Breaking Rules Page 4

“Clean bill of health, and not a thing for you to worry about, Miss Dunham,” Gabe said, patting Lashell on the back.

  I looked up from my group and watched the two RI staffers on the stage. I’d been so distracted by our team’s planning that I hadn’t even noticed Gabe’s return, but after I’d spotted him, I kept staring in their direction, hoping to hear what the doctor had said.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Lashell turned into him.

  No more than five feet tall, the tiny woman looked up at Gabe as he towered over her by at least a foot. She rested her face against his chest and wrapped him in a motherly hug, squeezing his mid-section as tightly as she could.

  “You’ve gotta stop going and getting yourself hurt like that, Gabriel.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m fine.” He tried not to laugh as he wriggled out of her tight hug. Although he smiled, she didn’t seem to believe him. “I’m fine, okay? Please nod if you’re listening to me.”

  She kept staring at him doe-eyed and sad, seemingly lost in thought about something.

  “Hey,” he said, dipping down to steal her gaze. His tone was gentle as he lifted her chin. “Don’t you dare spend a dime and send flowers to my doorstep again. I told you, I’m good as new.”

  “But—”

  “I appreciate the concern, Shelly, but the doc says I’m good as ever,” he said, crossing his finger over his heart, and that seemed to settle her nerves.

  And it settled mine, too.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to my group.

  “So like I said,” I tried to get back on track. I met Carla and Fletcher’s eager stares. “It wouldn’t be something to start right away. We’ll have plenty of time to focus on our other projects, and even if we only contribute a few hours here and there to planning the final event, we’ll be ready to go by the time we adjourn in six weeks.”

  “That’s great,” Carla said. “I called during lunch and talked to my Uncle Rick about using the church. He said we can have it on Thursdays and Saturdays during the duration of the program. So I was thinking maybe Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons for the soup kitchen?”

  “That works for me,” I said, trying to remember my work schedule for the week. “I can switch my shifts at the bakery if I need to. I want to be at the church if I can. Fletcher?”

  “Thursday evenings might be rough with rehearsal,” he said. “But I’ll do my best. I can swing Saturdays for sure.”

  “Great!” Carla said, and it was just then that Gabe slid into the chair next to mine and raised his brow.

  “Yes?” I asked, looking at him from the corner of my eye. Although I felt awful about hitting him, and even worse about hearing the things that my sister and Jones had said at lunch, my remorse didn’t make me like Gabe any more than I had a few hours earlier. He stood out there on the steps and let me make a complete idiot of myself in front of both him and Lashell, and he could’ve stepped in anytime to tell me who he was.

  I was torn between being aggravated and devastated by the whole mess.

  When he didn’t say anything, I kept my head low and refused to look up.

  “Can we help you with something?” I asked, still scrawling in a notebook. “We’re really busy here, and we’ve got a lot to plan before we nail down a schedule.”

  “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” he asked below his breath. “Don’t you think it might be a good idea to at least try to play nice?”

  I finally lifted my head and turned to give him an unimpressed look, but something stopped me, and my breathing cut short.

  I met his pale eyes, and a heavy sigh fell through my lips. Though they were still the same, calming blue, shaded beneath his ball cap, and his clothes were still gross and dingy, there was something different about him. His tanned skin was cleaner, washed clean of any dirt or mud. It was something I hadn’t noticed before as he stood on stage with Lashell, but being close to him now, I could see how well he cleaned up.

  He didn’t hold my stare long before turning away to face Carla.

  “Gabe,” he introduced himself, and then reached his hand forward to shake both of theirs. Carla and Fletcher both introduced themselves, and then they turned to me. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not roll my eyes. When I didn’t bother reintroducing myself, Gabe sat straighter and continued, “You’ll probably see a lot of me around here over the next six weeks. I have staffers visiting each of the four schools, but Lashell and I are going to head up this team here in Sugar Creek. You guys are the smallest district, and you’re looking like the underdogs at this point. The other schools are working with groups of fifty plus, and I’m not sure it’d be such a bad idea to give you a little extra support however we can.”

  “Wait a minute,” Carla said, holding up her hand. “Gabe?” she asked as if his introduction had taken a while to sink in. “As in Gabriel Raddick? Are you Gabriel Raddick?”

  “I am,” he said, and it almost sounded humble. “Now, Lashell and I were talking—”

  “Oh my God!” she squealed, cutting him off yet again, and then she leaned over to dig a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.

  She unfolded the creases and turned it around, revealing a photocopied newspaper article from the Sugar Creek Gazette. The headline read “Local solider wins national philanthropy award.”

  “I’ve been reading all about you since I found out your program was coming to the school, but I had no idea that we’d actually get to meet you. This is amazing!”

  Gabe licked his lower lip and maintained a blank expression.

  “I’m such a huge fan of your program, Mr. Raddick,” she continued. “Is it really true that you’ve raised a million dollars for local charities since you’ve been home from war?”

  He tilted his head for a moment and then nodded.

  “Wow,” I said, and the word had slipped out before I’d even registered how impressive that really was. “A million dollars? Good for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, turning to me as if he couldn’t believe I was capable of giving a compliment. He looked at the others and then nodded as if he couldn’t be more eager to change the subject. “So what have you guys come up with for the program?”

  Carla didn’t hesitate to give him a rundown on the short-term soup kitchen, and she even mentioned the possibility of receiving a cut of the theater admission proceeds.

  “And Lashell mentioned that your little threesome here came up with the big, finale fundraiser for your district?”

  “Oh, that was all Mandy,” Carla said, turning to me. “You wanna tell him?”

  I stopped slouching in my chair and sat a little straighter. I looked around at all of the other groups as they huddled and talked, planned and divulged, and then I looked back to Gabe.

  Okay, Mandy. Time to impress Mr. Big Shot. You’ve got this.

  “I talked to the others right after lunch, and we all agreed that it would be fun to do a dance of some kind.”

  “A dance?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “To celebrate the end of the six weeks, we could throw a massive party to acknowledge all of the hard work and money we’ve raised.”

  “But organizing a dance takes a lot of time, money, and resources,” Gabe argued. “It’s great to celebrate, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not really what we’re aiming for.”

  “My sister’s the president of the dance committee,” I said, powering through. “And I sit on the board…at her insistence. We have an abundance of resources on our hands, and I assure you that Bailey can throw a party.”

  “Again, we’re not here to throw parties. What’s the point? What about the money?” he pressed. “How will you fund it?”

  “Donations.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put those donations directly to charity?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He slowly raised his hands to his face, and his index fingers formed a steeple just below his lips. “Why a dance?”

  “We’re not going
to ask for monetary donations,” I said, feeling as though the idea was quickly being shot down. “My sister’s boyfriend plays drums in the best band in town, and they would play a free gig, for sure. I already know he’s pro-charity, so the music’s covered, and I can’t see the school turning us down for the space. The rest we’ll scrape up.”

  “And how does this function as the finale fundraiser?” he asked, finally lowering his hands. “How do you intend to earn anything from it?”

  “Charge for tickets,” I said. “And maybe even set up a donation box inside the dance. Simple as that. I think we’ll be golden.”

  “And with Homecoming just around the same time,” he said, “won’t that conflict?”

  Carla’s grin widened into a smile, and she placed her hand on my arm to stop me. “May I?”

  “Go for it,” I said, giving up. Gabe hated the idea—that much was apparent. If she thought she could change his mind, I wasn’t going to stop her.

  Carla loosened her grip on me and reached forward to take Gabe’s hands. Her fingers squeezed his gently in a reassuring manner. He looked down at her grip, slowly pulled his hands away, and tucked them in his lap.

  Seeming a little jilted by his refusal to hold hands, Carla still pressed forward.

  “I know you’re skeptical, Mr. Raddick,” she said. “But we’re talking about something much larger than some, silly, high school dance.”

  “Okay?”

  “Like opening the doors and admission to the parents, the grandparents, even the rest of the public who might want to take their family out for a fun night of music and dancing.”

  “A town dance?” Gabe asked, and he rubbed his scruffy beard. “Lashell approved this?”

  “She was ready to go out and buy her dress the moment Mandy pitched the idea,” Carla said, and Fletcher snickered at the memory of Lashell’s dramatic exclamation only an hour earlier—I love the idea!

  “I don’t know, guys,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “I think we’re losing sight of what the program’s trying to accomplish.”

  “How?” I argued. “Lashell said that one of the approaches of RI is to collaborate with people in an attempt to positively impact our community. How is something like this dance losing sight of our goals? This kind of event will bring people together, it will create a safe environment for students and parents to spend time together, and we’re raising money in the process. Please explain to me how this isn’t the best idea you’ve ever heard.”

  Carla and Fletcher stared at me wide-eyed.

  “Okay,” Gabe said. “Say we give the dance the green light. What’s your theme? What’s the focus?”

  “Family, togetherness, charity,” I said. “Stop me when you’ve heard enough.”

  “Mandy, maybe you should take a breath,” Carla suggested.

  “Those things are great, I’m not disputing that,” Gabe said, ignoring Carla as much as I had. “But if you want a large turnout, you need to think of something that gets people worked up. Pull at their heartstrings. Give them a reason to show up and pay five bucks for a ticket.”

  “So,” Fletcher said, deep in thought. “A theme. Something like… relief for hurricane disaster?”

  “You’re on the right track,” Gabe said. “But think locally. What will resonate with Sugar Creek?”

  “Texting and driving has been a serious issue around here lately,” Fletcher said. “Lots of accidents, especially close to the school. Maybe a charity dance to promote safe driving? And we could emphasize the danger of cell phones behind the wheel.”

  Gabe’s grin widened into a full-blown smile, and his hand landed with a thud on Fletcher’s shoulder.

  “Genius,” he said. “Bringing awareness and togetherness to the community. Perfect.” Dropping his hand from Fletcher, Gabe turned to me and thumped my arm. “Isn’t that a perfect idea, Mandy?”