Free Wisdom Tree by Mary Manners Page B

he understood her tactics all too well.
    A school of jellyfish darted through Carin’s belly as a splotch of heat crept up her neck. “In that case, will you put on an extra pot of coffee?”
    “Sure. Consider it done.”
    As Hailey turned and scurried away, Carin’s gaze swept the play area. Where were all the other volunteers, anyway? The grounds seemed suddenly deserted since the men had finished their repairs of the equipment and gone inside to work in the children’s classrooms. Carin stood to brush dirt from the knees of her jeans. “Maybe I should help in the kitchen, too.”
    “No need. Mrs. Doran is in there heading up the team. And she has plenty of help.”
    “Well, I guess the work won’t get done on its own.” Carin forced down a sense of uneasiness and surveyed the pile of landscape timbers. The playground area would be much more aesthetic—not to mention much safer—as soon as they got the work finished. “Where’s the hammer?”
    “Here.” Jake drew a large mallet from his tool belt. “How good is your aim?”
    “That depends. How steady is your hold?”
    Jake smirked. “I guess we’ll find out.”
    “We’d better get started then.” Carin reached for a handful of spikes. “This looks like as good a place as any.”
    Working together, they slipped the timbers into position. After a few poorly-aimed swings of the mallet, one that nearly crushed Jake’s thumb, Carin conceded that Jake would do a better job hammering, so she held the spikes in place while he took aim with the mallet.
    “So,” Jake said between blows. “How’s the journal writing going?”
    “Corey’s a natural.” Carin gnawed her bottom lip as she lined up the oversized nail with a pre-drilled hole. “I must admit, he has provided quite a nice little window into your world.”
    “How so?” As Jake hammered, the box surrounding the play area took shape. He slipped another timber easily into place. “What do you mean?”
    Carin laughed. “Well, I know your favorite candy is mini peanut butter cups, and you like to be early for everything, which drives Corey insane.” She held tight as the timber shook while Jake hammered. “ And you like corny vintage horror movies and have read every book ever written by Max Lucado—twice over.”
    “Corey wrote all that?”
    “And more, but I can’t divulge everything—teacher-student privilege, you know.”
    “Well, that’s hardly fair.” Jake sat back and wiped beads of sweat from his brow with the hem of his T-shirt. “You know all kinds of things about me now, but I don’t know anything about you—except for the green pens, of course.”
    Carin shrugged. “What more is there to know?”
    “Let’s see…” He rubbed the shadow of stubble across his chin. “How many years have you been teaching?”
    “Six. I taught at a middle school in Nashville and then took a leave for two years while I helped out at my dad’s law firm before I moved here.” She’d helped her dad carry the workload when her mom had fallen ill…and then there had been Cameron to think about.
    “Funny, you don’t look battle weary from all the hours of slashing you must have put in.”
    She brushed hair from her brow. “If that was meant to be a compliment, you really need to work on your technique.”
    “Point taken.”
    Carin sat on the timber they’d just secured to catch her breath. Perspiration dampened the back of her neck, and she lifted her ponytail to fan herself with a free hand. “And just how many unsuspecting people have you duped into thinking you’re the church caretaker?”
    “I never said—”
    “No, but you implied…”
    “OK, guilty as charged.” Jake pounded a nail as he spoke. “But it’s my turn to ask the questions, so hold that thought.”
    “You’ve already met your quota of questions for the day.” She drew a long, deep breath, stood, and reached for another timber. Dirt billowed around them and her arms ached as Jake rushed over to take it