Yuletide Proposal

“Forget about the time left.” He leaned back in his chair. “Forget about everything but that some kids need your help. Now, I know you’ve been thinking about this because you couldn’t help yourself. You’re compelled to get in there and nurture these kids to do better.” He grinned. “So how shall we start?”

They brainstormed ideas. It was slow going at first, but gradually Brianna relaxed enough to let her thoughts roam freely. Finally the idea that had been hidden at the back of her brain burst out.

“Your world.” She stared at the scribbles he’d made on the paper, then lifted her head to stare at him. “It’s called ‘Your World.’”

“Okay.” He wrote that down then waited. “Meaning?”

“How do you want your world to look?” She smiled as his face tightened. “That’s straight from your lips, Zac. Get kids thinking by giving them a glimpse of what could be, beyond Hope, beyond what is now.”

“Good.” He tapped his pen. “How do we start?”

“First we need board approval. And a budget. You’ll have to get the teachers on board with this, too,” she warned.

“I can do that.”

She was surprised by how easily Zac accepted her ideas, but she didn’t stop to think about it because thoughts kept mushrooming in her head. “Remember Billy Atkins?”

“Billy. Sure, I remember.” Zac nodded. “He runs the local newspaper.”

“And he’s still a phenomenal artist judging by the mural on the side of his building. I think you should have the entry wall, the one you see the moment you enter the school, painted a startling white.” She grinned. “And then ask Billy to paint a globe on it with the words Your World across the top. Dad could probably help if we needed him.”

“Okay.” Skepticism filled his face. “What do we do with this globe?”

“This is where you have to be flexible, Zac.” She paused, inhaled, then told him the gist of her idea. “Every kid gets a chance to write what he wants to see in his world on that wall.” She didn’t stop even though his face blanched. “If this is going to work, the students have to believe someone will listen to what they write, listen to what they want. You and the staff must accept their ideas, whether or not you agree with them. You have to be genuine. I will not be part of this if you or the board intend to veto the suggestions they make.”

“There are certain things we can’t allow,” he said stiffly.

“Of course.” She nodded. “So you say that to the kids. No vulgarity, no cursing, no inappropriate remarks about teachers. But don’t get hung up on the negatives. You want genuine responses that the students are willing to work to achieve.”

“And if we get the other?” he asked.

“You have that painted over and wait for a new suggestion.” Brianna paused to watch his face. “Be prepared, Zac. It might not go as well as you hope at first. But I think, if given a chance, students will have some remarkable ideas about the way they want their world to look. Some ideas may be quite easy to achieve. But nothing can be discounted just because you think it’s too difficult or too far out,” she warned. “Every idea deserves consideration.”

Zac wrote as fast as she talked, nodding from time to time. When he finally looked at her, a glimmer lit his eyes.

“It might work,” he said in a dazed tone. “It just might work.”

“It will work, but only if no one judges or criticizes. Your World is all about possibilities.”

“What do we do once everyone has contributed?” He laughed and shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say. Start working on them. Right?”

“Yes. We’ll need a committee of students who are willing to prioritize and a teacher or two who will agree to sit in on their meetings. Sit in on,” she repeated firmly. “Not run. This is an initiative by the students.”

“Maybe you can think about doing that,” he suggested.

Brianna shook her head. “I’m here only to help brainstorm ideas.”

“Any more of them?” Zac asked, one eyebrow arched.

“I’d forget about announcing anything at the rally.”

“But—” He stopped, looked at her and said, “Go on.”

“This might be hard to do in the short time left before Homecoming, but if the board agrees to the plan and you can recruit some people, I think a float in the Homecoming parade is a good idea.” He didn’t interrupt so she continued. “A great big globe with the words Your World—How do you see it? floating down the street will get a lot of attention. No explanation. Nothing. You, the teachers, the board—you all remain silent until the plan is announced on Monday. By the time Monday comes and the wall is ready, everyone in the entire town will be talking.”

Zac nodded, jotted a few more things on his paper. By the time he leaned back in his chair, he’d lost the tense air she’d seen when she arrived.

“This is exactly what we need. A little excitement, a little mystery, something out of the ordinary.” His eyes met hers sending a little tingle down Brianna’s spine.

She was not prepared for his next question.

“Would you be willing to be the spokesperson for Your World at the board meeting?” Zac held up a hand to interrupt her refusal. “You think on your feet. You’re good at public speaking. You can present this idea in a way that will grip the board far more than anything I say. They’ll listen to you, Brianna.”

“They won’t listen to you?” She frowned. That didn’t sound like a good start.

“Yes, they would. But I’d rather present the information about drugs and the threat to our schools.” He met her stare. “I want them to have a clear picture of what could happen if we don’t initiate this program.”

“You’re the negative, I’m the positive, which will make them more inclined to see this as a solution, a way out,” she mused. “Good idea.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Not so fast. By presenting this, I’m the one who’ll take the heat if something goes wrong or if the plan fails.” She paused. “Or is that the point?”

“I never thought of that, but it works for me.” He chuckled at her dark look. “You won’t take any heat, Brianna. I’ll make sure of that. Anyway, I have a feeling they’re going to embrace this idea. It will give everyone a kick start to make changes.”

“When’s the board meeting?” Brianna asked.

“Tonight.”

“What?” She gulped. “Zac, I need time to prepare.”

“No, you don’t. You always excelled at speaking off the cuff. I doubt that’s changed.” He stacked his papers together. “Be here at seven. I’ll rework the agenda so our plan will go first.”

“Zac, I—” Brianna panicked. What was she doing? She hadn’t been back in Hope that long. She didn’t even know who was on the school board. What business was it of hers to make a suggestion like this to people who’d probably see her as an interloper after so many years?

“Brianna.” Zac’s hand covered hers and sent a shockwave up her arm.

“Yes?” She refocused. His dark eyes gleamed with something—hope?

“This is for the kids—for Cory.” His fingers tightened against her skin. “Don’t think about anything else. Concentrate on the kids.”

Her free hand lifted to touch the outline of her ring lying under the collar of her blouse. The old Zac, the one she’d remembered, had smiled like that and made her think of possibilities, and infused her with courage when she most needed it.

The tingling in her arm magnified. Brianna drew away from his touch. What was it about this man that he could still get her to react with nothing more than a smile and a touch?

“You can do it, Brianna.”

There it was again, that encouragement she remembered so well.