Later Shannon wondered what she would have done if the kids had ignored her, but to her relief, they quickly filled the chairs at two long tables and fixed their grinning smiles on her. She guessed that their ages ranged from kindergarten to second or third grades. Now that she had their attention she didn’t know what to do with it.
She walked over to a table and looked at the boxes of pencils, crayons, paper and a few coloring books. She cleared her throat, hoping she would sound steadier than she felt. “All right, we’re going to draw and color pictures.”
“I want a picture to color,” a curly-headed girl named Heather howled when Shannon gave the last coloring book page to someone else.
“I bet you can draw a nice picture of your own to color,” Shannon coaxed.
Heather set her lips in a pugnacious line. “I want a real picture.”
“Sorry. I’m afraid that there aren’t any coloring book pictures left,” Shannon said flatly.
“Then you draw me one,” Heather ordered with pouting lips, and shoved her plain sheet of paper toward Shannon.
Fuming silently, Shannon grabbed a pencil, and as quickly as she could she sketched a house with a flower garden and tall tree with a child’s swing in it. “There. Color that.”
Heather looked at it, then gave Shannon a broad smile of approval. “It’s nice.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Shannon said in relief as the little girl picked out some crayons and began to color the picture.
Shannon dropped down in the teacher’s chair and wondered how long it would be before she could send all the kids back to the gym.
When Heather finished coloring her picture, she started showing everyone and bragging, “See the picture teacher drew for me.”
“I want one, too.” The children began to line up at her desk, all of them wanting a special picture of their own. “Draw me something, teacher.”
Shannon’s first reaction was to refuse, but somewhere at the back of her memory was a remembered pleasure in what her parents had called her doodling. Even though an art teacher had told Shannon once that she had an artistic flair, she’d had never had time or the inclination to foster it. Giving a soft laugh, she said, “All right, let’s see what I can do.”
Quickly she sketched some simple scenes, then some cartoon figures that seemed to come easily to her. As she handed each drawing to a child, she was rewarded with a broad grin and a thank-you.
“Do one for me,” Kenny begged.
“Well, let’s see.” Shannon pretended to think. “I bet I know one you’d like.”
She was drawing a cute puppy with ears and a tail just like Pokey when she was startled by someone leaning over her shoulder. “Very good,” Ward said, as his warm breath bathed her ear.
Startled and instantly embarrassed, Shannon almost covered the sketch of the puppy with her hand so he couldn’t see. A deep conditioning from her childhood had made her instinctively want to hide what she had been doing. She could almost hear her father’s voice. Wasting your time again, Shannon!
As Ward saw the muscles in Shannon’s cheek tighten, he reassured her. “I mean it. It’s very good.”
“It’s Pokey,” Kenny said happily. “I’m going to color him black and white. And I’ll stay in the lines,” he promised solemnly, as if someone had pointed out this little goal to him once or twice. He proudly took the picture to his table.
Ward eased down on the corner of her desk, lightly swinging one leg as he looked around the room. “I didn’t know you were a teacher in the making.”
“I’m not.”
“You could have fooled me.”
He grinned at her, and she didn’t know if he was secretly amused or impressed that the children weren’t climbing the walls.
“What brings you back to the school this morning?” she asked lightly. She wasn’t going to let him know that she’d been disappointed when he hadn’t come to the school at all yesterday.
“I had a little time between chores and helping out the fire wardens this afternoon. When I came in, Laura asked me to deliver a message to you.”
“And what was that?” Shannon stiffened, wondering if the preacher’s wife had come up with another volunteer job for her.
“It’s time to let the kids go to lunch.”
She looked at her watch in surprise It was almost noon. She couldn’t believe the morning had passed so quickly. When she announced that it was time for lunch, there were some protests from those who wanted to finish their pictures.
Shannon vaguely promised they could finish their pictures some other time or take them with them. Ward sat on the edge of the desk watching Shannon while she collected crayons, pencils and paper. For some reason, his smiling approval was irritating.
“Well?” she demanded, challenging him to say something. “You don’t have to look so smug. Laura caught me at a time when I had no chance to refuse.”
“It looks like she drafted the right person, all right.”
“At least it’s better than peeling potatoes, thank you.”
Ward laughed, secretly relieved to find her spitting words at him instead of curled up somewhere battling fear. He had some bad news for her. Flying sparks carried by the wind had ignited the tops of tall ponderosa pines on the other side of the high-ridge fire line. Ground crews were scrambling to clear brush in the area, and airplane tankers were dropping fire retardant chemicals in an effort to control the blaze before it became full-blown and started down the mountainside. A dozen homes were in danger of being lost—as well as a white sports car still perched precariously on a rugged rocky slope.
“What is it?” Shannon asked as his smile faded and his forehead furrowed in a frown. Her hands tightened on the piece of paper she was holding, crushing it. “My car’s gone, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s still there.”
“But?” she prodded.
“The fire is threatening to start down this side of the mountain. New fire lines are being set up, and crews are cutting down brush and trees around some of the high mountain homes in an effort to save them.”
“And if they don’t stop it?” Even as she asked, she knew the answer.
“It could sweep down the mountain to the river and spread along the valley below.” He didn’t add that his ranch would be vulnerable to any fire sweeping up the canyon toward his pastureland. “We’re all praying that that doesn’t happen. Which reminds me, we’re going to have church services here at the school on Sunday. Our little church won’t hold this crowd, and I’m sure there’ll be a lot more worshipers than usual.” He gave her a wry smile. “Lots of people wait to make a 911 call to the Lord, you know, instead of keeping prayed up.”
Shannon refrained from commenting. She hadn’t seen any evidence that churchgoing people had it any easier in life than anybody else. The only time she was ever in a church was for weddings and her parents’ funeral. Neither her mother nor her father had held to any religious faith, and she had been brought up to believe that being a “good” person was all that was necessary.
Ward could tell from her expression that worship was not a part of her life, and for some reason, he felt challenged by her lack of spiritual awareness.
“What do you say to lunch at Bette’s Diner?” he asked impulsively. “It’s only a short walk from here, and I bet getting out of here for even an hour would do you good.”
Shannon