corner. Then I wouldn't have

to leave the house at six A.M. before the sun is even up. In the

winter, I have to get up while it's still dark out. I don't arrive

home until after dark."

"Must be difficult."

"It's not too bad. So what time shall we meet?"

"We're meeting at the school at eight A.M. sharp. We're taking

a school van up to D.C. It takes about two hours to get

there. Be sure you bring money for food and souvenirs, a notebook,

permission slip--" He felt the heat rise in his face. "Sorry. I'm

used to telling the students what they need to bring."

"I'll take that as a compliment. All right--eight A.M. sharp.

See you then."

The dial tone buzzed. Jeff wondered what she meant by

taking his blunder as a compliment. Did she mean her age?

She shouldn't feel old, that's for certain. She had a youthful

vitality about her, especially when it came to giving presentations

in front of the students. Maybe it was part of the

female psyche, worrying about gray hair and wrinkles. His

sister, Candy, worried about it all the time. He recalled

Candy finding a gray hair at age sixteen and pleading with

him to pull it out.

Are you crazy?" he told her. "You want me to pull out your

gray hair? If I pulled out all of Grandma's gray hair, she'd

be bald."

53 "I'm too young to have gray hair. Just do it." Candy scrunched her

eyes shut and waited. He did what she wanted

and gave a yank. She then examined the strand like a biologist,

comparing it to her natural hair, before tossing it aside.

Lindsay, however, had thick brown hair with a bit of wave,

a smooth face without blemishes and expressive fudge

brownie eyes that always seemed happy no matter what the

situation. Jeff shook his head. He shouldn't be dwelling on

Lindsay. They had nothing in common. They were like oil

and water, night and day, canines to felines. She was a fundraiser

who disliked history but needed work, and he was a

history teacher with no money who needed to raise some real

quickly. They only needed each other out of necessity and

nothing more.

54 Lindsay arrived on schedule at the school, wondering why

she'd agreed to accompany Jeff Wheeler anywhere, especially

on an all-day field trip to Washington, D.C. She swung a bag

over her shoulder that contained a camera, a bottle of spring

water, and several granola bars. That morning she'd prayed

long and hard for the patience to put up with whatever

zoomed out of Jeff's mouth. There was no telling what he

might say. She only hoped he wouldn't ridicule her for her

lack of intelligence in the area of history.

She never told him her grade in school on the subject, low

enough that her parents docked her allowance and made her

take summer school. History was boring to Lindsay. Who

cared about names, dates, and facts concerning people who

were dead and buried? Sure, they accomplished great things

in starting the United States, but it made little sense to

rehash it all now. Lindsay's number one goal on this trip was

to spend time with Jewel and the other students amid the

tall, white marbled monuments and buildings. Her agenda

was people, not history.

Jeff was already there at the school when Lindsay arrived.

He sat on a bench, studying a tour book of Washington, D.C.

He never looked up but jotted down notes on a notepad. She

stood by patiently, curious to know if he planned to outline

his expectations for this trip. Finally, she ventured forward

and issued a pleasant good morning, hoping to get the day

55

off on the right foot.

"Morning," he said quickly.

Lindsay shifted the bag to the other shoulder and felt her

knees begin to waver. She steadied her voice. "I was just wondering

what my duties for the trip will be, Mr. Wheeler."

At last he peered up at her with those same blue eyes that

had captivated her in other meetings. In a way, his eyes

seemed sad. Her mother often said that eyes could tell a great

deal about people--if they were sick or if they were going

through a difficult time. She called them the gateway to

people's souls. Perhaps those intense blue eyes were doors to

some sadness buried away within JeffWheeler.

"You can call me Jeff. Just keep the class together. Don't let

the students stray. If they have needs or want to see something,

then bring it to my attention." He returned to the book.

Lindsay stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the title. In

God We Trust Tour Guide. She stood back with a start. Why

would a history teacher be studying a Christian tour book?

Could it be that JeffWheeler was a Christian?

"No way," she said out loud.

The comment drew a puzzled look from him. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, I was--I was curious about the book you're reading."

"We're going to use it to help navigate us through the sites in

Washington, D.C. It has some great facts in it. Take this, for

instance. Did you know the aluminum tip on top of the capstone

on the Washington Monument has the words Laus Deo

inscribed on it? It means Praise Be to God. Yes, and it's right

on the Washington Monument, the tallest masonry structure

in the world."

"I didn't know that."

"Nobody does. All the monuments speak about God.

56 Everyone is so interested in taking God out of schools and

out of our communities that they don't realize there are monuments

and sculptures with religious sayings all over them,

right in the heart of our government. What are they going to

do? Tear down the monuments? Shred the documents that

served as the foundation for who we are today? Erase it all

and pretend our Christian roots never existed?"

Lindsay fiddled with the strap to her bag. She had little

doubt now that Jeffwas a Christian, and a devout one at that.

Why then had he been so obstinate with her during the fundraising

program? Well, Lindsay, ol' girl, are you perfect yet? Did

you ever stop to think there might be more to Jeff than his gruff

exterior?

"That's a good point," she managed to say. "And our currency

even says 'In God We Trust' on it."

"That was added during the Civil War. An appropriate

time, don't you think--our country embroiled in the worst

war known to mankind, with brother slaying brother."

He shut his book in an instant and glanced up. Several cars

pulled into the school parking lot. Students poured out of

them, smiling and talking with each other, excited about the

day they were going to spend in the nation's capital. Troy and

Jewel came forward, talking in heightened voices about the

time as young kids they had toured Washington, D.C. They

mentioned how the buildings seemed like something out of a

fairy tale, with gleaming snow-white structures hovering

above them, and then their awe at seeing the famous residence

of the president of the United States.

Lindsay examined the makeup of the group with curiosity.

Four guys and five girls. A manageable number from what she

could determine. Nothing like handling hundreds of students

57

in a fund-raising assembly and trying to keep their attention at

the same time.

All at once, a burly student rode up on a mountain bike,

performed a wheelie and brought the bike to a screeching halt

in front of the group. Lindsay couldn't help but gape at the

new arrival. The student was none other than Robbie, the one

she had nicknamed Brutus for his muscular build and temperament

like the villain in the cartoon Popeye. He parked

the bike in the rack, chained it, and strode over.

"I don't have you down for this trip, Robbie," Jeff said.

"Yeah, I just found out about it." His gaze darted to where

Jewel and Troy were standing. "I love history, Mr. Wheeler. I'd

sure like to go if you have the room."

"We did have a student call in sick. If you want to go ..."

Lindsay could see the distress contorting Jewel's youthful

face. "Are you sure you want to do that?" Lindsay said to

Robbie. Both Jeff and Robbie whirled to face her. "We're just

going to see dumb monuments and boring paintings. Cultural

stuff, you know."

"Miss Thomas---" Jeff started, the anger evident in his voice.

Lindsay ignored him. "Besides, I hear they're having some

kind of sporting contest in the park today. The Fall Fling.

Looks as if you might walk away with the grand prize, Robbie,

if you head over there."

Robbie glanced at Jewel who began twisting a small curl of

hair around one finger. "Naw, I want to come."

Lindsay frowned. Obviously, the guy had one particular

monument in mind, and it wasn't made of stone.

Jeff ushered the students into the awaiting van. While they

were settling in, he faced Lindsay. His blue eyes snapped like

the flame erupting on a propane burner. "I hope the kind of

58 advice you're giving out today is not what I have to look forward

to on this trip. I want my class excited about where we're

going. You're telling them it's going to be boring."

"I didn't want Brutus tagging along," she whispered fiercely.

"That's all."

"Brutus? What are you talking about? Who's Brutus?"

"Call it woman's intuition, but I think you're making a mistake

by inviting Robbie on the trip."

"What? Ridiculous." He stole a glance inside the van. The

students sat in their seats, waiting for the trip to commence.

Robbie, a.k.a. Brutus, sat in his own seat in the rear of the van

with an expectant look on his face.

"Come on," Jeff told her, frowning. "We have a long way

to go."

Lindsay took a seat beside Jewel while offering the front

passenger seat to Troy. "That way you guys can discuss history,"

she said. Jewel seemed disappointed by the arrangement

but said nothing. Along the way Lindsay tried to make small

talk with her, but it was clear she wanted Troy beside her on

every part of the trip. In the rear of the van, Robbie cast

furtive glances in her direction. No doubt he was itching to

occupy the seat Lindsay held. This is like a three-ring circus, she

mused. Everyone is trying to get in on the act. I only pray that

everything comes out right in the end.

Sleek, marble structures loomed above the school group when

they emerged from the subway tunnel deep beneath the city

of Washington, D.C. Students jabbered away with each other

while Jeff scanned a map of the city.

Lindsay gazed in awe at the immense buildings towering

above her. Being country bred, she rarely ventured into the city

59 realms. The fast-paced life, coupled with untold dangers lurking

in every corner, kept her away. She sucked in the exhaust

fumes of passing cars. The music of city life filled the air, with

horns tooting from impatient drivers, accompanied by the

loud rumble of construction equipment.

A student quipped that Washington, D.C., was forever

building and refurbishing. Many of the museums had received

face-lifts in recent years. Lindsay overheard Jeff say

they would be unable to tour the National Archives because

of its impending renovation project. "And that means we can't

see the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution," he

had moaned in dismay.

"All right, everyone. It's several blocks to the Library of

Congress." Jeff proceeded in the direction of the building,

followed

by the flock of students, with Lindsay in the middle of

the group. He pointed out the buildings they passed along the

way, including the governmental offices. On the left rose the

Capitol dome with Lady Liberty perched on top.

"Will we see the Capitol?" Lindsay asked Jewel.

"Of course. The Capitol is one of Mr. Wheeler's favorite

places."

"I notice he's carrying a tour book. Guess that will tell us

everything we need to know."

"It's one of those religious tour books," Troy pointed out. "I

don't know why Mr. Wheeler has to use it. I found him a

bunch of good stuff over the Internet, but he still brings that

thing along."

Lindsay raised an eyebrow at Troy's obvious disdain for the

guide. "I'm sure it's very good and probably quite accurate."

His feet scuffed the sidewalk. "Yeah, but who cares that the

buildings have stuff about God on them? I don't believe

60 there's a God anyway. This world is too messed up. When you

see all the problems in the world--the terrorism, the wars,

kids getting beat up or murdered--I don't understand why a

God would allow it to happen and not do anything about it.

Either God doesn't exist, or He doesn't care."

Lindsay gave a quick glance at Jewel who remained

silent. Did she feel the same way? "I know there's a God, Troy. I

don't know why He lets evil run its course in this world, but I

do know He cares about us. And it's obvious the people who

came to this country believed in Him too. Mr. Wheeler told

me that way on top of the Washington Monument," she

paused, turned, and pointed in the direction of the slim monument

reaching to the clear blue sky above, "there's a saying

that proclaims God. Somebody believed He exists, and they

wanted that fact shouted to the whole world."

Troy said nothing. Instead he talked to Jewel about the new

rock group hitting the top of the charts. Lindsay retreated

from them and began praying for Troy, Jewel, and the other

students. She prayed that Jeff and she, along with his tour

book, might open the students' eyes to see more than just

monuments and buildings, but a God who fashioned a nation

and cared about them personally.

Lindsay gulped. What was she thinking? Pray that she and

Jeff would help these students? That's crazy. We barely get along.

Yet, from her vantage point, Lindsay could see the blue book

Jeff held in his hand, or "the religious tour book," as Troy put

it. They did have one thing in common. Christianity. Lindsay

decided to put everything else aside and concentrate instead

on what the day might bring. Lord, open these young people's eyes

to see You. And if You want to use Jeff and me in the process,

please

help us get along.

61 At last the group entered the large halls comprising the

Library of Congress. Lindsay learned of the many books

found there, from those written on ancient papyrus to works

stored on microform. Jeff appeared animated as he led the

group to a large case that held one of only three special Bibles

left in the world. Lindsay discovered the Bible to be an original,

printed on the famous Gutenberg printing press in

Europe. Many of the students crowded around for a look,

including Jewel. Robbie was at her side, reading the plaque

along with her. Troy stayed in the background, quietly observing

the paintings and sculptures. Jeff gave a small lecture to

the group about the importance of Johann Gutenberg's invention

of the printing press and its ability to print the very first

Bibles. This helped spread Christianity throughout Europe.

The group then entered the great hall, decorated in breathtaking

mosaic work and statues that gleamed like fine

mother-of-pearl. The architecture itself reminded Lindsay of

the interior of a fairy-tale castle. If it were not for the trip's

importance, she might have imagined herself a princess in a

velvet and jeweled gown, waiting on the staircase to meet her

prince. Lindsay stared in awe at the surroundings, unaware

that the group had left her behind until she heard Jeff's voice

calling to her from the staircase above.

"I hope you intend to keep up with us, Miss Thomas. I don't

want to have to send the students out searching for you."

Lindsay looked up to find him on the top landing with his

hands spread out across the banister, staring down disapprovingly.

"Sorry." She mounted the stairs. "I've never seen such a

beautiful hall. I'm not much into art, you know, but the

mosaics are wonderful. To think that tiny colored tiles were

placed in such a fashion to create these pictures. Can you

62 imagine the work that went into them, the care and the precision?

It's incredible. And when I think of the time I take to

set up a measly fund-raising program--trying to juggle everything

so the program comes out right--I think that in itself is

a work of art. This, though, is true beauty that goes beyond

description."

Jeff stood frozen in place, staring at her with an intensity

that sent a chill racing through her. What could his blue eyes

be conveying? A simple acknowledgment perhaps? A measure

of understanding? Surely they couldn't mean anything else.

Lindsay moved off into the museum where the students were

looking over John Smith's map of the New World, a rough

draft of the Declaration of Independence written in Thomas

Jefferson's own hand, Alexander Graham Bell's drawing of

the telephone, and other rare documents.

Lindsay then left the fantasy and wonder of the Library

of Congress for the United States Capitol. Again, she was

amazed by the immensity of the rotunda where she stood. All

around the huge circular room were paintings depicting

America's roots. Jeff took the students to each painting and

explained its significance. Lindsay saw Pocahontas being baptized,

the Pilgrims praying before their voyage to Plymouth

in the New World, and John Trumbull's famous painting of

the Declaration of Independence. At each one, Jeff shared

both the historical and religious significance. Lindsay found

herself enjoying his teaching style. She wished she had

brought along a tape recorder to capture the moment and play

it back when she had more time to ponder it all.

"What do you think of having a painting like that in our

Capitol?" Lindsay commented to Troy and Jewel who stood

off by themselves, examining the painting of the Pilgrims in

63

prayer, with an open Bible before them.

"It belongs in Plymouth where they landed," Troy said.

"I think it shows their reliance on God, don't you? Can you

imagine crossing thousands of miles of ocean through storms

in some rickety ship, wondering if you would survive?"

Lindsay turned. "And over there, those paintings of the

Revolutionary War. You were just studying that time period.

How do you think brave men went against a great king like

the king of England to gain their freedom? You heard what

Mr. Wheeler said. They had to put their trust in God. They

could do such incredible things because of their faith."

"Yeah, but they did those kinds of things back then," Troy

retorted. "They were all Bible thumpers. Nobody does it now."

"I beg to differ," Jeff said, coming up behind them. The

threesome whirled at the sound of his voice. "Did you know

that here, today, is a chaplain in the Senate who prays before

each session? He prays that God will guide the men and

women in their decision-making for the sake of the country.

Did you know many Bible studies go on in the Capitol?

Many individuals in government keep their trust in God,

even in a day of modern conveniences." Jeff blew out a sigh.

"We have it so easy nowadays. Look at us. We have cars to

take us wherever we want to go. We have instant meals. We

have fast communications and computers that spit out what

we need. We don't even have to pick up a pen anymore. We

are a society that doesn't need God because we've built a society

based on man. These people," Jeff paused, gesturing to the

paintings, "they had nothing but God to help them overcome

their problems. God was the very lifeline of their existence."

Lindsay stood still and quiet, amazed by the truth spilling

out of Jeff's mouth. It seemed unbelievable that this was the

64 same man who barely offered her an introduction before the

school assembly. A new JeffWheeler had appeared before her

eyes, one who spoke with authority and power. No longer was

he a simple history teacher, but a man full of wisdom and a

heart for the things of God.

After this, the students toured the rest of the Capitol, including

the Senate and House chambers. They made thoughtful

observations before heading over to one of the Smithsonian

museum cafeterias for lunch.

When Lindsay had selected her lunch, she stood with the

tray in her hands, trying to decide where to sit. The students

found tables together where they shared about the things

happening in their young lives. Jeff sat alone at a far table

with his nose buried in the Christian tour guide. Lindsay

boldly marched over and placed her club sandwich and spring

water opposite him. He peeked over the book with eyes the

color of a deep mountain lake. Then he put the book down,

bent over his ham sandwich, and began eating.

"Looks like the students want to eat on their own without

us adults hanging over them," Lindsay said.

Jeff said nothing. Lindsay offered a silent prayer for her

food before looking at her sandwich. She sincerely hoped this

wouldn't be one of those luncheons where people sat stonefaced

with fidgety fingers, wondering what words to say that

would not offend the other person. It reminded her of stuffy

get-togethers with relatives at holiday time. She would sit in

her fancy dress, waiting for someone to engage her in meaningful

conversation. After enduring it all as a youth, Lindsay

made it a point to get the conversation going, no matter what.

"That was quite a speech you gave in the rotunda today."

She unfolded a napkin and placed it in her lap.

65 He stiffened at her words.

Oh, no. I've said the wrong thing already, and I've only been

seated here one minute.

"If it was meant to be a speech, I would have gone into politics,"

he said. "It was supposed to be a history lesson."

"I know that. I only meant it was very moving. Did you see

how the students hardly even whispered after that?"

... Jeff's gaze left her and traveled to the other tables where

the students ate their lunches. Lindsay followed his lead to find

Jewel and Troy at the table. Robbie sat with them, appearing

to monopolize the conversation. Lindsay inhaled a sharp

breath. I'm sure nothing good will come of that meeting.

Jeff's voice broke the silence. "I feel sorry for a lot of these

young people. Many of them have never set foot in a church.

Troy tells me his father was a drunk. No wonder they end up

the way they do. They try to find what they're looking for in

music, relationships, even substance abuse. They don't know

that what they're seeking is staring them straight in the face,

like the painting of the Pilgrims praying to God before their

voyage. You tell them the truth, but it doesn't seem to sink in."

Jeff leaned forward in a move that startled Lindsay. "If only

they could look at the paintings in the rotunda and get a

vision for themselves. They can reach higher and go further

with God on their side. That's what I'm trying to show them,

Lindsay, if only they would open their eyes."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name floating

from his lips. It came forth in such tender fashion, as if he truly

wanted her to understand the burdens he carried. Perhaps he

never had an opportunity to share his vision with anyone.

Jeff sat back abruptly, picked up a straw, and jammed it into

the drinking cup. "Well, it doesn't matter. No one wants to

66 hear the truth. The teachers accuse me of mixing religion and

a public institution. I have committed the ultimate crime in

my profession, indoctrinating students with the Bible. I'm

telling them that Someone cares about them. It might actually

change them for the better. They say it's the worst thing I

can possibly do."

Lindsay chuckled at the sarcasm in his voice. His gaze fell

on her face. "The Bible has become pretty dangerous these

days," she agreed. "No wonder Scripture speaks of the Word as

sharper than a two-edged sword. It's just a book; yet no one

dares come near it. It must be a powerful tool, simply by the

negative reaction you receive."

His blue eyes misted over, like a fog muting a once brilliant

autumn sky. "You do understand, don't you? I had a feeling

you did. I heard you talking to Troy and Jewel in front of the

Pilgrim painting. I knew you had to be a Christian."

fes to understanding Christianity but if you mean history I

know nothing. I'm learning more on this trip than I ever did in

four years of high school history. I wish you could have taken

all your classes on this trip. They would have learned a lot."

I do too. But if the school board were to find out how I'm

shoving religion down these students' throats, they would

probably throw me out."

"Then why are you doing it with these students in particular.

"They all love history. Many have shown an interest in

possibly becoming history majors in college. I'm showing

them another version of history besides the kind I have to

follow in the school. I want them to know that a greater

hand lies behind all this history. During a lesson about the

American Revolution, when I speak about a fog that suddenly

overshadows the East River in Manhattan, allowing

67

General Washington to escape certain destruction, I don't

want them to think it was mere luck. I want them to see

God's hand in it.

Lindsay chewed thoughtfully on her sandwich, reflecting

on Jeff's passion. In a strange way, they were very much alike.

She wanted to reach out to the students as much as he did.

What a pair they would make. She reached for the bottle of

water to ease the tickle in her throat. JeffWheeler and her--a

pair? Could it be? Or were they more like a sneaker paired

with a combat boot?

69 Jeff sensed a certain glee well up within him, though he tried

hard not to show it. The lunch with Lindsay had turned into

something far greater than anything he could have hoped or

dreamed. No wonder he often heard the adage of not judging

a book by its cover. No wonder God admonished His people

not to leap to assumptions on a whim. He had leapt to judgments

about her before finding out what lay buried beneath

the tough, exterior image. He felt a certain relief in discovering

another like-minded soul who wanted students to possess

a knowledge of God.

He watched Lindsay talk with Jewel during the trip. The

two women had begun to forge a bond. The display motivated

him to act. While on their way to the next destination, Jeff

met up with Troy.

"So do you have any questions about what we've seen so far.

Nope."

Jeff raised an eyebrow at Troy's short retort. "None? You

mean, if I were to spring a quiz on you about the day's events,

you'd pass with flying colors?

"I don't know about that.

Jeff could see an empty expression in the young man's face,

as if something troubled him. Did the lectures in the Capitol

rattle the young man? Or were there other things at work?

From their previous discussions, Jeff knew Troy held little

reverence for God. The young man waved away religious

68

69

persuasion, claiming he had no use for some divine being

after his drunken father abandoned his mother and younger

brothers in their time of need. Troy refused to think God was

in control after enduring such pain. Jeff rarely conversed with

Troy about religion but decided to use the young man's fascination

for history as a vehicle for showing him the reality of

God. Despite his efforts, Troy appeared more distant than ever.

Lindsay now moved away from Jewel to interact with the

other students. Like a hawk, Jeff watched Robbie swoop

down on Jewel and engage her in conversation. When he did,

Troy grew rigid. His face turned crimson. He left Jeff's side

and strode forward with determined steps toward Robbie.

"Excuse me, but I think you've spent enough time talking

to Jewel."

Robbie laughed. "What are you, her big brother? You are,

aren't you? Isn't he, Jewel?"

"Robbie, Troy's very special. He's--"

"Sure. A brain on two legs. He's nothing, Jewel. But if you

want to talk to him, go right ahead. I won't tell you who you

can and can't talk to. Slavery ended a long time ago."

Troy balled one fist. The tension between the two was as

tight as a rubber band around a stack of papers. One more

episode and it was liable to pop altogether. Jeff saw Lindsay

flash him a look, reminding him of the warning she had

given that morning concerning Robbie. He sighed, wishing

he had listened.

Jeff decided he'd better shift the pent-up energy to the area

of knowledge. He began asking the students questions

regarding Abraham Lincoln's presidency while they made

their way to Ford's Theater, the place where Lincoln was

assassinated. Instead, he overheard Jewel and Troy exchanging

70 harsh words about Robbie.

"He's a family friend, Troy," Jewel insisted. "You know our

mothers work together."

"Sure. Some friend."

"I didn't know you cared that much."

"I just don't want you hanging around with a loser like him."

Jeff cleared his throat. So, Troy, tell me In what year the

Civil War came to an end."

Jewel and Troy continued their conversation, ignoring Jeff's

question. He inhaled a sharp sigh before repeating it. Troy

only stared hard between Robbie and Jewel before spouting

out, "1865."

"And can anyone tell me what play Lincoln was going to

see the night he went to Ford's Theater?"

Another student provided the answer while Troy and Jewel

remained engaged in their own personal difficulties. So far,

this plan was not easing the tension. Jeff cast a glance at

Lindsay. She seemed to understand Jewel. Perhaps she could

further enlighten him to the troubles existing between them

all. While the students were examining the booth inside Ford's

Theater where Lincoln was assassinated, Jeff approached

Lindsay. She stood staring at the interior of the theater in

obvious fascination when he posed the question.

"Jewel, Troy, and Robbie are in an unpredictable love triangle,"

she explained. I warned Jewel this might happen.

Both Troy and Robbie are competing for her attention. Jewel

really likes Troy and wants him to care about her. She also has

an affinity for Robbie who is a childhood friend. Naturally,

Troy and Robbie clash."

"I see. So that's why you didn't want Robbie coming along

71 Lindsay scanned a pamphlet about the theater. "I had an

inkling something might happen. I take it that interpersonal

skills are not your strong point."

"No. If they were, I would probably win Most Popular

Teacher. I can teach, but I can't deal with people's hang-ups.

Counseling is not a part of my job description."

"But you can't help interacting with these students. As a

teacher you must see what some of them have gone through

in their lives."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I know what to say. If I need

to, I send them to the school nurse who recommends them

for counseling."

"Maybe you teachers need a little counseling too?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her face reddened. She stepped backward into the decorative

walls of the old theater. "I mean, you see a lot of what

goes on. You have to deal with a lot. It's bound to get to you

after a while."

Lindsay didn't know the half of it, but she came pretty

close, more than anyone he had ever met. He surmised that

her close association with teachers helped her understand

their woes. Not only were teachers responsible for learning,

but they also had to deal with the problems students brought

into the building. It became a never-ending struggle, balancing

the art of learning with social behavior.

The group headed downstairs to the museum where Jeff

examined the cases of artifacts, along with the students.

Looking from the coat Lincoln wore when he suffered the

fatal bullet wound to the door that separated the killer from

the presidential box, he thought back to the time of Lincoln.

Even in those times, deeply disturbed people did terrible

72 things, even going so far as to assassinate one of the most

beloved presidential figures in American history. Jeff didn't

want to see any students of his turn into evil people. He

wanted them to lead productive lives. What could he do?

Teachers had no counseling degrees. Perhaps if he continued

using history as a mechanism to point them toward God--at

least that was a step in the right direction.

While the students gathered in the gift shop to look for a

few mementos, Jeff slipped into the men's room. At the sinks,

he found Troy and Robbie squaring off. The young men, with

red faces and hands clenched into fists, stood before each

other, waiting for one or the other to throw the first punch.

Jeff swallowed hard when he saw the sight. Breaking up fights

was not his forte. Yet he could ill afford a bathroom brawl on a

school outing, or the board would never allow him to conduct

another field trip in his life.

"All right, guys--what's going on?"

"Nothing." Robbie wiped the sweat off his upper lip.

Troy didn't answer.

"Look--if you guys can't be civilized, then you're going to

have to stay away from each other and from Jewel. I can't have

this going on. We're here to learn, not to pick fights."

Troy marched off, mumbling something unintelligible

under his breath. Robbie shook his head. "I don't know, but

Troy really has a problem."

"I doubt you're helping the situation."

"Hey, all I did was talk to Jewel. Troy acts like he owns her.

She and I go way back. Our mothers are good friends. He's the

one who needs to learn some self-control. Man, he almost

landed me one right in the face. I had to duck, you know."

"Then you two had better keep away from each other.

73

I know you, Robbie. You'll get under people's skin just to irritate

them."

"Yeah, and I know Troy is teacher's pet, so that doesn't help

me either, does it?"

Jeff felt his vexation rise. He let the comment go and

retreated to the museum. Lindsay gave him a questioning

glance, but he ignored it.

Shortly thereafter he called it a day and decided to head

the group back home. The events had worn him down to the

point that he felt like collapsing on the sidewalk beside the

homeless people sleeping in the parks of Washington, D.C.

Everything seemed in total disarray. Troy and Robbie grated

on his nerves like dual food processors. He'd had such high

hopes for the trip, too. On the drive home, his thoughts were a

puddle of mush. He stayed quiet, even when the group

stopped briefly at a fast food restaurant before arriving back at

the school.

When the last of the students had been picked up, Jeff

dragged himself to his car. In the distance, he saw Lindsay

preparing to enter her own vehicle. Perhaps there was one

bright spot to this gloomy day. Even though she appeared a

bit haggard, Lindsay was still stunning to his beleaguered

eyes. Something about her stirred him, especially after their

adventure in Washington. He decided to ask her out for a cup

of coffee. He needed to brush off his concern over Troy and

Robbie on someone. To his relief she agreed to go.

They headed for the closest coffee shop and ordered cappuccinos.

The place was nearly deserted at that time of night.

Most patrons required coffee in the morning to jump-start

their day. Jeff didn't care that the coffee might keep him up all

night. He needed this time more than anything right now. He

74 swallowed down half his cappuccino before confiding in

Lindsay of the confrontation in the rest room of the museum.

"I thought something like that would happen. Both Troy

and Robbie had ugly looks on their faces. They're like gang

leaders."

Jeff shivered at the comparison. "I'm not sure what to do.

To top it off, Robbie has accused me of showing favoritism. I

realize Troy and I have had several conversations. I like to

stimulate his interest in history, but I don't want my classes to

think I'm showing favoritism. It looks bad, you know."

"I used it to my advantage," Lindsay mused.

Jeff straightened in his seat at these words, wondering what

she meant.

"I discovered Troy was a favorite and used it to help with

the class fund-raiser." She closed her mouth and bent her

head as if embarrassed by the fact.

Jeff chewed on his lower lip. "Then that proves there's a

problem."

"It doesn't prove anything. All teachers have favorites when

they find students who love their subjects. Besides I wanted

your fund-raiser to succeed. I realize how important it is to

your future at Western High. That's why I picked Troy to

help me." "I'm

trying to teach these young people history, but I guess

I'm letting other things get in the way, like showing

favoritism. Jesus didn't show anyone favoritism. He wanted

everyone to know Him."

"Yes, but the Bible talks about the one disciple Jesus loved.

I think sometimes God knits us together with people so we

can reach them in a particular way. I believe we've both been

drawn to Jewel and Troy for some special purpose. Initially,

75 we may have been drawn by other circumstances. I think now

we see that we may be able to help them."

"I still don't want to show partiality or give the appearance

of it. This makes the students hostile toward one another, like

what I witnessed today."

Lindsay sipped on her coffee. "I wouldn't worry about it.

Just do the best job you can with what God gives you. After

today I can see He'S given you a great gift, Jeff. It's good to

see Christian teachers using whatever opportunity they have

to share about God. We need more of that in the schools."

"It's not easy, let me tell you. If some teacher thought I was

thrusting my religion down students' throats, I could find

myself sitting out on a step with an unemployed sign hanging

around my neck. It takes wisdom in these kinds of situations."

"Yes," she agreed. "I had a teacher once that I tried to counsel.

She was coping with a marriage break-up. I tried to tell

her how much God wanted her marriage to work. When she

realized what was happening, she blatantly told me not to put

my religion on her, especially on school property. I was pretty

surprised. She also ended up canceling the contract. It would

have been a great program, too."

"So you've had it happen to you."

"Yes. I bawled my eyes out on Skip's shoulder. He's a

Christian and understood where I was coming from. He

told me I needed wisdom, too. Be wise as serpents and gentle

as doves."

Jeff never heard her final statement. He felt as if a sharp

needle had suddenly jabbed him. Never mind what they had

been discussing, though it was highly important. Right now

he could only concentrate on the fact that Lindsay had a

boyfriend named Skip. He had just begun working up the

76 courage to ask if she might want to go to a historical site

sometime, like Williamsburg or Jamestown. Come to find

out, she was already taken. Jeff thrust the coffee down his

throat and informed her it was getting late.

During the drive home, he felt empty inside. The whole day

seemed like a waste, a day he had planned since the beginning

of the school year. The students were mean to each other and

disliked him for showing favoritism. And now Lindsay had a

boyfriend. What did he have to show for this day except sore

feet from traipsing across hard floors and cement sidewalks?

Jeff pulled into the parking space by his duplex, laid his

head back against the seat, and closed his eyes. What ever led

him to believe he and Lindsay might have something going?

At first, everything. Her whole personality; her love for the

Lord; her childlike interest in history, like one just discovering

a new world; her involvement with the students--it all tugged

at him with a force he could not shake. Now that she had a

boyfriend, he had nothing to fill the void. He swung the keys

around his finger. He would have to go on teaching history to

students who cared little about the subject and hope that

along the way God might have a few surprises left for him.

Jeff entered the lonely apartment to discover he had left the

milk container on the table from breakfast. A disagreeable

odor drifted to his nostrils. He poured the remaining contents

down the drain and, in that moment, saw his hopes and

dreams vanish along with the sour milk. "I should be singing

'and away go troubles down the drain,'" he mumbled to himself,

"but there only seem to be more in the works."

He went to his answering machine and found several calls.

The last one was from his older sister, Candy. "Hey, little bro,

give me a call when you get a chance and let me know what's

77

going on in your life."

Jeff sighed. To Candy he would always be "little bro," no

matter what his age might be. Only five years spanned them,

but Candy believed she had lived life. At that moment, he

didn't care. She might provide the help he needed. He craved

advice after a day like today. He picked up the phone to

punch in her number. If there were one area Candy had

plenty of knowledge, it was relationships. She'd had many in

her years, though not in the way Jeff would have envisioned.

Still, maybe she had some ideas.

The phone rang six times before a voice answered. Loud

music filled the background. Jeff cringed at the rock and roll

that attacked his eardrums. "Hey, this is Jeff!" he shouted

above the roar.

The music instantly died. "Hey, little bro, what's up?"

Jeff pulled out a chair and threw himself into it. "I need

some advice about a certain woman."

"All right! You finally found one. I was worried you'd be a

bachelor for the rest of your life."

Jeff said nothing for a moment. Candy's own marriage had

collapsed after two years. He had decided he'd rather stay

single for as long as needed rather than face the pain of a broken

marriage. "I'm not that old. Thirty is hardly old anymore.

Besides I want her to be the right one."

"Well, if you're going to make any headway, you have to at

least start dating and find out if you're compatible. Have you

gone out yet?"

"I don't want to shop around. I'd rather get to know one in

particular, maybe over a cup of coffee. In fact, there's a woman

I wouldn't mind getting to know, only tonight I discovered

she has a boyfriend."

78 "Okay, so give me the long end of it."

Jeff was thankful Candy had switched off the music so he

could hear himself think. He went into the aspects of their

relationship during the fund-raiser and the trip to D.C., leaving

out most of the religious parts since Candy wasn't a Christian.

She listened patiently until he came to the coffee shop scene

and Skips shoulder.

"Are you kidding? You should have still asked her out."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? I mean, she didn't say this Skip was her boyfriend,

did she?"

"No, but she cried on his shoulder. What other shoulder

would you cry on unless it was a good friend's---or a brother's?"

He hinted at their relationship and the times Candy came to

him, telling him about the guys who had dumped her. He

recalled many a wet shoulder after those encounters. When

he'd suggested she forget about relationships for a while and

pursue other things, she cried even louder and told him he was

insensitive.

"For all you know, Skip could very well be her big brother!

You'd better find out what's going on before you start making

assumptions. Then make your move."

"Right. Make my move where? The moon?"

"Oh, how romantic. One of those boat rides under the silvery

moon. Can't you just see it, Jeff? Really--take her wherever

you want. Wine and dine her."

"I don't drink. I prefer coffee."

"Fine, the coffee shop--though that sounds pretty boring

to me. Maybe offer to take her someplace she would really

like to go. What does she like to do?"

"Uh ..." He hesitated. What did Lindsay like to do? He

79

had no idea. All he'd talked about were his interests without

bothering to discover hers. Maybe that's why she preferred

Skip's shoulder for a good cry. Maybe Skip spent time asking

her what she liked in life, and she felt comfortable confiding

in him about her woes. Maybe she enjoyed shopping in the

mall--like browsing through toy stores, looking for toys to

use in her fund-raising presentations. The thought appealed

to him. Searching out toys might make him feel young again

instead of a stuffy old history teacher who had lost his knack

for fun.

"Hey, are you there?"

"Yeah, just thinking. Okay, I'll find out some more details. I

just thought after a day like today that there might be something

between us. I don't want to lose what's there, no matter

how insignificant it may be."

"Then go for it. Let me know what happens."

Jeff hung up the phone, relieved after talking it out with

Candy. No longer did he feel sour like the milk he had

dumped down the drain. He would find out all he could

about Lindsay and see if he had any reason to hope for the

future.

81 Lindsay couldn't believe what she saw on the computer monitor

before her. She blinked once, then twice, to make

certain she was reading the words and not imagining them.

Hey, Lindsay,

Guess what? I'll be in your neck of the woods tomorrow.

The boss wants me to attend a special conference outside

Washington, D.C., and he bought me a last-minute plane

ticket. Since I knew you were in the area, I jumped at the

chance. Maybe we can catch dinner. Let me know your plans

and if you're available.

Ron

Lindsay stared until her eyes began to hurt. Ron is coming

to town, and he wants to see me. She swallowed hard. Her eyelid

developed a nervous twitch. Eight years had passed since

they'd seen each other, shortly after receiving their high

school diplomas. She recalled a pool party they went to at

the parents' of one of Ron's close buddies. They had just finished

sharing a kiss inside the cabana when he dropped the

bomb, announcing plans to attend college in California.

Lindsay felt as if someone had knocked her over the head.

He told her he was sorry it wasn't someplace here, but this

was a great opportunity to launch himself into a high-tech

field in the Silicon Valley. Tears burned her eyes that day.

80

81

Her heart felt like a lump of lead. When he left for college,

her whole world fell apart.

Now he was coming back. Could she handle such a meeting?

Was she ready for something like this after eight years? You were

the one who started it all, Lindsay, ol' girl, she

reminded herself. You sent him that E-mail, asking him how he

was. You might as well have sent an invitation in bold black

letters with the words "Here I am. Come and get me."

At one time she'd wanted to see if a spark still remained.

He had been her first and only love. They had shared so many

good times together. I was a kid back then, and I wasn't a

Christian, Lindsay reasoned. Neither was Ron. And what if

he still isn't? How can I think of rekindling the past with an

unbeliever?

Suddenly she grew nervous at the prospect of a meeting. I might

well be inviting disaster, not to mention the emotional

upheaval. I can hardly handle my life as it is right now.

Turning to the computer, Lindsay typed back a message,

informing him she would be too busy but thanked him for

the offer. Her finger wavered over the mouse button, uncertain

if she wanted to send it. Here was a chance for love to be

rekindled. Yet the mere thought of a relationship with Ron

made her uneasy. She had no peace. Finally, she hit the

mouse button with force, sending the E-mail on its way. There.

It's better this way. Leave the past behind and embrace the future.

Lindsay was shuffling through the paperwork overflowing

on her desk when the phone rang. She answered it in a hurry,

knocking over several boxes of chocolates she had stacked on

the desk, ready to return to the merchandising department.

The corner of one box ripped open, dumping a few heart

shaped chocolates onto the floor.

82 "Hi, Lindsay. It's Jeff."

"Jeff," she repeated. Jeff who? Her confusion continued for

another second or two until it dawned on her that this was

Jeff Wheeler, the history teacher from Western High. She

straightened in her seat. "Jeff, how are you? I guess you'll find

out tomorrow how the sale is going. You're going to do the

cash cards with the students, right?" She reached down and

picked up the box of chocolate hearts. In an afterthought, she

opened the box all the way and popped a piece in her mouth.

"That's the plan. As you said, students love the idea of

earning a few extra bucks. I'm expecting to give away most of

the cash cards you gave me."

She marveled over his optimism that seemed so uncharacteristic

for the man after their past meetings. They had left

each other quite abruptly in the coffee shop too, almost as if

the conversation had struck him in the wrong way. Lindsay

wondered about it the night she got home but couldn't think

what it might be. Perhaps he was only tired out, as she'd been.

It had been a long day, filled with mixed emotions.

"So where do you go to church?" he asked out of the blue.

Chocolate and caramel swirled together in her mouth. "I go

to Covenant down the road from me." She swallowed and

stifled a cough when the chocolate tickled her throat. "They

have services this evening, too, but I rarely go. Most of the

time I have to get ready for starts the next morning."

"Do you have a fund-raiser tomorrow?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, with the Over the Rainbow Day

Care. I'm meeting with the director." She nearly confessed to

him that this was the fund-raiser she had to move when he

abruptly changed his own start date but decided to omit that

fact. "They want to raise money for playground equipment."

83 "I take it you raise people lots of do-re-mi."

"I try. It's how I get my own do-re-mi to pay the fa-sola-ti

bills."

"Huh? Fasolati bills?"

She laughed outright. His ignorance endeared him to her.

"Haven't you ever seen the movie Sound of Music? The kids

sing 'do-re-mi' followed by 'fa-sola-ti.'"

"Do you like those kinds of movies?"

"Sure. I grew up with them. I enjoyed skipping down the

sidewalk, singing 'do-re-mi.' I also like the song 'My Favorite

Things.' 'Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright

copper kettles and warm woolen mittens--'"

"Do you want to rent it and see it sometime?"

Lindsay's skin broke out into goose bumps. Every hair

stood at attention. The old eyelid began doing the twitch.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, would you like to come over sometime and watch

it? We can order out for a pizza or something, unless you

don't like pizza. Maybe even tomorrow night. I'm free."

Lindsay dearly wanted to tap the receiver and ask if this

person were actually Jeff Wheeler. The idea he wanted to

please her with a movie, and a musical at that, sent questions

running through her mind. Had she made that much of an

impression on him during the field trip? "I'd like to, Jeff, but

that's the night I call teachers for potential fund-raising

programs."

She heard the audible sigh. "If we make it early,

though, I might be able to. Would you like to come here

instead? You can pick up the pizza and the movie on the way

here. I have an old VCR that still works. We can watch it over

dinner. Then I won't have to do much traveling, you know,

and I can make my calls afterward."

84 "Okay. Sounds good." She could hear the excitement in his

voice. "I'll let you know tomorrow how the fund-raiser is going

and if there's anything else we need to do before it wraps up."

"That would be great." Lindsay hung up, her mind in a

whirlwind. Don't read anything into it, she cautioned. Yet the

idea he wanted to do something besides history made her all

the more curious about his intentions. She picked up another

chocolate heart and stared at it. The chocolate began to melt

from the heat of her fingers. She ate it without a thought to

the promise she'd made of not indulging in company sweets.

Why does Jeff want to do this? Maybe he's looking for a history

buddy. Lindsay nearly choked on the chocolate and went to

the kitchen for a glass of water. History buddy, indeed. She

was more like a history baby with her lack of knowledge in

the area. To her, April showers brought the Mayflower.

Washington was the guy on the dollar bill and, yes, the

name of a tall monument in D.C. (She had learned this on

Saturday.) "

She chuckled, imagining Jeff's reaction if he knew the

extent of her historical knowledge. He would likely be horrified.

Most of the history she knew had been learned from the

tour yesterday. The godly roots in the founding of their nation

amazed her. She wondered how many students in the schools

really knew about the Pilgrims' devotion to prayer or the baptism

of Pocahontas.

Well, it didn't matter. Jeff was bringing her favorite movie,

and that's what counted, not her knowledge of history. A

pizza and a movie might be just the way to relax after a busy

day, without having to delve into topics she knew nothing

about. If all else failed, she could dazzle him with her knowledge

of the Sound of Music.

85 The appointment with the director of the day care went well,

except that Lindsay discovered a grape jelly stain on the elbow

of her favorite white blouse when she arrived home. She

immediately took it off, threw on aT-shirt and soaked the garment

in the bathroom sink with some mild detergent. How

was she to know that the table where she sat, discussing project

details with the sponsor, was also the same table where the

kids ate their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at snack time?

Lindsay then raced around the apartment, straightening here

and there, moving stacks of contracts to her desk and jamming

everything else into the office. She struggled with the door,

trying to shut it, with several cardboard boxes impeding the

effort. The last thing she wanted Jeff to see was her sloppiness.

No doubt he expected a woman's habitat to shine. Lindsay

dragged out the hand vacuum and went about sucking up

month-old crumbs. She straightened the pillows on the sofa,

sewn by her mother. A country scene of a farmhouse and cows

decorated one pillow, a Noah's Ark scene the other.

She had just scurried back to the bathroom to rinse out the

blouse when the doorbell rang. Oh, great! He's early. She

moaned, staring at her ratty T-shirt. What am Igoing to do.

She ran for the bedroom and grabbed the first shirt out of the

drawer, throwing it on before dashing for the door.

A tall man stood there, dressed in sharp business attire.

Dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze. The strong scent of his

cologne made her woozy. Lindsay stared in bewilderment.

"Surprise!"

"Ron? Ron! Oh, no--what are you doing here?"

"Hey, great seeing you too after eight years." He looked

miffed.

86 "How did you know where I--"

"Ever hear of the phone book?"

This can't be happening! "Oh--well, how are you?"

He stared at her rather quizzically. "I'm fine, but what

about you? You look like you got up on the wrong side of the

bed this morning." His gaze traveled to her clothing before

returning to her face. ...

"Huh?" Lindsay peered down to find lines of sewn material

staring up at her. She could feel the heat in her face. I don't

believe it. My shirt's inside out.

Ron laughed at her predicament before following her into

the small apartment. Lindsay hurried to the bedroom to put

the shirt on correctly. When she returned, Ron had made

himself comfortable on the sofa, with his head propped up on

Noah's Ark. "Nice place. So how are you doing?"

Her heart began to thump. Ron looked better than she

ever imagined. Gone were the boyish airs of yesterday. A

grown man had taken over, and a handsome one at that.

Dark brown hair framed the rigid lines of maturity on a face

now absent of freckles. The business clothes made him

appear distinguished. She discovered no wedding band on

his finger. Single, too. Could that be? Lindsay, ol' girl, you

have Jeff coming in a half hour. She decided to make this

a quick "Hey! How are you? I've got a ton of things to do

meeting. I don't offer him anything to drink. Drinks add on

another thirty minutes. sit quietly for about fifteen minutes

then tell him I have work to do.

Ron opened his mouth and talked nonstop for ten minutes.

He told her about his job in California, the great scuba diving

in Montere) and a hiking trip he took in King's Canyon,

where he enjoyed the beauty of the Sierra Nevada. His job

87 was next, and the huge income he was making. It was typical

male talk--money, mixed with muscle. "So what about you? I

hear you're making a little money yourself."

"Little by little." She spoke swiftly about her fundraising

business.

His arm rested across the back of the sofa--the same

strong muscular arm that once cradled her close on cool, star

filled nights at Lovers' Lane. She trembled at the thought.

No, she did not want his arm around her now. She couldn't.

Her life was different now and taking stranger detours every

day, it seemed.

"Do you keep up with the old crowd?" Ron asked.

"A few. I see Jessica and Kate occasionally. Everyone else

has moved away. You can't blame them. There's not much

around here. Did you know they now have a new high

school? They built it four years ago."

"So I've seen. High tech. The old building is some kind of

institution. Not that we didn't go to one anyway." His finger

traced the edge of the sofa. "I've been thinking about the

times we used to have, Lin. Did you know I drove out to

Lovers' Lane? Still looks pretty much the same. And there's

that spot you used to like, by the old stone wall."

Lindsay felt her cheeks begin to heat up. Her palms started

sweating. "Oh, really. I haven't been there since ..." She

gulped and looked away, hoping he wasn't staring at her.

He was, with that misty-eyed, melting look of someone

who had not forgotten their encounters back in high school.

"Yeah, we spent quite a bit of time there, didn't we?"

This is getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Her

stomach began to churn from the tension. Lindsay looked at

the clock. Ten minutes to go before Jeff's expected arrival.

88 "That was a long time ago. We're different people now. We

live on opposite sides of the country."

"We're not that different. Besides, I hear that opposites

attract. What do you say we grab a bite to eat and go see some

of the old places? We can check out where we once went to

high school in that place that's now some private institution.

Maybe even Lovers' Lane and see if there are any sparks left

after all these years." He rose to a towering six feet in stature

and stepped toward her. "I have a feeling there might be. You

look stunning, Lin, even better than I remember."

Lindsay felt her eyelid begin to twitch again. She could

kick herself for looking up his e-mail address and shooting off

that initial note. The money she would have saved from joining

the classmates Web site might have been better served

elsewhere. Now the contact had opened up a can of worms

best left hidden in a dark closet and sealed with super glue.

Brilliant Work, Lindsay. Dumb is more like it. He really thinks I

want us back together. "Ron ... I ... well, as I said in my Email,

I can't. This is, uh ... my work night."

"I think you can put it aside for one evening, can't you? I

came all the way from California, not to mention nearly

blackmailing my boss to get me here. Isn't that worth a night

on the town?"

The doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell. Thank You, Lord. Lindsay ignored the

look on Ron's face and went to answer the door. Jeff stood

there with the pizza, a movie and five minutes to spare. She

could have kissed his feet for coming to her rescue.

"I hope you don't mind. I came a little early."

"I'm glad you're here." You don't know how glad.

Ron came up behind her at that moment. Jeff's face turned

89

the color of glue. His arm weakened. Lindsay thought he

might drop the pizza on the concrete landing.

"Hi, I'm Ron." He offered his hand.

"Jeff." He didn't offer a hand, both of which were occupied

by the pizza box and the movie.

"Well, Lindsay, I'd better get going." Ron gave a lopsided

smile. "Good seeing you again." He scooted past Lindsay and

Jeff and headed for his rental car. The sound of the engine

was like a soothing melody in her ears.

For a moment, Lindsay and Jeff stood staring at each other.

She could see him calculating the encounter by the way his

blue eyes were shifting back and forth, trying to figure out

what was going on.

"I didn't know you had company," he finally said.

"It was totally unexpected. Ron is someone I used to know

back in high school. He was going to a conference here in

town and stopped by."

Jeff nodded. He followed her inside with a hesitation to his

step, unlike the confident Ron who had made himself right at

home. He stood in the foyer of the apartment, waiting for an

invitation, just like a gentleman.

"Make yourself at home," she invited him. "I'll get some

plates and drinks."

She returned to find him sitting stiff and straight on the

sofa. Gone was the confident history teacher of Western

High. In his place was a marble statue, like those found in

Washington, D.C. At least his uncertainty eased any misgivings

concerning this encounter. He hadn't come here to

strong-arm her like Ron. In fact she wondered why he was

here in the first place. Maybe he was lonely and in need of a

friend. Lindsay knew how that felt. Even though she had

90

grown up in this town, most of her friends had moved away.

She still had family around and her church family as well. Yet

they all seemed so busy, caught up in their own little world.

She was grateful Jeff thought enough to share in a little

world, even if it was filled with musicals and visions of fairy

tales from long ago.

And little did he know, but he had also rescued her from

what might have been a very bad evening.

91 The pizza was just the way Jeff liked it, coated with pepperoni

and stringy mozzarella, yet he hardly tasted any of it. Ever

since he'd stepped inside Lindsay's house, he felt as if he had

made a huge mistake. The horror at finding another man

inside the apartment was almost too much to bear. He nearly

left, were it not for the guy's hasty departure and Lindsay's

cool explanation. At first he was surprised to hear the guy

introduce himself as Ron. Didn't Lindsay mention a Skip at

the coffee shop? Now he wondered if Lindsay had numerous

guys floating in and out of her life. If that were the case, he'd

rather not be counted as one of many. He didn't need or want

competition.

Hold on now. You don't know where any of these guys stand in

her life. As Candy said, for all you know, Skip could be her big

brother and the other man her cousin. You'd better find out what's

cooking first before you begin leaping to judgment.

Despite all the uncertainty, Lindsay seemed eager to have

him in, so he followed along with the game plan. He sat on

the sofa, slowly eating his third slice of pizza, realizing he

should say something as they watched the Sound Of Music.

What was he doing here anyway? An act of desperation? An

illustrative example to convince his sister he did get together

with other women? Or a test to see if they had any future?

Jeff pushed the questions aside and turned his attention to

the movie. He found his interest sparked at the setting of the

92 movie during the invasion of Nazi Germany. With American

history his specialty, he also held a fascination for the world

wars. His grandfather had stormed the beaches of Normandy

as a young man and lived to tell his remarkable story. When

Jeff mentioned this fact to Lindsay, she focused her chocolate

colored eyes on him. For the first time, he dwelt on her

attractiveness--flowing

hair, high cheekbones tinted red, and large

eyes. No wonder guys were marching in and out of her life.

Yet the real question still remained: Did she care about any

of them?

"I don't know very much about World War Two," she said,

carrying dirty plates to the kitchen. Of course, everyone has

heard about Hitler and the terrible things he did to the

Jewish people in the concentration camps."

Jeff wanted to expound on the details of the war, America's

involvement and so on, but remembered he was here to scout

out Lindsay's interests. Instead, he asked her if she liked other

musicals.

Lindsay settled back in an easy chair and mentioned a love

for Fiddler on the Roof and Oklahoma and another favorite, State

Fair. All at once, she laid her hand against the back of

the chair with the palm extended. With her head tilted up she

began to sing. "I'm as restless as a willow in a wind storm. I'm

as jumpy as a puppet on a string. They say that I have spring

fever, but it isn't even spring.'"

Jeff stared, mesmerized by her voice and the way she carried

herself with such confidence and pizzazz. For the first

time, he felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her lips with the

sweet melody trickling from them. What am I thinking? He

forced the sensation down deep where it belonged.

State Fair is such a cute movie. The girl refuses to marry

93 some country bumpkin who wants to live in an ultra modern,

pre-fab place decked out in linoleum. Then she meets a newspaper

reporter at the fair, and they fall in love." Lindsay paused.

Her face turned the color of a poinsettia. She began to cough

as if the words choked her. "Anyway, it's a cute movie. The

family's pet pig wins first prize at the fair."

Jeff picked up his glass of spring water and took a large

swallow. The ice chilled him. So far, he was enjoying this

evening immensely, even if it was centered on simplistic

things like musicals. Why complicate life with woes and confusion?

How he wished every day could be this pleasant.

Suddenly, Lindsay rose and turned off the television. "It's a

long movie," she said, "and it's getting late. I still have to

make a few calls to sponsors, and they hate it if I call too

late." She picked up the plastic case for the video. "Oh, no.

You rented this, didn't you? We didn't see it all, and it's due

tomorrow."

"That's okay. Maybe some other time."

"I suppose I could make my sales calls tomorrow."

"No, you need to do your work. I have papers to grade anyway.

Which reminds me. The fund-raiser has been going

great so far. We've hit the goal of three thousand dollars, and

we're still climbing. I'm going to give it until Wednesday. The

students loved the cash cards."

Her face shone. "I'm glad to hear that, Jeff. I'll bet you're

relieved."

"At least this part's over. When the merchandise comes in,

I'll still need to collect the money."

"That should go fine. I'll guide you step by step."

"You already have. He took a step forward, only to watch

Lindsay retreat in response. He backed off. Steady. Don't jump

94 ahead. One step at a time. "I want to thank you for everything.

You do a good job at fund-raising. I know I didn't come off as

the optimist at the beginning of the program, but I'm glad it's

working out."

Lindsay smiled. "So you think you'll make an impression

on your fellow teachers after all is said and done?"

"Without a doubt. And I owe it all to you." He opened

his mouth, wishing he could tell her how much he liked her and

ask if they could get together again soon. Instead, he picked

up the video and headed for the door. "Maybe I'll run into

you sometime."

"As a matter of fact, I'll be there Thursday. I have another

program to start with the art department. Don't worry

though. It's with the sophomores. There shouldn't be any.

competition with your program."

"I wasn't worried. You know what you're doing." His fingers

curled around the doorknob. He didn't want to leave this

pleasant atmosphere that warmed his heart but turned the

knob anyway and opened the door. A blast of cool autumn air

greeted him, bringing with it the scent of fallen leaves. One

leaf circled around before coming to rest at his feet. From the

glowing bulb of the outside light he saw a maple leaf painted

a vivid red. The color of love. If only it were true. "Good night,

Lindsay."

"'Bye, Jeff. And thanks."

The door shut firmly behind him. He walked slowly to his

car, scuffing up freshly fallen leaves as he went. A sudden

loneliness overcame him. Now he had only stacks of papers

waiting to greet him when he arrived home.

Once inside his own place, he looked at the mound of

white paper glowing like an apparition in the darkness. He

95

knew what many papers contained--meaningless sentences

filled with historical errors and grammatical mistakes. He

should get on Mrs. Coates to teach her classes better writing

skills. He flopped down, looked at the video in his hand and

inserted the tape into the VCR. To his surprise, Lindsay had

stopped the tape right at the scene where the hero and heroine

of the story confess their love. He watched the characters

in the soft moonlight, singing a love song to each other.

Maybe he needed to be like the hero and wait for the heroine

to return and find her future. Maybe he should wait for

Lindsay to discover if her future included him, without trying

to push and shove his way into her life. He already had an

inkling she belonged in his.

Jeff stared at the calendar book placed prominently on his

desk, wishing it were Thursday. He met with the art teacher

running the new fund-raising program and offered his assistance

on that day if the teacher needed it. Inwardly, his real

motive in helping was to be with Lindsay again. Every day

since the pizza gathering he'd thought of her with her head

turned upward, singing the song from the movie State Fair.

He rented that film also and could see why a woman would

like it, with a brother and sister who each find their true love

in unexpected ways. It held nothing of historical significance

that whetted his appetite, but he told himself that whatever

interested Lindsay should also interest him.

The students filed in for another day of class in which he

would begin a discussion of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

To his surprise, he noticed Jewel and Troy sitting on opposite

sides of the classroom. He had never seen them sit apart before

and wondered what spawned the distance. Troy seemed

96 to have his head in the clouds, gazing at times out the window

to the sports fields beyond. Several physical education

classes were taking advantage of the warm fall day to kick a

soccer ball around. Jewel sat on the other side of the room,

doodling in her notebook or chewing on an eraser tip. They

seemed as far as east was to west. When Jeff posed a question

to the class, hoping for Troy to throw up his hand or shout

the answer, he remained quiet and distant.

When the bell sounded and the students began leaving, Jeff

stopped Troy, who was about to scoot out the door. "Hey,

what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I find that a little hard to believe. I'm expecting

my straight A student to know the answer to every question.

You look as if you're on Mount Everest. Anything you want

to talk about?"

"No." Troy began edging his way to the door.

"You sure? We've had some good talks in the past."

"Look--I really don't need you hanging on me, okay? I can

take care of myself. And I'm not your straight A student. I'm

just like everyone else."

"Of course you're an A student. You have a great mind. I

can see you as a scholar or a history professor one day. I want

you to keep going. I'm thinking of having an advanced placement

history class next semester, and I'd like you to take it."

"I'm not going to be a history major, okay? I changed my

mind. And look--I'm not your prized student or anything

else. I gotta go, or I'll be late for my next class."

Jeff said no more. His throat closed over, watching the

young man shuffle off. Troy must be feeling pressure from the

other students and likely from one source. Robbie. Jeff shook

97 his head. He remembered his time in high school when fellow

students badgered him and called him The Worm. It

affected him greatly, more than he knew. Maybe he should

tell Troy about that time in his own life. He needed to get

past it and look to the future. Jeff shook his head. He doubted

Troy would listen to much of anything right now.

Jeff ran a hand through his hair, mulling over the situation,

when he heard a soft voice like a gentle breeze. He jerked his

head upright to find Lindsay entering the classroom. She

looked amazing, outfitted in a navy blue dress. He would

have stared more, were it not for the cloud of Troy marring

his thoughts.

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for the great time the

other night," she said. "I'm here to do a pre-start with Mrs.

Meyer, the art teacher." She paused. "Is everything okay? You

don't look so good."

Jeff sat there, amazed by her perception. Lindsay was

beginning to see right through him. "It's Troy. I think some of

the students are pestering him for being the hotshot of the

history class. He's starting to lay low. He won't answer questions

in class or even talk to me."

Lindsay set her briefcase down on the floor and sat in a

nearby desk. "Do you think Robbie's in on it?"

"More than likely. I don't know what to do. I can't let Troy

slip away. All the gifts inside him will be lost. He'll never

reach the potential God has for him."

"He won't reach it anyway without God."

"That's true. I was making headway with him. But ever since

the field trip to D.C., our relationship has soured." Jeff sensed

his frustration building. "I thought it would be a great trip

where the students could discover a real God in American

98 history. Instead, they seem to be slipping further away."

"Jeff, don't read too much into it. Just remember it's up to

the students to decide for themselves what they're going to do

with the knowledge you give them. You can't keep them from

sliding down the slippery slope if that's where they want to

go. You can try to keep them from going astray by talking to.

them. You can pray for them. That's about it. God gives each

of us a free will."

"I guess." He blew out a sigh of disappointment. "You

know, at first I was hoping the money from the fundraiser

would get me where I need to go with my teaching career.

Teaching is great, but there's so much more to it. What I

really want to see is these young people change for the better.

Money isn't going to do it. Maybe new programs won't either.

It's working with them, taking time to listen, showing them

that God loves them and cares about them."

"Maybe I could talk to Jewel again and find out what's happening

among the trio," Lindsay suggested. "She and I hit it

off pretty well the first time. Even if I have to eat at that

greasy spoon again."

"Greasy spoon?"

"You know, the Hickory Diner. Mom always called it a

greasy spoon. I went there not too long ago with Jewel. They

pile your plate to the ceiling with the greasiest French fries

you've ever seen."

"If you think it will help--talking to Jewel, that is. I'd like

to know what's going on myself."

"I can do that." Lindsay rose to her feet.

Jeff watched the dress she wore caress her legs as she moved.

He found himself jumping to his feet as well. "He would need to do

some scouting the weekend after next. Want to come along?"

99 She crinkled her nose in such a way that he nearly chuckled.

She looked like a petulant child when a plate of brussels

sprouts was placed before her nose. "Scouting? Like Boy

Scouts?"

He allowed his pent-up anxiety to escape in a rumble of

laughter. "No, no. Scouting as in searching out a historic site.

Baltimore to be exact."

"Baltimore! That's a long way from here."

"Only about two and a half hours, if the beltway traffic isn't

too bad. We'll soon be starting the War of 1812 in class.

want to scout out Fort McHenry, learn a few things, get

patriotic. It's where the original Star-Spangled Banner flew,

you know, and where our national anthem was born."

She hesitated for a moment. "Okay. I went to Baltimore

once when I was a kid. I guess I haven't been much of anywhere

since I was a kid. And when you're a kid, you never

remember where you've been."

"Great. And this time we're on our own. No students."

"Sounds good." The smile she gave before exiting the classroom

carried him through the remainder of his afternoon

classes and well into the evening. He envisioned her singing

songs to him, with the navy blue dress sweeping her petite

form. Maybe on the way to Baltimore, she would sing more

Songs from her favorite movies. The thought helped to ease

the anxiety he felt over Troy.

100 The overwhelming stench of fried food assaulted her nostrils

while Lindsay sat in the booth, playing with a spoon inside a

cup of coffee. Jewel was already fifteen minutes late. She

wondered if it had been a mistake to get involved with the

students like this. Yet seeing Jeff's disappointment over both

Troy and Jewel, Lindsay knew she needed to do something.

She didn't know why Jeff's reactions affected her so much.

Perhaps she really was developing an affinity for him. Did

this signal the start of something new in their relationship?

She nearly laughed when she considered their rocky beginnings

and the looks of disapproval that had once radiated from

those deep blue eyes of his. Now she found herself becoming

even more involved with him, to the point of accepting a trip

to Baltimore. How could this be the innocent fundraiser

suddenly hooked up with the grouch of Western High? Only

God could help arrange such an unlikely relationship. There

was wisdom in allowing Him to find her the perfect husband

and in the most imperfect of circumstances. At the outset,

Ron seemed a fitting candidate. He was successful, rich, good

looking, and he wanted her, or at least she thought he did. But

the night he came, asking for a date, she saw something different.

He was not the match for her. She would rely on God's

peace to guide her and not her mixed emotions.

At that moment, the door to the diner opened, and several

young people walked in. She saw the top of Jewel's curly

101 head and then Robbie wearing a sleeveless shirt that displayed

his bulging muscles. Terrific. Why did she have to

bring him along?

"Hi," Jewel said rather shyly, slipping into the booth opposite

Lindsay. Robbie took a seat on a nearby stool and ordered

a soda.

"Does he have to be here?" Lindsay whispered.

"Why not? Robbie hasn't done anything wrong. In fact, I

think he's been great---showing me how much Troy was trying

to control me."

Lindsay shook her head in confusion. "I thought that's

what you wanted. You were literally begging Troy to

announce his undying love for you. That's why you wanted

the Goofy phone."

"I used to think so." She shook her head at the waitress who

came with plastic coated menus, stained with dried ketchup.

"When Robbie told me how a lot of the students are mad that

Mr. Wheeler is giving Troy better grades on his essays and

tests, it got me thinking. Maybe it isn't such a good idea hanging

around him. I mean, I work just as hard as he does. Why

should he get special favors just because he likes history?"

Lindsay gaped at the accusation before glancing at Robbie's

back. He slurped away on his soda while talking to a friend

occupying a neighboring barstool. "Jewel, none of that is true.

The only reason Jeff, that is, Mr. Wheeler, took Troy under

his wing was because he saw a great potential in him. He

cares about all his students."

"I don't know. He sure doesn't act like it. It's like Troy is the

model student, and the rest of us are nothing."

Lindsay could see the war Jewel faced--loving a guy one

moment, hating him the next. Her mother often said when

102 she was young that teenagers were kids and adults mixed up

in one body. Yet, as she stared at Jewel's innocent face, she

only wanted to help her. How could she keep this young

woman from making the biggest mistake of her life? Not that

Lindsay wanted her going out with Troy instead. Rather she

wanted Jewel to look beyond relationships to the One who

created relationships in His own timing. She wanted to convince

Jewel that she didn't have to search for acceptance in

people but could find acceptance and importance with God.

"Hey, it's getting kind of hot in here. Wanna take a walk|

with me in the park?"

"I don't know."

Jewel cast a questioning glance at Robbie. The look grated

on Lindsay's nerves. Now who was controlling whom? When

Jewel announced she was going for a walk, Robbie shrugged,

to Lindsay's amazement. She thanked God for the window of

opportunity.

Lindsay and Jewel meandered out of the restaurant. Orange

rays of sunlight gleamed behind the brick buildings that comprised

Main Street. She used to know every inch of this place,

but over the years the town had changed and the people with

it. She thought of herself and Ron and how different they had

become since they walked these sidewalks and drove the

familiar streets.

They walked along until they came to the park. A sprinkling

of fall leaves covered the grass. A small fountain, raised

by the support of the townspeople, shot streams of water into

the air. Lindsay prayed for the right words that might minister

to the confused young woman.

"Jewel, do you recall how I shared about Ron the last time|

we talked?"

103

"Yeah."

"Well, he came to see me not too long ago."

"He did? Wow. What did you do? Did you go out?"

"He wanted me to go out. He tried twisting my finger

every which way to make me go. Somehow, I knew it wasn't

the right thing to do. He had ulterior motives. Selfishness for

one thing."

Jewel cast her a look. "How did you know that?"

"I could sense it. He really didn't care about my feelings. He

wanted to put on a show and hoped I would come along for

the ride. I wouldn't play the game. I think you need to consider

if others might be playing games, too, and at your expense."

"Yeah, like Troy."

"Actually I meant Brutus--uh, I mean Robbie. I warned

you about a war that might happen, Jewel."

"If you mean Troy and Robbie, it isn't happening. Troy and

I got into a huge fight. He won't speak to me anyway. So I

don't see a problem about hanging out with Robbie. Like I said, we

go way back."

"I know. Ron and I did too. Along the way, people change.

Their attitudes change. Many would rather look out for number

one--themselves. Jewel, I care about you. I don't want to

see you hurt. And, believe me, you'll be hurt if you allow

yourself to get too close to guys like Robbie who are only

interested in themselves."

"I can't tell Robbie to leave. His mother and mine are practically

best friends. We see each other all the time."

"There are ways to make your feelings known. I made mine

known to Ron, and he heard the message loud and clear." That is,

with a little help from Jeff. "I did it so I wouldn't be

trapped by emotion and have my life ruined. I want to do

104 great things one day. I don't want to be sidetracked by people

who might hold me back."

Jewel said nothing for a while but played with a silver

chain around her neck. Finally she said, "You know, I've been

thinking about things. I've been thinking about that trip we

took to D.C. and how all those people did some great things

for our country. Someday I'd like to do great things too. I

know it sounds weird. I guess I'm just trying to find my way

through this."

"It's not weird at all. Deep down inside, we all want to do

great things. We want people to notice us. To tell you the truth,

I found real acceptance in life only when I found God. I don't

have to go searching for people to like me. God loves me for

who I am. He knows what's best for me. You remember seeing

those people in the paintings inside the rotunda--like the

Pilgrims and even Pocahontas, who was your age? They decided

to trust God with their lives. They found their acceptance in

Him, and when they did, God used them for great things.

Now they are remembered right in our Capitol this very day."

"It's pretty sweet what they did. Like Troy said, though,

that was so long ago."

"They may have lived in another era, but God is still God.

He is the same yesterday, today and forever. The same God

who helped them is the same God who lives today. All you

have to do is put your trust in Him."

Just then, Lindsay heard a whistle. Robbie sauntered up

with one of his burly friends in tow. Jewel immediately rose

and smiled at him. Frustration mounted within Lindsay.

Jewel had been on the verge of accepting the truth, only to

have the flame snuffed out by Brutus himself. Oh, God, if only

we had a few more minutes.

105

Jewel said nothing more to Lindsay but allowed Robbie to

hook his arm around her and escort her down the sidewalk.

Lindsay watched them leave with a heavy heart. So close and

yet so far. God, help Jewel make the right decisions in her life.

Lindsay had just finished mixing up a batch of brownies

when the phone rang. At times, when she felt down, she

would hunt in the cupboard for the ingredients to make the

chocolate squares from scratch, just as her mother did long

ago. To her, there was nothing more comforting than scooping

up a creamy mound of brownie dough and letting it

dribble off the spatula right onto her tongue. Inevitably, after

the brownies were baked, she would end up putting them in a

decorative tin left from a fund-raising sale and give them

away to a teacher who needed a lift. Maybe Jeff would be the

recipient of this batch. He could use some cheering up almost

as much as she did.

Jeff's voice came over the phone. "How did it go with Jewel?"

"Okay, I guess." Her voice strained as she mixed the thick

batter.

"You don't sound very good."

"I'm making brownies. Helps ward off stress."

"Really. I didn't know that. I thought watching musicals

helped in that area."

"Sometimes." She rested the spoon inside the bowl and

plopped down in a kitchen chair. "I don't know, Jeff. I was having

a really good conversation with Jewel. I was able to share

God with her. Then Robbie hunted her down and whisked

her away before the words even had a chance to sink in. I'm so

afraid everything I said will become seeds that get picked off

by the birds."

106 "I know. It gets frustrating. Guess all we can do is trust

God with the fruit."

"Right now Jewel seems convinced that Troy is the problem

in her life. It's so strange. She used to think the world of him.

She sat waiting by her phone, hoping he would announce his

love. Now she's done a complete about-face. I guess she feels

Robbie is fulfilling her expectations in life. It's sad when

people put value solely in relationships and leave God out of the mix."

She tackled the brownie batter again. "Did classes go any better

today?"

"No one seemed interested in learning. Half of them were

looking out the window, watching a physical education class.

It's like spring fever has hit in October."

"Maybe we're trying too hard, Jeff. We want to make things

work out, but we're trying in our own strength. We do what we

can, then we have to leave it to God to do the rest, don't we?"

"Sounds like you're trying," he said with a chuckle.

She spread the batter into the pan. "I'm trying to understand

why things don't work out. The words I shared with

Jewel can be like rain, I suppose, watering where it's needed.

And if Jewel lets other things or other people dry it up, then

there's nothing I can do." She heard a pause in the conversation

and imagined Jeff, with his blue eyes staring into space,

mulling over what she had said. "Anyway, when is this trip

you're planning to Baltimore?"

"A week from Saturday. You still game?"

"Of course. Gives me something to look forward to."

"Great. By the way, I didn't tell you this, but I saw the rest

of the Sound of Music. You stopped it right at a good part."

I'll bet the part where the German soldiers were ready to

escort the Baron von Trapp to his place in the German Navy.

107

Just right for a history fan."

Actually it was the part when Maria and the Baron confess

their love in the moonlight."

A tremor shot through her. Was he trying to hint? He

couldn't be. This was JeffWheeler, the toad that used to croak

on his lily pad. But in recent days he seemed to have developed

a princely air about him. She thought back to the grand

staircase inside the Library of Congress. All at once she was a

princess in a beautiful gown, climbing each step in high heels,

her gloved hand carefully lifting the corner of her dress in

regal fashion. And there on the landing, clothed in royal

attire, stood Prince Jeffrey Wheeler. His hand would reach

out to her. When their fingers touched, electricity would zip

through her. His blue eyes that so captivated her from the

moment they met would scan her from head to foot. He

would then escort her into the great hall with long shelves

containing volumes of history texts and perhaps a bouquet of

roses on a center table to break up the monotony.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Sorry. I was thinking, uh, about books. Anyway, I have to

go. I want to put the brownies in the oven; then I have to

make some calls."

Okay. Talk to you later."

She discerned a bit of disappointment in his voice, or maybe

it was her imagination. Sliding the brownies into the oven, she

continued reminiscing about a fairy-tale wedding within the

Library of Congress. She could see a huge orchestra strike up

a patriotic tune. A procession would lead right through the

halls of the building, and there she would be in the middle of

it, clothed in a flowing white gown and veil that masked her

face. Jeff would be waiting patiently beside the pastor of her

church. The pastor's face would be all smiles, ready to induct

her and Jeff into the bonds of matrimony. And above them,

hanging on the wall, watching the festivities unfold, would be

the signers of the Declaration of Independence in the famous

painting by John Trumbull. Lindsay couldn't help but chuckle

at the dream. She was glad no one but the Lord knew what

circulated in her head, and He was most understanding.

Yet, as she went to her office, she wondered if her dream

was that far-fetched. After all, Jeff was the one who brought

up the love scene in the Sound of Music. His voice sounded

wistful in the way he described it. Lindsay entered her office

and checked the answering machine. Listening to the messages

one by one, she recalled the old days with Jeff and the

tense phone messages they once shared. Now everything

seemed different. An attraction had begun to build between

them. They seemed more like a team instead of adversaries,

each of them plotting and planning how to deal with the

Western High triangle, while confessing to each other their

likes and dislikes. Could it one day lead to marriage?

Get a hold of yourself, Lindsay Thomas. He hasn't proposed, you

know. Besides the fact, do you really want to marry a history

teacher? Do you want intimate dinner conversations to be muddled

in Civil War facts or the sinking of the Lusitania? There is so

much more to life, and you've only just begun to see what it has

in store.

Lindsay closed her eyes. God, if my life is meant to include

Jeff, then I'll trust You to bring it forth in Your time. You know

what's best for me. I never thought in a million years it would be

him;yet it's so like You to bring about the impossible. She inhaled

a deep breath. Oh, God, help me get ready for whatever lies

ahead.

109 Jeff eagerly anticipated the day when he and Lindsay would

be alone to marvel at history and each other. He marked off

the days until Saturday when he would whisk her away to

Baltimore. He promised not to go overboard with the historical

aspects of the journey. He would do his time at Fort

McHenry, observing the sights, then suggest they investigate

the Inner Harbor with its shops and eateries, or take a lazy

walk along the shore of the river.

At times he considered the scene in the Sound of Music, wondering

what it would be like to propose to Lindsay and

kiss her in the moonlight. He shuddered at the thought. Who

would want to marry a roving historical textbook? And what

did he know about her, after all? Very little, except that she

had a heart for the Lord as he did, as well as a heart for the

students.

The week leading up to the trip had been a rough one. The

students were loud and inattentive. Troy skipped class for several

days. Jewel scored a D on her exam. When she came to

argue an answer on the test that Jeff had marked wrong, he

could clearly see the hurt on her face. She then asked him outright

if Troy had scored the only A in the class. Jeff calmly told

her it was none of her business and that she would do better to

consider her own work rather than concentrating on Troy's.

She left in a huff, no doubt to find consolation with Robbie.

At times Jeff felt the dark eyes of Robbie burrowing into

110 his back like some power drill, especially when he was writing

on the chalkboard or adjusting the television monitor for a

movie presentation. Jeff refused to entertain the thought that

Robbie or others might be out to get him. The mere notion

brewed fear, especially after hearing the countless news stories

of kids bringing guns to school to seek revenge on their

teachers. Jeff monitored his surroundings closely, including

his desk, car, and even his home where he installed safety

locks as a precaution. He didn't want to be a casualty of some

student's anger.

During these stressful times, he found consolation in long

talks with Lindsay who listened with patience to his anxieties.

She also had a rough week, with teachers lashing out at her

over late shipments of orders or orders getting lost in the

hustle and bustle of her company. Jeff liked to think they

could use each other's shoulder to cry on. He would love one

day to feel her tender cheek rest on his shoulder. He would do

what he could to soothe her misery, if she would let him.

The night before the scheduled trip to Baltimore, Jeff

decided to do something extra special for Lindsay. He went to

a store and purchased a picnic basket, complete with plates,

silverware and two crystal goblets. He then headed to a specialty

shop and loaded the basket with all kinds of food,

topped off by a thick fudge brownie smothered in frosting and

a bottle of sparkling cider to drink in the goblets. They would

have a picnic by the shores of the harbor with sea gulls flying

overhead. The sound of water lapping against the shore would

serenade the moment when they gazed into each other's eyes.

A gentle breeze would carry the fragrance of love.

After the purchases, Jeff informed his sister of the plan.

Candy was all for it, recommending he bring along a checkered

111 tablecloth to spread on the grass and some pillows. The tablecloth

was fine, but Jeff's face warmed at the thought of their

lounging on pillows. He thanked her, drove to buy a tablecloth

and returned with the package to top off the inventory. A quick

scan of the basket's contents showed everything neat and

orderly, ready for a feast in the great outdoors. Inside the fridge

the cider chilled, along with the cheese, ham and fruit. They

would have crackers, some good multi-grain bread and, of

course, the brownie. He fingered the rim of one goblet and

then the edging of a real plate, imagining their sitting in a

grassy area near the water's edge. His hand would then reach

for her, drawing her close, feeling the warmth of her breath

fanning his cheek, their lips barely brushing. ...

Jeff jumped. I never thought I would care about anyone

the way I care about Lindsay. God, please show me how to act

tomorrow. Help us have a good time.

The next morning, Jeff awoke early to spruce up the inside

of the car with a good vacuuming and a little interior polish.

With that done and the picnic basket loaded in the back, he

heaved a sigh and turned the key in the ignition. The engine

sputtered and groaned as if unwilling to awaken for any drive,

let alone an excursion to Baltimore. He tried again, only to

find a puffof smoke coming from beneath the hood. He leapt

out of the driver's seat and backed away from the car.

Robbie did it. I knew it. My worst fear has come true. He

thought of the precious picnic basket and heroically grabbed

it out of the back seat before dashing to the duplex. Get a hold

of yourself, Wheeler. It's not like he planted an explosive or

something.

Yeah, but that car was working perfectly fine yesterday. And

it only has thirty thousand miles on it.

112 Jeff allowed the engine to cool before raising the hood. To

him, the engine of a car appeared as complicated as a person's

thoughts and reactions. He sighed and went to the phone to

inform Lindsay he would not be picking her up.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my car. It was working fine yesterday, but now it's

smoking. I just hope it's not---" He stopped. Lindsay would

think him crazy if he verbalized his thoughts--that Robbie or

someone else had damaged his car out of spite. I'll call a tow

truck. Do you mind if we take your car?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll meet you at your house. I'll need

directions."

Jeff supplied them before hanging up the phone. If this

were any indication of what the day had to offer, perhaps he

should cancel it altogether. The mere thought that Lindsay

had to bail him out of a trip he'd been planning for two weeks

irritated him. He sat in the living room, tapping the armrest

of the chair, his pride wounded. This wasn't the way he had

envisioned the trip.

When he heard the sound of her car in the driveway, he

rose reluctantly to his feet to answer the doorbell. Lindsay

wore a smile like a heroine on a rescue mission. He muttered

a quick greeting and picked up the basket.

"Wow! What's that?" she exclaimed, pointing to the basket.

"Nothing much. Just lunch."

"What a beautiful picnic basket! Where did you get it?"

"A flea market," he said with a grin.

"You did not. You left the price tag on the handle. Fifty

five dollars! Mr. Wheeler, no wonder you need a fundraising

project. This basket must have been woven out of gold straw."

She bowed. "Oh, great Rumpelstiltskin."

113

"Hey, you weren't supposed to see the tag."

He grabbed some scissors from a stand and snipped it off.

The humorous moment eased his frustration. They headed

out to her sleek white compact. Jeff threw one more mournful

gaze in the direction of his car before walking to the passenger's

side.

Them."

He looked at her as she came to him with her arms folded.

"I give you wholehearted permission to drive my car. Besides

I can't stand city driving."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I trust you."

"Thanks." His self-esteem restored, Jeff opened the passenger

door for her. "After you, m'lady. I decided our topic of

conversation on this trip would be eighteenth-century colonial

customs, or perhaps you'd rather I relate the facts surrounding

this Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Or how about the frog prince?" She laughed. "As a matter

of fact, I plan to bore you with my fund-raising stories. That

will surely put you to sleep."

"Not a wise suggestion, since I'm driving. Better make the

conversation riveting. Perhaps you can share with me more

about musicals, maybe even sing a song or two." He began

whistling the theme from the Sound of Music as he went to the

driver's side.

Soon they were heading out of town and toward the highway

that would lead them to Baltimore. He conversed a little

about his car, avoiding any speculation regarding the car's

sudden ills. He didn't want to stir up rumors. He had no

proof Robbie had done anything malicious, but the anxiety of

it all still teased him.

114 "Penny for your thoughts."

"Better make it ten bucks," he said with a wink.

"Those are pretty expensive thoughts, mister."

"Yeah, just thinking. Overreacting most likely."

"About the car?"

He shrugged. "There's little I can do about that. It's just

that everything seems different. Take Western High. The students

seem disinterested, the teachers aloof. Maybe it's my

imagination. I don't know what to think anymore. I've tried to

give this teaching job everything I had, but I feel as if it's not

working out."

"Jeff, don't give up. You're a caring person who loves what

he does and wants the students to learn everything they can

about this country we live in. That school should be thankful

to have someone like you on staff. Whether they will admit

it or not, they need you there. Just remember--if God is for

you, no one can stand against you. As long as you're doing

His work, you can't be a failure."

The words strengthened him at a time when he felt whittled

away to nothing. Lindsay had a confidence about life that he

lacked. He wondered if disappointment, persecution, anxiety,

or any of the trials people suffered ever shook her.

He fell silent for a time, concentrating on the drive and the

feel of the car under his command. He liked the way the

sporty vehicle drove and the power it gave. In no time they

were making their way around the Washington Beltway. Jeff

gave this section of road his undivided attention. Cars

whizzed in and out in brash moves that unnerved him. His

hands began to hurt from clenching the steering wheel.

Lindsay stayed quiet during this time, no doubt sensing his

apprehension. At last he finished the treacherous section of

115 roadway and headed north toward Baltimore. He relaxed in

his seat and glanced at Lindsay who appeared steadfast and

sure, like the mast of a ship in the midst of a storm. "Doesn't

anything upset you, Lindsay?" he asked suddenly.

She jerked around in her seat. Her brown eyes grew

enormous.

"I mean, you seem so sure of yourself."

"Ha. Looks can be deceiving. My Life isn't all peaches and

primroses, you know. I have my trials in life like everyone else."

"Tell me about some of them," he urged. "I mean, you

don't have to, but I'm just curious. I need to know I'm not

the only one."

She chuckled. "I would, except you're completing a fundraiser

and I don't want to hurt the rest of the program."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Most of my trials happen on the job. You aren't the only

one who's come up against obstinate people. I've seen it many

times--teachers who shout when orders don't come in or get

messed up in-house, students who steal my prizes or pocket

the money for themselves. Once a student stole my purse

after I had finished an assembly. He wrote checks on my

account and used my credit card. That was probably the

toughest time for me emotionally and spiritually. It was so

unjust. Here I was, the innocent victim, and the bank came

after me for bounced checks. I was doing something good,

helping teachers raise money and an unruly student marches

offwith my handbag."

Jeff swallowed hard, realizing once again that he had

underestimated her. "I guess you have had it rough. Maybe

you've discovered the art of overcoming trials and tribulations.

All I ever see in you is confidence and a happy face."

116

"Sometimes I feel I should handle things on my own, but I

know it's not right. Jesus Himself knew what it was like to go

against hateful and hurtful people. He understands. It put a

whole new perspective on my Christianity when I discovered

that God understands trials because He also suffered. And He

doesn't want us to bear them alone by firing up our pride,

claiming we don't need Him. I heard a famous preacher say

one time that we must need God every single day of our lives."

Jeff sighed. Not only was Lindsay beautiful, but she was

wise. He thought of her as a pure white dove, resting quietly

on a branch, even as it swayed violently in the wind. God, this

is a great woman sitting here beside me. She's a prize ... a jewel.

Please don't let her slip away from me.

He continued to marvel over Lindsay's characteristics as he

drove through the city of Baltimore, toward the harbor and

the edge of the Patapsco River. When they arrived at the fort,

his focus on Lindsay was replaced by patriotism and awe.

They waded through the sea of vehicles to the walkway that

led to Fort McHenry, home of the Star-Spangled Banner.

The fort, in the shape of a star and surrounded by a moat,

stood on the bank overlooking the waters that once brought

in the enemy from the Atlantic Ocean. Jeff immediately

found himself immersed in history. He imagined that fateful

day so many years ago---of men hurrying to their posts to arm

the cannon when British frigates were sighted on the far horizon.

In the air, the huge Star-Spangled Banner, Old Glory,

waved defiantly above the roar of mortars and the shriek of

exploding rockets.

Inside the museum, Lindsay pointed out a display explaining

the weapons of war. "So that's where the phrase 'and the

rockets' red glare' comes from in the national anthem. The

117

British ships actually did fire off rockets, much like the bottle

rockets people fire off on the Fourth of July, only a hundred

times more powerful."

Jeff brought her over to a scale model of the fort. "And see

this? Remember the part 'O'er the ramparts we watched, were

so gallantly streaming'? The ramparts were part of the fort's

construction. Above the men flew Old Glory. Can you just see

the flag, like a stream of color in the wind? Major Armistead,

the commander of the fort, said he wanted a flag so large the

British would have no difficulty seeing it from a distance."

"But why? Wouldn't that send the enemy sailing right for

them?"

Jeff smiled at her large, questioning eyes that sought

knowledge, like so many of his students. He was eager to

oblige. "Of course, but they were proud to be Americans.

They wanted the enemy to know they would defend their

country. It's the same patriotism we have seen in all our wars

when the colors are brought out in battle. Men believed it was

a great honor to be a flag bearer in the midst of battle. The

flag is a symbol of unity, freedom, and a spirit that will never

surrender."

He inhaled a sharp breath, allowing the words to infuse him

with strength. Heroes like Major Armistead should not be lost

in a history text, but could be models of character and virtue for

today. Bravery and courage could transcend time, giving a future

generation the ability to endure whatever trials lay ahead. Jeff

vowed at that moment to pursue the goals he believed God had

given to him. He would teach history, share about God, and

help others realize their dreams. He would stand strong and not

waver, despite the obstacles thrust before him.

Inside the auditorium, he and Lindsay watched a movie

118 about the battle. At the end of the feature, the curtains at

the right of the auditorium parted to reveal a wide bank of windows

and the huge American flag flying high over the fort. A

rousing rendition of the "Star-Spangled Banner" made his hair

stand on end.

When they exited a door and walked along a path

the stone fortress that once withstood a mighty

Lindsay's sweet voice serenaded them.

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous

fight,

O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming?

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Lindsay paused in the walk. She cupped her eyes to

the landscape and the waters that shimmered in the

sun. Moving forward to an earthen rampart from the

grounds, she again paused before the placid waters that

brought the invading enemy. "Can you imagine how

they must have felt?" she asked Jeff. "The rockets

the bombs bursting the way Francis Scott Key wrote? Yet

stood their ground. They would not give up, no matter what."

"It's a sobering thought," he agreed. "It makes us seem

weak when we give up so easily after facing small trials here

and there."

Lindsay turned. The sunlight glinted in her dark brown

119 eyes. Her eyebrows narrowed in a look of determination.

"We can't give up either, Jeff. We have to see this through

with Troy, Jewel, and Robbie, and also with our work. I have

to face irate teachers. You have to face your students. Even if

there are people ready to set off emotional bombs, we have to

stand our ground and not give up the fort."

The fire in her eyes ignited one in his heart. His arms came

around her, his fingers feeling the power and yet femininity of

her curved shoulders. He expected her to pull away, but she

didn't. With the flag flying high and the walls of the fort

framing them, he lowered his face and kissed her. Her lips

were smoother and softer than he could have imagined. She

returned the kiss, and he hoped she wanted him in her life as

much as he wanted her in his.

120 Lindsay could not believe what was happening. Just a

short time ago she and Jeff had been like two warring factions,

trying to outwit the other, with their own goals and

in mind. Now they had come together, hoping to

lives and, in turn, affecting each other. The kiss they

sealed something in her heart--a commitment of

Lindsay never dreamed would come her way so soon.

long ago she entertained thoughts of marriage, but

Ron. In the company of a Christian man who loved the

Lord as she did, it gave an added depth to the relationship she

had never experienced before. Their relationship was not based

on physical attraction. She did not kiss Jeff for his blue

eyes though they were mesmerizing at times. She felt God

had drawn them together to serve some special purpose.

Of what she wasn't sure. She would take it step by step.

All of this left her feeling a bit lightheaded. While

going up the stairs, she nearly keeled over, were it not for Jeff's

protective arm steadying her. When he asked what was

wrong, she only waved it away, too embarrassed to tell him he

had swept her offher feet. Instead, she suggested they find a

pleasant place to have their picnic.

They found a spot beneath the arms of a large oak tree

which may have been around at the time of the original

Star Spangled Banner." Lindsay watched in amazement when

Jeff produced a checkered cloth to spread on the ground and

began unloading the picnic basket. They enjoyed a bountiful meal

121

amid the beauty of God's creation. Since the kiss, they had said

little to each other. Lindsay wondered if the encounter had left

him tongue-tied as it did her. What thoughts circulated in his

mind, hidden beneath the crown of sandy brown hair that

reflected the autumn sunlight? Did he have the same feelings

for her as she did for him? Did he kiss her because he wanted

her in his future?

When Jeff produced the rich brownie cake he had purchased

in a bakery, Lindsay couldn't help but laugh. "That

looks absolutely delicious. Did you know I gave the brownies

I made the other day to a starving teacher? Got me a contract

for a fund-raiser, too, though that's not why I did it."

Jeff cut her a hearty wedge. "So why did you decide to go

into fundraising?"

"I was a geology major in college," Lindsay explained

between each delectable mouthful, far better than anything she

could have whipped up at home. "I learned some interesting

things, but geology wasn't for me. Then I got involved in selling

books to families during summer breaks. I traveled around

the United States, met some fascinating people, and developed

a love for sales. One thing led to another, and I wound up in

the parent company that helps schools raise money."

Jeff eyed her in concern. "That can be dangerous, waltzing

around the country by yourself, doing door-to-door sales.

Who knows what kooks are lurking in the shadows?"

"I traveled with a group. We girls kind of hung out

together. We had one family that insisted they feed us a full

Sunday dinner, complete with roast beef, mashed potatoes,

carrots, the works. After living off macaroni and cheese, it

was a little rough on the system."

"Macaroni and cheese!" he echoed, rolling his eyes. "Reminds

me of my starving college days. I lived off that boxed

122 stuff while waiting for the folks to mail a check for food or

when I could get home to raid the pantry."

"We did it so we didn't spend the money we earned in sales.

Most of us were working to pay our college tuition. In fact, we

had a contest in the company. The one who could live off the

least amount of money per week won the Tightwad Award."

"Huh?"

"One guy lived on macaroni and cheese dinners every

night. He spent ten dollars a week for food and lodging."

"That's impossible. You can't live off ten dollars a week for

food and lodging unless you stay at Aunt Edna's."

"Somehow he managed to do it. He found people who gave

him food. He must have given them that doggy-eyed, 'please

help me--I'm starving' look when they opened the door. He

did have sad eyes, come to think of it. He slept in church

pews or college auditoriums. Sometimes at the frat houses on

college campuses he offered to cook breakfast for the guys in

exchange for lodging. He got free meals that way, too."

"That's insane."

Lindsay nodded in remembrance. "It was something else.

We all had to watch our budgets. During the two months I

spent one summer in Los Angeles, we found a restaurant that

had just been opened by Spanish Americans. They ran a special:

chili cheese omelets, two for one. Six of us would march

in there. Three would buy, and we'd all split the cost. We did

it for six weeks."

Jeff gulped. "SIX weeks!"

"Can you imagine? They never changed the special, either.

We found out later it was because they thought we loved their

omelets. One time," Lindsay began laughing, "I tried cutting

my fork through the omelet and found out the cook hadn't

removed the cellophane wrapper on the cheese before cooking

123 it. Guess we had them flustered after a while, coming in there

week after week."

"You've led an interesting life. I can't imagine eating chili

cheese omelets for six weeks straight. I thought I was doing

poorly by microwaving frozen dinners most nights."

"Those were the good ol' days," she remarked. She remembered

all too well being out in L.A. and wishing she could get

together with Ron who lived several hundred miles to the

north. Now, in reflection, she was glad she hadn't stayed in

contact with him. Life would have turned out differently.

For one thing, she wouldn't be eating a scrumptious fudge

brownie with an intelligent and thoughtful man on a crisp,

fall day in the most patriotic of settings.

"So what about you? Did you go to college? I'm assuming

you did, since you're a high school teacher."

Jeff nodded. "Sure. Went to college and got my teaching

degree. I can't say anything exciting happened. I had a fairly

uneventful life. I worked odd jobs in the summer. Once I

obtained a teacher's assistant position with a history professor

who taught in a community college. When I found out how

difficult certain college students could be, especially when it

came to their grades, it opened my eyes. I suppose it readied

me for the challenges I'm facing now."

"We should invite Troy and Jewel on some outing," Lindsay

suggested. "Get them away from their friends and other influences

and spend some time with them. I think it would do

them good."

"I would do it in an instant, except I'm already painted as

someone who dishes out favors. Many students are in open

rebellion because of all the gossip. I have no intention of fueling

the ruckus."

"Then we should plan to bring them all here," Lindsay

124 mused, observing the American flag fluttering in the breeze.

"Patriotism can be infectious. If we can show them this

place, get them to understand the dangers Americans faced

and how they overcame the odds--maybe they will be determined

to face the future and do something great for our

nation and for themselves."

"Careful, Lindsay," Jeff said with a wink. "You're becoming

a history buff. Once you contract the disease, it's for life."

She sighed, amazed by her own reaction to the historical

sites she had seen these last few weeks. She would never have

believed that visiting historical places would do something

deep within her. She had always glossed over historical facts

and figures in her youth, thinking they meant little to everyday

life. Yet history had much to offer. The heroes and heroines

of the past taught her that the challenges of life were not.

so great that they couldn't be overcome. "Jeff, this has been

life-changing. I've learned so much. I take back everything I

ever said about you."

"Uh-oh. Like what?"

"You remember, those awful things during the fundraising

presentation, like putting a mug shot of you on a T-shirt and

telling everyone your favorite food is a can of Spam."

To her relief he chuckled at the memory. "I'm glad you used

it to get the students' undivided attention. A few weeks ago

they would have sold anything. Now I don't think they would

even sell a gumdrop. I'm just glad the sale is over. The products

will be here, and soon we'll have the money. Maybe once

the money starts rolling in, they'll get excited and start learning

again."

"Why didn't I think of this? Jeff, I can figure out your

results right now." Lindsay opened her purse to locate her

calculator.

"You wanted to raise three thousand dollars, right?

125 How many products did you end up selling?"

"I think around fifteen hundred or so."

Lindsay punched in the numbers. "Jeff, you're looking at

close to a five-thousand-dollar profit." She glanced up to see

his blue eyes, like shiny marbles, ready to pop out of his head.

He stood frozen, with a hunk of cheese in one hand and

bread in the other.

"Are you serious? Wow, I don't believe it. Five thousand dollars!

It's a miracle. Do you know what this means?" Jeff stuffed

the cheese and bread back into the basket. He took up her

hands and held them tight. "It means we can take the classes

to places like this. Sure, three thousand will still go toward the

junior prom. I'm going to see if the extra money can be earmarked

for special events like fieldd trips. This is great."

"Let the classes know how much they raised. And when

the products arrive, make sure the students have the money

back to you in a week. Be firm with them. If you end up with

stragglers, then you could lose money."

"No problem. Wow, I feel great." His hands tugged her,

gently leading her around in a circle. The harbor waters

swirled before her eyes, replaced as quickly by a view of the

fort and then the parking lot. Around and around they went,

with their laughter echoing on the wind. When they stopped,

Lindsay could barely walk from the dizziness that had overtaken

her.

"Everything is spinning," she said with a giggle.

"All I see is the one who has changed my life, for the better.

Come on--I want to show you a few sites in Baltimore."

She followed him back to the car, wondering what he had

planned. They arrived in Baltimore's Inner Harbor to the

screech of sea gulls and large glass buildings housing the

shopping and eating establishments.

126 "I thought you might like to shop a little."

"Actually, I've always wanted to try one of those." She

pointed to the pedal boats for rent. Jeff eagerly pounced on

the idea. The two of them were soon pedaling away across the

smooth waters of the harbor, serenaded by the sea gulls, the

lapping of water against the boat, and the short toots of a

horn from a faraway tugboat. Their feet moved in unison,

propelling them around in a large circle from one end of the

harbor to the other before arriving back at the launch site.

"I haven't had this much fun since I was a kid," Jeff confessed.

He took up Lindsay's hand. Together, they investigated

the many eateries inside the food pavilion. Still full

from the gourmet lunch, Lindsay shook her head at his offer

of food until they came to an ice cream stand. He ordered

two small cones.

"A perfect ending to a perfect day," he said, handing her

one. His hand shook slightly, leaving a small dot of ice cream

on the tip of her nose.

"Jeff."

He laughed and took up a napkin to wipe off the smear.

Ignoring the people around them, he lowered his head and

kissed her. As he did, his cone tipped sideways, sending the

ice cream sailing to the ground with a splat.

"Jeff." Lindsay said with a laugh. "Look what you did."

"That's okay."

"You can help me eat mine." Together they feasted on the

sweet confection that tickled her throat with cold, while they

headed back to the car. Lindsay sighed in contentment. If

dreams could come true, this day definitely topped any she

could have conceived. History combined with a romantic picnic,

topped off by the Inner Harbor. And Jeff was a unique

person with a giving heart. In the short time they had spent

127

together, Lindsay felt her feelings for him magnified. She

could already envision them spending a lifetime together,

scouting out every place of history, listening all day to his

explanations, and sharing in fun such as this.

Lindsay also knew relationships were filled with not only

good times, but trying times as well. For as long as she had

been a Christian, she knew trials shaped one's character. She

grimaced at the thought of another trial coming their way.

Would it be the trial of Jewel and Troy? Or would it be something

else totally unexpected, raising its ugly head and

announcing itself in some unpredictable fashion?

"Okay, now a penny for your thoughts."

"You don't want to know," she blurted out. She saw his

hands tense and lines of concern form around his mouth.

"No, it's not what you think. I had a great time today. I know

the good times can't last, though--that we have to get back to

the nitty-gritty of life."

"I know. I have a dead car waiting for me and students who

would rather play with their Play Stations than learn history.

But I'm not going to think about that now. I want to think

about today for as long as I can."

Lindsay agreed. When she returned home, she would have

fund-raising starts to prepare for in the coming weeks, calls to

make, and appointments to keep.

The trip came to an end when Jeff drove into his duplex

and the empty space where his car once stood. "Guess the

towing company picked it up," he noted. Lindsay got out of

the seat to help take out the picnic basket. "You want to come

in?" he asked.

Lindsay nearly jumped at the chance of spending more

time with him, especially after today. In the twilight, with the

warmth of his presence so very tangible, the temptation

129 might be there to throw caution to the wind. Knowing how fresh her

feelings were, she didn't want to risk the emotions

overpowering God's desire for purity and trust.

She shook her head. "I'd better not. It's getting late."

To her relief, he agreed. "Sure. Thanks for being an excellent

scouting buddy. I'll look you up again if I need more help."

He cracked a smile that ignited one on her face. Smiling

came easy for her now, with these newfound feelings circulating

within. He took a step forward. Would he kiss her

good night?

"Good night, Lindsay."

He turned away without giving her a kiss. Lindsay was not

disappointed but found his gentlemanly way of parting an

added revelation of his character. It was a perfect ending to a

perfect day.

When she arrived home, however, her next-door neighbor

came to meet her, holding a long white box in her arms.

"This came for you today. The deliveryman left it with me."

Lindsay thanked her and took the box. She fumbled with a

nervous hand to open the door to her apartment. Once inside,

she untied the large red ribbon and lifted the cover to reveal

long-stemmed red roses in a blanket of white tissue paper. A

handwritten card lay on top.

Sorry I made you so uncomfortable, Lindsay. I hope you will

forgive me. Ron

"Oh, no!" She shook her head, trying to squelch the rising

tide of bewilderment and discomfort. Don't read into it. He's

back in California anyway. It's just an apology.

Deep down inside, she knew it was much more than that.

130 "Mrs. Coates, we made five thousand dollars in the fund

raising sale," Jeff announced proudly to the small lady standing

in the doorway of his classroom.

He was in an excellent mood today. Across the back wall,

Jeff had strung up a huge American flag and, next to that, a

poster of the words to the "Star-Spangled Banner." It made

his heart tingle to read the words that had come forth in song

from Lindsay's lips at Fort McHenry, the same lips he was

fortunate enough to kiss. Since that day, their lives had taken

a sharp turn. Jeff invited her out to dinner Friday night. The

meal had been pleasant, filled with conversation concerning

their trips, musicals that tickled Lindsay's fancy, and even

their favorite foods. Through it all, he was learning more

about her and enjoying every moment of the discovery.

A week after Baltimore, Jeff found the fund-raising order

waiting for him in multiple boxes left by the janitor on duty.

He had just finished stacking the boxes of merchandise in

alphabetical order, with packing slips scattered across his

desk, when Mrs. Coates came to inform him of the faculty

meeting scheduled for the end of the week. He swelled with

pride at the amount of goods the classes had sold, certain it

would impress the elderly English teacher who was an outspoken

critic at the faculty staff meetings. If the students

delivered the products to the customers on time, he would

hold five thousand dollars profit in his hand by the end of the

129

130

week, right in time for the faculty meeting. And he would relish

the victory like an Olympic athlete who had just won the

gold medal.

"That's wonderful, Jeff," Mrs. Coates said. "The students

worked very hard. I must say, I'm surprised how well it went.

I suppose I underestimated the success of this project."

You and about two-thirds of the faculty in this place, Jeff

thought. "I'm glad the program worked out. Lindsay--er,

Miss Thomas---does a wonderful job. I think we should talk

up the success of the junior class fund-raiser throughout the

school. Maybe other classes will sign up to do their projects

through her company."

"I'll spread the word." Mrs. Coates nodded and turned to

proceed back to her classroom.

Jeff smiled at the thought of helping Lindsay. He looked

forward to the reaction on her face when he told her of the

additional fund-raising projects he hoped to secure by singing

her praises. A merry tune teased his vocal chords at that

moment--a song of triumph he wanted to shout down the

halls of this school. The trip to Baltimore had been a cleansing

balm in his soul. Jeff never felt more confident than he

did right now, and he owed it all to Lindsay. Lindsay was his

dream, his miracle. He wanted to fill her mailbox with cards

and her front doorstep with flowers. He would do none of

that, however, until he knew how she felt about him. He

would hold back until the time was right.

Jeff grinned when the second period class marched in, their

eyes widening when they saw the boxes stacked in front of the

classroom. The students in his classes had warmed to him since

he'd put the flag in the classroom. They stirred to life at the

lessons about Fort McHenry in which he touted the bravery of

131 men able to withstand the pounding of a British fleet. He played

the national anthem for them, explaining how each part

of the song illustrated what the author, Francis Scott Key,

observed that fateful day back in 1814. The students responded

favorably to the discussion. Troy even perked up and asked a

question after class. The enthusiasm Jeff had experienced in

Baltimore seemed to be rubbing off on the classes. Jewel and

Robbie still remained aloof, but Jeff hoped things would get

better, especially now with the success of the junior class

fundraising project.

"What's all this?" several students inquired, pointing at

the boxes.

"Why, it's the tests I've been promising to spring on you,"

Jeff said with a wink, quoting a line from Lindsay's fund-raising

presentation.

The students stared in bewilderment. They circled his desk

and the boxes, pressing close, trying to determine what might

be in them.

When he had their full attention, he said, "So you really

want to know what's in them?"

"Of course!"

Jeff waved the students to their seats. "These boxes are your

tickets to the junior prom. They contain the products you all

sold several weeks back. Now we need to give out the merchandise

and collect the money. In a minute I'll call out your names, and

you can come and pick up your box. When you

deliver the items, you are to receive the money for the exact

amount of the purchase. Checks can be made out to the

school. The money needs to be turned in no later than next

Monday. Those who have earned prizes will get them after all

the money is in and the products are accounted for. It's

132 important you get the money in, guys, so you'll have what you

need for the prom."

Jeff turned to the list and began calling out the names. Troy

came and took his two boxes without a word. When Jeff called

Jewel's name, she came forward to pick up four full boxes of

products.

"I am also pleased to announce that Jewel sold the most

items for this class period," Jeff said.

Jewel's eyes widened at this announcement, before dropping

her head and smiling. She made two trips for the boxes

and stacked them on her desk. Robbie sat nearby, his desk the

only one absent of any boxes. "Didn't you sell anything?" Jeff

overheard Jewel ask Robbie.

"No. I lost my brochure and all. Anyway I didn't have time."

Jewel flung back her hair in a huff. "Great. Then how do

you expect to go to the junior prom if you haven't contributed?"

A flush filled his face. Others began staring at Robbie and

muttering among themselves. Jeff glanced at the scene

unfolding before him. Perhaps the classmates' disapproval for

Robbie's lack of participation might be the best tonic in curing

the young man.

After class, Jewel went up to Troy. The two began comparing

the items they had sold to customers. Troy offered to help

Jewel carry her boxes after school let out, which Jewel

accepted with a smile. When they left, still talking to one

another, Jeff could hardly wait to snatch up his cell phone and

tell Lindsay the news.

"You did it," he announced.

"Did what?" Lindsay said in bewilderment. "I'm innocent. I

didn't do anything."

133 "You are quite innocent and very beautiful, too." He wished

he could give her a kiss to express the love flowing through

him. "I'm talking about that fund-raising ability of yours. I

received the order today. Everything's here. And Troy and

Jewel are talking again. When Jewel found out that Robbie

did absolutely nothing to help with the fund-raiser, she began

setting her sights on Troy once more. Troy even offered to

carry her boxes home."

"My only concern is, with this newfound interest, do you

think Robbie could stir up more trouble?" Lindsay asked.

"I don't think he can. The students aren't happy with him

for neglecting his responsibility as a member of the class.

There's nothing like the dissatisfaction from a peer group to

set a wandering student straight. I think this might be an

opportunity for Robbie to come around. Maybe he will even

open up to some help in his life."

"I hope so. We don't want them pitting themselves against

each other. Maybe you should think about starting up that history

club you talked about. Get the young people together, and

maybe through it you can do some extra work with them."

"Lindsay, you're a wonder." A real history club, as he'd envisioned

when he first walked into this school. Maybe it would

lead to other things too. When he hung up the phone, he set

to work drawing up plans for the club, what they would do,

trips they could take, perhaps even forming a type of quiz

bowl team that could compete on public television stations or

in national competitions. The possibilities seemed endless.

A janitor began sweeping the halls when Jeff finished up a

rough draft of the proposal to present at the faculty meeting

on Friday. Everything was finally falling into place. If only he had

been more patient and waited on God to fit the pieces of this

134

huge jigsaw puzzle together. God didn't require a helping hand.

All He asked was for Jeff to walk by faith and not by sight.

Jeff went home that night to call his sister about his triumphs

in love and life. For once he had good news to share.

Candy was not her usual perky self, having just come out of an

argument with her new boyfriend. Despite this, she seemed

interested in hearing about the new things happening in his

life. Jeff used the opportunity to share about his belief in God

and how he prayed that God would help him.

"I didn't think God was much into the matchmaking role,"

she said. "I thought He only liked those fancy church buildings

and gold-plated seats. The money in all that decoration

could feed a small country."

"God isn't for or against gold-plated seats," Jeff told her. "I

know for a fact, though, that He's for us. I've seen Him work

out things in my life. I'm living proof."

"I wish things would work out in mine," she said with a

sniff. "Everything is falling apart. You might as well know.

Sam and I broke up. It was awful."

"Have you ever considered--has it crossed your mind to

call Anson?" He expected her to shriek over the phone, and

tell him what a louse he was for bringing up the subject of her

ex-husband.

Instead, there was silence. The reaction shocked him.

Candy usually had an opinion about everything, especially

about something as sensitive as this. Finally, her feeble voice

answered, "Anson has a girlfriend."

"How do you know?"

"I'm sure he does. I think I heard it somewhere."

"You don't know that for a fact. Look--I'll give you back

your own advice. Until you know what's going on, why don't

135

you call? At least you can get a friendly discussion going."

"It's over between us. We haven't spoken in over a year. The

last thing he sent me was a scrap of paper with an obscenity

written on it."

"Why not try an innocent phone call? You never know."

Candy laughed. "Now look who's trying to fix everyone's

problems. Little bro to the rescue. You suddenly have a lot of

confidence, don't you? I guess your life is going well, and love

is kind. Are you gonna marry that woman you were telling

me about?"

The idea jarred him. While he did love Lindsay, he'd never

considered proposing to her. He gazed around his place.

Papers were strewn everywhere. History texts littered the

floor. He couldn't imagine her moving into his apartment,

wading through the history books, trying to hang clothes in a

closet stuffed with all kinds of junk, sharing a bed that was

covered by an orange-striped bedspread.

He grew warm then and sprang to his feet. "I--I don't know,

Candy. We're not quite ready for that yet. I'm just getting to

know her."

"Yeah, I know. I leapt at the chance and got burned on the

way down." He heard the tapping of her fingernails. "Well,

maybe I will call Anson. Scare that girlfriend of his right out

of the house. I would love to see that." She chuckled.

When Jeff hung up, he again thought of Lindsay. Would

she marry him if he asked her? What if she said no? He

couldn't ask her, not yet. He had no money for a diamond

ring. Besides the ring, there were wedding expenses, not to

mention the honeymoon. And what about that new computer

he was saving up for? How can you compare a life with Lindsay

to owning a dumb computer system? Isn't she worth it? "Of

137 course she is. The problem is, does she think I'm worth it?"

Lindsay could not escape the fact that something strange was

going on in cyberspace. Every day she checked her messages

on the computer, and every day she found E-mails from Ron

waiting for her. At first she answered them with one or two

sentence responses. He e-mailed even more, as if her

were outright messages of interest. How he could

her mail in that way left her baffled. She even told him

she went to Baltimore with the friend he had met on

a few weeks back. Ron responded with descriptions of the

great spots he had been to in California, including the amusement

areas in L.A. and the glitter of Hollywood. Lindsay had

the distinct impression that as long as she answered his mail

he held out hope for some kind of renewal of their relationship.

She had to put a stop to it.

With shaky fingers Lindsay accessed her E-mail to find several

messages waiting for her. The company had sent one about

the new sales products coming out for the spring fundraising

campaign. A bulletin came from the reunion site where she

had first registered to find out Ron's whereabouts--a move she

regretted from day one. Finally, three E-mails were there from

the man himself. Ron thanked her for her humorous Email.

(She did not recall her last E-mail being at all humorous, especially when she stated in no uncertain terms that it would be better for them to stop writing.)
His next message suggested

they get together for the Christmas holidays. He would fly her

to California for an all-expense paid vacation. Lindsay gaped in

astonishment. In the last E-mail, he sent her a sample itinerary

for the latter part of December.

Lindsay sat still in her seat, stunned by his audacity. I don't

believe this. Is he crazy? Why is he doing this? She hit the reply

button and wrote:

Why are you doing this? I've already said I think we should stop

with these E-mails and go on with our lives. Even if you thought

my E-mail was funny, I meant every word of it. Please--let's just

leave on friendly terms.

She didn't even bother to check for errors but hit the mouse

button. How she wished a dozen times over she had never

opened the door that night and invited him in. Now the past

was digging its way back into her life, infecting everything

she was trying to do.

Worst of all, it was coming between her feelings for Jeff. At

times she caught herself comparing Ron to Jeff. Ron was

muscular and tall; Jeff shorter and small boned. Ron had

money. Jeffhad little. Ron wanted to fly her out to California.

Jeff thought it was a big deal just driving to Baltimore for a

picnic under an old oak tree. "I have to stop this," Lindsay

scolded herself. "It isn't right, and it isn't fair."

The phone rang. Lindsay prayed it wasn't Ron.

"Hi, Lindsay. I was wondering if you wanted to see a video

tonight? I rented State Fair--your favorite."

Jeff. What would he think if he knew I was entertaining

notes from an old boyfriend on the West Coast? She began

deleting all of Ron's E-mails from the inbox, wondering why

she hadn't done so in the first place.

"Unless, of course, you're as restless as--something or other

in the wind. How did that song go?

"I don't remember, Jeff."

"What's the matter? Did a client chew you out today?"

"No, it's-" Her gaze returned to the computer screen and

the E-mail folder once filled with Ron's messages. I can't tell

138

him what's bothering me. She looked over at her brochures in

disarray on the floor and on her desk. "This place is a disaster,"

she blurted out.

Laughter echoed in her ears. "Is that all? You should see my

place. Look, it doesn't matter to me, so long as I can spend

time with you."

Lindsay closed her eyes, wishing there were some way out

of this mess. In an instant she found herself in the same situation

as Jewel--smack dab in a love triangle, even though Jeff

had no idea what was going on. The guilt overwhelmed her.

It wasn't fair keeping secrets like this from him. Maybe it

would be best to let him know what was happening and how

she was trying to defend herself from Ron's advances. After

all, if God had it in mind for them to marry one day, He

would want them to start working out problems together.

"Jeff, I have a situation here I'm trying to solve. An old

boyfriend keeps hounding me."

"Huh?"

"You remember that guy you ran into a few weeks back

when you came here with the pizza and the movie? Well, he's

been e-mailing me almost daily and won't leave me alone. I

keep telling him to leave me alone, but he doesn't get the

message."

Silence ensued before a soft response came over the line.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Not that long. It really started up after I--" Lindsay

paused. Her throat began to constrict. The words became

muddled. "This was before you and I were kind of ... well ...

before we got to know each other. I tried tracking Ron down

and used the information on a find-a-lost-classmate Web site.

Since then he hasn't stopped pestering me."

139

Silence.

A tremor shot through her. "I know it was a stupid thing to

do. I should never have done it. I wish I could undo it all."

"Just tell him then," came his calm, nearly ice-cold response.

"I tried. Now he wants to fly me out to California and

everything. What am I going to do?"

His voice turned edgy. "How should I know, Lindsay? I

mean, if you went seeking him in the first place, he probably

thinks it's open season. And you did invite him into your

house."

"He came uninvited."

"You let him in the front door, right? Look--I don't need

or want the competition right now. Maybe you and I should

go our separate ways until this thing is sorted out."

"Jeff, it is sorted out!"

"Sure, and now your old boyfriend is giving you a free vacation

in response. Next he'll probably deliver a new Lexus to

your front doorstep. Yep, it's all sorted out. I have to go."

"Jeff, wait--" The dial tone buzzed in her ear. Oh, not She

squeezed her eyes, trying to stifle the flow of tears. Why is this

140 Jeff wandered around in a daze after hearing Lindsay's

sion. Although she seemed sincere in wanting to get rid of this

Ron, the mere idea they remained in contact, coupled with the

offer to fly her out to California, knotted his insides into a

ball. How could he compete with some rich dude like that?

In the meantime, his concentration suffered. When students

posed questions to him in class, he struggled with the

answers. The money they brought in for the sales, he jammed,

carelessly in an envelope in his desk drawer. He had been

careful in the past to deposit the money he received each day

at the front office but now threw caution out the window.

Inwardly he burned with embarrassment at the way he had

fallen for Lindsay like some lovesick schoolboy. He told himself

he should find out if there was really anything between

her and this guy or if she intended to get rid of him. But he

fought against the nagging sensation to seek her out and talk

it through. Maybe his love for Lindsay wasn't as strong as he

thought.

Lindsay called soon after their discussion and left a message

on his answering machine, telling him how sorry she was. He

listened to the message several times, hearing the plea in her

sweet voice that stirred up the feelings he still had for her.

They were quickly subdued with visions of the tanned and

muscular Prince Charming he had met on the doorstep of

Lindsay's apartment. The thought of competition by a suffer

141 from California---sporting expensive clothes, a huge smile and

a fat wallet-proved too much to bear.

One afternoon on his way out of school, Jeff met Troy at

the end of the hall. The young man greeted him for the first

time since the trip to Washington, D.C. Jeff nodded curtly

before telling him he had a ton of work to do.

"I just wanted to say ... well, I'm sorry for talking to you the

way I did a few weeks back."

Jeff stared in disbelief.

"I guess I was mad that everyone kept saying you were

showing me favors and all."

"I appreciate your telling me this, Troy."

"Anyway a couple of us were talking. We want to get

together with some of the other kids and start planning the

junior prom. We gotta book the band real soon. So we need

to know how much money we raised."

"It should be close to five thousand. Which reminds me, I

should get that envelope to the front office and not leave it in

the drawer. It has a lot of cash in it."

"Five thousand? Woowee. That's more than--I'll have to

tell him--them, that is."

"You'll have the three thousand for the prom expenses. The

rest is slated for other class activities. Let me figure it all

out, and I'll get back to you, okay?"

"Okay, sure. Hey--if you're still planning to set up that

advanced history class next semester, I'd like to take it." Troy

lifted his notebook in a gesture of farewell before taking off.

Jeff watched the young man leave. God appeared to be in the

work of restoration and just in time. Maybe it gave him a

shred of confidence to deal with Lindsay and the big shot out

in California.

142

Jeff strode out to his car in the faculty

parking lot. have the vehicle operational again. He had just

closed the door when another car zoomed in beside his, A young peered at him

through a set of dark sunglasses

them up on her head to reveal the beautiful

stirred his heart.

"Hi, Jeff."

"Lindsay.

"Can we talk? I'm used to having in-depth conversations

at the Hickory Diner."

"I'm not sure."

"The only reason I even told you about Ron is

that I didn't want any secrets between us." She pulled the

sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose. "Please, can we talk?"

Jeff acquiesced, partly because of the

fion with Troy, but mostly because he couldn't resist the

of Lindsay in those sunglasses. He followed her in his

car and parked opposite the Hickory Diner. Inside

they occupied a booth in the corner. The aroma of fried onions

and greasy hamburgers filled the air. They each ordered coffee.

He dumped packet after packet of sugar in

his coffee, not bothering to keep count. When he took

a sip of the lukewarm liquid, he wriggled his nose.

Lindsay giggled. "You really are preoccupied, aren't you?"

"It's been a little tough recently. Here I wanted to watch

a movie with you; then I find out Prince Charming is

you with free flights to the West Coast. It's a little hard

to compete with that."

"Jeff,

this guy. I thought you understood. I wish I had the chance

to explain it more."

143

the coffee, despite the overly sweet taste. It gave

him something else to concentrate on besides Lindsay's distraught

face. "It seems to me you're keeping the door open."

Lindsay leaned across the table. The aroma of her perfume

awakened him more than a full pot of coffee. "Jeff, I've made

up my mind. If Ron thinks I'm leading him on, that's his

problem. He has to deal with it. I'll be honest, though. Before

I got to know you, I did decide to find out if Ron and I still

had sparks left from long ago. Once I spent time with you

and found out what a fascinating person you are, I didn't need

or want Ron."

"I wish I could believe it," he said. "I still can't get over the

idea of that guy standing there in your apartment."

"Jeff, I didn't ask him to come to my apartment that night.

He showed up. I couldn't very well leave him on my doorstep.

And the truth is, I'm glad you came when you did. I kept

watching the clock, hoping you would rescue me."

Jeff's gaze lifted to meet hers. Rescue Lindsay from the

prince of California? Could this be for real? He tried to discern

her sincerity. Her brown eyes never wavered but stared

directly at him. Her cheeks remained smooth, without a hint

of muscular tension. She tipped her head to one side as if

waiting for him to respond. "If all this is true, then why is he

asking you to travel to California?"

"I don't know why. Look--to prove I don't want any further

association with him, I got myself a new e-mail address. I also

plan to change my home phone number. Most of my sponsors

call on my cell phone anyway. Maybe it will convince you I'm

serious about dumping Ron."

"You don't have to go through all that. Okay, I guess I'm a

bit insecure. Maybe jealous. Ive never had a girlfriend in my entire life. When the right one comes along, I want it to be for keeps. I don't want to deal
with the pain of broken

relationships.

I've seen it with my sister. I'll admit you seemed

like the perfect one, Lindsay. Almost too good to be true.

That's probably why I lost faith when I heard about Ron."

The warmth of her hand on his arm sent shivers racing up

his spine. "Jeff, you're a great guy--fun, interesting, and you

have eyes to die for." I'll-"

He felt the heat fill his cheeks. Eyes to die for?

"By the way I can't wait to see State Fair. Any chance we

can rent it tonight?"

"I suppose, if you have nothing better to do." He regretted

the statement after the piercing look she gave him.

Jeff dropped some money on the table for the coffee and

walked with her down the sidewalk to a small video store on

the corner. He thought of holding her hand but kept his hands

buried inside his jacket. Now, with everything laid to

rest, he would go back to taking this relationship step by step.

He did pray the steps would soon quicken to an all-out run.

The events of last evening carried Jeff into school on a gentle

wind of joy rather than a thundercloud of depression. Lindsay

had popped popcorn, and together they sat on the sofa with

the bowl between them, watching State Fair. Even during the

romantic parts, when Jeff sensed a rising urge to take Lindsay

in his arms and kiss her, he held back. He wanted to renew

their relationship and bring it back to where it had been

before all the confessions tumbled forth. Lindsay seemed to

enjoy the evening very much. When she told him good night

on the front step of her apartment, her eyes shone, and her

smile was radiant.

145

That morning several students bounded up to Jeff, ready to

hand in their money from the sale. Jeff nodded at them, taking

the money while rummaging around in the drawer for the

manila envelope that held the checks and cash from the last

several days. His hand patted around the inside of the drawer.

"Just a minute," he told the students. He slid open the drawer.

No manila envelope. A jolt of fear passed through him. He

pulled out the length of the drawer and sorted through every

folder. He then opened the other drawers and pawed through

them. Oh, God, help me. Where is the money envelope?

Students began filing into the classroom for their history

lesson. They sat in their seats, staring wide-eyed, while Jeff

continued to ransack his desk. When at last he glanced up, he

saw the students looking at him in confusion. "Uh ... open up

your textbooks to ... to ..." He shut his eyes for a brief

moment. "Just read the next section." Where could the money

be? He searched every drawer then began hunting around

the classroom. The students' eyes followed his every move.

Whispers abounded. Jeff came back and collapsed in his seat,

running a hand through his hair.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Wheeler?" one of the students

inquired.

"I just misplaced something."

"I hope it's not the money)" another student said.

The whispers grew to a tumult. Jeff ignored them and once

more shuffled through his desk. Perhaps he had inadvertently

brought the envelope home in his briefcase. He went through

the leather case but found no envelope. His home was bursting

with paperwork he would have to search through. Why is

this happening to me? If only I had locked that drawer or, better

yet, put the money in the front office as I was supposed to.

146

I should've never left it here in the classroom.

The second period class came in, bringing Troy, Jewel and

Robbie. Jeff attempted to teach them but found himself

unable to concentrate. Jewel and Troy exchanged glances.

Robbie shook his head and passed notes to fellow students.

When class ended, several students came up to him, including

the infamous triangle, to ask what was wrong.

"I can't find the class money I've been collecting the last

few days. Have any of you seen it?" Jeff stared at Troy and

Jewel. "You both wanted the money for a down payment on

the band. Did you take it?"

"Of course not, Mr. Wheeler," Jewel said. She looked over

at Troy. "We didn't take any money:"

"Where did you have it last?" Robbie asked.

"In the drawer here." Jeff ran his hands through his hair

"This is a disaster. If I don't find that money--never mind.

Go ahead to your next class." Jeff left immediately for the

front office, hoping he had placed the envelope in the school

safe as he had done previous times. He searched through it

but found nothing other than the money he had placed there

late last week. He then went back to his room to check the

figures. His heart sank. Several hundred dollars were missing.

What am I going to do? Worry and fear weighed him down

to the breaking point. He groped for his cell phone. He had

to hear Lindsay's voice. Deep down inside he was grateful

they had reconciled. He knew she would have the right words

in this situation. Instead, an electronic voice mail answered.

He left a message of anguish and hung up.

After school was over, Jeff immediately returned home and

tore his house upside down, searching for the money. What is

everyone going to say? Will they think I stole it? He whirled,

147

staring into the small cracked mirror hanging above his

bureau. His deep blue eyes that Lindsay admired now

appeared dull and lifeless. His hair stood up like some wild

man's. What am I going to do? If I don't find it--" He

leaned heavily against the bureau. Someone must have taken

it, but who?

He sat down on the bed amid the sheets and blankets

tossed about in a fury after rising for work that morning. He

tried to decide what the next step should be. He would have

to do something quickly. If word of this spread among the

faculty, they would no more trust him with a piece of chalk

than with anything important in the school. He might even

lose his job. Jeff pressed his eyes shut, thanking God he had

spent some time reading the Bible this morning. He needed

God's presence more than ever.

The doorbell rang. He tensed before rising to his feet and

venturing to the living room. He peered between the blinds.

Lindsay stood there.

"Jeff, I know you're in there," her voice called. "Please open

the door."

He did so, slowly, only to find her arms thrown about him.

"I'm so sorry to hear about what happened. Have you found

the money?"

"No." He stepped aside to allow her in. He didn't care that

the place looked like a tornado had passed through. Papers

were everywhere. Books lay scattered across the rug. Cabinets

were wide open with contents spilled on the floor. The scene

illustrated his circumstances at the moment. He pushed some

papers off the sofa for her to sit down.

"Tell me what happened."

Jeff told her how yesterday he had counted out the money

148

and put it in the envelope. He didn't bother to confess that he

had been daydreaming about their relationship at the time

and that he had forgotten to deposit the money at the front

office. "Usually I try to keep the drawer locked when I leave

the classroom. I guess I didn't do it that day."

"Does anyone else know you were keeping money in the

desk?"

"Well, the kids have seen me with the envelope, but I usually take care of it. The only one I specifically talked to about the money in the drawer was Troy."
He paused. "Troy wouldn't

have taken it."

"I hope not," Lindsay began.

"He was interested in getting together with Jewel and

booking a band for the prom. I made a passing comment

about the money. I wanted him to know how much we had

raised." His hand pushed through strands of hair. "What am I

going to do?"

"We'll just have to screen everyone and find out who stole it."

"Right. These kids aren't going to say anything. I started to

see a great change in the classes after we came back from

Baltimore. They were taking an interest in history and asking

questions. They scored well on the quiz I gave. Even Troy was

showing an interest in history again. Everyone was excited

about the money they had raised. Now this." He folded his

arms in frustration.

Lindsay lowered her face, staring at the carpet, with hair like

rivers of molasses showering around her shoulders. To his surprise

she said, "I'm sure I didn't help any, telling you about Ron

and everything while all this was happening. I'm sorry. I wish I

knew what to do. I've had some things stolen, as you know. I

thought having my checks forged was the worst disaster in my

149

life. At any rate, you should report this to the school principal

and the police. This is a robbery, you know."

"Yeah, and it will be my head in the noose when word of

this leaks out. Don't you see, Lindsay? This could be the end

of my teaching career. Everything I've worked so hard for is

gone. And it's my fault." He shut his eyes in despair, hoping

that when he opened them he would see the envelope sitting

on the coffee table.

Instead, he found Lindsay beside him on the couch, her

arm encircling him, imparting comfort that he cherished with

every part of his being. "We'll get through this," she whispered.

"Somehow we will."

151 Lindsay could not get the predicament with Jeff out of her

mind. She spent time in prayer, asking God for wisdom

above all, clues as to what might have happened to the money.

The close bond she had forged with Jeffmade her all the more

conscious of his pain. Days passed, and each day Jeff called to

tell her no money had been found. Lindsay even called Jewel

to try to discover some clues. Jewel told her she had no idea

what might have happened. When Lindsay asked her about

her friends, Jewel blatantly denied their involvement.

"I wonder if Jewel might know something," she said to Jeff

on the phone that night, sipping on a cup of herbal tea in the

hopes it might calm her.

"What do you mean?"

"I tried to find out if she'd heard any rumors, particularly

from Troy or Robbie. Jewel was quick to deny it, a bit too quick

in my opinion."

"Everyone's going to deny it. I'd call the police in a heartbeat

if someone confessed."

"So you're pretty confident it was stolen then."

"What do you think?" His voice rose in agitation. "Do you

think I embezzled it? Everyone else seems to think so."

The insinuation shocked her senses. "Of course not. Most

likely some student saw where you kept the money and made

offwith it while you were preoccupied."

"I hope whoever did this is having a huge crisis right now,"

150

151

Jeff said through clenched teeth. This thing has been following

me like the plague. The department chair has called me

careless and inept. He said I'd better find out what happened

soon. He sighed. I pray that I'm wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Wrong that it could be Troy. He's the only one I specifically

talked to about the money. He would have no reason to steal it,

would he?" Jeff seemed to wrestle with that very question.

"You'll have to keep your eyes and ears open to anything.

And pray."

I have prayed, and I'm still praying.

Lindsay had, too, though she didn't say it. She hung up the

phone, feeling sorry for Jeff and sensing her own determination

to the perpetrator. But how does one go about tracking

down the guilty party in a large school? It could be

anyone attending Western High. She would need inside

information somehow. Perhaps she could offer a reward.

Lindsay turned to the computer and set to work designing

a poster. She put in huge letters: UTake back your school from

criminals! REWARD for information leading to the return of

the junior class prom money. Tips kept anonymous."

I hope this helps you, Jeff. There isn't much else I can do. Maybe

it would encourage someone to come forward. Although the

reward would not match the crime by any means, perhaps it

would lead them to the perpetrator.

Lindsay arrived early at Western High to put up the posters

on all the conspicuous bulletin boards around school. She had

just placed one in the hallway when an older woman stopped

to survey the poster over the rims of her glasses.

"A reward poster for what?"

"For information leading to the person or persons who

152

might have stolen the junior class money." Lindsay explained.

"The students will say anything to get the reward money

you know. They'll lead you On a wild goose chase."

"They'll only get the reward if they find the one who stole

it. And it would be helpful if the teachers could also keep

their eyes and ears open. We could use everyone's help."

"I have no interest in bailing out a teacher who had no

business putting a large sum of cash in an unlocked drawer in

the classroom. Plain foolishness." The teacher began moving

down the hall.

Lindsay bristled. "And no one has the right to steal hard

earned money from a student function, even if the money was

sitting out in broad daylight. It's a shame We can't trust our

own teachers and students in a school. We must keep everything

under lock and key, twenty-four hours a day."

The teacher turned. "Perhaps you don't realize it, but this is

the real world."

"It's a pretty sad world if you ask me. There's something

wrong when crimes like this are committed so easily. When is

something going to be done?"

The teacher disappeared into a classroom, leaving Lindsay

to stew over the exchange. How the teacher could hurl the

blame on Jeff and forget the one who committed the crime

burned her to the core. She stuffed the stapler and tape back

into the bag and marched down the hall, only to find Jeff

approaching her from the opposite direction.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, somewhat bewildered.

"Trying to catch a thief. I've put up posters."

"Huh?"

She took out one of the posters from her briefcase. "We

can't let this juvenile delinquent get away with it, Jeff."

153

"Thanks, Lindsay, but you'd better take them down. The

school won't like it one bit."

She sighed. "I guess you're right. I don't want to make

things worse than they already are." She put the poster away.

"I'm only trying to save your neck from the guillotine. You

have a nice neck, too."

He stepped toward her, his blue eyes softening, his lips turned

slightly upward. "You're something else. Why do you want to hang out with a guy like me who can't take care of money?" "Jeff, you had a bad day. We all
forget things. I've forgotten

things. I'll wager no one in this school is perfect, even though

some think they are. They shouldn't be throwing stones at

you. But if they do, you have God on your side. And He'S big

enough to get us out of this slight crisis."

"A slight crisis, eh?" He laughed. "Lindsay, what would I do

without you?" His arms began to encircle her.

Lindsay pushed him away slightly, aware of the students

beginning to file into the building for morning classes. "Jeff,

not here," she whispered fiercely.

"Later then. As it is, I've been doing some thinking. I know

we didn't go to Fort McHenry for nothing. I want to get the

victory in this. This is war. I may have been caught off guard

by my stupidity, but I still plan to be in my fort with the

American flag waving above me at the end of it all."

"It's the story of life, Jeff. The hero must win out in the

end, with the sword in one hand and the shield in the other.

Only then can the hero and heroine live happily ever after."

The smile on his face turned into a broad grin of delight

before he picked up his briefcase and moved toward his classroom.

She was glad to see his resolve. The heroes and heroines

154 of the past had encouraged a new hero to go forth in his conquest

for good. Warmth rushed through her at that moment,

and more than just the warmth of attraction. She had a true

bond with this man that no trial could break. They had been

put together for a reason, and they would make it through

this crisis.

When school let out later that afternoon, Lindsay placed

herself strategically near the front door, keeping an eye out for

Jewel. She prayed beforehand that Jewel wouldn't be surrounded

by Troy or Robbie. A belief brewed in the back of

her brain that Jewel might be willing to help her discover who

had taken the money from Jeff's desk. Lindsay felt she had

enough of a friendship with the teenager after the meetings at

the diner to warrant this experiment. She hoped beyond hope

that Jewel might be the ticket to exonerating Jeff.

Jewel finally emerged from the building, her curly hair

flouncing around her shoulders. Lindsay smiled. Jewel walked

alone, just as she had prayed. Lindsay moseyed on over, pretending

to head for an appointment inside the building. "Hi,

Jewel."

"Hey, Miss Thomas, what's up?"

"Not much. What's up with you?"

"I have a ton of work to do." Ringlets of hair partially hid her

face as she gazed at the grass. "I have a vocab test tomorrow in

Mrs. Coates's English class. If I don't pass it, I might flunk. I

already failed her last two."

"Vocabulary wasn't my strong point, either. Some friends

used to quiz me."

"I asked Troy to help me, but he says he's too busy with his

own schoolwork. Robbie got a new job after school, helping

out at a pizza place, or so he's been telling me. I probably

155

won't be seeing much of him, either."

Lindsay's thoughts went into motion. Robbie can't be a

suspect then if he's working. He would have no need of extra

cash right now if he stole the money. Plus, teenagers aren't

that eager to work when they could be hanging out with their

friends.

"Are you okay?" Jewel asked.

"Oh, sure, just thinking." Lindsay accompanied her down

the sidewalk. "So what's Troy up to these days?"

Jewel shrugged. "Who knows? He's been real quiet lately.

When I try to catch him after school, he's already gone. I don't

know, Miss Thomas, but I feel like I'm losing my friends."

"I'm sorry about that, Jewel."

"Then it got me thinking and all about what you said--

how I shouldn't be looking for relationships with guys, just to

feel wanted. Robbie told me I shouldn't listen to you. He said

you and Mr. Wheeler are religious types with weird ideas."

"Everything I told you is true, Jewel. And it's not because I

want to jam my religion down your throat. It's because I care

about you and I don't want to see you hurt. Broken relationships

can be some of the toughest times we go through in life.

It hurts us right in the heart where it counts. And it's hard to

get over. That's why I made a commitment to God long ago

to let Him run my life. I told Him, 'Hey, You made me. You

know me inside out. You know who's the best guy for me.'"

"Like Mr. Wheeler?" She cracked a smile.

Lindsay's mouth fell open.

"Oh, we talk about it all the time--how you two went on

this romantic trip to Baltimore. We know you've been going

around the school today, trying to find out who stole the class

money. In fact, there are a couple of kids betting on when you

156 two will walk down the aisle."

Lindsay gasped. The mere idea sent chills racing through

her. "That's nonsense," she blurted out, though she didn't

mean it. Many times Lindsay wondered if she and Jeff were

destined to tie the knot. Hardly a day went by that she did

not fantasize about ascending a grand staircase in a gown

for a queen, ready to meet her bridegroom.

To her surprise Jewel elbowed her. "C'mon--you can tell

me. I'll keep it quiet."

"I can tell you that Jeff--that is, Mr. Wheeler--and I are

good friends." She hooked her arm through Jewel's, ushering

her down the sidewalk. "If you want to know the honest

truth--and please keep this between us--I think Mr.

Wheeler and I might have a future together."

Jewel giggled. "I knew it. When you all came back from

Baltimore, Mr. Wheeler had this weird look on his face. He

bumped into his desk once or twice. In the middle of a lecture

he forgot what he was talking about. It doesn't surprise me a

bit he lost the money. He hasn't been thinking right at all

lately. I knew right away what it was. LOVE."

Just the notion Jeff might have lost the money over her sent

another round of shivers racing through Lindsay. She steadied

her shaking hands. "Anyway, have you heard anything through

the grapevine in school as to who might've taken the money? You all

earned it, you know. I'd think you'd want to know who

stole it, rather than seeing your hard work go to waste."

Jewel became quiet for a moment before her soft voice

responded. "I've just heard rumors. There's no proof."

"Sometimes what one person says can go a long way,"

Lindsay coaxed, eager for any hint that might resolve this

situation and restore Jeff's reputation.

157

Jewel continued her silence.

Lindsay decided not to press the issue. When they strode

up to a park bench, she suggested quizzing Jewel on the

vocabulary for the upcoming test. Jewel pounced on the offer

with glee. They sat opposite each other while Lindsay read off

the list of words from the notebook inside Jewel's backpack.

When Jewel missed a word, Lindsay told her to repeat the

definition, then use it in a sentence.

"You should have been a teacher," Jewel said with a laugh.

"You sure know what you're doing."

"I had to learn the hard way, like most people. Life isn't

easy, Jewel. We all learn difficult lessons, but they help us

become better people in the end. And I have a good feeling at

the end of all this that you're going to be a great businesswoman.

You won't be swayed by pressure but will do the right

thing, no matter what happens."

Jewel lowered her head and ran a finger across the painted

boards of the bench. "Ouch!" she complained as a huge splinter

punctured her fragile skin.

"Let me see." Lindsay took hold of Jewel's finger and saw

the edge of the splinter jutting out. She rummaged in her

handbag for a small Swiss army knife and, in the collection of

tiny tools, pulled out a pair of tweezers.

"I'm prepared for these kinds of emergencies," she said with

a smile, taking hold of Jewel's finger. With the tweezers she

gently removed the splinter.

"Wow! You did that quick," Jewel marveled. "I should get

one of those knife thingies. They don't allow them on school

property, though."

"It's my all-in-one tool kit. Screwdriver, tweezers, nail file,

saw--what I would use a saw for, who knows, a toothpick."

158 She gazed at her wounded finger. "Thanks so much, Miss

Thomas. Between this and helping me with my vocabulary,

it's been real sweet."

"I want you to know that people care, Jewel. And, as I said,

you're special. Don't forget it."

Jewel slung her backpack over one shoulder. "I'd better get

going. Thanks again for everything."

"Sure." Lindsay slipped her a business card. "If you ever

need to talk sometime, call me on my cell."

Jewel gazed at Lindsay with moss green eyes; her lips

parted as if she dearly wanted to share with Lindsay all the

things she kept buried within. Lindsay could see the walls

beginning to crumble and a bridge of trust taking its place.

Jewel tightened her hand around the card, nodded her head,

and shuffled offdown the sidewalk.

Lindsay sighed as she tucked the tool back in her purse.

She had come close to learning who may have taken the

money. Jewel more than likely held an important clue. If only

the bridge of trust were complete, then perhaps Jewel would

feel comfortable confiding in her. Lindsay feared time would

run out before that could be accomplished.

Lindsay had nearly arrived home when her cell phone rang.

It was Jewel. "Miss Thomas, I wanted you to know---I didn't

think it could be true, which is why I didn't say anything at

the park, but you've been so nice to me. I need to talk to

someone. Anyway, I don't know if this is true or not, but

everyone says Troy took the money. He wanted to prove to

everyone he could do it and that he wasn't teacher's pet."

Lindsay tried hard not to choke at this confession. She

succeeded in stifling it into a few light coughs. "Are you sure,

Jewel?"

159

"It's just what the kids are saying. I guess the only way to

find out is to ask Troy. I mean, it could be the reason he's been

acting so weird lately. You know, when we all got our stuff for

the fund-raising project, he seemed better. He helped me

carry my stuff home and everything. Now he's distant again. I

don't know if it's family problems or because of the money."

"I know this was a hard thing to do, Jewel, but thank you so

much." Lindsay conversed a bit longer, reassuring the young

woman she had done the right thing. Lindsay then inhaled a

deep breath before punching in Jeff's number, knowing he

would not be pleased to hear this news.

161 "I didn't steal anything!"

Troy's reddening ears and quivering lower lip met Jeff's

gaze. He had just stopped by Troy's house and found the

young man riding what appeared to be a new bicycle. When

Lindsay first related the news she'd heard from Jewel, Jeff

could hardly believe it. Even though it had been rough going

for a while, he and Troy seemed to be on better terms, until

the money disappeared. In the weeks following the incident

he had seen Troy turn into an introvert once again. Could this

be a sign of guilt, like the signs manifesting now in the young

man's crimson ears and flushed face?

"Troy, it's better we deal with this now. I know it's hard."

"You don't know anything. You think you have all the

answers 'cause you're a do-good Christian, but you don't

know. You don't know what it's like to have others gang up on

you." Troy mounted his bicycle.

"I know a lot more than you think. We don't have to be

controlled by the bad things in this world, or bad people for

that matter. You can be free from it. We've been learning

about the cost of freedom in history. The founding fathers

wanted a land free from tyrannical forces, but in order to get

it, they had to trust in someone other than themselves."

Jeff paused to collect his thoughts. "You remember the

time we studied about the American troops in New York

City during the Revolutionary War and how the Continental

160

161

Army was trapped, with the enemy approaching? General

Washington wrote out a general order in May 1776 proclaiming

a day of fasting and prayer, asking for God's mercy

on them. Not long after, God caused a thick fog to come

over the whole area, enabling Washington and his army to

escape Howe's forces. They would have been destroyed if

they'd stayed there. Instead, they prayed and believed in

God. They knew they must have God's help if they were to

escape the enemy."

"What does that have to do with me?" His voice began to

quiver.

"You have enemies, too, Troy. I know you do. I just want to

know how you plan to handle it. What are you going to do?"

Troy's new bike clattered to the hard pavement. He

plopped down on the ground and buried his head in his arms.

"There wasn't any other way. Robbie said he would lay off and

I could have Jewel if I did it. He said if I didn't do it, his

friends would get me. They had already trashed my locker.

He was telling lies about me all over school. He had Jewel

wrapped around his finger, telling her lies too. I couldn't deal

with all of them. What was I supposed to do?"

"So you took the money?"

"Robbie said he would give me a cut. I got a hundred out of

it, and he took the rest. Bought that dumb bike--but I've felt

sick about it ever since. I can't eat or anything."

"Is there anyway you can get Robbie to confess his role

in this?"

Troy peered up at Jeff. "Why?"

"Because if word of this gets out, Robbie will put all the

blame on you. We need to get a confession out of him also.

But it won't let you off the hook. You and Robbie will have to

162 face the consequences, which could mean disciplinary action,

maybe even expulsion."

"You mean they could kick me out of school? Oh, man, I

don't believe it." Troy rose to his feet with tears streaming

down his face. He went and kicked the bicycle. "Man, I don't

believe this. My life is ruined, Mr. Wheeler, and I can't do a

thing about it. And it's not fair. I had to do it. They were

going to get me."

"Life isn't fair."

Troy jerked his head around. "You don't know anything

about it. You weren't there, seeing my dad drunk every day

and watching him leave my mom. And now I've got this gang

after me."

"It's true I don't know everything. But I do know Someone

who had it a lot worse."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"He had everything go wrong. He was only trying to help

others, but people were jealous of him. They spit on him and

called him names. He even had a knife thrust into his side by

a gang of thugs. Finally, they killed him right out in public."

Troy stared wide-eyed. "Who was that?"

"I'm talking about the Man Himself, Jesus. That's exactly

what happened to Him. He only wanted to help others, yet

He was stripped down to nothing, nailed on a cross, and put

on display for everyone to gawk at. Jesus suffered abuse big

time--but He decided to do something about it. He wanted

something good to come out of something bad."

Jeff saw it in Troy's eyes--the disbelief, as if he had never

heard such a vivid example of Christianity.

The young man began to stammer. "Y--yeah. B--but that

was a long time ago. It doesn't mean anything now."

163

"It means even more now, because we are the ones He died

for. Jesus died so even if we do things wrong, we can come out

with a clean slate. We can get rid of all that junk in our lives.

We can have peace, even if there are enemies after us. Jesus

went through all the abuse and ridicule so that you and I can

have a better life with God in the middle of it. And I'll tell

you, God is great at getting people out of their worst messes.

Ask George Washington--or me for that matter." He smiled

inwardly, knowing how much he needed God to heal his own

messes in life.

"Not mine," Troy's voice spoke softly. "I'm in too deep. I

can't get out of it."

Jeff came and sat down in the grass beside him. "How

about talking to God about it? He's a good listener."

Troy nodded. Together with Jeff, he confessed his wrongs

and the pain he carried. When they finished, Troy looked at

him. "Now what should I do?"

"We'll have to inform the principal what happened, then

we'll see how this all plays out. You'll have to take whatever

punishment they give you, but at least you won't have your

conscience bothering you anymore. Most important, you have

God on your side." Jeff hurried to his car and took out a Bible

he kept inside. "Here. Take this with you. There's some good

reading in there about warfare. Read Ephesians, chapter six.

It talks about getting your armor on for war. And read the

Gospel of John, too. It will tell you all about Jesus and what

He did."

"I still don't know what's going to happen to me."

"We'll take it one step at a time."

Not long after Jeff talked to Troy, Robbie was arrested for

164 trying to cash a check from the fund-raising sale at a nearby

bank. Both Troy and Robbie were summoned to a meeting of

the school board who elected to suspend them and ordered

them to seek counseling and pay full restitution.

Though the junior class had the money for the prom

preparations, the school elected not to give Jeff the extra

funds for the history club but to use it for other resources. "I

guess it isn't the right time," he said glumly while on an

afternoon walk with Lindsay. The trees, highlighted in red and

golden leaves, waved their colorful branches. Cows mooed

from a distant field. Before them, the Blue Ridge Mountains

rose up to greet them in colorful splendor.

"Things never turn out the way we expect," Lindsay agreed.

"But you can't give up hope that it may come to pass one day.

At least we discovered who took the money. Have you spoken

to Troy since the incident?"

"I saw him a few times during his suspension to bring over

some history lessons. He wasn't very happy. I kept reminding

him that God was with him and this will pass. He can look forward

to a bright future. I'm thinking of maybe taking him to a

youth rally that's coming up in a few weeks. There will be some

speakers and music by Christian rock bands. Maybe even

Robbie will come along. That would be interesting, wouldn't it?"

Lindsay cast him a look. "A youth rally? You're stepping out

of your playing field, Mr. Wheeler. What happened to strolls

in Civil War battlefields or touring a history museum?"

"Those things are important, too, but I still believe God

wants us to reach out to these students. And I want them to

trust me, even after what's happened. I want them to know I

forgive them, though my life was pretty miserable for a couple

of days."

165 "Oh, these faith-building times," Lindsay said th a se.

Hder a work-out in a ."

It c be p. When you come out of it, ough, you

feel sorry." He paused, rolled up the sleeves of his Rugby

shirt and performed a few muscle-bding maneuvers. "So

what do you

Lindsay took hold of some skin on his lower arm and

md. "Boing."

"Hey"

"Just dng. I ow youe no weng, espedy er

s. I do befieve you have held do of Fo McHe on

Jeff then broke into a song from a musical he'd rented lint

wee " 'Oh, what a beautiful morning Oh, what a beautiful

day I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way.'

Lindsay jumped in. 'I'm gonna wash at m fight oua

my hr. I gonna wash at man right oua my h.

gonna wash that man fight oua my h, d send m on

s wa'"

Jeff whirled. "What End of song is at?"

It's from the musical Sou Pac. You hadt en it

I'm not sure I don't t I'd e it."

"You would." She hooked her arm through his. e gese

sent with flong tough m. "It has a happy ending."

He paused to ther her in s ms, beside a de-open

meadow where grasses waved in the breeze. "Like this?"

When he kissed her, sparks flew. He knew this was the woman he wanted to

m. Dine he propose to her hem in

ts wonder coun seng? It seemed so right and yet so

timed. He had no money e that y out Coa.

He couldn't ask her to marry a paur, d she would have to

166 earn the bread and butter right along with him. He disengaged

from the embrace, took up her hand, and strolled on.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Just thinking about the future. Lindsay. I-" He paused.

The words became bottled up in his throat. He couldn't tell

her what was going on inside him, not until he knew their

future was secure. He swallowed down his response. "I really

enjoy being with you."

"That makes two of us. I don't know any guy who would sit

around watching musicals and even learning the words to the

songs. You're unique, JeffWheeler."

When they parted that evening, Jeff had to wonder what it

meant to be unique and if one could base a relationship on

that. He returned home to find the light blinking on his

answering machine. It was an urgent message from Candy,

asking that he call her right away. The distress in her voice

made his heart bounce around like a fish out of water. As he

punched in her phone number with a nervous finger, he

hoped the advice he had given regarding her ex-husband,

Anson, would not blow up in his face.

The phone rang endlessly until a breathless voice answered.

"Oh, Jeff, you wouldn't believe it. You just wouldn't. I don't

know what to do. You got me into this, and now I don't know

what to do."

"Hold on, Candy. Slow down. What happened?"

"Anson asked me out. Can you believe it?" Jeff heard the

closet door open and the shuffle of hangers. "I don't have a

thing to wear. Can you believe he asked me out? My own ex?

This is unreal."

"What happened to his girlfriend?"

"They had a fight about the same time Sam and I did. Pretty

167

coincidental, don't you think?" Silence came over the line for a

moment. When her voice returned, it was soft and a bit curious.

"Jeff, would this have anything to do with your God?"

"My God? He's your God, too. He's everyone's God."

"You know what I mean. You were telling me how you

prayed to God to help you solve problems. Now look what's

happened. Never in a million years would I have thought

Anson would show interest in me." She broke down in tears.

"I thought I was an old shoe in his eyes. That's why he left

me for another woman. I thought--I thought I wasn't good

enough in the--well, you know what I mean. I hear about

guys who don't love their wives anymore 'cause they don't feel

satisfied. I tried to do things right."

"Candy--"

"I did everything I thought I should do. Why is he coming

back, Jeff? Maybe he's just tired of the old girlfriend now and

thinks it's time for something new. I don't want us to fall in

love again, only to have him walk out on me."

: "Why don't you come and visit me?"

"Visit you? What's that got to do with Anson walking out

on me?"

"I'm just saying, maybe Anson and I could talk about

things. Get a family connection in the works. Might make it

harder for him to leave."

"Jeff, you're not even married. What words of wisdom

could you possibly offer?"

"I can tell you for a fact that the only way you two are going

to have a future together is if you let God take control of it.

That's the problem. We think we have a handle on everything.

Only God holds the key to success in our lives. He

knows the past, the present, and the future."

168

Once Jeff said these words, he realized his own lack of faith

in not allowing God to take control of his relationship with

Lindsay. He had allowed everything else to get in the way.

While he still believed he needed financial security before he

popped the big question, at least he ought to feel secure

enough knowing God would keep him on the right track.

"So what do you think?" Candy asked.

"I knew it. Typical male, never listening. Open your ears,

little bro. How about Thanksgiving?"

"You mean you want to come here for Thanksgiving? Sure,

that would be great! Then you can meet Lindsay. She's one of

a kind."

"I have to get going. Anson's coming in an hour to pick me

up. I haven't had a shower yet, and all my clothes are from the

nineties. I have nothing new to wear."

"Candy, just be yourself and not someone else."

"Hey, you know what? You're an awesome brother."

Jeff smiled before hanging up the phone. He would tell

Lindsay as soon as he could that no matter what happened,

with God leading them, they would be there for each other

through thick and thin, for better or for worse, until death do

them part.

169 "I can't believe I'm back here!"

The grand hall appeared as majestic as she imagined--the

mosaics, the carved buttresses and statues, the winding staircase.

Her hand went to her heart. If only she were clad in

some glittering ball gown, wearing long gloves to her elbows,

with pearls wrapped around her neck and a tiara in her hair.

On her feet would be glass slippers, though she would make

certain they stayed put at midnight. Instead, she glanced

down at her simple outfit of pleated trousers, red turtleneck,

and blazer. She pushed the bag carrying her belongings up

over her shoulder.

"Hey, Miss Thomas, Mr. Wheeler wants to see you," Jewel

said, running up to meet her.

Lindsay smiled at the young, carefree woman who had a

glow in her emerald eyes. Jewel had given her heart to the

Lord at the youth revival meeting they'd recently attended.

Lindsay and Jeff had taken several students to the revival and

found many of them responsive to the gospel message. They

rejoiced over the young people brought into the kingdom of

God. Robbie, though, refused to go and eventually dropped

out of school, much to their disappointment.

Lindsay now gazed again at the beautiful architectural displays

within the Library of Congress before turning to the

staircase. She climbed the steps one by one, until a vision

caught her in midstride. Her breath left her for a moment.

170

Jeff stood on the landing, holding what appeared to be a

flower in his hand. "M'lady," he said with a bow, giving her a

long-stemmed, red rose.

Jewel giggled and poked Troy in the ribs. "Isn't this romantic?"

Lindsay took the flower and something else that felt velvety

soft. She opened the palm of her hand to see a small box.

Tremors seized her at that moment. "Jeff," she began. Lindsay

handed her rose to Jewel and opened the box with nervous

fingers. Inside was a small but beautiful diamond in a gold

setting, glittering in the light of the great hall. Her dream had

come true.

"This is what I like!" Troy hooted. "An engagement right

here in the Library of Congress."

Jeff then got down on his knee. "Will you marry me,

Lindsay Michelle Thomas?"

Lindsay saw the croaking toad of Western High changed

into a handsome prince with his shining blue eyes that

reflected the love stirring within him. "Of course, Jeff Ryan

Wheeler."

Jewel, Troy, and the rest of the class began to clap and

cheer, ignoring the visitors who passed by, staring curiously at

the intimate ceremony taking place. Even a guard patrolling

the area smiled at the scene.

"But," Lindsay continued, "if you think for one moment I'll

agree to a wedding ceremony inside the Lincoln Memorial,

you've got another guess coming."

Laughter surrounded them until Jeff stepped forward,

gathered her in his arms and gave her a lengthy kiss. "'I must

have done something good. ..." He whispered the song

from the love scene in Sound of Music.

"Something very good."

The End

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Happily Ever After,

M. Panagiotopoulos

Cords of Love, L. A. Coleman

His Christmas Angel, G: Sattler

Past the Ps Please, Y. Lehman

Licorice Kisses, D. Mills

Roger's Return, M Davis

The Naiborly Thing to Do,

W. E. Brunstetter

For a Father's Love, J. A. Grote Be My Valentine, J. Livingston

Angel's Roost, J. Spaeth

Game OF Preten J. Odell

In Search o/Love, C. Lynxwiler Major League Dad, K. Y'Barbo Joe's

Diner, G. SatBer

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