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reaction.
    “Gavin.” Her voice was the same one she used for her students.
    “Right.” He drew the word out, nodding slowly. “Some other time, I mean. You could push me then.”
    A pang of regret tugged at Emma’s heart but quickly passed. She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, seriously … you aren’t really doing the marathon, are you?”
    “Actually?” His chuckle told her the ruse was over, that this was for real. “I’ve been training since March. I’m not much of a distance runner, so yeah, I’m doing the half marathon.” He flashed another grin. “Maybe we’ll see each other at the beach.”
    Not today … please not today. She glanced again at her students and then took a step in their direction. “Maybe.” For a brief moment she hesitated and allowed a sincerity to her smile. “I appreciate the offer. Really.”
    “Okay.” He gave another lighthearted shrug and took a step back. “See you around.”
    Emma retreated to the safety of her classroom and raised one hand in his direction. She mouthed the words, “See ya.”
    And with that, he was gone. Emma shut the door behind him. She turned to her students, and her eyes met Frankie’s. The little girl gave her a sad smile, almost as if she understood the battle raging inside Emma’s heart. As if whatever prayers the child had lifted to heaven on her behalf were only the beginning of her concern and knowing.
    Again Emma walked slowly toward Frankie’s desk. “Okay, every one, if you’re finished, take your paper to the red folder on my desk and sit back down.”
    Most of the students pushed back from their desks and skipped or walked their papers to the front of the room. Frankie stayed seated, her eyes still on Emma. What is it about her? And how come she looks at me like she can see straight through to my soul? Emma tried to seem composed and together, the way a teacher was supposed to. She stopped when she reached Frankie’s desk. “Everything okay, sweetie?”
    “Yes, Teacher.” Her expression lightened some. “I was watching you, that’s all.”
    Emma touched the girl’s pretty dark hair. “I’m okay.”
    Frankie tilted her face, analyzing her the way only a child can. “Good.” She reached out and took hold of Emma’s fingers. “You’re the bestest teacher in the whole world.” Her eyes shone. “Know why?”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re nice, and you look like a princess.” She gave Emma’s fingers a light squeeze and then she released them and struggled to her feet. Her arms were more bruised than usual. “I’ll take my paper up now.”
    Emma watched the way Frankie’s first few steps were a struggle, marked by her constant, chronic pain. But three steps along she picked up her pace and looked like any other child. Pain never slowed Frankie, not as long as Emma had known her. She was proof that perfection wasn’t needed for life to be beautiful.
    Her students were buzzing again, talking out loud and teasing each other, chatting about the weekend and who won the games at recess. Emma let them be. She went to her desk and straightened the stack of papers in the red folder. While the final minutes of the school day ticked away, she stared out the window.
    It had been a day like this. Colder, of course. Less humid, maybe, but just as blue. The day that could’ve changed everything. Memories rushed at her, but she held them at bay. There would be time to think about it later. Down at the beach.
    The bell rang and the children obediently lined up at the classroom door. Emma bid each of them good-bye and then settled back at her desk. Two hours later, when every paper had been corrected and filed, and when her classroom was as neat as it would get before school let out for summer, she headed home.
    Emma kept the ragtop down on her old red Volkswagen Cabriolet. The salty summer air took the edge off her heartache as she headed southeast for the Holden Beach Bridge. But her solitude was short-lived. No matter how serene the