Chapter Three

      If Samantha had been added to her class after the group had been together longer, Rachel would have made a special point of introducing her. Since it was only the second day of the school year, however, that wouldn’t be necessary. Or advisable. The less fuss, the better.

      Parents had already escorted many of the other children to the classroom door. It was amusing how often the parent was the one reluctant to let go, while the child was eager to join in the excitement of finally starting school.

      Wearing a favorite lightweight summer shirt with a softly draped skirt, Rachel stood in the doorway of her room to welcome her students and gently encourage their parents to leave. She glanced up at the clock on the wall as the final morning bell rang. One child hadn’t arrived yet.

      A few latecomers rushed by. Concerned, Rachel was about to give up and close the door when she saw a man and a small, blond girl approaching hand-in-hand. It was Samantha!

      Rachel’s breath caught. Sean Bates was bringing her.

      “Thank You, God,” she whispered.

      Watching their approach she couldn’t have said which of the two she was most delighted to see. Each was certainly a welcome sight. And together they made her heart sing.

      Unfortunately, the little girl was wearing the same faded T-shirt and baggy blue shorts she’d had on the day before. In contrast to the new school clothes her classmates were sporting, she made a sad figure, indeed. Rachel made a mental note to remedy that situation ASAP. If Heatherington wouldn’t see to it that Samantha had proper clothing and shoes for school, she’d do it herself. There was no excuse for sending the little girl out into the world looking like an urchin—even if she was one.

      Rachel greeted the latecomers with a broad grin. “Good morning! I’m so glad to see you, Samantha. Did you ride the bus to school?”

      Sean spoke up. “I think so. I found her standing out front on the lawn. It looked like she was waiting for directions, so I brought her on over. I hope that’s okay.”

      “Of course. Thank you for helping. We all try to watch out for each other around here.” She crouched down to be on the little girl’s level and asked again, “Did you ride the bus?”

      Samantha nodded.

      “Then, it’s my fault you had trouble finding my class. I should have shown you how to get here from the place where the buses stop. I’m sorry you had trouble. But I am glad you met Mr. Bates yesterday and that he knew where to bring you.”

      Instead of paying attention to what Rachel was saying, Samantha gazed up at Sean with evident adoration, then leaned to one side so she could peer at his back.

      With a questioning frown, Rachel straightened. Her intense blue gaze wordlessly asked him what was going on.

      Sean shrugged, palms out. “That’s the third time she’s done that.” He turned. “Did somebody stick a ‘Kick Me’ sign on my back when I wasn’t paying attention?”

      “No. There’s nothing there,” Rachel assured him. “It’s clean.” And broad and strong and impressive and… Oh, stop it, her conscience demanded, bringing her up short before she had time to give in to the idiotic urge to dust invisible lint off the shoulders of his jacket.

      “That’s a relief,” he said.

      Rachel swallowed hard. “Yeah. Well, thanks again for helping Samantha find her class.”

      “You’re quite welcome.” He gave a slight bow and grinned at the little girl. “I’ll watch tomorrow, too. Okay? After that, I’m sure you’ll be able to get here all by yourself.”

      “I know she’ll be fine.” Pausing to give the loitering parents—and Sean—a look that clearly meant she was taking charge, Rachel added, “It’s time for class. All the grown-ups have to go, now.”

      It wasn’t until she’d guided Samantha through the door and closed it behind her that she realized her hands were shaking. That third cup of coffee she’d had for breakfast must have provided more caffeine than she’d thought.

      To Rachel’s relief, the only tears she’d seen that morning had been those of the parents left outside. Some years the opposite was true. Snifflers weren’t so bad because they were fairly easy to distract. Screamers were another story. Occasionally, there would be a child who was so afraid of separation from mommy or daddy that hysteria ensued. Not only was the wild sobbing distracting, it tended to spread an unwarranted sense of dread to the others. This year, however, it looked as if the adjustment was going to be peaceful.

      Suddenly, an indignant whoop disturbed the calm. Children froze and stared. Rachel immediately zeroed in on the cause and hurried to help.

      She bent over the screeching little boy. “What’s wrong?” Name—name—what was his name? And where was the name tag she’d carefully pinned on him when he’d first arrived?

      Other children had huddled in small groups, looking on as if expecting dire consequences to spill over onto them.

      Rachel guessed. “It’s Jimmy, isn’t it? What’s the matter, Jimmy? Did you hurt yourself? Can you tell me what happened so I can fix it?” By keeping her voice soft she forced the child to quiet down to hear what she was saying.

      Jimmy drew a shuddering breath and pointed to a nearby knot of boys. “He hit me.”

      The knot instantly unraveled as children scattered.

      Rachel took charge. “All right. I need everyone to sit down on the rug so we can talk about keeping our hands to ourselves.” She pointed. “Jimmy, there’s a box of tissues over there. You can go get one and wipe your nose before you come sit with us.”

      Choosing the adult-size chair at the head of the class, Rachel waited for the children to comply. All but two did. The tearful boy was doing as he’d been told and blowing his nose. Samantha had gone with him.

      Rachel was about to remind the little girl that she was a part of the class and needed to behave just like the others, when she noticed something that gave her pause. Although Samantha was whispering to the sniffling boy, her excitement was evident. She waved. She pointed across the room. She held out her arms as if mimicking a bird and smiled so broadly her eyes were squeezed almost shut. Or were they actually closed? Rachel couldn’t tell for sure. All she knew was that Jimmy had forgotten about being upset and was giving Samantha his rapt attention.

      So, Samantha wanted to play mother. Rachel smiled. That was a good sign. The child obviously needed to feel needed. Looking after the other children would give her a positive purpose, not to mention a boost in morale.

      And anybody who can calm a screamer like that is okay in my book, she thought. There was a tenderhearted peacemaker in the class. This was going to be a good year.

      A very good year.

      The day flew by so fast that it was over before Rachel had time to notice how tired she was. At twothirty she lined up all her students and marched them out to the lawn in front of the school to make sure each one was handed over to a parent or had boarded the right bus.

      Samantha stood by Rachel’s side and watched each classmate depart, until only she was left.

      “Which bus did you come on?” Rachel asked her, wiping sweat from her own brow and wishing she could escape the sultry southern afternoon by heading back to her air-conditioned classroom.

      “I don’t know.”

      “What was the number on it?”

      “I don’t know.” Clearly, the child was about to cry.

      “Well, did it have a lady driver or a man?”

      “I don’t remember.”

      Terrific. “Okay. Let’s go check in the office.”

      As she turned