Mr. Jamison chuckled. “Causing trouble, mostly. My wife keeps shooing me out of the house because I drive her crazy when I’m bored. I go for a nice long walk every day about this time.”

Bea remembered all the long hours he’d put in at the high school, always going above and beyond the call of duty. Judging the Speech and Debate competitions, serving as senior-class adviser, administering PSAT practice tests. “I’m sure they miss you at the school.”

He’d been a great teacher, despite his blunt way with words. One of her favorites. Which made the feeling she’d let him down all the more overwhelming.

He shrugged. “Every era must come to an end. You’re headed to the Food Farm, I presume?”

Bea couldn’t help but chuckle at the shocked look on Jeremy’s face. He had a lot to learn about how fast news could travel in a small town.

“Yep.” She tugged on Jeremy’s arm. “My old stomping grounds. We better get going. It was nice to see you.”

“You too, Ms. Jensen.” Mr. Jamison gave Jeremy a pointed look. “I mean, Ms. Michaels. Don’t stick around, you hear?”

She felt his words all the way through her heart and down her spine and to her toes. She wanted to say I won’t or Why not? or It’s none of your business, but instead only managed, “We’ll see.”

She stared at the brown leather elbow patches on Mr. Jamison’s jacket as he turned away and wondered not for the first time how a man like him had ended up in Moose Creek. A man who’d never driven a truck or worn a pair of cowboy boots in his life.

“What was that all about?” Jeremy asked.

Mr. Jamison had gone left, so she turned right. “Don’t take it personally.”

Jeremy jogged to catch up. “I don’t. I mean, I don’t care what he says about me. But why would he talk to you like that?”

Bea slowed in front of an old brick building. “Every time a new freshman class arrived at his door, he would spend four years trying to convince them there was more to life than Moose Creek. I guess he thought . . .”

“What?”

“That I believed him.”

Jeremy reached for her hand and squeezed. “Just because you’re back for a little while doesn’t mean you’re settling.”

What if it did? She squeezed back, still amazed at how well her hand fit in his. What if they got stuck here? She’d seen it happen to a lot of people over the years. They would come back because they couldn’t find a job or needed to care for an ailing parent or wanted to save money for a new house and then never mustered the strength to free themselves a second time from the pull of small-town inertia.