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When Love Blooms Andy & Darcy

By Judythe Morgan

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Chapter 1

Darcy Clark tightened her grip on the teetering wheelbarrow piled high with bags of black peat mulch for flowerbeds and focused on the four Goth-attired boys with spiked hair who watched her approach. The two girls standing beside them sported raccoon-eye mascara and brassy makeup. Mingling in the garden area of her high school alma mater, the group looked more like escapees from county juvie than students.
One of the boys, a rail-thin kid in a dirty heavy-metal band tee-shirt with the logo so badly faded as to be unrecognizable, stomped on a row of dianthus. The others snickered.
“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”
Darcy raced down the sidewalk heaving from roots of the massive oaks planted with the building construction in the 1950s when the small town of Burton finally had the population to warrant its own school district. For weeks, she’d landscaped the grounds for her upcoming ten-year reunion. Those hooligans were not going to destroy all her hard work. She cringed at the shredded flower petals and plucked foliage.
“What’s it to you, lady?” A different teenager with a defiant smirk plucked a primrose and crushed the tiny crimson blooms between his thumb and fingers.
“Yeah. It’s our school. We can pick flowers if we want.” The girl with a fuchsia streak in her midnight black hair pinched a white bloom from the bush, sniffed, and placed the flower behind her ear Hawaiian-style.
The ribbing escalated, each taunt becoming a little cruder than the last.
“I’m calling security.” Darcy reached in her pocket only to discover she had left her cell phone in the truck.
“No need for that.” A bearded man came from behind her and joined them. He shifted a black book under his arm and extended his hand. “Andrew Fitzpatrick. I apologize for my students. Everyone out of the flowerbeds. Now.”
Darcy pulled off her dirty glove and reluctantly shook his hand. Matthew Fitzpatrick’s younger brother had been a pimply-faced tween the first time she met him. Wanting to believe she could have handled the situation, at the same time thankful for his presence, she shot a suspicious glance at the students.
“Darcy Clark. If they’re your students, why aren’t you paying attention to what they’re doing? On second thought, how do I know you’re a teacher? I’ve heard the stories about drugs on campus. Maybe that book is your accounts book and you’re checking on your pushers.”
A stocky kid with an acute case of acne jumped off the flowerbed edging and gave a toothy grin. “Mr. Fitz a pusher? Nah, he’s too soft.”
Andrew Fitzpatrick whipped the black leather book out and flashed the title, Selected Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. “See? Poetry.”
One of the girls fluttered her fake eyelashes. Her wrist-to-elbow bracelets clanged together when she patted her hand over her heart. “Mr. Fitz here’s all into po-uh-tree. His eyes get dreamy and he completely forgets anyone’s around when he’s reading that Browning broad’s hot letters to her lover.”
The teacher swallowed, making his plaid bowtie wiggle, then gave the girl a stern look. “We don’t know that Robert and Elizabeth were lovers, before they married. If you listened to what I read, Suzette, you’d do much better on the quizzes.”
Turning to meet Darcy’s gaze, he said, “I should have been paying more attention. English poetry is not a teenager’s favorite subject. I do apologize.”
Darcy sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to replace plantings because of vandalism. “It’s fine. I’ll reset the plants. If I’m lucky, they’ll survive until the reunion.”
But then, luck hadn’t been on her side lately.
Mr. Fitzpatrick turned his attention to the student who had crushed the rose. “Martin, I think you probably started this. Apologize to Ms. Clark.”
Martin swelled like a cock ready for battle. “How come you’re always thinking everything’s my fault, Mr. Fitz?”
“Because it usually is, isn’t it? You do have a tendency to make poor decisions.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Martin’s crossed arms projected his lack of sincerity. A snake tattoo peeked from under his pushed-up sleeve.
Andrew gave his other students a scowl. “Now, the rest of you, apologize, too.”
Muttered apologies followed.
“To prove our sincerity, I insist you let us help repair the damages.” Andrew raised a hand forestalling any protest from his students.
Darcy debated only a second. A little hard labor might help the kids remember not to destroy plants and give their teacher a lesson in controlling his hooligans. “Thank you. Some of you can unload these mulch bags. The rest of you can go get the other bags from my truck. It’s parked in the service drive.”
Andrew smiled a million-watt smile that transformed his entire face and pointed to a boy, who looked like a tackle for the Burton Panthers football team. “Carlos, please.”
Carlos rolled his eyes, but lifted a bag from her wheelbarrow. “Where do you want ‘em?”
“Around the petunia bed, first. Then by the dianthus.”
Andrew leaned in closer. “These plants all look the same to us. You’ll have to be more specific.”
His cologne tickled her nose. For several long seconds, she tried to distinguish the blended scents. Earth and mint, maybe citrus? The only scent she recognized for sure these days was her father’s Old Spice. And, that was sad.
Martin’s snake tattoo twitched as he shifted a three-cubic-foot bag of mulch onto his shoulder and stood beside Carlos. “Come on, lady, make up your mind. These bags ain’t light, you know.”
When she found her voice, Darcy pointed in the direction of a freeform bed between two benches. “There.”
Two students followed Andrew to her truck with the empty wheelbarrow. The hint of Andrew’s citrus and mint faded, sending a sense of loss through her. She shook her head and followed Martin and Carlos.
The rest of the kids, none of whom she would want to meet alone on a dark street, lined up to distribute mulch. Darcy demonstrated how to spread the shredded pine bark around the plants. The school bell rang as Martin tossed the last emptied bag to the ground.
With yells of yeah and hallelujah, the students dusted their hands and hustled into the building. Carlos stopped in front of her. His stance defiant. His attitude sullen. “I didn’t come to school to work like no wetback. I’m telling the office.”
Andrew calmly stepped between them. “We both know the reason you come to school—it’s a lot nicer than juvie.”
Carlos shot him the finger.
“Shouldn’t you report him or something?” Darcy asked, quelling the unease slithering through her body.
“Carlos isn’t nearly as tough as he sounds. Copping an attitude is his way of showing he’s not a dead fish going with the flow.” A knowing sadness echoed in his words, which made Darcy think Andrew Fitzpatrick had some personal experience with copping an attitude or being a dead fish.
“He sure needs to lose the attitude. With all that pent-up anger, he’s a walking time bomb.”
“Inside, Carlos is a good kid. He means no harm. He’s having a tough time right now. But I don’t see him doing anything malicious.”
“Spoken by a man who sat reading poetry oblivious to the fact his students were destroying my flowerbeds. Well, not my flowerbeds, but you know what I mean. For all I know, Carlos or Martin could be the ones sabotaging my other landscaping projects.”
“Someone’s been vandalizing your work?”
Nodding, she swallowed. “It’s been going on for a few weeks now. This morning Dad and I found flower pots in one of our displays at the shop cracked.”
“I’m sorry. Did you call the police? Chief Norton might be able to help you find the culprits, but if someone is vandalizing your plants, it’s not my kids. I know Carlos and Martin. They’re not vandals. Drinking and smoking. Cutting classes. Mischief. That’s the extent of their bad-boy behavior.” He directed a pulse-disrupting, half-hitched smile her way. “I do plead guilty as charged on getting absorbed in the poetry. I’ll work on that.”
Not only was he blind to his student’s potential to be dangerous, he had a mule’s stubborn streak. Hadn’t he just mentioned juvie to Carlos? His kids, as he called them, were not average, run-of-the-mill students.
A second bell rang. Darcy glanced at her watch. Five minutes after the hour. The tardy bell she’d raced to beat when she’d been a student at Burton High School. “Don’t you need to go corral your hoodlums and teach another class?”
“Nope.” He loosened his bowtie, letting it hang around his neck. His ocean blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “My hoodlums, as you call them, have classes with other teachers now and I have lunch. I’m free for the next hour and twenty minutes.”
She gathered the emptied mulch bags. “Well, I’m finished here. I’d appreciate it if you could keep your students away from the beds until after the class reunion. I don’t want to do another replanting.”
Seemed like all she did lately was put out fires. If only Chief Roy could get a lead on who was vandalizing her jobs and nursery.
“Are you sure you don’t have time for lunch in the cafeteria? I’ll treat.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have to pick up flowers for another job.”
On her way to the school, she’d gone to set geraniums at Mrs. Olson’s house. The last part of a major spring overhaul for her flowerbeds. Overnight, vandals had crushed the flats of plants she’d left, and, the day before, someone had cut the tubing on the poi pond pump. She’d had to replace the koi fish that died.
Mrs. Olson insisted Darcy drive to the wholesale nursery in Giddings to get fresh plants and finish the job today. Easier to make the forty-five minute trip than to risk the cantankerous old maid calling in Bullock’s nursery, as she’d threatened if anything else went wrong. Darcy couldn’t afford to lose the Olson account. Or any account.
Her ex-boyfriend’s father would love to grab Mrs. Olson’s business. The woman was difficult, but she did major new landscaping for every season. Her jobs helped keep Buds ‘n Blooms afloat--barely. Winning the bid on the city’s park project would be the boost they needed for their financial situation.
Andrew piled more bags into the wheelbarrow. “You’re Panther alumnae. You coming to the reunion? I’ll be there.”
She nodded. “Somehow I got talked into chairing the reunion committee, but you weren’t in our class. Why are you coming?”
“I’ll be chaperoning with the faculty. This would have been Matt’s reunion too.” His eyes clouded for a second before he blinked, bringing back the ocean blue color.
“I’m sorry,” she said because her parents taught her good manners. However, she’d always believe Matthew Fitzpatrick was involved in her mom’s accident. Why else would he abandon his football scholarship to join the Army? She’d had no choice about walking away from her tuition-paid art school after the accident. Her dad needed her help. Strange though, looking into Andrew’s sad eyes, she had the strongest urge to wrap him in a comforting hug. It was tough losing a loved one.
Her mom was alive, but she might as well be dead. She’d never be the same. The familiar anger churned in Darcy’s gut because whoever ran Muriel Clark down still walked free. Roy Norton and his police department hadn’t solved that mystery either, even though they’d had a prime suspect in Matthew Fitzpatrick. To stop herself from her disturbing thoughts, she piled the rake and shovel on top of the empty mulch bags.
They reached for the wheelbarrow handles at the same time. “Here, I’ll push that,” he said.
Darcy shook her head. “I’ve got it.” The touch of his hand against hers caused her pulse to stumble. Her skin tingled. She didn’t remember Steven’s touch ever having that effect.
Andrew stepped back as if he’d experienced the shock wave too. He followed her to the truck, then unchained the trailer tailgate and dropped the ramp. “Let me.”
He reached for the wheelbarrow. This time he clamped his larger, stronger hands firmly over hers, refusing to let her say “no.” A surge of warmth, and not from the sun, swept through Darcy and she found herself checking for a ring on his left hand. Don’t go there. She grabbed her tools, stored them on the wire sides of the trailer, and hopped off the trailer.
Andy secured the wheelbarrow with bungees and jumped down beside her. After latching the tailgate, he trailed her around to the truck cab.
“Thanks again for your help, Andrew,” she said through the open window after she’d climbed inside. For a dweebie kid, Matt’s little brother had grown into a fine specimen of manhood. Young, lean and fit. She was already hiding gray hairs under L'Oréal.
“Andy.” He patted the doorframe. “See you around.”
When she glanced in the rearview mirror, he stood at the curb waving. Andy Fitzpatrick might be a little bullheaded about his students, but he seemed to be a nice person. Certainly appealing. His actions today definitely put him in the good-guy category.
But her observations about character in the past hadn’t been so accurate, especially where men were concerned. She couldn’t trust her judgment with the opposite sex, and she wasn’t about to risk putting her heart in jeopardy again. Not when she believed his brother had been driving the car that struck her mother.
The bright red truck joined the flow of traffic from the student parking lot where senior students rushed out for burgers and fries instead of cafeteria cuisine. Martin’s black low rider pickup joined the chain of vehicles. Martin wasn’t a senior, which meant he was cutting out on afternoon classes.
Andy exhaled a loud sigh. Again. Would he ever get through to Martin?
The challenge of teaching at-risk students was difficult to say the least, but he’d willingly taken on the task because he thought he could make a difference. After three years, he’d had some successes and equally as many failures. This particular class had more potential than his others. He didn’t want to lose any of them.
Re-tying his bowtie, he headed back inside. On his way, he stopped by the Attendance Office. “I want to give you a heads up. Martin’s leaving campus again.”
Mary Jane Walker, who’d been attendance clerk at Burton High School forever, pushed her glasses on top of her dyed-red hair, exposing the grey roots. “You know we can’t keep covering for him.”
Andy nodded. “I’m sure he’s going home so he can meet his sister’s kindergarten bus. Isn’t there some way we can get him in the early dismissal program?”
Ms. Walker pursed her lips. “He needs a paying job to be eligible.”
“I’m working on it. Give him just one more bye. We’ll lose him if he goes back to juvie. He’s not tough enough. He won’t survive in there.”
“Oh, all right. I won’t mark it.” She pasted a sticky note on her record book. “Martin might surprise you. If I remember correctly, several of us didn’t think you’d survive or amount to anything either, and look how you turned out.”
He didn’t need Ms. Walker’s reminder. Memories of bad judgments, failure to do the right thing and opportunities missed haunted his thoughts. “Thanks. I’ll talk to him and try to make him understand his potential.”
All afternoon his class discussions kept coming back to the “hottie” in khaki shorts and red tee-shirt with the Buds ‘n Blooms Nursery logo. Andy didn’t stop them. Friday afternoons were relaxed. The last hour of the schedule, he helped with homework since most received no encouragement from their families. With Monday a school holiday, they were too excited to focus anyway.
Suzette and Rachel agreed Darcy Clark wasn’t half-bad, for an older woman. Andy smiled. Age to a teen was relative. Darcy and Matt had been classmates, which meant she was thirty-two to his twenty-six. Not that big a difference to Andy’s thinking.
He glanced at Carlos, remembering the flecks of green that fired in Darcy’s hazel eyes when she’d argued that Carlos, or one of his students, might be responsible for the vandalism she was experiencing. The school flowerbed, he couldn’t deny that, but she was wrong about Carlos being her vandal. She didn’t understand what these kids faced every day or know their stories. Andy would have to convince her before she decided to go to the authorities. Carlos did not need any more trouble. He had enough at home.
Andy continued to grade papers except his focus kept wandering. Meeting Darcy had certainly been the highlight of his day, and he was having a devil of a time blocking her images from his mind and the surprising magnetic pull. In one short encounter, she’d managed to totally disrupt his peace of mind.
His preacher father always said Andy’s biggest problem was letting the devil fill his head too much, but Andy didn’t see Darcy Clark as devil sent. More like heaven sent.

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