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They’d put the two of them up on stage—literally. They’d made them a group project for weeks. And now…he was standing at a podium without a script and without it being a part of someone else’s plan.
This was all Beau.
Well, and maybe some Toby.
The butterflies in her stomach were swooping in double-time.
“Okay listen, I know this is about the football field versus the arts program,” Beau started. “Specifically, the musical not having enough money. And I think that’s bullshit. I think what the board did was wrong, and I think there needs to be better policy about how thecommunityis informed about meeting agenda items so we can all weigh in.”
Toby held up a piece of paper. “So I’ve drafted a proposed new policy.” He looked up at the board. “I reviewed the rules about how new policies are introduced. I’d like this to go on the agenda for the next meeting.” He crossed to Mark and handed the paper over. “This should give the town plenty of notice about what is on each meeting agenda so that we can show up and give input and hear the board’s discussion.”
Jake Morris’s face was flushed, and Emmaline managed to look even more pissed off somehow.
Beau nodded. “I know it doesn’t seem like something a guy like me would care about. I was a football player here. A good one. I had scholarship offers from three colleges. But because of Mr. Taggart, I discovered that I was good at, and loved, something else. Something artistic. Yes, I got some shit for it. Yes, I’ve questioned if it was the right decision to give up football and stay here to make furniture instead. But that art showed me that there was more to me than just football. That I could actuallymakesomething that would last. That people would keep and cherish. I’m not saying football can’t be important in its own way, but for me, the woodworking, the art, was whatIneeded. And a teacher saw that.” Beau put his hand on his heart and turned toward Becca’s side of the room. “So, thank you Mr. Taggart. I don’t think I’ve ever said that. And I should have.”
Becca knew Reggie Taggart was sitting toward the back of the cluster of teachers. She felt her eyes stinging. Nothing mattered more to a teacher than seeing a student be successful and happy. She knew Beau had just given Mr. Taggart a huge gift.
Beau cleared his throat and looked up at the school board, but she suspected that he was focusing on her father. “And thank you to the school here for having that program for a kid like me.”
He looked at her again and Becca blinked back her tears as she gave him another nod.
“A lot of us have deep roots here,” Beau went on. “But what are roots? Roots are what anchor you in place, sure, but they’re what allow you togrow. The deeper and thicker the roots, the taller the tree can get and the healthier and stronger it is. When I was thinking about making furniture for aliving, starting a business from scratch, taking that risk, there wasn’t anywhere else I even considered doing it. Even if I got a little shit about being an artist”—He gave a grin to some of his cousins and friends and past football buddies in attendance—“I knew I’d be supported here.”
He paused and took a deep breath and Becca found herself breathing deeply too.
Wow. She was so…in love. Impressed and proud and touched that he was here and putting himself out there like this, of course. But she’d never been more in love with him than she was right now. He was not soft and open like this often and that made it even more impactful when he was.
“I am a part of this community,” Beau said. “I always have been. From Little League and town clean up days to helping build my mom’s business, then my own, to starring in the most recent community theater production here.”
There was soft laughter from the crowd.
Beau grinned for a moment, but then his expression sobered. “There have been times when I’ve wondered if staying was the right decision. If giving up other things to work my ass off to build my business and keep my life here was worth it. But now, I know it was. For moments like this. Not because of the money I make or the furniture itself, but because I’m a part of this community and I can stand up and say…I’m in a position to fix something that’s not right. And yeah, to look some of you in the eye and say, ‘you were wrong’.” He turned toward the kids at the back of the room. “So, I’m donating all of the supplies for the set for the upcoming musical. Anything you need.”
The kids all straightened, their eyes widening.
“And you can build the sets in my shop. Full use of any tools you need. And I’ll help. I know that some friends and family of mine”—He grinned at Mitch and Zeke—“are also willing to help. We’ll do it after school hours if necessary but…” He looked over at Toby.
Toby held up more papers.
“Toby and I worked on another proposal tonight before comin’ over here.”
Toby again approached the dais with paperwork. “Because these hours at Beau’s shop will be teaching the kids hands-on techniques, including carpentry, painting, welding, and possibly some electrical work, I propose that those hours be approved for school credit and the kids be allowed to go to the shop during class hours.”
“We can put that on the next school board agenda,” Beau said. “But I—”
“Actually, I think we can talk about that tonight,” Becca’s dad interjected.
Becca felt her mouth drop open.
Beau paused. “Yeah?”
Jonathan looked at the people seated next to him. “What do you think, Mark? An emergency meeting of the board tonight so we can get the arts program what it needs? In light of all the public commentary tonight?”
Mark smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”
The rest of the board smiled and nodded as well. With one exception, of course.
“Well, damn,” Beau said. “Okay. Thanks.” Beau turned and looked directly at Becca again.
