Just Another Day in Paradise Page 9

  “It can be. And there will be times when I have to call in someone for things I’m not as versed in, for the older kids.”

  “Then you get time off, I hope?”

  She smiled. “Maybe. Or I’ll stay and hope I learn, too.”

  That didn’t surprise him, he thought. “How about your personal quarters? Everything all right?”

  She nodded. “Who could ask for more than the Redstone pay scale plus meals and lodging?”

  “Sounds cushy,” Rider agreed, then gestured at the room. “Until you think about being the only teacher for the whole range of students from kindergarten to high school.”

  She gave him a smile that seemed to be thanking him for understanding. It warmed him.

  “It’s working, though, even with the addition of the island’s resident children.”

  “It must be rough having them all in the same room,” he said as she showed him how she’d divided up the big space.

  “It gets hectic sometimes,” she admitted. “There’s nothing to stop the noise between the groups. But kids have a great capacity for tuning out what they don’t want to hear.”

  “Honed on their parents, no doubt,” Rider said dryly.

  She smiled, but the fact that it didn’t quite reach her eyes warned him things were still not going well at home.

  “Is Kyle still angry?”

  “Very. But he’s still sticking to the rules, so far. Of course, the silent treatment goes with it.”

  Rider gave her a sympathetic half smile. “Me, I fought. Loud, every time my dad tightened his hold. We raised the roof more than once. I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t call the cops.”

  She smiled back. “By the way, I should thank you for what you did.”

  He blinked. “For what?”

  “For sharing that story with me. I knew I had to do something about Kyle, before I lost all his respect, but I was afraid to. You showed me a different perspective, one that was just what I needed to help me decide.”

  “But he’s still mad.”

  “Yes. But he’s still obeying, however reluctantly. I haven’t lost him completely.”

  Rider nodded in understanding. “I don’t think that will ever happen.”

  “I hope you’re right. But,” she said with a shake of her head that sent the ponytail bouncing, “one of these days he’s going to realize I don’t really have any control over him. He’s already bigger and taller than I am.”

  Rider shook his head in turn. “That’s physical control. That means little. It’s the emotional sway you hold that counts, and you’ll never lose that. You’re his mother, and however angry he may be with you now, he’ll come around.”

  “I just have to live that long,” she said wryly.

  Rider hesitated, then decided he needed to know, although he wasn’t sure why.

  “You never told him, did you? About the divorce and why Phil was on that plane?”

  Her head snapped around to face him as she faltered midstride, then stopped where she was.

  “How did you know that?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only explanation for why he so obviously still loves and misses his dad, under the circumstances.”

  “Oh.” She seemed somehow relieved by his answer.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why? What earthly good would it have done?”

  “It might have made things easier on you.”

  “At the cost of destroying my son? What was I supposed to do, let a ten-year-old child help me carry my burden? He was already the only reason I went on, it would have been hideously unfair to ask that of him, too.”

  He wondered if she knew how incredible she was. He doubted it; she’d probably laugh at him if he told her so.

  “He tried so hard to win his father’s approval,” she said. “No matter how much Phil ignored Kyle, that boy never gave up trying. How could I tell him it never would have happened no matter how long his father had lived?”

  “Maybe,” Rider said slowly, “maybe someday he’ll need to know that it never would have happened. That he didn’t fall short, because no amount of time would have made a difference. He didn’t fail, because there had never been any chance of succeeding. Maybe he’ll need that to finally let go.”

  He could tell by her expression that she’d never thought of it that way before. He hoped she would think about it, because he knew the strain between her and her son was wearing on her.

  “Paige? Why did you marry him?”

  Her mouth curled into a wry half smile. “If you only know the hours I’ve spent trying to answer that. I guess because he talked a good game.”

  “Salesman.”

  She nodded. “My parents had a very happy marriage, up until the day my father died. I thought I’d have that with Phil. He promised me I would, and fool that I was I believed him.”

  “Maybe he meant it at the time,” Rider said grudgingly.

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced. But then, neither was he.

  She continued showing him around, and he could see from the colorful, imaginative and in some cases very well-executed drawings that adorned the walls, and from glancing at the essays that were posted, that she was a teacher who got through to her students. Just as he would have suspected. He listened quietly, liking the pride he heard in her voice. He knew from the files that when Josh hired her she hadn’t taught for several years, but she clearly had never lost her love for it.

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Need? No.”

  He smiled at the careful way she phrased it. “Okay, want, then.”

  She smiled back then. “Other than having all the computers online instead of one, no.”

  “That’s going to take more wiring than we could get done in time, but it’s still on the list.”

  “Fine. We can make do with one for now.”

  Paige went on to discuss other school-related matters, and he lapsed into silence. By the time she’d finished, his mind was bursting with everything he wanted to say, to explain to her. Finally, guessing he had a limited amount of time before class started, he stopped at the foot of the barefoot trails.

  “Can we go back up the orange path?”

  She studied him for a moment, nodded, and led the way back to the sofa. He sat down beside her, trying to sort out where to begin. And then she surprised him by speaking first.

  “Look, Noah, I’m sure you and everybody else at Redstone meant well. I only reacted as I did the other day out of remembered pain. I’m sorry, too. And I don’t blame you for not telling me.”

  With those simple, honest and direct words she disarmed him completely. And as if her honesty were catching, he found himself blurting out the rest of the truth about that week choreographed in hell. He’d thought he would just never tell her, that there was no point, but now…he still wasn’t sure there was a point, but he knew it had to come out.

  “It wasn’t just that I hoped you wouldn’t ever have to know,” he admitted. “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you what a jerk he was when his body wasn’t even home yet. Not when I was…”

  “Was what?”

  He let out a compressed breath, wishing yet again he’d kept his mouth shut, and wondering what it was about this woman that loosened his usually reticent tongue. But it was too late now to take it back.

  “Not when I was so attracted to you myself,” he admitted, his voice tight. Her eyes widened, and she drew back slightly, but he kept on. Now that he’d started, he was going to finish. “It just didn’t seem fair. Like fighting somebody who couldn’t fight back. He was dead, he couldn’t compete, couldn’t defend himself.”

  Paige was staring at him. He wondered what she was thinking, what was going on in that agile mind. Then he wondered if maybe he was better off not knowing.

  Would he have been better off if he hadn’t admitted any of this? But that didn’t seem any fairer than bad-mouthing her newly deceased husband.

>   Paige cut directly to the heart of the matter.

  “Then why didn’t you come back?” she asked.

  He sighed heavily. “Because I felt so damned guilty after that night. When you told me to leave, I figured you would never want to lay eyes on me again.”

  She lapsed into silence again. She was still watching him. He wanted to look away, to dodge the intensity of her steady gaze. But the fact that she appeared almost stunned kept him right where he was, waiting. Hoping.

  Then a loud buzzer sounded, and he knew his chance was gone. For now.

  Paige heard the sound of the electronically controlled buzzer announcing the start of school, but for a long moment she didn’t—couldn’t—move. What Noah had said put an entirely different spin on what he’d done five years ago. And put an entirely different spin on her own actions as well. Had she somehow picked up on some signal, had she really not misinterpreted his intentions at all?

  Had he—she barely dared wonder—felt the same heat and power and churning response that she had?

  She heard the clatter and chatter of the children coming in, and that did rouse her out of her stunned state. She got to her feet.

  “Mind if I watch?” he asked.

  She did mind, because his presence unsettled her. But she could hardly say so, especially now, in front of the kids who were already scrambling into their seats.

  “Fine. Have a seat, anywhere you want.”

  He resumed his place on the sofa, and after a moment of watching the kids come in, spot him and get suddenly quiet, he leaned back and propped his feet up on the table, as if sending a silent signal they should relax. She appreciated his understanding and was pleasantly surprised that he’d picked up on the mood so quickly and done something about it.

  The kids still settled down rather more quickly than usual, and she knew it was Noah’s presence. The ones whose parents worked for Redstone knew who he was, of course, and she wouldn’t be surprised if some of the others did, too. Lani in particular, she thought as she saw the girl sliding Rider sideways glances. She wondered what Kyle had told her.

  She introduced him briefly, telling them that he had ten days to do the equivalent of what they had to do in an entire semester. Noah laughed at that and told the kids it wasn’t nearly as much fun, though, since he didn’t have a smart and pretty teacher to help him go the right way.

  Paige tried not to blush. But what he’d said to her was glowing in her mind, seared into her memory. She desperately wanted some time alone to absorb his revelation and decide how she felt about it, but she knew she wasn’t going to get that now. Especially not if Noah stayed. As, it seemed, he was content to do.

  She went through each grade’s assignments for the afternoon, and he seemed perfectly content to loll on the sofa, feet up, watching and listening as if he had absolutely nothing better to do. She knew that wasn’t true, not two days before the first high-rolling guests were due to arrive.

  When the general announcements were done, she ushered the youngest group, consisting of eleven children ages five to seven, up-front. It was their turn on the computers. The next group was ages eight to twelve, and she set them to work drawing pictures to illustrate the story she’d read to them yesterday. The next group skipped to fourteen and up. That group was Kyle’s and Lani’s, and she got them set up to work on the debate they were putting together. She’d given them the circumstances of a situation and asked each of them to write it based on how they personally would deal with it. Later they would argue all the points of view they’d come up with. That the circumstances were those of a famous event, she would tell them later, when they compared their results to the actual history.

  Rider seemed fascinated by it all, and Paige began to wonder if he was going to spend all afternoon with them. When she had everyone started on their work, she debated whether to join him, but decided she couldn’t disrupt her teaching routine because he’d dropped in, and started her usual rounds. She managed to give each group individual attention and made sure to talk to each child alone for at least a few minutes each day; if there were any problems, she wanted to know about them now, not get blindsided later.

  When she moved over to the computer center, Noah got up and joined her. “Something I at least know something about,” he explained.

  “Do you work in that big building we saw?” one of the boys asked.

  Noah looked at Paige questioningly. “I showed them Redstone headquarters online,” she said.

  “Oh. Yes, sometimes. I have an office there.”

  “Are you way up high?” Hannah, the girl nearest him, asked.

  “Sort of. I’m on the twelfth floor.”

  Her eyes widened, and Paige wondered if he realized that if the girl had spent her entire life here, she well might have never seen a building that tall.

  “That’s three times as tall as the tallest building here at the resort,” he said, and her eyes got even bigger.

  And then the questions started coming fast and furious, from all of the kids, but mostly from Hannah. He slid up to sit on one of the tables and for a moment glanced at Paige. She smiled at his expression. He looked as if he knew this was what kept teachers going. Just watching those young minds soak things in, and seeing them coming up with the most unexpected and fascinating questions, was somehow invigorating.

  Even if you do look like you’ve been put in the hot seat, she told him silently.

  He glanced at Paige again, and she knew he saw the grin she was trying to keep under wraps. He grinned back, and she thought she saw traces of relief in his eyes, and she wondered if he hadn’t been sure until this moment that he was really forgiven.

  What happened now—where they would go from here—she had no idea. She had every reason to be wary of a man who traveled as her husband had. She had every reason to—

  The crash at the back of the room spun every head around. A man in camouflage leaped into the room. The same man she’d seen in the trees.

  Rider slid from the table back to his feet. For a split second he glanced at Paige, almost as if he thought she might know this man.

  The smaller door behind her desk burst open, slamming hard against the wall. The clock above it bounced, then crashed to the floor. Another man. In camouflage.

  A child somewhere in the back began to scream. Another began to cry.

  With reason, Paige thought, as she stared at the two men who had invaded this peaceful place. Both of them were carrying automatic weapons.

  Chapter 8

  More children were screaming and crying now. Paige moved toward the smallest ones. Rider tensed. One of the men yelled and waved his weapon at her. It looked like the photographs he’d seen of Russian AK-47s, and Rider’s mind went immediately to their relative proximity to Cuba. Whatever the weapon was, the sight of it stopped Paige in her tracks.

  One of the youngest children, tears streaming down his face, broke and ran toward Paige. The man at the small door swung his weapon around and aimed it at the child.

  “Stevie, no!” Paige screamed, and before Rider could stop her she was moving toward the little boy.

  For a frozen instant of time, Rider saw it all happening. Saw in his mind a bloody, ugly vision of spraying gunfire and falling children. And Paige. Paige who never thought about what she was risking, only that there was a terrified child who needed her. He knew how one wrong move in a situation like this could bring on disaster and tragedy. But that move had already been made. The only thing he could do was try to keep the aftermath from turning into that bloody vision.

  He snapped back to real time. He spun on his heel. He took two steps toward the man aiming at the child.

  “Hold your fire!” the older man who had come in the big door shouted.

  The younger man stopped. Rider stopped. Paige swept down on the child like a guardian angel. She picked him up and put her body between him and the itchy gunman. The initial threat of a massacre seemed to subside.

  The older man—although he sti
ll didn’t look much over thirty, Rider thought—moved toward the children at the back of the room. He started with the group of the littlest, from which the boy who had come within seconds of dying had broken loose.

  “Move! All of you. Up front.”

  He gestured with one hand rather than the weapon. Rider wondered if that was to lessen the fear that could immobilize the kids, or if he just didn’t want the thing to go off by accident.

  Rider heard a smothered sob and glanced over to see Hannah, the little girl who had been so wide-eyed and enthused, now fighting tears. He edged back toward her. The itchy one’s head snapped around, along with his weapon, and Rider held up his hands. But he kept moving until he was next to the girl. The younger man apparently decided his superior’s order still held and lowered the deadly rifle.

  Rider reached for Hannah, and she buried her face against him. He put his arm around her, squeezing gently, trying to give her what reassurance he could.

  The older man moved toward the next cubicle and did the same as before, herding the kids toward them. Even the oldest ones were clearly terrified. Rider saw a very pale Kyle swipe quickly at his eyes. The lovely girl he’d noticed earlier, however, while obviously frightened, was dry-eyed, watching the armed men with a steady expression.

  When all the children were gathered in the front of the schoolroom, the first man jerked his head toward the younger man, who quickly ran back to the door he’d come in. He leaned outside, picked up a duffel bag and set it inside the door, then took up a guarding stance. The older man then took a small, rather battered-looking walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it.

  “The school is secured.”

  The radio crackled back something, but from where he was Rider couldn’t hear it. Not that he needed to: the presence alone of the radio told him enough for the moment. These men were organized, there were more of them and they were equipped well enough to have radio communication.

  They obviously had some kind of objective, Rider thought. Although right at the moment it seemed to be simply terrifying everyone. Successfully, he noted. Everybody in this room—including himself—was afraid.