Page 18 of Dangerous December
“Have you looked for other teaching opportunities?”
He leaned forward to hand her the folder. “Take a look.”
She thumbed through the stack of papers, all copies of job applications he’d filled out. “You’ve beenbusy.”
“I’ve applied for every teaching position I qualify for, bar none, in a four-county area. For two years, I’ve come up completely dry. But that’s not a surprise. I was fifty-eight when I lost my job and a teacher with my years of experience is far more expensive to hire than one just out of school, you know. So—” he gave a little shrug “—here I am.”
“What about other types of careers?”
“With only small tourist towns around here, there’s mostly just seasonal work in the summer, and even that has taken a hit lately, with the economy and all. I do have a part-time job at the library, but that’s just a bit over minimum wage.” A rosy flush colored his gaunt cheeks, revealing just how much the admission cost his pride. “I want to work, but I’m a useless old man before my time, I guess.”
Beth considered her words carefully. “Have you considered places farther away? Larger cities?”
“As a last resort. I’ve been here almost since I was a boy, so to leave lifelong friends, family, and a place I love, well...” He splayed his fingers on his thighs. “But if I have to, yes.”
Dev had been silent during the other interviews, but now he cleared his throat and surprised Beth by leaning forward, his elbows propped on the arms of his chair and his fingers laced.
“Have you thought about a different career entirely? With your teaching experience, you might be well-suited for business. Sales, marketing...”
“I’m going to take some accounting classes starting spring term at the community college.” Frank smiled. “I never thought I had much of a head for business and numbers, but I’m going to give it a try. Maybe someone, somewhere, will give a hardworking man another chance. If I could work until I turned eighty, I’d be the happiest man alive.”
At the end of the afternoon, Beth walked out of Sloane House to the street, feeling the weight of lost dreams and flagging hopes weighing down her shoulders like a heavy, sodden cloak.
She stopped at the sidewalk. “I guess I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “It’s all just so sad.”
Dev jingled the keys in his jacket pocket. “There are people in worse shape, though. No place to live, worse health.”
“True. I just...” She searched for the right word. “I just want tofixeverything right now, because everyone looked so worried. All of them have been honestly trying to turn their lives around. So how can we assume that we can make a difference?”
“We can’t be miracle workers. This place is an opportunity for them, and the responsibility is theirs, too.” He lifted a shoulder. “Six months is a long time.”
“And what’s the deal with Elana? Everyone was so guarded when we asked about her. It was like...like they wereprotectingher.”
Dev frowned. “If she’s in trouble, we need to know. It could put this program and everyone in it at risk if we’re harboring someone running from the law.”
But thatsomeonehad a young child with her, and the thought of a homeless child tugged at Beth’s heart. “Your mother vetted these people. I don’t think she would have taken in a fugitive.”
“We can hope.” Dev lifted a hand in farewell as he continued walking toward his Jeep. “See you around.”
She would never pursue a romantic relationship with him again. Or anyone else, for the foreseeable future, because she had so little to offer. Yet Dev’s casual dismissal still felt like a direct hit to her heart. “Where are you staying—in case I need to contact you?”
“The Starlight Motel.”
“Why not the guest cottage behind your parents’ house?”
He sighed and turned back to look at her. “Because I expected to be on my way in a few days. This place doesn’t hold a lot of good memories for me, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“But—”
“But now...I guess I’ll have to consider it.”
She took a step back and craned her neck for a glimpse of the matching redbrick cottage behind his family home.
She’d once thought it charming as a dollhouse, with its crisp white shutters and gingerbread trim, but now one of the shutters hung askew and the little house had an air of sad neglect.
“If it’s going to take a lot of work in there, I—”
“If it needs work, I’ll take care of it. You’re busy enough as it is.” Sparing her a brief smile, he pivoted and headed toward the Jeep, his long stride and military bearing masking the shoulderinjury that surely had to be bothering him after so many hours of inactivity this afternoon.
