Page 1 of Legacy of Lies
Chapter 1
Thethunkof cowboy boots increased in volume. Bad news heading down the hall.
Bad news but good memories. Holy moly.
Sara gripped the edge of the desk and pretended to pay attention to the parents sitting across from her. She managed to maintain eye contact, while inside, her heart rattled against her ribs.
Come on now.
She was a take-charge professional, able to handle any curveball thrown her way. And the long day of parent-teacher conferences was almost over.
Thank God. She’d had about as much as any person could take of polite chitchat, telling parents the good and the not-so-good things she observed in their children, and the silent parental accusations. Because how could someone like Sara Lopez sit there with a straight face and judgetheirkids? Maybe one day, her faulty parentage, stupid teenage acts, and relationship disasters wouldn’t cling to her neck like cold, heavy chains.
Until then? Continue to smile until her face hurt. Pretend she didn’t care that most folks in the tiny town of Copper River never left and never forgot anything. Bide her time until she could move on with her life.
One meeting to go, and it promised to be a doozy. The chill crawling up her spine had nothing to do with the Wyoming mountain weather. Early November. Going to be a long, frigid winter.
The stomp of leather on linoleum grew louder outside her door. The rhythm of the steps slowed. Air cooled the sweat on her forehead.
“Ms. Lopez?” Sitting across the desk, the vaguely familiar man in his late thirties shifted in his seat next to his wife and shot Sara a questioning stare behind his thick glasses. Sara knew most folks in town by sight at least.
They knew her by reputation.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Heat flooded her neck and face. Damn her past, but as the new teacher in town, she needed to prove herself and handle the pressure. These parents in front of her deserved her attention.
In this small town, any misstep on Sara’s part would travel through town and back before she got home tonight. Always did. Even though she’d grown up for the most part here, her family, or lack thereof, gave her permanent outsider status, and her adolescent hijinks provided the icing on the cake for most folks’ poor opinion of her, despite the years that had passed.
Hope passed over the face of the father in front of her. “We were asking if Lucas is reading at his grade level. We worked with him over last summer.” The man glanced at his tired wife. She was pregnant with their fourth—or was it fifth?—child.
Sara swallowed a lump in her throat and deliberately placed her hands on the desk, one on top of the other. Perfect. Now she was relaxed, focused, and most assuredlynotdistracted by what awaited her outside her classroom.
Resisting the urge to glance at the door, she responded, “Lucas is a pleasure to have in class. In comparing notes from Mrs. Johnston’s assessment from last year, I see your son has advanced his reading skills to very close to second-grade level. He’s confident enough to read out loud in class now. You’re doing a great job, so keep up the nightly reading—it’s helping.”
Both parents smiled as their shoulders relaxed. At least these parents were involved. Caring.
“Our son talks about how much fun he has in school now. We’re so happy. It’s great to have new teachers in the community, even if you’re—”
His wife jabbed him in the ribs.
And just like that, her past popped up and pulled an ugly face. With such a small town, even her absence while she attended college hadn’t erased the citizens’ collective memory.
Suppressing a sigh, she kept her facial expression neutral and gave the man time to recover from the slip.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for believing that our son can improve.”
“Of course. All kids have potential. It’s our job to work together and find out how he’ll learn best.”
The footsteps in the hallway stopped, and a scuff transmitted through the classroom door. Like the person walking had pivoted. A shadow flashed by the small window in the door.
Her voice came out too high-pitched. “Well, if you have any other concerns about Lucas, please let me know. We’ll meet again in the springtime. But for right now, keep up the good work with the reading, especially over the holidays coming up.”
The couple stood and shook her hand. As he exited the room, the man placed his hand on the small of his wife’s back.
Something unpleasant, like emptiness mixed with jealousy, pinched in Sara’s lower back. She tried to ignore the discomfort.
But she couldn’t ignore the new hand that caught the door right before it closed. Big, square fingers with trimmed, work-roughened nails blanched as they gripped the metal. A flannel sleeve encased a thick wrist dusted with reddish hair. Sinews flexed as he pushed open the door.
Hail Mary ... yum.
