Page 5 of Second Start: Family
“Yeah.” Vicky’s dark brows slanted up. “One of my eighth graders. Of which I have exactly two. And this one is not black-haired and full of himself. Dan’s the one I told you I’m nominating for the scholarship to Cheyenne. First student I’ve had I thought was good enough.”
“I remember.” Vicky said a competitive scholarship sent the top few students from isolated districts to an accelerated program at a high school in the state capitol. Otherwise, Mason students attended their “local” high school, which meant a lengthy bus trip each way when the weather was good, and isolation when it wasn’t. “They board in Cheyenne, then?”
“Probably not the way you’re used to from where you taught back east. No dorm. Mostly they stay with another family.”
Vicky was right that it was impossible not to know who all the students were. Kenzie had heard Dan Quick say something today to Evan Kevery about living with an aunt in Cheyenne next year, in response to Evan scoffing at Dan’s chances of going away for high school.
But, more than the boy’s future, Vicky’s comment on Kenzie’s recent past caught her attention.
No surprise she knew where Kenzie taught previously. As the senior teacher, Vicky naturally saw Kenzie’s resume.
But there was no requirement that Kenzie talk about it. She didn’t correct Vicky’s impression that the Dalverston School had dorms. The handful of boarding students were housed in private suites in a gracious structure. Parents of Dalverstonians demanded no less.
Kenzie sipped water, then said, “I didn’t remember because I’ve got so much to keep me occupied with my students, especially with being new and—”
“Lying awake at night wondering what in damnation possessed you to come teach in the wilds of Wyoming and if insanity is an excuse to get out of your contract before the school year’s up,” supplied Vicky cheerfully.
“No. I never wonder that.”
Vicky’s sharp look told Kenzie she’d been too serious.
The other teacher smoothed over the moment. “It’s a good thing, because I tried the insanity ploy and it didn’t work.”
Kenzie chuckled and the conversation turned to their students’ exploits this first week of school. But later, as she cleared the built-in table in Vicky’s trailer — her task when Vicky cooked and vice versa — talk returned to the no-show parent.
“There’ll be even more conferences for Hall before real long,” Vicky said as she filled the sink with soapy water. “There’s a boy who’s still at home. He must be about four, so if you don’t go nuts, you’ll have him, too.
“Great.” Kenzie rubbed the blue-checked dishcloth on the thirty inches of counter space this trailer boasted. As the new teacher, Kenzie had the older trailer, with twenty-four inches of counter space. “You’re pretty cheerful about this man paying no attention to his children’s education.”
“The Quick kids are darn good students and don’t have any more social or personality problems than any other three kids their ages — especially for having lost their mother. You know what they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Kenzie thought about those words later as she crossed the darkness between the trailers, carrying a plate with the wedge of apple pie Vicky insisted she take.
With less competition, starlight here was a lot brighter than where she used to live. From growing up in the mountains of North Carolina, she knew starlight could get you from one place to another, especially without the Carolina trees to block it. Still, she needed to concentrate to negotiate the uneven ground.
A shadow detached itself from the two wooden steps that led to her trailer door. Too close for her to run back to Vicky’s trailer before—
Kenzie stood her ground. She could do nothing to stop her automatic gasp and recoil.
“Damn.” A man swore under his breath before commanding irritably, “Don’t screech like that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The shadow became a man’s broad-shouldered, cowboy-hatted shape looming directly in front of her.
“Kenzie? You okay?” Vicky stood framed at the lighted door of her trailer peering out. “Is somebody else there?”
“It’s me, Vick,” the man called. “Hall Quick.”
“Hey, Hall, how’re you doin’?”
Relief banged against Kenzie’s chest.
“Fine. I’ll come by and talk to you later about Dan, if that’s all right.”
“Sure. Any time.”
Vicky closed her door, cutting off that ribbon of light.
Kenzie’s eyes had adjusted enough so she could separate man from shadow. He was enough taller than her five-foot-six to make her initial impression that heloomedreasonable. He wore a denim jacket over a light-colored shirt, faded jeans, and dusty work boots. He was broad under the jacket, narrow under the jeans.
