Free Knocking at Her Heart (Conover Circle #1) by Beverly Long Page B

his blue jeans were
grass stained and he had mud on his elbows. His nose was slightly pink from
being outside in the warm spring sun. He didn’t look harried or exhausted. He
looked like he was having the time of his life.
    “Boxes?” she asked, waving her
arm around the yard.
    He looked a little sheepish. “Don’t
worry. Cleanup is a breeze. It all goes back in the dumpster at the hospital.”
    “I’m not worried. I just never
thought about boxes.”
    “Boxes are magic,” he said.
    A minute ago he’d looked as if he
didn’t have a care in the world. Now his eyes were shadowed. “What do you
mean?”
    “With a box, you can pretend to
be anything,” he said. “You can pretend to be anywhere.”
    She nodded. “I guess you can.”
    “I know you can,” he said.
    He sounded so serious. She wanted
to know why. “Sam,” she said, not sure where to start.  “You seem—”
    “Hey, be careful,” Sam yelled,
reaching in front of Maddie to swat down a volleyball just before it bounced
off her head.
    “Sorry.” Bryce, a fourth grader,
yelled back, looking contrite. He stood on the far side of the yard. Across the
net that stretched between two big trees, his partner, ten-year-old Aidan,
rolled on the ground, laughing. 
    “This is what prompted Darwin’s
theory,” Sam said under his breath.
    “What?”
    “Survival of the fittest,” he
said, giving her a wide smile. “I’m going to give Bryce a quick lesson in
serving, before you lose any windows.” 
    Maddie watched him walk away,
twirling the ball on the tip of his finger. The shadows had left his eyes. But
what had put them there in the first place?
    That, she decided, as she walked
back to the house, was none of her business. What was she thinking? She didn’t
want to get inside Sam’s head. His issues were not her issues. He was temporary
help. Nothing more. Nothing less. 
    Maddie opened the screen door and
walked in. Carol stood at the window, rocking a half-awake two-year-old in her
arms. “He’s something, isn’t he?” Carol said.
    Maddie ignored the comment. She
needed to stop thinking about Sam. Talking about him wouldn’t help her do that.
She walked past Carol and reached out and patted little Missy’s back. “Hi
sweetheart.  Did you just wake up?”
    The little blonde nodded. “I want
to color,” she said.
    Maddie opened the cupboard where
the art supplies were kept. “Bring her over here,” she said to Carol, motioning
to the table.
    Carol shook her head. “Sam said
you’re not supposed to be working.”
    “Carol, it’s a crayon. It weighs
less than an ounce. I don’t think I’m going to rip out any stitches lifting
it.”
    Carol frowned at her.
    “Please,” Maddie begged. “I’m
going to go crazy if I can’t do something.”
    “Okay,” Carol said, depositing a
now-smiling Missy onto a chair. “But if Sam thinks it’s too much, then art
period is over.”
    Sam was taking over. Her
thoughts, her business, her home. Maddie drew a thick red line across her
paper, pressing so hard that the crayon broke. Missy looked at her in surprise.
“Sorry honey,” Maddie said, handing the child a different color. 
    When Sam did come in an hour
later, Maddie had three children at the table with her. Boxes of crayons,
markers, and big sheets of white paper covered the table. She looked up, as if
daring him to say anything. But he just smiled at her and walked on through to
the kitchen, followed by a group of adoring kids.
    She felt a little disappointed.
She’d been rehearsing her speech. She had it all down. She was a grown
woman—she knew her own body. If she wanted to sit, stand or run the mile, it
was her choice. She didn’t need anyone telling her what to do.
    She wanted to tell somebody. She
looked at the sweet faces of the children next to her. They were not her target
audience. She swallowed back her indignation and concentrated on staying within
the lines.
    Over the course of the next hour,
parents arrived for