A Bride for Cameron by Barbara Goss (i like reading .txt) 📕

note letting Hannah know where I am if she comes to look for me. I'll probably return with Liam before she comes back.

It takes me ten minutes to drive to the school. I smile at the woman behind the desk as I enter the office.

“I’m here to pick up Liam Travis,” I say. “He’s not feeling well.

“Do you have your ID?” the woman asks in a voice devoid of all emotion. She doesn’t look particularly friendly, despite my giving her my best smile.

I fish my ID from my wallet and hand it to her. She doesn’t say anything, just pecks away at her computer before handing the ID back. She gestures at a clipboard.

“Fill that out and sign it,” she says.

She still has barely looked at me. Some childish part of me wants to make a face or stick my tongue out, but I do as she says and fill out the slip of paper on the clipboard. When I finish, she takes it from me and makes a phone call. I don’t think I like this woman. The ability to crack a smile should be a requirement for a person to work at an elementary school. She clearly missed that lesson during orientation. She’d never make it at the Jester. She ends her call. In the same monotone voice she’s used since I walked in the door, she says, “He’ll be out in a minute.”

Feeling dismissed, but not knowing what to do, I tuck my hands into my pockets and make a slow walk around the small waiting area. The chairs are all far too small for an adult to sit comfortably. Do they never have adults who need to wait? Strange. I glance around to see if Liam has magically appeared. He hasn’t. I study the artwork hanging on the walls. They were all clearly done by children, but by children whose artistic abilities far surpass my own. Claire got all the talent in that area. I smile at the memory of my parents hanging even my most atrocious drawings on the fridge, smiling down at me each time.

They’ve been gone long enough that surprise memories like that rarely come accompanied by pain. Instead, there’s just a sense of nostalgia for something I once had—something I can never have again. I hear the door open behind me and turn, shaking off the memories of the past. Liam stands there, his gaze questioning.

“Hey, Liam,” I say, smiling. “Your mom is stuck at work, so I’m here to pick you up. You still feeling bad?”

Liam gives me a shy smile. “Hey, Mr. Finn” he says. “Are we going to the Jester?”

I give a little wave to the troll behind the desk who casts a dismissive glance at the two of us as we exit the front office.

“Yep,” I say. “Your mom has a bridal party to impress.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

I do my best to explain the gaggle of women to him as we walk out to my truck, but I can tell by his expression that he finds it to be a foreign concept. I’m inclined to agree with him, but since large weddings have been a major financial boon for my business, I can’t complain. As I drive back toward the Jester, I notice Liam’s demeanor grows more upbeat with every mile.

“How are you feeling?” I ask. “How’s your stomach?”

“S’okay,” he says, watching the trees pass by his window.

“Not hurting anymore?”

“Not too bad,” he says.

My eyes narrow. Is the kid faking it? It's possible. Liam is clever. But I’d thought for sure he was too innocent for such deception.

"So, Liam," I say. "What classes are you missing this afternoon? Nothing major, I hope?"

I glance at him in the rear-view mirror. He looks slightly uncomfortable. After a moment, he mutters, "Just P.E."

It's clear he doesn't have any love for that class. "You don't like P.E.?" I ask.

Liam shakes his head. "I'm not good at it," he says, miserably.

"Good at P.E.?" I say. "You don't have to be good. You just have to keep trying."

Liam sighs as if I'm being dense.

"What have you guys been doing in there lately?" I ask, trying to get to the bottom of this. If it's something major enough for him to fake being sick and skip class, it shouldn't be ignored.

Liam's answer, when it comes is mumbled. "Baseball.”

After another brief pause, he elaborates. “I can't ever hit the ball. And Tommy Stratford gets everyone to laugh at me."

My hands tighten on the wheel. I hate bullies. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Liam that Tommy Stratford's dad sucked at baseball all the way through high school, so Tommy should keep his big mouth shut. But I don't. I’m supposed to be the mature adult in this situation.

"That's an easy fix," I say instead. Liam looks skeptical, but I keep talking. "I'm pretty good at baseball. I taught all my brothers and even my sister. If I can teach them, I know I can teach you." Liam still looks dubious, but I also see a hint of excitement in his eyes.

"That is, if you're not feeling too sick?" Liam hesitates but only for a moment.

"I think I'm starting to feel better."

I smile. "I thought so."

Instead of heading straight for the big house, I turn onto a small side road that leads to a storage shed on the Jester's property. It doesn't take long for Liam and me to find the box labeled "Baseball Stuff". We dig out some old gloves and I let him try them on until he finds one that fits well enough.

"You can keep that one," I tell him. Liam gives me a shy smile. I grab a few bats that I think might work for him as well as a few baseballs. We throw everything into the back of the truck and climb back in.

As I drive toward the big field near the main house, Liam begins chattering about school and baseball and how much he wants to hit