Chapter Seven.....
Buffy could feel his eyes on her in a way that was
almost palpable. The lovely blue of his iris seemed
to have deepened, and they snapped with pent up
energy.
He made her so nervous that she actually had to take a
step back.
"So," Willow spoke up. "You don't have any children?"
Spike Devlin shook his head, his eyes still pinned on
Buffy. "None of my own," he replied. "I have a niece
and nephew," **In England** he added silently, mentally
crossing his fingers. "My sister's kids."
"Oh...and you're checking out the available preschools
for them?"
"What?" He pulled his gaze away from Buffy and addressed
himself to Willow. "Oh...yeah. Yeah, they're...about the right
age and....so on."
"I see." Willow glanced at her watch. "Well, it's almost time
for the children to go in and have their quiet time. If you'd like to
come into the office, I'd be happy to show you how we operate
here at Willow Tree."
Buffy sighed with relief. An escape opportunity presenting
itself at exactly the right moment. Her out-of-whack stars
must be moving back into alignment.
"Excuse me," she murmured, then walked out into the play
yard and clapped her hands.
The children knew the drill, and they left what they were
doing to form a slightly disorderly line.
Buffy waited until all her ducklings were in a row, then
marched them inside. The children followed along, going
straight to their cubbyholes and pulling out their rest mats
and stuffed animals.
She read to them for fifteen minutes, turned off
the overhead light, then sat down at her desk to
begin cutting pieces of colored construction paper
into different shapes and sizes for their afternoon
art project, and NOT think about Spike Devlin.
**********************************************
Spike was having a far more difficult time not thinking
about Miss Buffy.
He had willingly followed Willow into her office, and taken
a look at her curriculum and the goals she set for the
children attending her school.
During a lull in the conversation, he was struck by a
sudden inspiration.
"You know," he said sincerely. "All this looks just great,
and I'll definitely clue my little sister in...but I was just
thinking that maybe I could visit one of the classrooms.
Watch how things work. That be okay, luv?"
This was a common and reasonable request, so Willow
didn't find it strange. "The children are having their quiet
time right now," she informed him. "But you're more than
welcome to sit in on the afternoon session."
"Fabulous," Devlin murmured, trying hard not to look
too eager.
But Willow just smiled and pulled out her attendance
sheets. "Everyone has a full class today," she said,
scanning the list. "Since you already know Buffy...maybe
you should start there." Looking up, she closed her
ledger and put it away. "I assume you've told her what
you want?"
He grinned. "Oh, yes," he said firmly. "She knows EXACTLY
what I want."
"Great," Willow said, standing up. "I'll show you where her
class is."
****************************************************
Buffy was beginning to think that someone had it in for
her in a major way.
As if she didn't have enough on her mind, the children
were continuing to act up. Kyle needed to go the bathroom.
Jason needed a drink of water. Keiko needed to get her
stuffed 'sleep buddy' out of her cubby. Andrew just enjoyed
making noise. Nina had sand in her shoes.
By the time she had attended to each one, Jason
needed to go to the bathroom, Kyle was thirsty, and she
was back at square one.
Even when she finally had them down on their mats,
they couldn't seem to be still and rest. They giggled,
they whispered, they kicked their legs, they hummed
tunelessly, they flopped around like a school of beached
goldfish.
Then, when she was already on her last nerve, it got
worse.
****************************************************
"That's enough!" Willow stood in the doorway and
clapped her hands sharply, twice. "Now," she added,
when all of the children were lying as stiffly and silently
as planks of wood, "we have a guest today."
Buffy, who had her back to the door, clapped one hand
over her eyes. She knew, without even having to look,
exactly who the mystery guest would turn out to be.
"This is Mr. Devlin," Willow said. "He's here to see
how we do things at Willow Tree, and I KNOW
that you want to show him what good boys and girls
you all are. Do you think that's what you were doing
a moment ago?"
Twelve heads wobbled from side to side.
"Then I expect you all to quiet down," she said
firmly. "Buffy...?"
Heaving a sigh that came all the way from the soles
of her shoes, Buffy turned around and saw Willow wave
her over.
She smiled weakly, her suspicions confirmed. Standing
beside Willow, with a smirk on his face that she could
have cheerfully slapped right off, was Spike Devlin.
**Help me, someone. Anyone?**
Buffy approached the pair at the door, pushing her
hands into the side pockets of her denim skirt.
"Willow...I'm having a hard time settling them down,"
she murmured. "Maybe this isn't a good idea...today.
Why don't you try Carolyn's class."
Her friend stared at her as though she'd lost every
last one of her marbles. She honestly couldn't believe
that Buffy was turning down a visit from Spike Devlin.
But, before she could say anything in reply, he cut
her off.
"I'd actually rather observe YOU, Miss Buffy. Watch
how you...handle yourself," he double entendred in
silken tones. "When the children aren't minding their
P's and Q's, I mean."
Trapped. Trapped like a caged ferret.
*************************************************
The instant that the door closed behind Willow, Buffy
dropped her smile and returned to her desk without
speaking one word to her unwanted guest.
As calmly as she could, she picked up her scissors
and continued the task of cutting out shapes of con-
struction paper.
Devlin strolled leisurely around the room, pausing to
study different displays of the children's work tacked
to the walls, slowly working his way towards her
desk.
Buffy ignored him, concentrating on cutting the paper
and not herself. In the state of mind she was in, she had
no doubt whatsoever that she would slice a finger off.
"What are you doing?" he asked, perching on the side
of her desk.
She stopped cutting and looked up at him. "Baking a
cake," she replied sarcastically, with a dead-pan ex-
pression.
The children snickered, and she could have kicked
herself. "Quiet!"
Devlin just smiled. "Need any help?" he whispered.
"No, thank you."
"You sure?"
"Completely."
He was silent for a few seconds. "I don't mind
helping."
"No, thank you," she said doggedly.
"My triangles are a bit lopsided, but my circles are
works of art. Just ask my mum."
Another wave of giggles swept through the room.
Buffy flung her head up and smacked her palm on
the desk. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Looking up at Spike,
she scowled. "I'm sorry...but if you can't refrain from
disrupting my class, then...."
"ME?" he asked, pointing at himself. "YOU'RE the one
yelling at them."
She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. He was
absolutely right. HE had been whispering. SHE was the
one with the volume control problem.
The children's eyes bounced back and forth between the
two adults, like tiny spectators at a really intense
ping-pong tournament. It wasn't long before they began
fidgeting and whispering again.
*********************************************
Spike could see that the imminent loss of control
over her class was agitating Buffy. Since he didn't want
to be the cause of this problem, which would certainly
not endear him to her, he decided to take some action.
Leaning over, he spoke quietly to her. "I'll be right back,
luv."
Watching him walk out the door, Buffy was momentarily
tempted to lock it.
His car, the black Mustang she'd seen the other day, was
parked at the curb. He unlocked the trunk and reached inside,
bringing out a .....
"Oh, no," she said beneath her breath. This was the last
thing on earth that she needed at that particular moment.
Jumping to her feet, she intercepted him as he came
through the door. "No. You can't do that in here," she
said curtly. "I absolutely forbid you to...zip that back
up! I mean it...do NOT take that out in my classroom."
"Calm down," he said quietly. "I'm going to help."
"How?" she demanded. "By damaging their hearing?"
Spike opened the inner lining of it's case and removed
a guitar. "Do you see any electrical outlets on this instrument?"
he asked. "This, my lovely, is an acoustic guitar. It has a
red cedar top and rosewood back and sides, mother of pearl
inlay on the headstock, and a rosewood fret board."
He looped the strap around his neck. "My first guitar,"
he informed her. "I take it everywhere, but I rarely play it
except when I'm alone...because it's very special to me."
Buffy was quite unable to say anything.
"Today," he added, running his fingers lightly up and down
the neck of the instrument. "I want to play it...for you. And for
the little ones." He smiled at her, a genuine and open smile,
with no hidden meanings. "That all right with you, lovely?"
After a moment, she returned his smile. "Yes," she said
softly. "It's all right with me."
Actually...it was so VERY all right with her...that it
scared her.
Just a little......
****************************************************
Spike Devlin spent the next fifteen minutes of his
life enchanting twelve children...and their teacher.
Sitting on the edge of Buffy's desk, he moved his fingers
over the strings of his guitar, drawing out lovely melodies
designed to calm the wildest heart.
Then he left the desk and began to wander through the
room. It made Buffy smile, remembering how he prowled
the stage at Union Jack's. It must be a habit so deeply
ingrained that he did it without even thinking about it.
"Hush a bye, hush a bye
Go to sleepy little baby
When you wake, you shall have
And all the pretty little horses,"
The children never took their eyes off him, but they
remained as quiet as it was humanly possible for
them to be.
"Blacks and bays
Dapples and grays
All the pretty little horses."
His voice was every bit as beautifully tuned an
instrument as the guitar itself. He kept his tone low
and soft.
"Hush a bye, don't you cry
Go to sleepy little baby
When you wake, you shall have sweet cake
And all the pretty little horses.
A black and bay, a brown and gray
All the pretty little horses
All the black ones, and all the white ones
All the calm ones, and all the wild ones
All the pretty little horses.
All the pretty little horses."
He stopped singing, but continued to play softly. Five
minutes later, every child in the room was sound asleep.
Then he turned and smiled at her, and Buffy knew that
she was in danger of completely losing her heart if she
wasn't careful.
Problem was, she wasn't sure she wanted to be careful
anymore.
TBC....
Comments? I love 'em!
[Reviews - 364]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 5504 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +