by Gray, Meg
He stepped away from her without even so much as a sideways glance.
“Mr. Lewis,” Emma called after him. “You are getting my messages, aren’t you?”
With an exaggerated sigh of impatience, Mr. Lewis stopped and turned around. “Yes,” he said, fixing her with his cold blue eyes. He was challenging her. Emma could see the fight brewing inside him, but she wasn’t going to take his bait. He found her and what she had to say insignificant. She only hoped the contents of the envelope would speak for itself.
Emma nodded, turned away and pulled her lanyard from her neck. Her hands began to shake as she felt the adrenaline let loose in her body. In her classroom, she went straight to her desk and pulled on her coat. She stuffed her keys into the pocket and threw her bag over her shoulder. She switched the classroom lights off and slammed the door shut behind her.
Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking. That little conversation hadn’t gone very well. All she could think about was how distant and brusque the man was, how difficult was life at home for Brayden? Had the extra time she spent waiting to have a conversation with his father made any difference? The only thing he seemed to care about was that she’d been in Brayden’s backpack. What was he going to do—sue her for caring more about his son than he did?
She pushed through the heavy metal doors and galloped down the front steps. She drew in a ragged breath as the evening’s first raindrops fell from the sky. Her heart thumped again as she returned to her awful conversation from a few minutes ago. She crossed in front of the school and reached into her bag. The street ahead of her was dark and her guard was down when she pulled the cheap little black umbrella from her bag.
She didn’t see the man in black jeans and a dark plaid shirt approaching her, and she certainly wasn’t ready for him to grab at her bag. Instinctively she held fast to her quilted teaching bag and swung at the man with her tiny extended umbrella. He blocked her shot and yanked at the bag again. A flood of lights swept over them and she fell backward, hitting the pavement hard.
Voices yelled. She couldn’t make out the words. She was dazed. It all happened so fast and then it was quiet. Two hands reached out for her and Emma let herself be hauled to her feet. She looked into the deep blue eyes of the man that was there, holding her. Her knees buckled and he pulled her closer.
Chapter Five
“Easy now,” Marcus said, catching Ms. Hewitt as she almost slipped from his grasp. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. He was supporting all her weight and she was trembling. The rain began to fall harder. Hunched against the downpour Marcus guided Ms. Hewitt to the other side of the car with one arm around her waist. He opened the passenger door.
“Get in,” he ordered and was glad she had the sense not to argue. Running around to the other side of the car he picked up her bag, some spare change, and a couple of pens. The rain had plastered the scattered papers of crayon drawings and wildly colored turkeys and pumpkins to the sidewalk. He tore most of them in his haste to peel them away. A raft of purple craft sticks studded with gold glitter and obscure drawings was in the middle of the sidewalk, he tossed it in assuming it belonged to Ms. Hewitt.
He dropped the bag on the floor in the backseat and pulled off his wet jacket. Brayden watched him, a puzzled expression engraved on his face. The earbuds from his video game dangled in his hands and Marcus could hear the soft sound of his game’s repetitive music. He gave his son a tight smile before sliding into the driver’s seat. Raindrops snaked their way down his forehead. He wiped at them and then tried to dry his hands on his pants, but they were as wet as the rest of him. He shivered against the cold settling into his body and turned the heater up, muffling the Bach concerto playing on the stereo.
“Are you okay?” he asked Ms. Hewitt again. He saw the nasty fall she’d taken on the sidewalk. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said and dropped her gaze to her lap. “A little sore, but nothing serious.” Marcus kept his eyes on her as she lifted the umbrella from her lap and let out a tiny wooden laugh when it went limp. She dropped it on the floorboard and shifted in her seat. Marcus caught the wince in her face.
“Would you like me to take you to the hospital, just to be sure?” he asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She still wouldn’t look at him. “I think I just want to go home. If you don’t mind…” she paused, turning her head to look at him, but once her eyes met his she looked away again. Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulder, just like she’d done back at the school when he’d challenged her, she spoke again. “Never mind, I only live a few blocks from here. I can walk.”
“I’ll drive you,” Marcus said. “I think we can both agree walking isn’t a good idea right now.” He waited for her consent—a tiny drop of her chin, which he took for a nod—before he pulled away from the curb. The rain poured from the starless sky and he flipped the windshield wipers into high gear. “You know you shouldn’t walk alone in the dark,” he added, sounding more like a scolding parent than a concerned citizen.
“I know, but there was something I needed to stay late for tonight.” There wasn’t accusation in her voice, but Marcus knew exactly what she was implying; it was his fault she stayed late.
Marcus gripped the steering wheel and wrenched his hands around the soft leather. He left the school in a ball of rage after she ambushed him in the hallway. He didn’t appreciate being attacked with his guard down and all the way out to the car he fumed with indignation. If there had been a garbage can on his way out the door, the envelope would be stuffed inside it right now.
Progress report, I don’t think so, he’d thought as soon as he felt the thickness of the envelope. Did she really think she was fooling him? It was probably a pile of statements she’d filled out with her charges against him and his inadequacies as a father. If she wrote one thing about Brayden being a bad kid, he’d have his legal team on her so fast she’d regret every word she wrote down.
Looking at her now, from the corner of his eye, sitting stoically in the darkened interior of his car he softened. No matter how much she angered him with her surprise confrontation, she’d gotten much worse from her attacker.
He couldn’t make out her features in the darkness, but remembered the soft golden luster in her young eyes and the way she’d tried to smile at him before he lashed out at her.
He used his anger on her just like he did everyone else. It was his emotion of choice these days. People tended to leave him alone when they thought they made him angry. That’s what he’d tried to do with Brayden’s teacher tonight. Judging by the way she stalked off earlier he was pretty sure he’d succeeded.
“Turn left on the next street,” she directed. Before making the turn, he looked back in his rearview mirror and caught Brayden with that same puzzled look on his face, as if he was trying to understand how his teacher had ended up in their car.
“How was school today, Brayden?” he asked determined to show Ms. Hewitt he was a good father.
“Fine,” the response came from the backseat.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Great, Marcus thought, this was the same conversation they had every day. He was hoping Brayden would rise to the occasion in front of his teacher and tell him something, anything about his day at school. His plan had backfired and now he was sure he just reinforced this woman’s low opinion of him as a father.
“Brayden,” Ms. Hewitt’s voice was soft. “Why don’t you tell your dad about the book you picked out at the library today?”
Through the mirror, Marcus caught a flicker of excitement in his son’s eyes before it blew out. “It’s about pirates,” he muttered.
“This is my building,” Ms. Hewitt said, pointing to a quaint three-story red brick apartment house tucked between two row houses. Marcus pulled to the curb and shut off the engine.
“Maybe you and your dad could read it together tonight before you go to bed,” she said, braving
a smile over her shoulder at Brayden who returned it. Turning back around she deliberately dipped her gaze to avoid Marcus and then reached to unfasten her seatbelt.
“There’s my roommate!” She pulled on the door handle and jumped out of the car. “Seth!” she called and the man about to enter the building stopped. She ran, joining him under the awning, and buried her face in his chest. The other man put both arms around her and enveloped her trembling body. He whispered something into her hair before gently kissing the top of her head.
Boyfriend? Marcus caught himself wondering, as he stepped out of the car and pulled her rain-drenched bag from the back seat.
“Be right back,” he told Brayden and then rushed through the rain to join the couple under the shelter of the awning.
“Marcus Lewis,” he offered immediately holding out his hand to the roommate—what had Ms. Hewitt called him again. Something that started with an S…Sam or Steve?
The two briefly, but firmly, shook hands. “Someone attempted to mug Ms. Hewitt tonight,” Marcus continued as he handed over the bag and reached for his wallet. “She’ll need to call the police and report it. Here is my card, in case an eye witness account is needed.” Marcus returned his wallet to his pocket as Ms. Hewitt lifted her head and stepped back from her roommate.
“Oh my God, Emma, are you okay?” her roommate asked, holding her at arm’s length.
She wiped the tears from her eyes before speaking, “Yeah, I’m alright.” Ms. Hewitt leaned into the other man for support just like she’d leaned into him earlier. Without another word, Marcus nodded, and turned to leave.
“Thank you!” the man called out. Marcus didn’t turn back, just raised his hand to wave off the thanks. He hadn’t done anything really, except delay the poor woman’s walk home.
Back in his car, he watched the two figures enter the building together. He turned around in his seat to see Brayden doing the same.
“Is Ms. Hewitt, okay?” Brayden asked, still watching the building.
“Yes, I think so,” Marcus replied.
“But she was crying and you asked her if she was hurt?” Brayden looked at him and then back at the building.
At the school, Brayden had plugged into his video game as soon as he was buckled into his seat and Marcus didn’t know what he’d witnessed. Hopefully nothing, but seeing his teacher cry and driving her home had obviously alerted him that something was wrong. Now Marcus would have to deal with that.
“Well, yes,” Marcus said, turning back around in his seat and fastening his seatbelt. “She fell down. I was afraid she might’ve gotten hurt, so we stopped to help her.” He hoped that was enough of an explanation to satisfy his son’s curiosity.
“Why didn’t the other guy help her up?”
Marcus froze, “What other guy?” He tried to act confused as he started the car’s engine.
“The one who ran away after you yelled at him.” Brayden’s voice was small.
“Um, well, because he pushed Ms. Hewitt down.” Marcus chanced a look in his mirror to gauge his son’s reaction.
Brayden’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Why would he do that? Ms. Hewitt’s so nice.”
“I don’t know, Bray,” he sighed. Maybe because he needed to score some fast cash for his next fix. Marcus had only seen the guy for a moment, but his blood shot eyes and rail thin body told him enough to know the guy was probably a junkie. His thoughts flashed to Vanessa and he wanted this conversation to end. He didn’t want to talk to his son about how some people are so consumed by addiction they jeopardize the safety of innocent people to get their next fix.
A light came on in a third story window of the building as he pulled away from the curb.
“Is Ms. Hewitt a good teacher?” Marcus asked, thinking back to how Brayden just said she was so nice.
“She’s okay,” Brayden said with a shrug and popped his earbuds back in, returning his attention to his video game.
Okay! Marcus thought, he thinks she’s okay! That was high praise coming from Brayden.
Chapter Six
Emma huddled on the couch next to Seth. He held her hand while she called the police and reported the attempted crime. The officer she spoke with said the department would look into it, but didn’t offer any reassurance that they’d catch the guy. Next, Seth ran her a warm bath and simmered a pot of tomato soup for their dinner. Emma’s appetite for Chinese food had vanished.
After a few requisite slurps, Emma set her bowl on the coffee table.
Seth finished off his bowl and set it next to Emma’s. “Promise me something?” he asked, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. Emma let her head relax onto his chest.
“What?”
“That you won’t walk home from school in the dark again.”
“Don’t worry. I think I’ve learned my lesson. And having to sit on a donut for the next two weeks will be my constant reminder.” They both laughed, which felt good for a moment as it relieved some of her pent up tension, but then it hurt. Her fall onto the sidewalk jarred her insides and left invisible bruises.
She ran through the attack a hundred times since coming home. A list of what ifs had taken form as she imagined all the other possible outcomes of the evening. What if the guy had a weapon, what if she’d hit her head on the pavement and blacked out or what if there had been more than one guy? She chastised herself again and again for her stupidity to walk alone in the dark. If Mr. Lewis hadn’t driven up when he did she could have suffered a much worse fate.
Seth picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. Emma pulled the soft cream-colored throw from the back of the couch and tucked it around her legs. She settled in again with her head on Seth and he drew his other arm around in front, holding her.
She sighed deeply, reveling in how good it felt to be wrapped in someone’s arms. With Seth’s strong arms around her she felt safe, protected. Thank goodness he was here tonight. If she was alone, she would probably go into hysterics. Emma closed her eyes, thinking about how she wanted to stay right here with Seth protecting her forever.
The alarm buzzed and Emma awoke with a start trying to remember how she got into her bed. She sat up and a deep pain shot down her back before settling at the bottom of her vertebrae. The pain reminded her of the attack from the night before and then of Seth holding her in his arms. Seth resonated in the back of her mind and the dream she awakened from came flooding back.
She was at her parents’ house in Orchard Creek with Seth and two little boys. Audrey, Finn and her nieces were there too. They were posing for a family picture with her parents in the center flanked by Audrey’s beautiful family and Emma’s. In her dream, Seth was her husband and the two little boys were their sons. Emma shook the thought out of her mind—it was a just a dream.
Her fantasy slowly abandoned her mind as she padded down the hallway to the bathroom. Swinging the door open, she was overcome with steam and the fresh smell of aftershave. Seth was at the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist. A small circle was rubbed out of the middle of the steamed up mirror. The sight of his half-naked body, with his broad shoulders and sculpted muscles, brought all of her fantastic wishes back. There might not be much chemistry between the two of them, okay there was none, but Emma thought she could give up some of the passion for the pleasure of waking up next to a man as gorgeous as Seth.
She backed out of the door mumbling an embarrassed sorry.
“Don’t worry about it,” Seth called. “I’ll be out in a minute, and then it’s all yours.”
Emma went to the kitchen where she poured herself a cup of coffee and doctored it with organic cream and natural sugar. How could she have forgotten Seth was here this morning? She’d just been thinking about him. Mortified, Emma sat at the table and sipped her steaming coffee. The door to the bathroom opened and then Seth’s door closed. Emma pulled her legs up into the chair and wrapped her hands around the mug warding off some of the morning chill.
“How are you doing?�
�� Seth asked as he walked in, wearing his suit and tie. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he stood at the coffee pot and filled his commuter cup.
“I’m good,” she said, taking another sip from her own mug.
“You gonna be okay today? I could call a cab for you this morning.”
“No, I’ll be fine. The sun’s almost up and there will be plenty of traffic by the time I walk to school today. Thanks, though.”
“You sure?” he asked, walking over and kissing her on top of the head, just like Emma had seen her own father do a million times to her mother before he went off to work in the mornings.
Emma nodded.
“Alright, I’ll see you tonight then.” He was almost to the door when he turned back around. “Hey are you still up for that stupid party Stacy wants to take us to tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. Truth be told she wasn’t excited about the little shindig Stacy roped them into at all. It was a singles event.
It would be like all the other singles parties Stacy had dragged them to, a room full of young aspiring professionals, talking about their successes, how much their bonus was from last year and how far up the corporate ladder they had climbed. Of course, Emma was always asked what she did for a living and that’s usually when the conversation died. Once she uttered the words kindergarten teacher, no one could relate to her anymore. They’d usually supply something perfunctory like; Oh, I loved my kindergarten teacher, what was her name again? Or Do you still have naptime and sleep on those little mats? Or Do you drink milk from those little cartons with the little straws? That’s all anyone thought kindergarten was, naptime and snack. She really hated going to these parties.
“What do you say the two of us just stay in then? I’ll grab a pizza on the way home and you pick out a movie. I’ll call Stacy today and cancel, okay?”
“She’ll kill us,” Emma said with a smile, but she couldn’t think of a better way to spend her evening.