Coastal Secrets

By Ronda Preacher

Shelly McCains tidy, organized life has served her well in the last five years as a ninth grade English teacher in Santa Barbaras large Christian Academy. She has built relationships based on trust, but is left questioning her ability to trust anyone when her life is turned upside down by Derek Donovan. Donovans wild, dangerous, and unconventional occupation throws her for a loop when she realizes she is in love with someone so opposite from what she imagined. Can their love bridge the gap of two conflicting lifestyles? And why is Shelly so reluctant to trust him? Is Donovan ready to reveal his secrets and will those secrets destroy their emerging love before it has a chance to blossom?

Can a wholesome, young high school teacher ever learn to trust an adventurous Irishman whose dangerous work is veiled in secrets?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490825212

Ronda Preacher

Ronda Radford Preacher has taught in several different Christian high schools over a period of thirty years. She was the vice principal of a high school on the California coast before she began writing English curriculum and textbooks. She homeschooled her two active sons, now grown and pursuing graduate degrees. Her pastimes include traveling in Europe, California, and Yosemite. Married for over forty years, Ronda lives with her husband who is a professor of international business in central Virginia.

Book preview

Chapter 1

black.jpg

S helly McCain heard someone shout, Fire! Fire! Clear the area! The verbal warning exploded a split second before the shrill staccato alarm confirmed the emergency. Highly trained and well-drilled expertise kicked in. She calmly walked with purpose to her desk at the front of her classroom while she spoke evenly and with the utmost authority.

Everyone, line up behind Ben and file out to our designated area. Stay together. Quickly, class. This isn’t a drill.

Lord, keep them safe and me calm.

Awareness moved throughout the classroom, evidenced by students sniffing the air. Smoke. Concerned glances shot back to their teacher. Shelly gathered her attendance sheet, a pencil, and the flash drive for her computer containing the students’ grades.

I’ll never complain about the mandatory safety meetings again.

Stay calm, and stay quiet. Please move quickly, class. Her voice carried into the hallway where seven other classes swarmed like ants from an anthill kicked in by a careless child.

Let’s move it, people. She raised her voice to be heard over the rustle of movement by the students. Her voice was firm but not condescending. She followed up with an arm out to her side like a mother hen gathering her chicks to lead them away from danger.

Just about to walk out the door, she scanned her desk, abandoning the urge to assemble those items that seemed so important. It all would have to stay and fall prey to destiny.

Guys, quiet. Please, she said, the request followed by her trademark smile. There were immediate results.

Thanks. Stay together. Watch out for each other. This is for real, folks.

Shelly didn’t have to instruct Ben where to lead the line of freshmen. Those practice drills were beneficial after all.

Oh, no. More smoke. Her eyes burned.

Miss McCain, what will we do if the fire destroys our exams? And my notebook and … Melanie’s questions grew louder, and her voice took on greater urgency. Her gestures and facial expressions became increasingly animated with each word.

Melanie, that’s all replaceable. I’m sure everything will be fine. Please go on out with the class. And, Melanie, your job is to encourage everyone to stay calm on the way out. Will you do that for me?

Yes, ma’am. Shelly smiled as the girl waddled down the hallway toward the glass doors with her heavy chest lurching forward and her ample backside bringing up the rear. She strutted with fervent purpose while following her classmates out of the building. Shelly heard Melanie suck in a deep breath after she walked through the smoke.

Shelly followed. The building was now empty. Waiting for her, well out of danger, was her apprehensive ninth-grade English class. With a smile, she silently mouthed, "Thank you," to her favorite class.

Lord, thank you for the blessing of teaching. I couldn’t be happier doing anything else.

But ninth-graders were fickle and could turn their allegiance on a moment’s notice, like a chameleon changing color. She was always prepared for anything—almost always.

Twenty minutes later, all was clear. The fifty-five-gallon metal trash can where the fire had started had been removed and was now soaked with water and fire-retardant foam. Firemen darted here and there. School administrators hollered questions and acknowledged answers. People rushed everywhere. But the students remained in neat, orderly lines, awaiting further instructions and watching the chaos.

Doors were propped open at each end of the building, and soon, the smoke dissipated. Two large fans, appropriated from the main office, silently sucked smoke from the hallway at one end and pushed the puffy clouds into disappearing vapors at the other.

Mr. Snyder’s voice was calm and reassuring over the loudspeaker, explaining the cause, the seriousness of the ordeal, the urgency for returning to finish exams, and the extension of the exam period by twenty-five minutes. Gary Snyder was a well-respected principal, godly mentor, and Shelly’s friend.

When he finished addressing the student body, Mrs. Brown pushed the button to ring the long, steady bell signaling all was clear and it was safe to return to the classrooms. Shelly knew Muriel Brown was stationed by Mr. Snyder’s side waiting for the exact moment to ring the bell. She was right on cue, as always. Shelly respected Mrs. Brown and often thanked her for her twenty years of faithful service to the academy.

The previously straight and organized lines merged into droves of students chatting and laughing as they returned to their rooms. Shelly was watching three girls from her class, Stacy, Carol, and Melanie, approach the four concrete steps leading up to the main classroom building when pandemonium erupted. Stacy tripped on the bottom step and landed hard, letting loose a cry of pain.

Melanie fueled the commotion by shouting and waving her arms in every direction, yelling for help. When Stacy’s injury was visible, complemented with blood streaming from her nose, Melanie announced to everyone within earshot, I’m going to faint. As Melanie lifted the back of one hand to her forehead in a manner rivaling an award-winning performance, her other hand reached out in a backward sweeping motion ready to latch on to anyone within grabbing distance. Due to her large size, all the boys instinctively tried to jump out of the way so they wouldn’t become victims in her fall. The performance was carried out with sheer drama-queen expertise.

Watch out! Ben hollered to his friend Troy as Melanie seized his hand. Too late. Melanie toppled down onto Troy, causing both to land on poor Stacy, herself prostrate over the span of the four steps.

Ow! Get off me, Melanie! Stacy was apparently going to be fine. She pushed her friend off and exchanged frustrated glances with Troy.

Shelly McCain assessed the situation and took immediate action. Ben, help Melanie get up, please. You okay, Troy?

Troy’s grunt sufficed for agreement.

Stacy, how bad is it, honey?

The school’s nurse came to help Stacy so Miss McCain could get back to class.

I’m so embarrassed, Stacy moaned, already standing. The impact of her fall looked more alarming than it really was. Prompted by Stacy’s remark, Shelly announced, Thanks, everyone. Show’s over. Back to class. Stacy is going to be fine. She sent Stacy with the nurse to the office for further assessment.

Come on, Melanie. Walk back to class with me. You okay, sweetie? Melanie’s nod brought another smile to Shelly’s delicately freckled face.

Within fifteen minutes, Shelly’s class was quietly completing the English exam as she watched with a contented smile. A high-school teacher could expect anything. Anytime. And usually at the most inopportune time. But Shelly wouldn’t have had it any other way. She loved her job and loved her students.

When the last student finished, Shelly spoke quietly. Pass the exams to the front, please. While the papers were shuffled to the front, she continued, We’ve had a great year together. And we’ve finished well. Thank you for being everything I knew you could be. I remember the first day of your high-school career. We’ve come a long way together. Another genuine smile. Lord, help me so I don’t cry. You have worked hard, grown much, and learned a lot. I am a better person because I have known you. Thank you. I remember some of your essays the first week of class. There were some audible groans and snickers throughout the room. "And I might add the headaches you gave me resisting our study on Romeo and Juliet. More laughter. But you did your lessons well, learned vocabulary, and have produced some pretty impressive creative-writing projects. We’ve laughed together, prayed together, and had a successful year together in this classroom. I will miss you." The smiles and nods from her students put tangible evidence to what she felt. She was very attached to this particular class and knew the feeling was mutual. She was determined not to cry, although the moment was touching.

She took a deep breath and continued, Stay close to God over the summer. And God bless you, everyone. Tears brimmed but didn’t fall as her students broke into sincere applause.

As if awakened by her comments, the final bell of the year sounded on cue at the adjusted time of 12:45, twenty-five minutes later than originally scheduled. School was officially over for her students, and they couldn’t contain their excitement. Shelly smiled and held her hand in the air for her final wave good-bye.

Shelly waved and said, Good-bye, students. Thanks for a great year. The cheers and good-byes came in unison as her ninth-grade English class was dismissed for the summer. Student whoops and whistles abounded. A few voices towered above the rest as they shouted to their friends. Many stepped up to hug her. A few handed her cards or notes, and one cried. It was a good and healthy relationship, and she felt their admiration. That alone caused her to blush with warmth.

After her class emptied into the hall, they mingled their shouts of joy at their freedom with those of the rest of the students of Grace Christian Academy. Relief welled up in her as she stared into now-empty desks, and she sighed. As if one sigh was insufficient, she heard herself take another deep breath and let it out with measured release. The emptiness of her room intensified the finality of a long, arduous year. In a few hours, the bustling campus would morph into a virtual ghost town. All the chatting about the fire and the potential emergency, the possible suspects, and the welcome diversion from the exam time would dissipate, and a reverent hush would shortly descend on the campus.

Trash cans were bulging and overflowing. Locker doors were left gaping open, revealing empty cavities. The newly abandoned halls were silent. It was a temporary reprieve before the next onslaught of bustling activity soon to come in the form of cleaning crews and refurbishing teams.

Shelly was tired. It was a satisfying fatigue, but she still felt worn out.

Jake Hodges, to the office please. Jake Hodges, if you are still on campus, please come immediately to the office. The loudspeaker broke into her reverie and filled the room with urgency.

Oh, no. Mr. Snyder has a tip on the fire-starter.

Time would tell soon enough. Poor Jake. He begged for attention and usually got it in the form of repercussions for negative behavior.

Shelly didn’t envy the job of the principal. Gary Snyder, loved by students, staff, and faculty alike, was as fair as he was fun, as kind as he was firm, as strict as he was just. Jake might not realize it or appreciate it now, but he was in good hands.

Shelly was putting the finishing touches on cleaning her room when another announcement jangled her thoughts.

Attention, Faculty. Don’t forget about Monday morning’s last faculty meeting of the year. Nine o’clock sharp. After that, when your grades are turned in and your rooms are clean, you are free to go for the summer. I’ll see you Monday—and hopefully I’ll have a full report on today’s fire incident.

Note to self: remind Melissa she’s bringing doughnuts to Monday’s meeting.

Though Principal Snyder wasn’t much older than Shelly or her best friend and fellow teacher, Melissa Porter, he often referred to them as his girls. Gary and his wife always made a point of watching out for Shelly and Melissa, the only two single female teachers on the faculty at Grace Christian Academy. Although Shelly was dating Jason Worthington, the Snyders were constantly trying to play matchmaker. They wanted everyone to be as happy as they were. Shelly often wondered if they thought Jason was not a good match for her, although nothing as such had ever been said. Sometimes, Shelly wondered the same thing. Jason. The thought of him brought on another deep sigh. And Melissa for sure doesn’t think Jason is right for me.

Shelly knew she was fortunate to have a teaching assignment with Melissa, her closest friend since her high school days. After college, they had hoped to be near each other or in towns close by, but to be coworkers at the academy was an added blessing they hadn’t expected. Melissa taught geography, and she and Melissa both loved coaching the cheerleaders.

Most of the students who attended Grace Christian Academy were headed to college upon graduation, although a few opted for trade schools or went directly into the job market. Because of the generous support of Grace Christian Church and several wealthy members, scholarships were readily available for the less fortunate who might not otherwise have the opportunity to attend a private school. The academy was a conservative Christian school with all the benefits of the public school counterparts in the community. The academy’s sports teams were highly competitive and usually excelled in the local and statewide competitions. Shelly felt honored to be a part of such a successful high school.

The exodus of students had occurred less than thirty minutes ago, but Shelly already began to feel the tension ebbing. She let her mind drift, flitting from her first year of teaching to the class she had just dismissed. She fingered the yearbook on her desk. She wanted to read the dedication page one more time. She could not grasp it was dedicated to her. How overwhelming and humbling.

Shelly’s classroom door squeaked open, alerting her she was no longer alone. Resuming her professional demeanor, she smiled at Lucas, Zach, and Jimmy, three boys from her class of the previous year. Sophomores now, the boys exhibited a confidence appropriate for rising juniors.

Miss McCain, we came to wish you a good summer. And thanks for your advice during those rough times. Lucas’s grin widened, and he looked sheepish. He was born on the edge of trouble. If he didn’t find it, trouble found him. His heart was in the right place most of the time, but his actions often preceded his judgment and the results were rarely good. The first week of May, he had exercised yet another indiscretion involving a stink bomb in the boys’ bathroom. But he never did anything worthy of expulsion—at least not in one incident. His offenses were small and insignificant, mostly minor episodes or moderate at best, but constant, numerous, and ill-timed.

Thanks, Lucas. I’m glad things worked out for you. Are you guys going to hang out at the beach all summer? Surfboards waxed? Ready to hang ten? Shelly spread her arms as if balancing on a surfboard.

The boys laughed with her. "Yeah. Starting in about an hour. Me and Lucas and Jimmy, uh, I mean Lucas and Jimmy and I are going to camp out at the beach for the next three days." Zach couldn’t contain his wide, toothy grin.

Do you surf, I mean, for real? Lucas asked her.

No, with my fair skin, I burn too easily. For the most part, I stay under an umbrella on the sand. But I love going to the beach anyway. Shelly tucked a long curl back up into a gathering of sun-streaked locks. Her bountiful curls were normally pulled behind her neck and harnessed with a ribbon or clip, but today, her crowning glory was piled on top of her head and confined—well, mostly confined.

Ya know, Miss McCain, you would look like a California surfer girl if you used suntan lotion, Zach suggested.

The only lotion I use is SPF 55. Besides, surfer girls don’t usually have curly hair or freckles. She wrinkled her nose and smiled at the students still standing in the doorway.

See you in September. And I hope your summer is good, too. Bye, Miss McCain, Lucas said as the three boys turned to leave.

Shelly thought about Lucas and knew when he grew up he would settle down. His foible was immaturity, not willful disobedience or disregard for authority. She prayed he would have an emotional growth spurt during the summer.

Shelly didn’t reply to the boys again but simply waved and smiled. Her smiles were genuine and always reached her azure eyes. When she prayed for her students, she grew to love them. And Miss McCain never started her day before lifting up her students in prayer. Saying good-bye was hard, but summer would be a welcome change.

Now, it was time for summer vacation, and her plans were rising to the front of her mind. Yosemite National Park was the destination Shelly and Melissa had chosen nearly a year ago.

As much as Shelly enjoyed teaching, she delighted in her summers even more. She usually planned her vacations as far as a year in advance, and this summer was no exception. Vacations and summers were an important time to heal, mend, ponder, regroup, and face the challenge of the upcoming school year. Once school started in September, it was nonstop until June. She thrived on her three months off, and a three-week hiatus with a fun-loving companion was exactly what Shelly needed. She looked forward to sharing that vacation time with Melissa.

With or without your approval, Jason.

Over the course of the past several months, Shelly and Melissa had arranged for their adventure like they each lived their lives. Shelly studiously planned and methodically plotted their trip. Melissa watched videos about Yosemite, shopped for new clothes, and checked the national park weather conditions every few days.

Shelly had the responsibility of making the reservations and dining arrangements and scheduling the hikes, activities, and rest days. Melissa was in charge of … well, Melissa obsessed over coordinating outfits, makeup, surprises, and supplying the good times Shelly knew they would share.

Shelly studied the specifications of backpacks, trail shoes, and water-filtration systems. She read books and articles about the various trails for hiking, the Miwok and Ahwahneechee Indian tribes, John Muir, and Ansel Adams. She researched the Ahwahnee Hotel, its construction and furnishings, and even the origin of the logo and pattern on their dining room’s signature china.

Melissa bought new shorts, sandals, and hiking shoes. She found the menu for the Ahwahnee Hotel restaurant on the Internet and chose her entrées. She selected new brands of facial lotions and makeup to try during summer before school resumed in September. There was also the armload of novels to read as well as a sketchbook in case the mood struck.

They each brought a different emphasis to their trip planning, and they would have a ball. The two were perfect counterparts.

Please, Lord. Let me have fun, too. I need fun.

Her summer interlude, however, would be spent working in addition to relaxing. It was time for her self-prescribed personal improvement clinic to begin. She had long lists under four categories: Academic Improvement, Social Considerations, Home Projects, and Spiritual Growth. She reached for her planner to make a last-minute addition under the Social Considerations column and penned the name Jason in bold capitals with a large question mark beside it.

In the silent classroom, she busied herself with the contents of her desk, jotting down a few more ideas in her planner as they came to mind:

Revise the business letter writing exercise

Create a computer template customized for English classes

Order the teachers’ workbook for The Complete Shakespeare

Sign up for the curriculum workshop

Investigate a different grammar textbook less boring than the current edition

Shifting to more pleasant thoughts, she made a note to ask Melissa to help her pick out new hiking shoes right under the note to remind Melissa about Monday morning’s doughnuts.

Chapter 2

black.jpg

"S helly!" It was more of a plea than a greeting.

The classroom door eased open again as Shelly deliberated on her never-ending lists. Melissa trudged into the room and dropped into a seat in front of Shelly’s large oak desk.

Hey, Melissa, that fiery trash can was close to your room. Is the wall badly damaged?

No answer.

Did you get your exams graded already?

No answer.

Hey! She beamed. What’s with the gloomy face? Did Mr. Snyder ask you to take hall duty again this afternoon? Shelly snickered at her own comment.

Shelly always looked forward to Melissa’s visits, but she never knew what to expect. Melissa was never in the same mood twice in a week. She was so full of emotion and expression that everything either was hilariously funny, horribly disappointing, excruciatingly sad, or way too exciting. Melissa was a bundle of superlatives. Nothing was ever just fine. Fine was boring. And Melissa Porter was anything but boring.

Melissa shared Shelly’s dedication to teaching and felt it was a direct call from God. She never let her gregarious personality get in the way of becoming a dynamic teacher. But she had fun teaching just like she had fun living. Melissa was fun. Period.

When Melissa finally peered at Shelly through tears instead of answering with a flippant remark, Shelly instantly grew serious. One thing Melissa did not do was cry.

Drawing herself up, Melissa blurted, I just got a call from my doctor. My surgery has been moved up. She had broken her leg the previous year, and later, she had torn ligaments in the same knee while demonstrating a new routine for the cheerleaders. The doctor assured her with surgery and therapy, most of the damage could be undone and her slight limp abolished.

Why? When? Shelly answered, sounding calmer than she felt.

Well … Melissa took a deep breath and began speaking in a torrent, as if once everything was out on the table it would all be okay. When Dr. Winslow scheduled me for September, it was the first date available both he and the hospital could coordinate. Since school starts that week, I signed a request saying I would accept the next available opening if there were any cancellations for surgery. And I actually believed him when he said maybe a cancellation would come up as soon as July, but not likely before. But what does he know? A hint of bitterness surfaced, surprising them both.

"A cancellation came up for next week, and I have two choices. Take it, or leave it. If I take it, I will have to cancel out on our vacation plans to Yosemite. And if I leave it, it means I’ll have to chance it and maybe miss the first week of school next year." Melissa also explained Principal Snyder’s concern about her possibly missing the first week of school.

Silence filled the room like a fog. Shelly couldn’t summon a single word. Her brows knit together in deep concentration but she could not fashion an intelligible thought. She could always deliver clever remarks and could outwit any student at any time, but with her peers, she sometimes resorted to thoughtful silence for lack of something better to say. She curled a lock of hair around her finger as she thought.

Oh, Shelly. What should I do? I just can’t miss out on our adventure. I was looking forward to three weeks in Yosemite. I need that time away. The reversal of roles was uncomfortable for Shelly. Melissa usually found the silver lining. But now it was Shelly’s turn.

She dug deep to find words of encouragement for Melissa. She squinted and bit her lower lip, as if that would help her come up with a Scripture verse or a reason this new development was for the best—anything to help at this point. But nothing came to mind. She found herself unwittingly scratching through the last entry on her sheet of lists. "Ask Melissa to go shopping with me to get new hiking boots" was now neatly crossed off.

Her eventual response was simple. There isn’t anything to discuss. We’ll both stay here and go somewhere else later when you feel up to it. She knew the chances of getting reservations in Yosemite in July or August were not good. She would pout a little knowing she would get over it. But Melissa would never agree to miss the first day of school if she could help it, let alone the first week. There really was no choice.

They concluded the only way to properly work through this dilemma was to claim denial for the present. Later that afternoon, they could face it again over bowls of ice cream. Melissa’s favorite was double chocolate chunk. Shelly preferred Moose Tracks. Maybe they would get a small carton of each. The only question was whether their pity party was going to be at Shelly’s condo, which was about ten minutes away, or Melissa’s apartment, which was just a few blocks from the school.

Could I come over to your place later? Things always seem happier there. Melissa sounded pathetic.

Shelly didn’t hesitate. Of course. We’ll work through this and come up with something else fun to do instead of Yosemite.

After she picked up the ice cream at the grocery store, she bought a board game for Melissa’s surgery instead of flowers or plants.

Melissa can’t kill a board game. Shelly’s smile was weak.

She pulled into her own marked spot in the parking lot of her condo just before 3:30, and her stomach growled. Skipping lunch was probably not the greatest idea. The breeze caught wisps of Shelly’s hair as she got her keys ready to unlock the front door.

Oh, no. How could I have forgotten to lock my door? She sighed and attributed her oversight to the hectic schedule characteristic of the last few days of school.

The condominium was on a quiet and beautifully landscaped cul-de-sac. Her unit was colonial brick, two stories high, with huge white columns on the front porch. It was an end unit, which gave her extra windows in her living room and upstairs bedroom. Swaying palm trees lined the street and graced the yard.

The thought kept niggling at her. I remember locking that door this morning. But she soon became distracted from the concern when she heard Melissa’s car pull up.

Shelly quickly went into her cheery kitchen for two spoons and some napkins. The dining room was between the living area and the kitchen. White tile counters with Delft blue trim made her kitchen look clean and fresh, and the yellow-and-white curtains shouted sunshine and happiness. The blue accents gave it the finishing touch.

She heard the knock at her front door. It opened, and Melissa trudged in. Shelly hollered into the front room, Hey, lady. Come on in and sit. I’ll be right there. And she silently added, Lord, help me to say the right thing to help my dear friend.

The living room sported a white jacquard sofa with well-behaved cushions and blue and white pillows—not thrown or tossed, but neatly positioned. She liked order and found it refreshing that everything was in its place. The floors in the living and dining rooms were white marble tile splashed with bright royal-blue accent rugs, which were also perfectly in place. The intense earth tones in her downstairs office complemented the light steel-gray carpet, as did bright crayon colors in the guest room upstairs.

Melissa collapsed into a defeated heap and allowed her purse to tumble to the floor. As she gathered up the few things that fell out of her designer handbag, she picked up a postcard of the Santa Barbara Marina that had slid under the glass-topped mahogany coffee table. There was no sign of dust, and Melissa wondered how long it had been there.

Here. Found this, she muttered as she held out the postcard for Shelly to take.

Where did that come from? Shelly’s answer struck a funny note with Melissa, and she smiled at her organized friend, who lived by making endless lists, kept to rigorous schedules, and thrived in neat, orderly environments.

Don’t worry. I didn’t see any dust bunnies. Melissa quietly laughed.

Shelly wanted to mention the unlocked door and tell her friend she’d never seen the postcard before but decided this might not be the best time.

Melissa pried the lid from her ice cream tub and licked the inside before setting it on the marble-top coffee table. Shelly tried to ignore the drip of chocolate threatening to ooze down the edge of the carton onto the white sofa cushion, but she decided to hand Melissa another napkin, which successfully captured the impending mess.

I called my mom, and we actually had a conversation where we didn’t argue, said Melissa. She never even suggested that my injury happened because I was awkward. In fact, she sounded like she felt bad for me. It was her idea to fly out here and stay with me while I am recovering from the surgery. Melissa’s voice held hope, and her smile brought tears to Shelly’s big blue eyes.

Melissa, give your mom a chance. Remember the love chapter? Love is not only patient and kind. It never boasts, and it is not rude. But as much a part of that passage, love is also not easily offended; it forgives and does not keep records of others’ wrongdoings. Your mom has tried to make amends for years. Maybe it is time you allow that? Shelly hoped her words would not dig up old memories of Melissa’s abusive father and the devastation Melissa felt when her mother looked the other way too many times.

"I know you’re right. Lately, I’ve been wondering how much my mom really knew