Finding Perfect
Page 2
“Hey, Coach.”
“Hey, yourself,” Hawk, his former high school football coach, said. “Nicole hasn’t heard from you in a while and I’m calling to find out why.”
Raoul laughed. “I talked to your beautiful wife last week, so I know that’s not why you’re calling.”
“You got me. I’m checking on you. Making sure you’re moving on with your life.”
That was Hawk, Raoul thought with equal parts frustration and appreciation. Cutting right to the heart of what was wrong.
“You had some bad stuff happen,” the older man continued. “Don’t wallow.”
“I’m not wallowing. I’m busy.”
“You’re in your head too much. I know you. Find a cause. Get personally involved in your new town. It’ll distract you. You can’t change what happened.”
Raoul’s good humor faded. Hawk was right about that. The past couldn’t be undone. Those who were gone stayed gone. No amount of bargaining, no sum of money, made it better.
“I can’t let it go,” he admitted.
“You’ll have to. Maybe not today, but soon. Believe in the possibility of healing, Raoul. Open yourself up to other people.”
It seemed impossible, but he’d been trusting Hawk for nearly twenty years. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Call Nicole.”
“I will.”
They hung up.
Raoul sat in his car for a few more seconds, thinking about what Hawk had told him. Get involved. Find a cause. What the other man didn’t know was how much Raoul wanted to avoid that. Getting involved is what had caused the problem in the first place. Life was much safer lived at a distance.
He got out of his car and collected the small duffel he’d brought with him. Whenever he visited a school, he brought a few official NFL footballs and player cards. It made the kids happy, and that’s why he was here. To entertain and maybe slip in a little motivation when they weren’t looking.
He glanced at the main school building. It was older but well-kept. He usually spoke to high-school-aged kids, but the principal and class teacher had both been persistent to the point of stalking. He was new to small-town life and was figuring out the rules as he went. As he planned to settle in Fool’s Gold permanently, he’d decided to err on the side of cooperation.
He stepped toward the main walkway, then made his way into the building. Unlike the inner-city schools he usually visited, there weren’t any metal detectors or even a guard. The double doors stood open, the halls were wide and well-lit, the walls free of graffiti. Like the rest of Fool’s Gold, the school was almost too good to be true.
He followed the signs to the main office and found himself in a big open area with a long counter. There were the usual bulletin boards with flyers for book drives and after-school programs. A dark-haired woman sat at a desk, typing on an ancient-looking computer.
“Morning,” he said.
The woman—probably in her midthirties—looked up. Her mouth fell open as she stood and waved her hands. “Oh, God. You’re here. You’re really here! I can’t believe it.” She hurried toward him. “Hi. I’m Rachel. My dad is a huge fan. He’s going to die when he finds out I met you.”
“I hope not,” Raoul said easily, pulling a card out of the bag and reaching for a pen.
“What?”
“I hope he doesn’t die.”
Rachel laughed. “He won’t, but he’ll be so jealous. I heard you were coming. And here you are. This is just so exciting. Raoul Moreno in our school.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Norm.”
He signed the card and passed it to her. “Maybe this will help him deal with his disappointment.”
She took the paper reverently and placed a hand on her chest. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.” She glanced at the clock, then sighed. “I suppose I have to take you to Mrs. Miller’s class now.”
“I should probably get started talking to the kids.”
“Right. That’s why you’re here. It’s been wonderful to meet you.”
“You, too, Rachel.”
She came out from behind the counter, then led him back into the hallway. As they walked, she chatted about the school and the town, all the while glancing at him with a combination of appreciation and flirtatiousness. It came with the territory and he’d learned a long time ago not to take the attention seriously.
Mrs. Miller’s class was at the end of the hall. Rachel held the door open for him.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
He entered the room alone.
There were about twenty young kids, all staring wide-eyed, while their teacher, an attractive woman in her forties, fluttered.
“Oh, Mr. Moreno, I can’t thank you enough for speaking with us today. It’s such a thrill.”
Raoul smiled. “I’m always happy to come talk to kids in school.” He glanced at the class. “Morning.”
A few of the students greeted him. A few more looked too excited to speak. At least the boys did. Most of the girls didn’t seem impressed at all.
“Fourth grade, right?” he asked.
A girl with glasses in the front row nodded. “We’re the accelerated group, reading above grade level.”
“Uh-oh,” he said, taking an exaggerated step back. “The smart kids. You going to ask me a math question?”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Do you like math?”
“Yeah, I do.” He looked up at the class. “Who here really likes school a lot?”
A few kids raised their hands.
“School can change your life,” he said, settling one hip on the teacher’s desk. “When you grow up, you’re going to get jobs and work for a living. Today most of your responsibilities are about doing well in school. Who knows why we need to learn things like reading and math?”
More hands went up.
His usual talk was on staying motivated, finding a mentor, making a better life, but that seemed like a little much for the average nine-year-old. So he was going to talk about how important it was to like school and do your best.
Mrs. Miller hovered. “Do you need anything?” she asked in a whisper. “Can I get you something?”
“I’m good.”
He turned his attention back to the students. The girl in the front row seemed more interested in the pretty scenery outside of the window. Oddly enough, she reminded him of Pia. Maybe it was the brown curly hair, or her obvious lack of interest in him as a person. Pia hadn’t gushed, either. She’d barely noticed him. Not a real surprise, given how her morning had started. But he’d noticed her. She’d been cute and funny, even without trying.
He returned his attention to the students, drew in a breath and frowned. He inhaled again, smelling something odd.
If this had been a high school, he would have assumed an experiment gone bad in the science lab or a batch of forgotten cookies in home ec. But elementary schools didn’t have those facilities.
He turned to Mrs. Miller. “Do you smell that?”
She nodded, her blue eyes concerned. “Maybe something happened in the cafeteria.”
“Is there a fire?” one of the boys asked.
“Everyone stay seated,” Mrs. Miller said firmly as she walked toward the door.
She placed a hand on it before slowly pulling it open. As she did, the smell of smoke got stronger. Seconds later, the fire alarms went off.
She turned to him. “It’s only the second day of school. We haven’t practiced what to do. I think there really is a fire.”
The kids were already standing up and looking scared. He knew they weren’t very far from panic.
“You know where we’re supposed to go?” he asked. “The way out?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He turned to the students. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked in a voice loud enough to be heard over the bells.
“Mrs. Miller,” someone yelled.
“Exactly. Everyone get in line and follow Mrs. Miller as we go into the hall. There are going to be a lot of kids out there. Stay calm. I’ll go last and make sure you all get out of the building.”
Mrs. Miller motioned for her students to move toward the door.
“Follow me,” she said. “We’ll go quickly. Everyone hold hands. Don’t let go. Everything is fine. Just stay together.”
Mrs. Miller went out the door. The children began to follow her. Raoul waited to make sure everyone left. One little boy seemed to hesitate before leaving.
“It’s okay,” Raoul told him, his voice deliberately calm. He reached for the boy’s hand, but the child flinched, as if expecting to be hit. The kid—all red hair and freckles—ducked out before Raoul could say anything.
Raoul went into the hall. The smell of smoke was more intense. Several kids were crying. A few stood in the middle of the hallway, their hands over their ears. The bells rang endlessly as teachers called for their students to follow them outside.
“Come on,” he said, scooping the nearest little girl into his arms. “Let’s go.”
“I’m scared,” she said.
“I’m big enough to keep you safe.”
Another little boy grabbed hold of his arm. Tears filled the kid’s eyes. “It’s too loud.”
“Then let’s go outside, where it’s quieter.”
He walked quickly, herding kids as he went. Teachers ran back and forth, counting heads, checking to make sure no one was left behind.
When Raoul and his group of kids reached the main doors leading outside, the children took off at a run. He put down the girl he’d been carrying and she raced toward her teacher. He could see smoke pouring into the sky, a white-gray cloud covering the brilliant blue.
Students flowed out around him. Names were called. Teachers sorted the groups by grades, then classes. Raoul turned and went back into the building.
Now he could do more than smell smoke. He could see it. The air was thick and getting darker, making it hard to breathe. He went room by room, pushing open doors, checking under the large teacher desks in front, scanning to make sure no one was left behind.
He found a tiny little girl in a corner of the third room he entered, her face wet with tears. She was coughing and sobbing. He picked her up, turned and almost ran into a firefighter.
“I’ll take her,” the woman said, looking at him from behind a mask and grabbing the girl. “Get the hell out of here. The building is nearly seventy years old. God knows what cocktail of chemicals is in the air.”
“There might be more kids.”
“I know, and the longer we stand here talking, the more danger they’re in. Now move.”
He followed the firefighter out of the building. It wasn’t until he was outside that he realized he was coughing and choking. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.
When he could breathe again, he straightened. The scene was controlled chaos. Three fire trucks stood in front of the school. Students huddled together on the lawn, well back from the building. Smoke poured out in all directions.
A few people screamed and pointed. Raoul turned and saw flames licking through the roof at the far end of the school.
He turned to head back in. A firefighter grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t even think about it,” the woman told him. “Leave this to the professionals.”
He nodded, then started coughing again.
She shook her head. “You went back inside, didn’t you? Civilians. Do you think we wear the masks because they’re pretty? Medic!” She yelled the last word and pointed at him.
“I’m fine,” Raoul managed, his chest tight.
“Let me guess. You’re a doctor, too. Cooperate with the nice lady or I’ll tell her you need an enema.”
CHAPTER TWO
THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE a community disaster to snap a person out of a pity party, Pia thought as she stood on the lawn at the far end of the Ronan Elementary playground and stared at what had once been a beautiful old school. Now flames licked at the roof and caused glass windows to explode. The smell of destruction was everywhere.
She’d heard the fire trucks from her office and had seen the smoke darkening the sky. It had only taken her a second to figure out where the fire was and that it was going to be bad. Now, as she stood on the edge of the playground, she felt her breath catch as one of the walls seemed to shudder before falling in on itself.
She’d always heard people talk about fire as if it were alive. A living creature with cunning and determination and an evil nature. Until now, she’d never believed it. But watching the way the fire systematically destroyed the school, she thought there might be seeds of truth in the theory.
“This is bad,” she whispered.
“Worse than bad.”
Pia saw Mayor Marsha Tilson had joined her. The sixty-something woman stood with a hand pressed against her throat, her eyes wide.
“I spoke with the fire chief. She assured me they’ve gone through every room in the building. No one is left inside. But the building…” Marsha’s voice caught. “I went to school here.”
Pia put her arm around the other woman. “I know. It’s horrible to see this.”
Marsha visibly controlled her emotions. “We’re going to have to find somewhere to put the children. They can’t lose school days over this. But the other schools are full. We could bring in those portable classrooms. There must be someone I can call.” She glanced around. “Where’s Charity? She might know.”
“Hey, yourself,” Hawk, his former high school football coach, said. “Nicole hasn’t heard from you in a while and I’m calling to find out why.”
Raoul laughed. “I talked to your beautiful wife last week, so I know that’s not why you’re calling.”
“You got me. I’m checking on you. Making sure you’re moving on with your life.”
That was Hawk, Raoul thought with equal parts frustration and appreciation. Cutting right to the heart of what was wrong.
“You had some bad stuff happen,” the older man continued. “Don’t wallow.”
“I’m not wallowing. I’m busy.”
“You’re in your head too much. I know you. Find a cause. Get personally involved in your new town. It’ll distract you. You can’t change what happened.”
Raoul’s good humor faded. Hawk was right about that. The past couldn’t be undone. Those who were gone stayed gone. No amount of bargaining, no sum of money, made it better.
“I can’t let it go,” he admitted.
“You’ll have to. Maybe not today, but soon. Believe in the possibility of healing, Raoul. Open yourself up to other people.”
It seemed impossible, but he’d been trusting Hawk for nearly twenty years. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Call Nicole.”
“I will.”
They hung up.
Raoul sat in his car for a few more seconds, thinking about what Hawk had told him. Get involved. Find a cause. What the other man didn’t know was how much Raoul wanted to avoid that. Getting involved is what had caused the problem in the first place. Life was much safer lived at a distance.
He got out of his car and collected the small duffel he’d brought with him. Whenever he visited a school, he brought a few official NFL footballs and player cards. It made the kids happy, and that’s why he was here. To entertain and maybe slip in a little motivation when they weren’t looking.
He glanced at the main school building. It was older but well-kept. He usually spoke to high-school-aged kids, but the principal and class teacher had both been persistent to the point of stalking. He was new to small-town life and was figuring out the rules as he went. As he planned to settle in Fool’s Gold permanently, he’d decided to err on the side of cooperation.
He stepped toward the main walkway, then made his way into the building. Unlike the inner-city schools he usually visited, there weren’t any metal detectors or even a guard. The double doors stood open, the halls were wide and well-lit, the walls free of graffiti. Like the rest of Fool’s Gold, the school was almost too good to be true.
He followed the signs to the main office and found himself in a big open area with a long counter. There were the usual bulletin boards with flyers for book drives and after-school programs. A dark-haired woman sat at a desk, typing on an ancient-looking computer.
“Morning,” he said.
The woman—probably in her midthirties—looked up. Her mouth fell open as she stood and waved her hands. “Oh, God. You’re here. You’re really here! I can’t believe it.” She hurried toward him. “Hi. I’m Rachel. My dad is a huge fan. He’s going to die when he finds out I met you.”
“I hope not,” Raoul said easily, pulling a card out of the bag and reaching for a pen.
“What?”
“I hope he doesn’t die.”
Rachel laughed. “He won’t, but he’ll be so jealous. I heard you were coming. And here you are. This is just so exciting. Raoul Moreno in our school.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Norm.”
He signed the card and passed it to her. “Maybe this will help him deal with his disappointment.”
She took the paper reverently and placed a hand on her chest. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.” She glanced at the clock, then sighed. “I suppose I have to take you to Mrs. Miller’s class now.”
“I should probably get started talking to the kids.”
“Right. That’s why you’re here. It’s been wonderful to meet you.”
“You, too, Rachel.”
She came out from behind the counter, then led him back into the hallway. As they walked, she chatted about the school and the town, all the while glancing at him with a combination of appreciation and flirtatiousness. It came with the territory and he’d learned a long time ago not to take the attention seriously.
Mrs. Miller’s class was at the end of the hall. Rachel held the door open for him.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
He entered the room alone.
There were about twenty young kids, all staring wide-eyed, while their teacher, an attractive woman in her forties, fluttered.
“Oh, Mr. Moreno, I can’t thank you enough for speaking with us today. It’s such a thrill.”
Raoul smiled. “I’m always happy to come talk to kids in school.” He glanced at the class. “Morning.”
A few of the students greeted him. A few more looked too excited to speak. At least the boys did. Most of the girls didn’t seem impressed at all.
“Fourth grade, right?” he asked.
A girl with glasses in the front row nodded. “We’re the accelerated group, reading above grade level.”
“Uh-oh,” he said, taking an exaggerated step back. “The smart kids. You going to ask me a math question?”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Do you like math?”
“Yeah, I do.” He looked up at the class. “Who here really likes school a lot?”
A few kids raised their hands.
“School can change your life,” he said, settling one hip on the teacher’s desk. “When you grow up, you’re going to get jobs and work for a living. Today most of your responsibilities are about doing well in school. Who knows why we need to learn things like reading and math?”
More hands went up.
His usual talk was on staying motivated, finding a mentor, making a better life, but that seemed like a little much for the average nine-year-old. So he was going to talk about how important it was to like school and do your best.
Mrs. Miller hovered. “Do you need anything?” she asked in a whisper. “Can I get you something?”
“I’m good.”
He turned his attention back to the students. The girl in the front row seemed more interested in the pretty scenery outside of the window. Oddly enough, she reminded him of Pia. Maybe it was the brown curly hair, or her obvious lack of interest in him as a person. Pia hadn’t gushed, either. She’d barely noticed him. Not a real surprise, given how her morning had started. But he’d noticed her. She’d been cute and funny, even without trying.
He returned his attention to the students, drew in a breath and frowned. He inhaled again, smelling something odd.
If this had been a high school, he would have assumed an experiment gone bad in the science lab or a batch of forgotten cookies in home ec. But elementary schools didn’t have those facilities.
He turned to Mrs. Miller. “Do you smell that?”
She nodded, her blue eyes concerned. “Maybe something happened in the cafeteria.”
“Is there a fire?” one of the boys asked.
“Everyone stay seated,” Mrs. Miller said firmly as she walked toward the door.
She placed a hand on it before slowly pulling it open. As she did, the smell of smoke got stronger. Seconds later, the fire alarms went off.
She turned to him. “It’s only the second day of school. We haven’t practiced what to do. I think there really is a fire.”
The kids were already standing up and looking scared. He knew they weren’t very far from panic.
“You know where we’re supposed to go?” he asked. “The way out?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He turned to the students. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked in a voice loud enough to be heard over the bells.
“Mrs. Miller,” someone yelled.
“Exactly. Everyone get in line and follow Mrs. Miller as we go into the hall. There are going to be a lot of kids out there. Stay calm. I’ll go last and make sure you all get out of the building.”
Mrs. Miller motioned for her students to move toward the door.
“Follow me,” she said. “We’ll go quickly. Everyone hold hands. Don’t let go. Everything is fine. Just stay together.”
Mrs. Miller went out the door. The children began to follow her. Raoul waited to make sure everyone left. One little boy seemed to hesitate before leaving.
“It’s okay,” Raoul told him, his voice deliberately calm. He reached for the boy’s hand, but the child flinched, as if expecting to be hit. The kid—all red hair and freckles—ducked out before Raoul could say anything.
Raoul went into the hall. The smell of smoke was more intense. Several kids were crying. A few stood in the middle of the hallway, their hands over their ears. The bells rang endlessly as teachers called for their students to follow them outside.
“Come on,” he said, scooping the nearest little girl into his arms. “Let’s go.”
“I’m scared,” she said.
“I’m big enough to keep you safe.”
Another little boy grabbed hold of his arm. Tears filled the kid’s eyes. “It’s too loud.”
“Then let’s go outside, where it’s quieter.”
He walked quickly, herding kids as he went. Teachers ran back and forth, counting heads, checking to make sure no one was left behind.
When Raoul and his group of kids reached the main doors leading outside, the children took off at a run. He put down the girl he’d been carrying and she raced toward her teacher. He could see smoke pouring into the sky, a white-gray cloud covering the brilliant blue.
Students flowed out around him. Names were called. Teachers sorted the groups by grades, then classes. Raoul turned and went back into the building.
Now he could do more than smell smoke. He could see it. The air was thick and getting darker, making it hard to breathe. He went room by room, pushing open doors, checking under the large teacher desks in front, scanning to make sure no one was left behind.
He found a tiny little girl in a corner of the third room he entered, her face wet with tears. She was coughing and sobbing. He picked her up, turned and almost ran into a firefighter.
“I’ll take her,” the woman said, looking at him from behind a mask and grabbing the girl. “Get the hell out of here. The building is nearly seventy years old. God knows what cocktail of chemicals is in the air.”
“There might be more kids.”
“I know, and the longer we stand here talking, the more danger they’re in. Now move.”
He followed the firefighter out of the building. It wasn’t until he was outside that he realized he was coughing and choking. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.
When he could breathe again, he straightened. The scene was controlled chaos. Three fire trucks stood in front of the school. Students huddled together on the lawn, well back from the building. Smoke poured out in all directions.
A few people screamed and pointed. Raoul turned and saw flames licking through the roof at the far end of the school.
He turned to head back in. A firefighter grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t even think about it,” the woman told him. “Leave this to the professionals.”
He nodded, then started coughing again.
She shook her head. “You went back inside, didn’t you? Civilians. Do you think we wear the masks because they’re pretty? Medic!” She yelled the last word and pointed at him.
“I’m fine,” Raoul managed, his chest tight.
“Let me guess. You’re a doctor, too. Cooperate with the nice lady or I’ll tell her you need an enema.”
CHAPTER TWO
THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE a community disaster to snap a person out of a pity party, Pia thought as she stood on the lawn at the far end of the Ronan Elementary playground and stared at what had once been a beautiful old school. Now flames licked at the roof and caused glass windows to explode. The smell of destruction was everywhere.
She’d heard the fire trucks from her office and had seen the smoke darkening the sky. It had only taken her a second to figure out where the fire was and that it was going to be bad. Now, as she stood on the edge of the playground, she felt her breath catch as one of the walls seemed to shudder before falling in on itself.
She’d always heard people talk about fire as if it were alive. A living creature with cunning and determination and an evil nature. Until now, she’d never believed it. But watching the way the fire systematically destroyed the school, she thought there might be seeds of truth in the theory.
“This is bad,” she whispered.
“Worse than bad.”
Pia saw Mayor Marsha Tilson had joined her. The sixty-something woman stood with a hand pressed against her throat, her eyes wide.
“I spoke with the fire chief. She assured me they’ve gone through every room in the building. No one is left inside. But the building…” Marsha’s voice caught. “I went to school here.”
Pia put her arm around the other woman. “I know. It’s horrible to see this.”
Marsha visibly controlled her emotions. “We’re going to have to find somewhere to put the children. They can’t lose school days over this. But the other schools are full. We could bring in those portable classrooms. There must be someone I can call.” She glanced around. “Where’s Charity? She might know.”
