of our new teachers credit him for getting them through that first year in one piece.â
Lydia knocked again. This time, a bronze-hued man in sweats with deep-set eyes and a set of full lips answered. Lawson saw what Lydia meant by calling him a cutie-pie. âHey, and welcome back, Lydia.â His voice was a little hoarse, but friendly nevertheless. âWhat can I do for you lovely ladies today?â
Lydia gestured to Lawson. â This lovely young lady is the reason why Iâm here, Coach. I wanted you to meet your new mentee, Lawson Kerry.â
He gazed at Lawson with eyes as wide as his smile. âI saw your name on my list and had planned to drop in to say hello after lunch. Welcome aboard.â
Lawson received his handshake and studied his face. There was something familiar about that smile. She apologized when she realized she was staring. âIâm not crazy,â she clarified. âYou just look so familiar to me. Are you from around here?â
The coach nodded. âBorn and raised. I hope thatâs not your best pick-up line,â he joked. âIf so, Iâve got to warn youâitâs been used.â
He smiled again, and Lawson blinked and shook her head to readjust her vision. His smile, in fact, was very familiar because sheâd seen that same dimpled grin for the past thirteen years, and as recently as that morning. For a split second, Coach Vinson looked as if he could be Mark, Namonâs biological father.
This kind of thing had happened before. It wasnât unusual for Lawson to pass a man in the grocery store or on the street who looked like the fading image of Mark that she managed to hold on to in her mind. Perhaps this was just one of those times.
She realized that he had said something to her again. âIâm sorry, what did you say?â asked Lawson, still lost in her thoughts.
âI asked if you were from Savannah too,â he repeated.
âUm, yeah . . .â
This manâs last name was Vinson. Wasnât that Markâs last name? She couldnât remember; she could barely remember her own name at that moment. This guy couldnât be her sonâs father. It was impossible. Or was it?
He continued talking, and she only knew this because his lips were still moving, but she had no idea what he was saying. His words were crowded out by her inner thoughts. He canât be Namonâs dad , she told herself. After all, what were the chances of the two of them being teachers and both working at the same school?
âYeah, I went to private school myself . . .â she heard him say when she tuned in to the conversation again. She smiled and nodded to appear interested.
Mark went to private school too, she thought, and he had already admitted to being from Savannah and appeared to be around her age. Lawson could feel beads of sweat spouting on her forehead. She had trouble catching her breath. She needed to know his full name. Once she had that, she could relax again. She felt like she was losing her mind.
âI remember my first day as a teacher,â he said. âI looked just as confused and distracted as you look right now.â His saying that triggered another thought: If Coach Vinson was the same guy she slept with in high school, he wouldâve remembered something about her, yet there wasnât a glimmer of recognition when he set eyes on her.
I know Iâm not that forgettable , she said to herself. Especially not after what we did.
âCoach Vinson played professional football overseas before coming to North Central,â reported Lydia.
Lawson thought back. If she remembered nothing else about Mark, she did know that he was a football player in high school. It was all he talked about. The name. She needed his full name to put the matter to rest once and for all.
âForgive me, but what did you say your name was again?â Lawson asked and held her breath for his response.
âYou