He grinned and leaned against the doorframe. “Good, you’re still here.”
“Look, I’ve finally organized the music for the spring concert. Voilà!” She spread her hands. “Percussion, woodwinds, and brass. Everything is ready to hand out tomorrow.”
“Great, how about we go out dancing tonight to celebrate?”
“Celebrate? What? That I’m organized?” She flipped back her auburn curls. “What do you have up your sleeve, mister? You never take me out dancing unless you’re trying to butter me up for something.”
He looked around to make sure no students were within earshot and closed the door behind him. “Remember how I asked you about Helen Stephens at the basketball game last weekend?”
She nodded.
“You wouldn’t believe what just happened. I had some of the girls from the basketball team do a fifty-yard dash on the track and Helen tied the world record.”
She leaned back in her chair, looking pleased. “No kidding.”
“It was amazing. I suspected she was fast, but she ran that time untrained, without proper form, without knowing what she was doing. She wasn’t even wearing track shoes!” Describing it, he became breathless all over again. “If she starts training with the boys, I can try to get her ready for some bigger events. Who knows where all of this could lead?”
Mary Lou’s enthusiasm faded. “Before you get too far ahead of yourself, you’d better figure out where it will lead. Have you gotten a good look at the girl? She’s an outcast already. I covered Principal Newbolt’s math class a year or two ago, and the kids were merciless with their teasing. Do you want to make it all worse for her?”
“Worse? I figured being on a team might help.”
“Maybe, but you better talk with her parents. Make sure they’re willing to let her run with the boys.” Mary Lou chewed her lip. “Think the district will go for this? Girls don’t run track around here.”
Burton ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t thought of any of this.
“And didn’t you say she wasn’t even wearing track shoes? How will she get the money to pay for a pair? Why, she’s poor as a church mouse.” She reached out and took his hand. “Look, I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but think this all through before you get the girl’s hopes up.”
“I’ll go see her folks tomorrow evening. But what do you say? Still want to go dancing tonight?”
“Hmm, this girl must really be something to have put you in such a good mood.” She swept her hands over her hair to smooth it. “Sure, count me in. Now scoot so I can get everyone out of here and go home to doll myself up.”
“You’re perfect already.”
She pouted. “I know how the other girls will be looking at you tonight. They want to eat you up with a spoon.”
“No, ma’am, I only have eyes for you. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock,” he said on his way out the door. He pictured Mary Lou and her green eyes looking up at him as he held her in his arms and the way she’d throw back her head to laugh, revealing the pale skin of her neck. Maybe she’d wear that jade-colored dress, the one she knew he liked, the one that twirled and showed off her gorgeous long legs.
Whistling, he ambled through the school lobby and passed the trophy case full of athletic awards, pausing for a moment to look at the rows of medals and trophies his boys had won in past seasons. Forget state champs, Helen could go further than that. She was special. It wasn’t just her speed. She had spirit and was smart, but she needed help, and it didn’t look like she had anyone in her corner. Right then and there, he decided he’d do whatever it took to take her as far as he possibly could. If he needed to pay for Helen’s track shoes himself, by golly, he would. He hated the idea of dipping into the secret stash of money he had been squirreling away for an engagement ring for Mary Lou, but how many times do you discover a world-class athlete smack dab under your nose?
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Burton drove across town to the Stephens farm, Mary Lou on the seat next to him. He watched her idly wrap a curl around her index finger as she gazed out the window and hummed. It hadn’t been hard to convince her to join him to meet the Stephenses. He had waited until after the dance hall closed and he was walking her home to bring up the subject of Helen again.
“Why do you need me?” she asked, shivering and pulling her camel-colored wool coat close. “I don’t know anything about running.”
By this point, they had reached her boardinghouse. The front porch light glowed. Inside the window of the front parlor, he could see Mrs. Eldridge, the sharp-eyed widow who owned the place, sitting in a chair, her eyes focused on the embroidery hoop clutched in front of her.
“I think you’re right. The Stephenses are going to be dubious about this whole idea of their daughter running with the boys. But if you’re with me, they’ll be dazzled by your beauty and won’t be able to say no.” He reached for one of her hands and pulled her close. Overhead, stars glittered like hard specks of frost in the clear, cold night air.
She rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to fold into his chest. The heat of her body against his made him want to keep her there forever. He breathed in how good she smelled, something flowery and sweet.
“I’m serious. You’ll add a healthy dose of respectability to this whole venture.”
“So I’m respectable, am I?” Her eyes gleamed in that beguiling way that made him forget everything except for how much he loved wrapping his arms around her.
“You’re always a model of respectability when parents and students are around.” He nuzzled her jawbone. “Of course, I like it that you’re not always so respectable when it’s just the two of us.”
“Oh, you!” She punched his arm playfully.
“Shh,” he whispered, hoping the old widow wouldn’t look out her window and see the two of them. He wanted every last minute alone with Mary Lou. “So, will you come with me?”
“I suppose if you can find something that girl is good at, maybe it will help her.”
Instead of saying thank you, he pulled her to him and kissed her. She relaxed in his arms and made a small sound of contentment.
On the road to the Stephens farm, his motorcar groaned over the potholes and ruts. When the house came into view, he scanned the place. Empty fields surrounded it in every direction. He parked next to the picket fence and straightened his tie. Then he took a deep breath, opened the door, and emerged, careful to avoid muddy puddles. As he went around the back fender to open the door for Mary Lou, the quiet of the place struck him. They were in the final gasp of winter and the days were lengthening, but it was still too early for planting. All farms were lonely places at this time of year, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this one felt particularly desolate.
The fence’s gate squeaked in protest as he held it open for Mary Lou and they stepped inside the yard. Ahead of them on the porch, a shaggy, gray-muzzled shepherd mix raised its head to watch them approach before dropping its chin to rest on its front paws.
Burton rapped on the door and squinted through the window beside it to detect any movement inside the house. Mary Lou reached for her hat to make sure it was angled just right.