The door of the schoolhouse was open, but it wasn’t until he stepped inside that he could see her at her desk. Her head was bent over a well-worn book. She held her wrist cradled in her hand as she leaned her forearms on the pages to prop the book open. It was a pose that was becoming familiar.
He shifted his weight until the loose board in the doorway squawked.
She raised her eyes, ready to politely address her interrupter, but then saw who it was. The cheerful tilt to her eyes evened, and she turned her attention back to the book.
Seeing that no invitation was forthcoming, Adam strolled inside. Hands in his pockets, he took a long look around the room. “You’ve made some improvements.”
“No more smoking stove,” she mumbled over her pages.
“But the board in the doorway still creaks.”
“If I fix that, how will I know when someone is sneaking up on me?”
Grasping a desk in the front row, Adam squeezed his body into the seat normally reserved for the youngest of students. “I can’t believe I ever fit into these seats.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “When you came to town, you were already grown.” She put her finger on the book and looked up. Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance. “Is there something I can help you with, or are you here to bedevil my last days in this position?”
“I’m here to help you.”
“How?”
He shifted, and the whole desk moved. “I’m here to see how I can help you. I have a history of being a decent problem solver.”
“You have a stronger history as a problem causer.”
He dipped his head. “Fair enough. I caused this problem, so the least I can do is try to fix it.” He leaned forward, the desk tipped, and he nearly toppled over. He shoved his legs forward to stop his fall and banged his knees against the desktop. The pain was worth the softening of her scowl. “Can you tell me what’s keeping you from taking the exam and getting your certificate? Is there a fee?”
“I can pay it.”
“Where do you have to go to take the test?”
“Anderson. That’s not the problem.”
Her desk was elevated on a platform, causing Adam to envy whoever had this chair. Old Miss Hoyt hadn’t looked nearly as alluring at the front of the classroom.
He pried himself out of the desk and unfolded his body before approaching her. “Multiplication tables?” he said. Despite her attempt to cover the pages, the graph was easily seen. “Are you studying?”
“Yes, but it’s pointless.”
“I could help you. We could drill, and you’d get them soon enough.”
“I know them. I’ve known them since I was eight years old. It’s not that I can’t learn them—it’s that I can’t take a test.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you remember how I did on tests? I could write a composition without a mistake, but when I got up for the spelling bee, I’d go out the first round. I’d make the highest marks on my arithmetic assignments, but when doing a race at the blackboard, I couldn’t do simple math. I’m like a racehorse that gets a cramp before every run.”
Adam had never considered this complication before. He’d always excelled under pressure. He might be an average student, but when push came to shove, he’d pull out a bit of information or a new angle that he didn’t know he had in him. He’d never considered that someone could perform less than they’d prepared. It didn’t make sense, but he owed it to Bella to listen.
“But if you knew it was really important that you pass . . .”
She moaned. “That makes it even worse. The more important it is, the worse I perform. I’m so frustrated with myself. I should’ve taken the test as soon as my wrist had healed. It didn’t really matter then whether I passed or not, but now, with everyone looking, I feel sick just thinking about it.”
He called himself a problem solver, but he didn’t know what he could do about this. Things that challenged him to work harder only paralyzed her. It was a conundrum.
With his hands spread wide and his elbows locked, Adam leaned over her desk as if her open arithmetic book offered the answers. He was too close for her to ignore, and too handsome for her not to notice, but Bella reminded herself that the gaudiest candy often gave you the worst stomachache. She diverted her gaze from his proximity and studied the picture of George Washington hanging over the pegboard.
Usually Bella was the one trying to help students overcome the stumbling blocks to their education. She wasn’t accustomed to being the subject of intervention. From the set of his fine jaw—she was looking at him again—it was clear Adam wasn’t going to let her beg off with excuses. She wanted to succeed, but accepting his help would most certainly mean disappointing him. For reasons she couldn’t explain, failing him felt as painful as losing her job.
“You’re under no obligation,” she said. “I feel better now that I know you don’t feel compelled to rob me of my livelihood.”
“You can’t be serious.” Even in disbelief, he was as finely wrought as an archangel. Or at least what she imagined an archangel to look like.
She held up her hand to stop him. “It’s been bad luck. The two of us should never meet. Nothing good can come of it.”
“I disagree. I think something good can come. Maybe something neither of us expected.”
Bella’s head lifted. Had she imagined that change in tone? She was good at imagining, so she rarely trusted her instincts. Before she could decide if there had been any sentiment behind the comment, he’d walked to the blackboard, making it impossible to see his face.
He picked up the chalk and, going to the top corner of the board, wrote in crowded, slightly out-of-control penmanship:
I
