The Last One

THE LAST ONE-Chapter Thirteen--Meghan

"NO, GRAHAM, DON'T TOUCHanything!" I made a desperate grab for the seven-year oldterrorizing the kids around him. "Or anybody."

"I'm a monster!" Heroared, darting around the desks and evading me once again.

Truer words, Ithought, but I didn't have time to laugh. This child was determinedto spread his finger paint over everything and everyone in theroom.

"Whoa there, tiger." Atall woman in jeans and boots caught Graham and swung him up,holding him by his middle. "Time to wash up."

"Thanks." I hurried overwith wet paper towels and wiped off as much of the paint as I couldmanage with the boy batting and kicking. I glanced up at hiscaptor. "I appreciate the help. Are you a mom? I don't think we'vemet yet."

"Nah, not a mom. Just anaunt." She let Graham down, holding his hand in a death grip. "Tothis little cherub, actually."

"Oh." I grinned; it wasclear that this chick had her nephew's number. He wasn't going toget away with anything. "Everything okay with his mother?"

"Yeah. She's my sister,and her husband surprised her with a trip to Hilton Head for a longweekend. Anniversary deal. They left this little prize with my mom,and for some reason I'll never understand, she gave him a donut forbreakfast. Sugared him up before she sent him to you. So ... sorryabout that."

"No problem." I dried myhands. "I did notice he was a little more, ah, active today."

The woman grimaced."You're being too nice. He's a brat sometimes. He's the onlygrandchild, and so he's more than a little spoiled." She sighed. "Ican't say anything, I do it, too."

"What are aunts for, ifnot to spoil? My nephew is just a little over a year old, and Icould just eat him up whenever I see him." I stuck out my hand."I'm Meghan Hawthorne, by the way. The art teacher."

"Maureen Flynn.Veterinarian and auntie to horrible monster children." She shook myhand as I laughed.

"Graham's really notthat bad, not normally. He's actually got some talent, when I canget him to sit down and concentrate."

"Doesn't surprise me abit. My dad's an artist, of sorts. He's a mason, and he designsthese beautiful fireplaces or walls for people. He's got the eye,Ma says." Maureen examined me a little more closely. "You're notfrom Burton, are you?"

I laughed. "No, why? AmI missing a special symbol marking me as part of the town?"

"Nah, I just realized Ididn't know anyone related to you. So what brought you to ourbustling city?"

"It's a long story." Imoved to my desk and began to sort through the day's projects. "Butbasically, I'm part of a program that places art students incommunities that need them. I'm only here for the summer."

"Ah." She nodded. "Doyou live nearby?"

"I go to school inSavannah, but right now, I'm staying out at Sam and Ali Reynolds'farm."

"Ohhh." A shadow passedher face so quickly, I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it.

"Do you know them?" Ihad a hunch maybe she knew one of them a little better than theother.

"I ... did. Not so muchanymore." This time the discomfort lingered.

I sighed. "Sam? Did youdate him?"

Her brow knit together."What? Sam? Oh-no. No, I had never had the pleasure." She winked atme. "But by the way your face is turning that lovely shade of red,I'm guessing you have."

"I'm not-I mean-"

Maureen laughed. "Nocomment is a perfectly acceptable answer. No, I knew-know, thatis-Alison. But it was years ago." She paused, as thoughremembering. "We sort of drifted apart. But at one time, I thoughtshe was going to end up part of my family."