Page 47 of Book of Love


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Chapter 13

Lincoln had always thrown himself into tasks. To whatever extent possible, he immersed himself in people’s situations and circumstances.

No, he didn’t stick around, but while he was there, he tried to get down to the bone. When he was writing, he isolated himself from the world and lived his characters’ lives.

Over the next few days, he did the same with Grace’s classes. He told himself it was none of his business what she had or hadn’t dreamed about. He was here for his brother and to fulfill his obligation to Grace and her students.

He arrived at the high school early, with Java Works coffee and doughnuts, and sat down with her to review the day’s lessons. He gave himself a crash course in Shakespeare, studied Grace’s year-long curriculum, and began joining the class discussions.

He learned the names of all her students and told them about his books and the trajectory of his career. He began discovering their interests and talents, both from the kids themselves and from his talks with Grace. Not surprisingly, she knew every student’s strengths, weaknesses, and ambitions.

After school, he either made rounds through town, checking at local businesses about Grace’s missing cat, or he searched around the nearby parks and forests. Though he knew the chances of finding Viola were small, he wanted to do what he could to help.

In his motel room at night, he worked on short lectures about the early history of publishing, from the invention of moveable type toincunabula, the Gutenberg press, and Shakespeare’s quartos and folios.

He put together slide presentations, reading lists, and articles, all of which he emailed to Grace before presenting the material in the classroom. He talked after class with the writing-oriented kids who approached him with questions and ideas.

He and Grace ate lunch in the teacher’s lounge every day. Though he picked up a sandwich on the way to school, she brought him a large portion of whatever dessert she’d packed for herself—coffee cake, cookies, a chocolate brownie.

The lounge was busy and lively. Grace chatted nonstop, asking the other teachers about their students, their families, their plans for the weekend and summer. She always included Lincoln in the conversations, explaining about Frank’s ongoing war with garden aphids and Rebecca’s enrollment in a local cooking class. On Wednesday, she brought in a sheet cake and balloons to celebrate the French teacher’s son’s acceptance to UCLA.

Unlike him, Grace was not bad at relationships or friendships. Just the opposite. She was a natural. Her warmth and caring infused every word and gesture, whether she was talking individually with a student or hugging a fellow teacher.

Though he told himself not to think about it, he couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t have a boyfriend, or a husband, and didn’t seem interested in one. The obvious answer was that she’d been in a bad relationship in the past and didn’t want to risk getting hurt again.

But there weren’t any shadows in Grace, no darkness behind her smile or the light in her hazel eyes. He’d caught regret and sadness when she spoke about Berry Farms and her father, but she was the kind of person who accepted bad circumstances as part of life.

Lincoln told himself not to dwell on her too much, but she’d captured his attention the minute he’d seen her at Lou’s Diner. And now that he was working with her every day, he just had to make sure she didn’t get any deeper under his skin than she already was.

After school on Friday, she darted off to the drama club rehearsals. Lincoln stayed in her classroom to work on the discussion questions for his next lecture.

Close to four, he packed up his laptop and headed into the near-empty corridors. A janitor was wheeling a garbage can from the cafeteria, and a few students lingered around the lockers.

Lincoln started outside, then turned toward the auditorium. He was curious about the rehearsals. He had yet to see Grace in action as a stage director.

A big, sandy-haired boy was sitting on a bench by the gym, his head bent over his phone.

“Todd, right?” Lincoln came to a stop near him. “Lincoln Atwood, from Miss Berry’s class.”

“I know who you are.” Todd flicked his attention back to his phone.

“You didn’t turn in the assignment this morning about the spread of printing and book publishing,” Lincoln said.

The kid shrugged.

“Can I help you with it?”

“No.”

“If you turn it in by next Wednesday, you can still get partial credit.”

Todd worked his thumbs across his phone screen.

Lincoln tried a different angle. “I hear you’re a starter on the football team.”

No response.

“What position?”

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