Sweet Holiday Romance Books 1 - 4

Chapter 2

2

The wide sidewalk in front of the school was covered with damp remains from last night's storm. Eve stepped carefully over multicolored leaves that now lay scattered and sodden from the rain on the familiar path leading to the school. She wore thick black leggings, a dark orange button up shirt that hung down past her hips, her favorite black leather boots and a red fall jacket. In her arms she carried a shallow box, and out of the top of that box stuck 30 carefully wrapped giant orange pumpkin cookies with jack o'lantern faces. Belinda had helped her slide each individual cookie into a clear cellophane bag when it was completely decorated. Then they'd tied the top closed with bits of orange yarn that Eve had in her craft box.

As she approached the school, Eve's heart began to pound in her chest. She had not stepped foot into the middle school where her father had taught her entire life since his death. The principal and teachers, along with his students, had held a memorial for him at the end of the school year, but that had been only weeks after the tragic event and Eve had been too grief-stricken to leave her house at the time. She had sent her regrets and everybody understood. They had all been so very kind.

Eve took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. This was a happy day. This was the beginning of Halloween celebrations for the children that her father adored teaching. He was a popular teacher who loved literature and learning and fun. She had enjoyed popping by and surprising him during the day, always catching him in a lively conversation with a student or reading with his great, booming voice to his class. Or laughing. Her father had laughed a lot. Eve took another breath and pushed back the grief. Today was about having fun.

She pushed open the heavy door at the front of the school and was immediately met with the sights and smells that she remembered so well, not only from her father's tenure there, but from her own years spent as a student in these halls. Mrs. Runyon, the school secretary, spotted her through the large glass window of the front office that looked over the entrance to the school.

"Eve!" Mrs. Runyon exclaimed with pleasure after pushing the sliding glass window open.

"Hi," Eve managed a smile and stepped to the window.

"How are you, dear?" Mrs. Runyon was in her 50's and had worked at the school for over 20 years. Not as long as Eve's father, but long enough that she'd been there when Eve was in middle school.

"Fine, thank you," Eve answered. She held up the box of cookies for Mrs. Runyon to see. "I thought I would bring something to Dad's, um, my father's class...for fun," she added.

Through a flutter of 'how nice' and 'isn't that sweet' comments, Mrs. Runyon gave her the front desk's blessing and special Visitor name tag so she could deliver her goodies to the English class.

Within a few minutes she was standing at the closed door of Room 212-B. Her heart was in her throat, the palms of her hands broke out in a sweat and she felt clammy all over. Should she knock? She had always walked straight into this room, unannounced and perfectly welcome. This was ridiculous. No reason to be so uncertain. They were just middle school kids and she only wanted to give them some cookies.

The low murmur of a man's voice filtered through the door. Eve raised her hand, made a fist and rapped lightly three times. The low murmur stopped and a few moments later the heavy door swung open with a click and a tug.

"Yes?" A tall man with a shock of dark red hair on his head and a short beard in a slightly lighter shade of red stood in the doorway, looking at her quizzically. He wore a loose crewneck sweater in hunter green, and Eve could see a pale orange shirt collar peeking out from underneath. Green and orange, festive colors for Halloween week.

She stood frozen, unable to form words and feeling like an utter fool. Her hands felt so sweaty she thought the box of cookies might slip through them and fall to the floor. Mutely, she lifted the box and offered the man she assumed was the new teacher, Mr. Murphy, the pumpkin cookies. He glanced at the cookies and back at her, his piercing blue eyes showing a glimmer of humor. "Are those for me?" He asked.

"I, um, they're pumpkin cookies," Eve said, trying not to stammer. "For the class." She gave him a feeble smile.

Mr. Murphy's face opened with delight. He stepped backwards while pulling the door wider so Eve could enter and swept his arm up and out in a dramatic gesture. "Welcome, kind Miss!" Eve heard several giggles from the children at their desks.

She stepped into the classroom and walked to the teacher's desk at the front. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, Eve took in the details of what used to be familiar surroundings. The rows of student desks, the laminated posters on the walls, the blackboard with various sentences and book titles scrawled in chalk, the whiteboard in the corner where it appeared children had been drawing pictures of cartoon birds. The room smelled like she remembered, looked basically like she remembered, but was utterly and completely different.

Placing the box of cookies on the teacher's desk, Eve could see that all of her father's things were gone and had been replaced by what must be Mr. Murphy's books, paperwork and teacher knick knacks. Of course, this is what should be expected. But somehow seeing it this way made Eve feel like she had swallowed a bag of rocks.

"I'm Mr. Murphy," Mr. Murphy offered. He stuck out his hand to shake hers and Eve discreetly rubbed her palm on her jacket as she reached to take his, afraid that her handshake would be wet and cold.

"I'm Eve St. Claire," Eve said. There was no reaction on Mr. Murphy's part and she realized that he must not know her name. He took her hand however, and gave it a warm shake.

"Well thank you for the cookies. They look delicious.”

"That's Mr. St. Claire's daughter," one of the girls, Ruby, who Eve recognized as a regular customer at her bookstore, whispered loudly to Mr. Murphy. His eyebrows shot up as he got the hint. He was still holding Eve's hand and he looked at her with both interest and concern.

"Albert St. Claire?" He asked.

Eve nodded.

There was an awkward pause while Eve returned Mr. Murphy's rather intimate stare with what she hoped was a serene and dignified countenance. As she looked at him, she noticed that he was young, well, younger than most of the other teachers at the school. His face was moderately handsome, his eyes a kind blue, and his build under that loose green sweater seemed trim and masculine. In general, he looked like an educated, slightly rumpled, teacherly type of person. His red hair and beard were definitely his most dramatic features. Her hand grew warm in his.

"I'm sorry.” He let go of her hand and stepped around her to pull out the chair at the desk. "Please, have a seat. It's very nice of you to come by."

"Thank you.” She sat down and looked towards the children in their seats. A few of them were watching her and Mr. Murphy, most of them were eyeing the cookies.

"My father and I always made pumpkin cookies for his class," Eve felt the need to explain her presence.

"How kind of you.” Mr. Murphy turned towards the box of cookies. He pulled one of the festive cellophane bags out of the box to inspect it. "These look delicious," he said as he smiled at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she responded. She smiled briefly at the kids, who were now all watching Mr. Murphy, and thought she should probably make her exit. She moved to stand up.

"Don't go," Mr. Murphy requested. "Please, join us. Ruby, Michael, would you please hand out these cookies to everyone? One per person." Mr. Murphy grabbed another bag out of the box before moving a royal blue plastic chair that sat at the side of his desk into a position so he could sit next to Eve and look out over the classroom. He handed her one of the cookies. "Would you like a cup of coffee to go with that?"

Soon Eve was sitting at her father's old desk, in her father's old chair with a steaming hot styrofoam cup of coffee and a bright orange pumpkin cookie in front of her. The familiarity of the whole experience was a little overwhelming, but also comforting. There were 24 children all milling around the room, chatting happily with each other and enjoying their homemade Halloween treat. Her father would have loved this and that thought made her smile.

Mr. Murphy ate the first half of his cookie in two big bites. He munched quietly next to her while watching over the children. He swallowed a sip of coffee from a stainless steel travel mug.

"We were just getting started reading some Poe," he said. "Would you like to stay for that?"

Eve loved Edgar Allan Poe. It was an old family favorite at this time of year.

"Which one are you reading? The Raven? The Tell-Tale Heart?"

"The Raven, today," Mr. Murphy answered.

Eve's gaze swept over the children, who all looked quite young and innocent. She tried to remember when she first read Edgar Allen Poe.

"That's not too dark for them?" She asked. Mr. Murphy looked at her with mild surprise.

"Well, it is the season of Halloween.” He c****d his head at her in a teasing manner. "This coming from a woman who lives in a haunted house?" He smiled then popped another large chunk of cookie into his mouth.

Now it was Eve's turn to be surprised. What did he mean by that? How did Mr. Murphy know where she lived, and why would he think that her beautiful old house was haunted?

"Why do you say that?"

"Isn't your house the famous haunted house?" Mr. Murphy responded, perplexed. He looked out at his class as if for verification, but they weren't paying much attention. "Sorry," he offered when he took in her discomfort. "I didn't mean to offend you." He gestured towards the children. "They told me that Mr. St. Claire and his daughter lived in the big old house at the end of Pennsylvania and that the house was haunted."

Eve sat up straighter, as if being proper would somehow diffuse this rumor. She lifted the styrofoam cup in her hands and shook her head slightly, "It's a very old, very beautiful house, but it's definitely not haunted." She took a defiant sip of her coffee.

Ruby, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation, piped up, "Mr. St. Claire told us it was haunted."

Stunned into silence, Eve stared at the little girl. A few of her little friends nodded earnestly in agreement and a number of the other children spoke up at the same time.

"He always told us about it at Halloween."

"My big brother said he told them he lived in a haunted house when he took this class."

"Your house is famous."

"Your house is haunted!"

Eve felt a burning in her cheeks and she wondered why her father would tell these children, why he would tell anyone, that kind of thing. Had he been telling haunted stories about their beloved house as long as he was a teacher?

Mr. Murphy watched her carefully and when he realized she was flustered by the children's comments, he stood up and grabbed a worn book off of the desk.

"All right let's get back to work," he declared. The children made their way back to their desks, some still carrying their treat, some already done eating. "I'll read while you finish eating.” Mr. Murphy gave Eve a quick smile as he instructed the class.

Eve stayed for the reading. It seemed rude to leave. She watched as Mr. Murphy read Poe's 'The Raven' with a commanding tone and complete with a squawking raven's voice, but she wasn't really listening. She nibbled at her pumpkin cookie and sipped her coffee, but the whole time she was wondering why her father had told those stories to the children of their town. Did the whole town think that her house was haunted? Had he meant it as a joke or had he actually believed it was true? The whole situation bothered her, but the thing that bothered her most was that she had never known. Her own father had never told her anything about them living in a haunted house.