My Foolish Heart by Susan May Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

up shop in front of the local pizza parlor. Watercolorists, weavers, wood-carvers. He stopped in front of a pottery booth.
    A foot-pedaled potter’s wheel bulked the middle of the booth. Sacks of clay sat on a shelf behind it alongside unfired pots, some painted, some pale gray. The potter stood over a worktable, wearing an apron over her broom skirt and white T-shirt, her long black hair in a loose braid.
    Caleb picked up a bowl painted in the earthy greens, ambers, and cedars of the north woods. A seagull flying above a shoreline etched the bottom.
    â€œLet me know if you have any questions,” the woman said. She took a bag filled with what looked like clay and water and began to knead it from the outside.
    Okay, sure. “What is that?”
    â€œA broken pot. It fell off the shelf before I could fire it. Thankfully, it wasn’t completely hardened, or I would have had to grind it to powder and start all over. This one, I just took the pieces, let them soak in water for a few days to regain the moisture. I think it’s just about ready to be remolded.”
    She opened the bag, worked her hand through the clay, finally fishing it out. She dumped it onto a wooden board and began rolling it into a ball.
    â€œDo you have a store in town?” Caleb asked.
    â€œRight up the road. I share commercial space with the bookstore.”
    â€œHow long have you lived here?”
    â€œAbout ten years. Someday I hope to be considered a local.” She looked up at him, pushing back wisps of her black hair with her wrist. “Are you visiting?”
    â€œNo, I—”
    â€œHe’s our new social studies teacher, Liza.” This voice he knew, and Caleb turned into the handshake of Mitch O’Conner, head of the school board. A fishing cap, bedazzled with tied lures, protected his blond crew cut, but already the sun had turned his burly arms red. He shifted his coffee cup into his right hand. “You settling in?”
    Caleb nodded. “Got here last night. Met the local fire department.”
    â€œSo you were the one on the scene. I was talking to one of the firefighters this morning and he mentioned a Good Samaritan. You should volunteer—we could use more men on the squad. And a few of them are on the school board. You might recognize them from your interview.”
    Yes, Caleb remembered that interview, six weeks ago. Especially the question Is there anything that might prevent you from doing this job? They’d probably had their eye on his scars, those they could see. He’d answered as truthfully as he could.
    Not in my estimation.
    He’d just have to prove his words right.
    â€œBy the way, you should know that a couple of the guys from the board told me we have another candidate for the coaching position.”
    â€œBut I thought I would be coaching.” He knew he’d technically been hired to teach psychology and social studies, but he hadn’t exactly hidden his true agenda.
    â€œThe candidate is Seb Brewster, an alum of Deep Haven High. He’s filling a math aide position.” Mitch took a sip of coffee. “Played quarterback, led our team to our last state championship. And . . . he wants the coaching job.” He gestured with his cup. “He’s over there in the green shirt, listening to JayJ and the guys.”
    The green shirt . . . oh, the guy who looked about six-four, built lean and fast, as if he still spent time on the field, throwing long and scrambling out of the pocket? The man finished his own fish burger and now rose to shake a hand and buddy-hug a couple linebacker-size locals.
    â€œHe’s already got a fan club in this town, so . . . well . . . I had to swing a deal with the board.”
    Something about the look on Mitch’s pale-skinned face made Caleb’s chest tighten.
    â€œWe’re going to have a competition.” Mitch made an I’m-sorry face as he spoke,