Page 63 of When Cardinals Appear

I cocked my head, not convinced he was telling me the truth. “So, did you want to have dinner tonight?”

“Oh, um…” He cleared his throat. “I would, but I can’t.”

“Hot date?” I teased, though the idea made me queasy.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I signed up to volunteer at the shelter.”

I blinked. Why hadn’t he told me that before? “That’s great! I’m so happy for you. How long have you been going?”

“Not long. Tonight’s my third shift.” He smiled at me for the first time all day. “Thank you for encouraging me. I’m really enjoying it.”

Third shift? I took a deep breath. While I’d been busy with rehearsals, that was big news. And as he’d said, I’d encouraged him. So why am I only now learning about it?

“Well, we should celebrate!” I forced a smile. “I don’t mind a late dinner if you want to meet up afterward.”

His face fell, and he stared at his hands. “That sounds nice, but I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

“Ah, okay, then.” I turned to go, my heart sinking. What wasn’t he telling me?

“Wait, Lanie.” He grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry tonight’s not good, but if you’re free for lunch after the play, we could go to Bea’s.”

Maybe I was being paranoid. He’d just started to volunteer, after all. Perhaps he’d planned to tell me about it after the play, when I had more time.

“That sounds good.”

He pulled me in for a hug, and I relished the warmth of his arms around me. But too soon, he let go, and I walked out into the cool evening air, alone.

I had no reason to doubt Nate’s word. And I was proud of him for rekindling his dream. Just like teaching was my passion, animals were his, and I hated that he’d lost sight of that when he took over his father’s business. But something about his behavior had left me off-balance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

The day of the performance, Nate and I stood together in the greenroom, watching the kids changing into their costumes and getting their makeup done. I slipped my hand in his and squeezed. His help with the props and set had meant more to me than I could express.

“This feels like old times,” I said.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Nate replied with a warm smile.

When our eyes met, electricity hummed around us. Although we were surrounded by giggling children, it was as if we were the only two people in the room. My heartbeat quickened as his dark-brown eyes melted with heat. I reminded myself that we’d agreed to take things slow, but the urge to kiss him grew whenever he looked at me like that.

“Miss McAllister.” Robert, one of my students, tugged on my shirt’s hem. “I think it’s our turn.”

I glanced up to see the eighth-grade class coming off the stage, which was our cue. “Why, Robert, you’re right! Let’s go gather up the rest of our group.”

I gave Nate’s hand another squeeze before I formed a quick circle with my students. Nate shot me one of his heart-stopping smiles before heading off to help with the set change.

“All right, everyone, remember what we’ve practiced. Who is your president?”

Robert raised his hand. “Franklin D. Roosevelt.”

“Very good, Robert! And what are we going to ask him?”

“About the New Deal and his wheelchair,” Beth volunteered.

“Both good questions, but remember to raise your hand so Mr. Roosevelt can call on you.” I put my hand in the middle of our circle, and the students piled their hands on top of mine. “One, two, three, break a leg!”

Robert stared at me in horror. “I don’t want to break my legs.”

Stifling a laugh, I knelt beside him. “I’m sorry, Robert. It’s an expression often used in theatre to wish the actors luck. No actual legs will be broken.”

He gave me a quick side-eye before turning and rushing to the stage with the rest of the students. I stood up, shaking my head and laughing. Nate returned and slid his arm around my shoulders.

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