“That’s probably just a pipe dream, anyway,” Misty said, though there was an unmistakable hint of regret in her voice. “I’ll ace the other classes, and it’ll be okay if I only get into a state school or even community college.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Laura said, more worried than ever by the regretful, defeated tone in the girl’s voice. Years ago, she’d probably sounded much the same way to Vicki Kincaid. She’d been lost and overwhelmed by a situation that had gotten out of control. Only Mrs. Kincaid’s kindness and guidance had gotten her through that terrible time. She prayed she could provide the same for Misty.
“I’m just facing reality,” Misty told her earnestly. “Please, Ms. Reed, let me transfer back. It’s not such a big deal, really.”
Laura was not about to authorize a transfer without a better reason than Misty was providing. Once more, she shook her head. “Sorry, no. You might see it as a quick and easy solution to whatever’s going on, but there are more important things at stake. This could change your entire future.”
Misty looked totally deflated. “If you won’t okay that, will you at least do one other thing for me?”
“What’s that?”
“I went to see someone yesterday to try to get an excuse to get out of school. He said he wouldn’t tell my mom, but only if I talked to another adult. That’s you. All you’d need to do is call him and tell him I made good on my promise.” She regarded Laura hopefully. “Can you do that?”
Laura suddenly had some inkling who had extracted such a promise from her. It had been rather cleverly done, though she doubted that she was one bit more enlightened about what was really going on with Misty than J. C. Fullerton had apparently been.
“Give me the name and phone number,” she said just to be sure she had it right.
Misty handed her a business card for the pediatrician. Laura had seen J.C. around town, of course, but they’d never met, despite several well-meaning friends who’d offered to fix them up a couple of years ago. Apparently he hadn’t been interested.
“I’ll talk to him,” Laura said, resolving to stop by his office, rather than phoning. She might learn more if they were face-to-face. In the meantime, she held Misty’s gaze and said, “But you and I are going to keep talking about this, and I expect you in class next week. Understood? No more second chances.”
Misty ignored her edict and said only, “Can you call him right now? He kind of gave me a deadline, and it’s only an hour from now.”
“A deadline? And then what?”
“He said he’d have to stop by the house to see my mom.”
Laura’s respect for the doctor climbed a notch. Clever and responsible. It was a good combination.
“I’ll make the deadline,” she promised Misty. “And I’ll see you in here on Monday.”
“Whatever,” Misty said, which wasn’t especially reassuring.
At least she’d finally made contact, Laura thought. And that was due to J. C. Fullerton. For that alone, she owed the man a debt of gratitude.
J.C.’s gaze kept straying to the clock on the wall in his office. If his phone didn’t ring in the next fifteen minutes, then he had an uncomfortable visit to pay to Misty Dawson’s parents. When his phone buzzed, though, the medical records clerk who’d stayed to finish updating patient files advised him that Laura Reed was here to see him. It took him a second to recall that she was the teacher Cal had mentioned to him the night before.
“Great. Send her back.”
“Will do, and then I’m gone for the weekend. I’ll lock the door when I go.”
“Thanks. Have a good weekend,” he said, even as the door to his office swung open to reveal a pretty woman, probably in her early thirties, with soft clouds of highlighted brown curls framing her face. She was wearing one of those filmy skirts that seemed to be in style these days and a ruffled sweater. It all had the effect of softening her appearance. The effect was spoiled, though, by the no-nonsense glint in her eyes. He couldn’t quite imagine Misty choosing her to speak to about her problems.
“Dr. Fullerton,” she said briskly. “I’m Laura Reed, Misty Dawson’s English teacher.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Call me J.C. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Really? You didn’t seem so enthusiastic when Maybelle Hawkins at the Serenity Inn wanted to fix us up.”
He was about to sputter an embarrassed response when he caught the glint of real amusement in her eyes and realized she was actually teasing him, though he didn’t doubt for a second that Maybelle had tried to set them up. Until he’d moved out of the inn, the innkeeper had been second only to Debra in her determination to find him a wife.