Bless Her Heart

by Sally Kilpatrick

  “Sure.”

  I filled the kettle with water and put it on to boil. “And Granny’s okay?”

  “We found her,” Mom said with a sigh. “Said she was off to find someone even if she had to walk to get there. Len picked her up on Maple Avenue.”

  I nodded. If she were walking down Maple Avenue then she was headed to the highway that would take her to the interstate that would take her to Nashville and no doubt the commune where mom had gone once upon a time. Granny hadn’t forgotten about her youngest daughter.

  “Her sister Pamela used to live off Maple Avenue.”

  I didn’t think Granny wanted to see her sister, Pamela. I thought she was searching for her lost daughter, but I didn’t say it because Mom didn’t need any more guilt.

  Then Rain came in, all excited animation, talking about taking her abuelita to feed the ducks and about how many fish she and Santiago had caught the day before. She touched up her nails and brought vibrancy and laughter to the kitchen as she told tales on her father’s side of the family.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I let it go.

  Somehow Chad had found my number.

  * * *

  The next morning I arrived at Ellery Elementary before the sun came out. After checking the lesson plans that Heather had sent, I laid out supplies I needed and studied the schedule on the board. The moment of truth arrived when twenty sets of eyeballs looked on me in wonder. I introduced myself and we listened to the morning announcements. I herded the kids to reading groups and through their learning centers, took them to recess and lunch, read aloud to them. The one thing I forgot to do, but should’ve known to do, was to tell them more about me as a person.

  The other thing I should’ve done was make sure I had an extra activity or three because I completed all of the lesson plans with ten minutes to spare. In those ten minutes, the questions started:

  “Are you going to be here the rest of the year?”

  “Do you have a cat?”

  “Where’s Ms. Mickens? Has she had her baby yet?”

  “Do you have a baby?”

  “Do you like brussels sprouts?”

  “Can we watch a movie tomorrow?”

  I answered all of their questions as best I could until one sly-eyed little boy—Heath, if I remembered correctly—raised his hand and asked, “Do you get drunk every weekend? ’Cuz that’s what my mama said.”

  My face went red. “No. I do not get drunk every weekend. Or really at all.”

  “That’s not what my mama said! Are you calling my mama a liar?”

  “No, Heath, but you do need to watch your tone and be more respectful.”

  “I’m not Heath. I’m Noah.”

  Great. Calling a student by the wrong name was a sure way to undercut any attempts at discipline.

  The bell rang, and my charges, their backpacks long since ready to go, piled out of the door and headed for the buses. I wanted to sit at my desk and bury my head in my hands, but I had to go to the front of the school and monitor kids who were waiting for parent pickup. As luck would have it, Noah was one of the kids in the lobby. He screwed up his face and yelled across the lobby, “I’m going to tell my mama that you said she’s a liar.”

  “What’s this all about?” Ms. Varner’s low, calm voice made me jump. I turned and quietly explained what had happened, hoping that she would say that she would happily handle the situation for me. Oh, no. She told me that I could walk Noah to the car and confront his mother right then and there. She didn’t even wish me luck.

  When the secretary called Noah’s name, I accompanied him outside. His face had turned a little green. He hadn’t expected me to actually come with him. His mother, a pretty brunette with a baby strapped in a car seat in the back, gave me a quizzical look as I gestured for her to pull into the side parking lot so the carpool line could continue.

  I leaned over to speak through the passenger side window she’d rolled down. What had I got myself into? I wasn’t ready to talk to parents or handle kids who asked me about being a drunk. “Hi, I’m Ms. Love, Noah’s teacher for the rest of the year.”

  She blanched, and I kept a smile on my face to press my advantage. “Noah decided to announce to the entire class that I get drunk on weekends.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits. Please move. I have an appointment to make.”

  “That is not all,” I said through gritted teeth. “I would appreciate it if you would speak to your son about not announcing such things in the middle of class.”

  She rolled down the windows, turned off the engine, and slammed the door on her way to speak to me. “Look, did you or did you not get drunk the other night and make out with my cousin?”

  “I did get drunk for the first time in my life, and I did kiss John O’Brien, if that’s who you’re referring to as your cousin. I don’t plan to drink ever again. I am more than qualified to teach this class and was enjoying doing so until your son decided to interrupt it by making comments not appropriate for a first-grade class, comments that could easily undermine my authority.”

  She laughed, a bitter sound, and then continued our conversation in that sotto voce that adults used when they didn’t want children to hear. “You’re going to quit drinking? I don’t care if you drink like a fish as long as you don’t do it at school. I want you to quit kissing John. The last thing he needs is to have to deal with a married woman. You do know he’s in AA? That they suggested he progress from plants to pets and then, maybe, a relationship with a person? He finally made two years of sobriety, and then you come along? Just the taste of alcohol on your lips could send him spiraling backward. Now imagine if you decide you like drinking. So help me if you drag him back into that hell, I will beat you to within an inch of your life.”

  “I would never—”

  “I know you were over at his house yesterday. Leave him alone.” And with that she rounded the car. When she drove off, she sprayed gravel at me.

  My God. Could I cause John to relapse? I’d known in the abstract that he was a recovering alcoholic—almost everyone in town did—but I hadn’t thought about it yesterday. Of course, it made sense now. All of those plants, a dog, me. What if he was with me only because he hadn’t been with anyone else for so long? Or what if I had triggered something in him the other night because I’d been drinking too much?

  Posey, you’re being paranoid.

  Maybe so, but I shouldn’t be with him until I officially got rid of Chad. I turned and walked back to the school building. Only a few more car riders remained. Ms. Varner walked to me. “And?”

  “I’m not sure that went well,” I said.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Then do what you need to do to make it go well in the future.”

  Once the last kid had left, I walked back to my room and packed up my books and such. My phone buzzed yet again. I took it out of my pocket to see who was calling just in case. Nope. Chad had called for the fifth time that day bringing the total up to ten between the two days. Yesterday, he’d left a voicemail about why filling out paperwork was ridiculous. I’d decided to let him stew until he came around to my way of thinking.

  When I returned home, John was there on the porch with a bouquet of flowers. My heart leapt at the sight of him, but I also couldn’t get his cousin’s nasty words out of my mind. The only thing I could do would be to ask him, so I pasted a smile on my face as I got out of the car and walked for the front door. “Hi.”

  “Happy first day of school!” he said as he extended the flowers.

  I took them with my free hand then smelled the blooms. I could count on one hand the number of times Chad had brought me flowers. At the time I would’ve echoed his words that flowers were a frivolous waste of money. Now, I could see that the thoughtfulness behind bringing flowers was, at least sometimes, worth the cost. I lowered my nose above the blossoms and inhaled their fresh scent. “Thank you.”

  He held the door for me and followed me inside.

  “Hi, Mrs. Adams,” he s
aid to my granny as she crocheted another chevron afghan.

  “Hello, young man. Are you here to fix the air conditioning? It’s sweltering in here.”

  Mabel/Miranda sat on the couch and inclined her head to indicate that John should please play along.

  “Yes, ma’am,” John said. “I’ll have it fixed for you in a jiffy.”

  His crooked grin made me smile then he followed me to the kitchen where I put down my bags and lay the flowers by the sink so I could find a vase. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and I jumped out of my skin before remembering that I was with John, not Chad. He backed off, his hands in the air. “Whoa, now!”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. How could I explain to him the momentary panic of thinking he was Chad? I couldn’t find the words I needed, so I kissed him instead.

  “Gosh! Get a room.”

  At Rain’s voice we broke apart even though she’d clearly been passing through. “I guess I should get these flowers into water, huh?”

  “Here, let me,” he said. “If I bring a gift, I shouldn’t make you work to keep it.”

  Deftly, he found a pair of scissors to snip off the ends. I handed him a vase, and he added the plant food and water before putting the flowers inside.

  “John?” I said, once I’d put the flowers on the table. “I spoke to your cousin today.”

  “Which one?”

  I didn’t know her name. “Noah’s mom.”

  “Ah. Fiona. Yes.” He crammed his hands in his pockets, and I curled mine into fists. I wondered if he was working as hard not to touch me as I was not to touch him.

  “She, uh, she threatened to beat me up. Said that she heard about my exploits the other night and that the taste of alcohol on my lips could cause you to relapse.”

  He laughed out loud. “She is a teetotaler of the first order. Your lips are far more tempting than alcohol.”

  “Fiona doesn’t seem to think so.”

  “Oh, Posey, don’t worry about her,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “She’s still mad that I won’t let her set me up with some friend of hers.”

  Nestling against John, being able to hear a steady heart beat through his solid chest—that was a place I never wanted to leave. Even so . . .

  “I hate to say this, but I think we’d better not see each other until I figure out how to get Chad to grant me a divorce, and we can make it final.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “You haven’t really been married to him in your heart for a long time, have you?”

  I thought about how Chad had had sex with me just minutes before walking out the door to be with another woman. For him, it was all about power and control. He could, and would, use my relationship with John against me.

  “Not in mind or heart,” I admitted. Unfortunately, there was the pesky part about being married to him under the eyes of the law.

  John sighed. “I’ll do what you ask me to do.”

  I pulled away and looked up into his eyes. “Really?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  I took both of his rough, strong hands into mine. “Then I want you to wait for me. I’m going to figure this out. The minute I am a free woman, I will be on your doorstep with a bottle of champagne.”

  He arched an eyebrow, and I winced. “Sparkling cider. It will be sparkling cider.”

  He kissed each check and then my forehead. “Can we at least have coffee from time to time while we wait?”

  “I don’t know. We might start playing footsie under the table, and who knows where that would lead?”

  When he realized I was joking, he tickled me without mercy. I laughed until tears came.

  “Seriously. Like, get a room,” Rain said, as she reached into the fridge. “Or something.”

  “One more time?” he whispered into my ear, the feel of it sending delicious shivers down my body.

  “I’ll meet you at your place in ten,” I whispered back.

  He made his formal goodbyes, to which Rain rolled her eyes.

  Five minutes later, I left the house, speeding down the country roads that would take me back to him. He met me at the door, and we made the most of our evening.

  chapter 20

  Each day as a first grade teacher went better than the last.

  Noah and I found some common ground in a mutual love of dinosaurs. It felt so good to be able to talk about dinosaurs again. He’d been the one to suggest a class project where we put each student’s face on the head of a dinosaur for our newest bulletin board. I’d brought in my camera and taken pictures of each of the kids. I’d forgotten about how much I’d loved to read about dinosaurs when I was a kid. Chad’s biblical interpretation left no room for the terrible lizards. Personally, I figured there was a lot in the world that I wouldn’t understand until I passed through those pearly gates. If anyone could reconcile dinosaurs with Genesis, it would be God.

  Having picked up on my first graders’ routines, I was better able to guide them through the day. I even joined them in the kickball game at recess, which earned me some goodwill. My phone buzzed off and on all day, but I ignored it.

  Having finished afternoon duty and packed up my papers and lesson plans and the set of manipulatives I needed to cut out, I sat behind my desk. Teaching was harder than I’d thought it would be, downright exhausting even.

  But I loved it.

  Dust motes caught the last beams of hazy afternoon light, and I drank in the smell of old building and new crayons. I loved my students’ smiling faces, their sense of wonder, the joy that lit up a student’s eyes when she managed to read a tough passage for the first time. I loved the chaos and the bright colors of the classroom decor, the order of the day as it progressed from one subject to another. For heaven’s sake, I loved drinking my chocolate milk from a tiny carton again.

  At the knock on my door, I turned to see Chad.

  “Go away,” I said as I fished my phone out of my purse.

  “Now that’s no way to talk to your husband,” he said from the doorway. He leaned against the door facing casually, his charming tone of voice suggesting he was up to no good.

  “My soon-to-be ex-husband, you mean.” Satchel strap and purse over shoulder, I stood. I’d already typed in the nine-one-one and had my hand poised over the button. “Also, I have a restraining order so you need to leave. Now.”

  “Maybe if you’d answer your phone—”

  “I didn’t answer my phone because I don’t want to talk to you. I also didn’t give you my number for that same reason.”

  “Good thing it’s not unlisted, then, because we need to talk.”

  I took a deep breath. The longer I spoke with him, the more likely he would twist things up on me. “I don’t need to talk with you about anything. Sign the papers and leave me alone.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we’ll be getting that divorce.”

  “Then you’re thinking wrong.” I wanted to leave, but he blocked my exit. Somewhere down the hall, the swish of the janitor’s dust mop gave me hope. At least one other person was in the building. “You knew that adultery was nonnegotiable for me.”

  “That why you decided to screw the piano tuner? Or have you been at it behind my back the whole time?” He spat out the words. At first I couldn’t understand why he was making life so difficult for us both if he had such ridiculous suspicions, but the epiphany hit me so hard it almost knocked me backward: He enjoyed my pain. If he stayed married to me, he thought he could punish me and hold such things over me for the rest of our lives. In his mind, any offenses he committed were now null and void.

  “I wanted to see what it was like to make love with someone who actually cared about me,” I said softly. “And, no, I wasn’t the first to break our marriage vows.”

  “What the hell?” he sputtered, taking a step closer.

  Remembering my afternoon of delight with John reminded me that not all men were like the asshole in front of me. Knowing that I wasn’t insane or asking too much helped me stand tall despite t
he banging of my heart. “You heard me. Leave now, or I will call the police.”

  He looked me up and down, taking in the tailored pants and flattering blouse. “Those some of the clothes I bought? You look . . . different. Nice.”

  “I look like myself, and thanks for the lovely parting gift,” I said, glad for the lip gloss I’d applied before afternoon duty. “Now go.”

  “I’ll leave,” he said, giving me the crooked naughty boy smile. “But this discussion isn’t over, and we’re not getting a divorce.”

  Satisfied he was having the last word, he turned on his heel and walked through the door. He didn’t know about the camera in my satchel, the one that only had my students’ smiling faces on it now that all of the ugly pictures were on a flash drive my sister had given me. He didn’t know about those pictures or how he featured in some of them.

  “Oh, Chad?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll take you to court if I have to.”

  “So everyone can find out about how you screwed around on me?” He laughed and then gestured to the classroom around him. “You wouldn’t dare risk all of this.”

  “To get rid of you, I would. Besides, the court would find out how you screwed around on me. Oh, and I’m sure I could sway them to my side with the pictures I found.”

  I did not want to show anyone the pictures in question, but it was the only bluff I had.

  “Len Rogers saw me burning wigs and lingerie, too. I’m not sure your reputation could withstand some of the stories I could tell.” Somehow I got the words over the lump in my throat. “I know they wouldn’t look good in a trial for how you’ve violated my restraining order.”

  He blanched. “You agreed to everything we did.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “Did I? Or did I reluctantly participate because you insisted it was my duty as a wife? I can’t remember.”

  But I could. He’d told me I needed to play along to keep his interest. He dragged me into all sorts of things I hadn’t been ready to contemplate. He’d told me it wasn’t something we would do all the time, but my repeated requests for sex and constant use of ovulation kits and pregnancy tests were just so un-sexy and so draining for him.