Smoky Mountain Reunion

Back to the old routine, Mason thought, blanking out the memory of Nola’s mysterious gaze in the moonlight. Thank God.

Chapter Four

Mason’s weather prediction proved drearily accurate. A sharp rain fell all day Saturday, and the outside temperature barely reached fifty degrees. With a well-stocked kitchen and a cord of wood for the fireplace right outside the back door, Nola felt no desire to stir from her cozy cottage. She got down to work, instead, using the lesson plans and notes from the teacher she’d replaced to prepare herself for her Monday-morning classes. Mathematics always filled her mind to the exclusion of everything else, so she didn’t think about Mason more than once…an hour.

The rain continued through the night and into Sunday morning. When she looked up from her papers around three in the afternoon, however, she saw sunshine glittering in the drops of water on the new leaves outside her window. Sticking her head out the door, she found the air brisk but not unbearable, especially since she’d just lived through one of the coldest winters on record for Boston.

So she pulled on the boots she had, in fact, brought with her, buttoned her raincoat over her sweater and set off for a walk in the wake of the storm.

She paused at the garden gate, remembering Friday night. For a moment, she’d thought Mason was going to kiss her. And for that moment, she’d certainly wanted him to. He’d kissed her on the cheek earlier that afternoon, and she’d loved the smoothness of his lips against her skin. How would it feel to have his mouth on hers?

But then he’d turned away to call Garrett and she’d taken the chance to escape before she did something stupid, like throwing herself into his arms. The man was dangerous. He should be avoided at all costs.

As Mason and his son had walked away, though, she’d watched through her cottage window. Wherever they lived, they’d continued in a westerly direction, past her cottage and on toward the woods.

For her Sunday walk, Nola headed due east.

Girls were emerging from the dormitory, most of them in groups, chattering with the energy of those who’d been confined inside too long. Several girls wore breeches and carried helmets, clearly planning a ride at the stables. As Nola passed the athletic fields, on the north side of the Manor, volleyballs were being batted around and tennis balls smacked against a backboard at one end of the courts. Runners jogged past her, giving a nod or a slight wave when she smiled. Hawkridge had always encouraged exercise as a way of releasing tension and lifting a bad mood. Nola supposed that was why she was out walking, herself.

She reached the head of Hawk’s Ridge Trail about half an hour after she left her cottage. By taking this path, she left the civilized portion of the school behind and stepped into wilderness—an old-growth forest full of trees whose lives spanned centuries. High above her head, spring leaves had just emerged. Nola wondered if anyone had been this way since last summer, since the fallen leaves from autumn still lay flat and wet on the trail.

She set as her goal the farthest point on Hawkridge property from the Manor, a walled overlook on the edge of the mountain. The path ran downhill to that point and then circled back. She could return the way she’d come or continue by the longer route, but either way would be a steady uphill climb. She’d see how she felt when she got there before deciding which way to go.

Nola slowed her steps and finally halted to gaze across the clearing at the wall on the side of the mountain—the wall where she embraced Mason in her dream.

But she’d never been in this place with Mason. That embrace had never happened, no matter how many nights she had lain in her lonely dormitory bed wishing it would. As for the dream, Nola considered it a reminder that she really needed to put the infatuation with Mason behind her, so she could move into the future with Ted.

Crossing to the wall, she looked over the valley below, seeing spring greens of every description in the treetops, a church spire here and there, the flash of water in the French Broad River. Bright sunlight streamed from a cloudless sky and a fresh breeze carried the scents of pine and earth.

And cigarette smoke.

Nola turned just as a girl came down the path, cigarette dangling from one hand. She had to be from Hawkridge, but smoking by students was strictly forbidden. Teachers were expected to enforce the rule and encouraged to abstain, themselves.

Nola swallowed hard, lifting a hand in greeting as the girl stepped into the clearing. “Good afternoon.”

After a long drag on the cigarette, the girl sauntered to the wall and sat down. “Hey.”

Her thick, curly hair was pulled into a bouncy tail on the crown of her head. All of her clothes were too big—baggy black sweatpants, a baggy black T-shirt and some kind of military-style jacket in desert-camouflage colors—and her shoes seemed to be black military boots.

But her face was feminine and lovely, with dark almond-shaped eyes, golden skin and a full, red mouth.

Taking a seat for herself on the other end of the wall, Nola cleared her throat. “I’m Ms. Shannon. I’ll be teaching math.”

The girl nodded. “Yeah. I have you second period.”

“What’s your name?”

“Zara.” Another drag, and a smoke ring. “Kauffman.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Zara.” When the girl didn’t answer, Nola said, “You know smoking isn’t allowed anywhere on the school grounds.”

Zara heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Technically, I’m not on the grounds. This overlook sticks out about fifteen feet from the side of the mountain.” She sent Nola a mocking smile. “Cantilevered, as in.” She tossed the last of the cigarette into the valley below.

Jaw set, Nola got to her feet. “And a piece of paper wrapped around tobacco doesn’t qualify as litter when you throw it on the ground?”

Now the girl rolled her eyes. “Jeez. Chill, why don’t you? It’s just a butt.”

“It’s trash. If you have to indulge in such a filthy habit, at least have the decency to dispose of your litter properly.” She started back the way she’d come, wanting to put distance between herself and Zara as quickly as possible.

“Hey,” the girl called after her. “Are you going to chit me?”

Nola stopped and considered. She hadn’t thought about the practice of writing up a chit to report a student’s misbehavior in quite some time, even though she’d certainly received her share. Pivoting, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

Zara came toward her. Nola realized the girl was almost as tall as she was, and probably heavier.

She stopped within arm’s distance. “That’s not very nice.”

“Smoking isn’t very nice.” Nola fought the urge to back away. “The headmistress will want to talk to you about it, I’m sure.”

The almond-shaped eyes narrowed to slits. “You make trouble for me, I could make trouble for you.”

Nola laughed. “You could try. I wouldn’t advise it, however.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s laughing tomorrow in class.”

The girl barreled past, deliberately ramming her shoulder into Nola’s chest and knocking her to the side. Nola grabbed a tree trunk to keep from losing her balance. When she looked beyond the tree, she saw that the ground fell sharply away at that point. If Zara’s shove had been just a little harder, she could have taken a nasty, even fatal, fall.

“Welcome to Hawkridge,” she muttered, starting the long trek back to campus. “Enter at your own risk!”

THE MATH-AND-SCIENCE hallway was still quiet when Nola arrived at seven-thirty Monday morning. She stepped through the open doorway of the classroom Jayne Thomas had assigned her when they’d talked on the phone the day before, and flipped three switches to turn on the lights. Two columns of tables faced the front of the room, with two chairs at each table.

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