The Teacher

by Gray, Meg

  “Emma.” He said her name so delicately and then in one fluid movement, he stepped in and wrapped his arms around her, steadying the tremor in her body. She let herself fall into him.

  * * *

  Emma straightened up the bathroom and pulled her wet hair into a low ponytail. She went to her closet for her clothes and slipped her towel off in front of the full-length mirror, wondering what exactly it was Marcus had seen.

  Her skin was soft and creamy white, her breasts, not large, but still firm and round. Turning she noticed the muscles in her legs, calves and buttocks. There was definition and tone to the muscles, from all her walking in the past year. The evidence of Maricella’s good cooking had settled on her hips, rounding them out. Not bad, she assessed, but that didn’t make her feel any less self-conscious as she dressed.

  An aftershock rattled the room and she reached for the wall, but it was already over. Emma relaxed—thankful it hadn’t been as violent as the initial quake.

  Skirting past the puddle of wine in the hall Emma went up the stairs. She stopped short in the doorway of the dining room. An unfamiliar man sat in the chair at the table next to Brayden. Her place had been set next to Marcus.

  “Aaaah,” the stranger said, his long thick hair lapped up in curls around his neck and ears. “So, this must be the Goldilocks whose been sleeping in my bed.” His blue eyes twinkled flirtatiously at her and his smile was framed by the scruff of a man who hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

  She was startled. Did this guy have her confused with some woman he’d been sleeping with? He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She looked at Marcus, momentarily forgetting their run in a few minutes earlier.

  “This is my brother, Luke. Luke this is Ms. Hewitt,” Marcus said, making the introduction. “He usually stays in the basement suite when he visits.”

  Emma nodded and returned his smile, recognizing him from the family portraits she had seen in the house. In the pictures, he was clean-shaven and his hair was shorter.

  “And I see you’ve been sitting in my chair and eating my porridge,” she teased him back. His smile deepened, crinkling his eyes just like Marcus’s. She instantly liked this man and his carefree aura. She smiled right back at him because it was easier to look across the table at him than over at Marcus who’d just seen her naked and held her so tenderly in his arms.

  Brayden looked across the table at her, worried. “Don’t worry Ms. Hewitt. Uncle Luke didn’t eat all the cereal. There’s still some left for you.” And as if on cue Maricella appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of cornflakes.

  The bowl quivered on the plate as the earth shuddered one more time. Maricella set the plate on the table and Emma could see her hands tremble. She reached for the woman’s hand and sandwiched it in between her own. She didn’t release it, forcing Maricella to look at her.

  “Thank you,” she said and watched Maricella draw in a breath, pulling strength from Emma’s touch. Maricella nodded and went back to the kitchen.

  “So, Ms. Hewitt,” Luke said, a smile still spread across his face. “I understand my brother has brought you all the way up here just to hang with Brayden this summer.” Luke reached his elbow over and nudged Brayden, who smiled up at his uncle.

  “Yes he did. Aren’t I the lucky one around here?” She pushed her cornflakes around in her bowl and smiled at Brayden.

  “Hey, Bray,” Luke said, looking down at Brayden. “Do you think maybe we could switch places? You can go to work with your dad on Monday and I’ll stay here with Ms. Hewitt?” He winked and flashed Emma another smile. He was flirting with her and while she could tell that he gave his attention to anything in a skirt, she didn’t care and played right along.

  “No, I like staying here with Ms. Hewitt. Dad’s work is boring.” Next to her, Marcus reclined back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Emma felt his leg brush against her knees. She wasn’t prepared for the electric shock that his touch sparked inside her. It was hard to know if he felt it too, because she wouldn’t look at him. He pulled his leg away crossing it over the other ankle. She stared at the cereal growing soggy in her bowl and barely caught the negotiations going on across the table.

  “C’mon, I’ll give you ten bucks,” Luke said.

  Brayden just shook his head.

  “Twenty?”

  This time Brayden crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head as far as he could away from Luke, suggesting he was about to say “no”, but still waiting just to see if Luke would raise his offer.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Marcus said with authority and the game ended. “You know Uncle Luke wouldn’t pay up even if he had the money. Let’s go help your Uncle take his bags upstairs.”

  “Ugh,” Luke groaned. “It’s off to solitary confinement up there with those two. I hope you know what an oasis you have down below. That room has hosted some of the hottest, most mind-blowing…”

  “Ahem,” Marcus cut in, stopping his brother from finishing his sentence.

  “What?” Luke asked, throwing his hands up. “That room has expectations, a reputation. Ms. Hewitt needs to be aware of the gift she holds. You understand, don’t you?” he asked, looking at Emma.

  “I think so,” Emma played along. “You’re saying today isn’t the first time the earth has moved in that room, is that right?”

  “That’s it. You got it.” He said, pointing at her and then winked before he stood up. “So, don’t disappoint, okay?”

  Emma nodded, using her years of experience with Stacy to know that it was better to agree than argue with someone who thought the world revolved around mind-blowing sex.

  “Well, we should get Luke moved in upstairs,” Marcus said, pushing his chair back as Maricella swooped in to pull their bowls. Walking behind Emma, Marcus placed his hand on her shoulder. She knew she should respond, smile at him to reassure him she was okay, set her own hand on his, but instead she sat paralyzed. The seismic tremor his touch brought to her heart was terrifying.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The earthquake caused the energetic motion of Seattle to come to a crawl. Streets and buildings shut down for days as crews inspected and assessed the damage. Once the high rise in downtown Seattle, which housed the Lewis and Sons Firm, was cleared, Marcus dragged Luke with him back to the office.

  The delays put the Barclay deal behind schedule and Marcus was working overtime to catch up. He sent Luke home at the end of the day to give Emma her reprieve in the evenings. Marcus watched from a distance as Luke entertained Emma and she laughed at all his jokes. Their growing friendship made Marcus want to stay away. He couldn’t compete with his brother for Emma’s attention. He used his lone wolf status as an excuse to bury himself in work. On the Fourth of July Luke, Brayden and Emma spent the day at a street fair and watched the fireworks from downtown, while he single-handedly drew together the details for the Barclay deal.

  Marcus dropped his pen, leaned back in his office chair, and covered his face with his hands. His mood had been terrible lately. When he wasn’t imagining Luke and Emma together he was leaving more unanswered messages for his former father-in-law. He was snapping at Brayden again and felt his son pulling away. At least, Brayden had the sanctuary of Luke and Emma to run to, but that was no excuse for the way he’d been acting the last two weeks.

  Picking up his pen, he turned back to the papers on his desk when his intercom buzzed.

  “Mr. Lewis?” the nasally secretary asked.

  “Yes?”

  “A Mr. Edward Grimes is on the phone for you.” She was new to the firm and didn’t realize the weight of her words. Any of the other secretaries would have called him with a great deal more trepidation.

  “Okay,” Marcus said and before he could change his mind, the phone rang.

  “Edward. Hello,” Marcus said.

  “Hello to you too, Marcus.” The greeting lacked the old camaraderie they once shared.

  “I wanted to check on you and your f
amily after the quake. Is everyone alright?” Marcus tried to be all-inclusive with his inquiry and hoped Edward understood his question.

  “Deidre and I are fine,” he answered tersely.

  “Good,” Marcus replied wondering if he had more to add, but he didn’t.

  “How are you and Brayden?” Edward asked. “I hear you’re in town for a while.”

  “Yes,” Marcus responded. “I’m helping out this summer and then we’ll head back home.”

  “Can we see him?” Edward whispered.

  Marcus didn’t answer.

  “Jesus Christ, Marcus. Don’t punish us like this. He’s our grandson,” Edward’s voice boomed. “It breaks Deidre’s heart not knowing him. Haven’t you hurt this family enough?”

  “I’ve never done anything to hurt you or Deidre,” Marcus said, feeling the defensive edge in his voice. “I have to protect Brayden and as long as Vanessa…”

  “Don’t you even breathe her name,” he hissed, his words drowning in anger. “You have no right. Not after what you did to her. She is dead, because of you.” There was a break in the man’s voice as he choked up with tears.

  “What did you say?” Marcus asked, sinking into his chair. He’d always wondered what it would feel like to hear those words, she is dead. Now that he had, he couldn’t describe what he felt. Shocked, sad, relieved, anyone of them or all of them at once?

  “We buried her last week,” Edward said through ragged sobs.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What happened?” Marcus asked ashamed of the flatness in his voice.

  “Of course you wouldn’t know. You turned your back on her years ago. She was found in an abandoned house, not far from where you lived. We think she might have been trying to go home, to find you and Brayden, but she never made it. Her heart collapsed. She died of a heart attack at thirty-three, Marcus. Why didn’t you help her? Why did you leave her alone like that to die? You took everything away from her.”

  Marcus ignored the guilt he was being served and covered his mouth with his hand. He reined in his urge to scream into the phone about how Vanessa was the one who didn’t choose her family. She made her choice and he made his.

  “Where is she?” Marcus asked when he knew he could control his voice.

  “What do you mean, where is she? I just told you.”

  “Where is she buried?”

  “She’s at the cemetery next to the church, right next to her Granddaddy and Grandmother. They’ll watch over her now.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Marcus said. “Good-bye Edward.”

  The words kept replaying in Marcus’s mind—she is dead. She is dead. We buried her last week.

  Vanessa had only been a memory to him these last few years, he’d buried her in his heart the day she nearly killed their son, but now to hear it as a reality only reminded him of the pain and grief he’d suffered. Anger welled up inside of him again and he needed to get out of the office. He stood up, moving so quickly his desk chair spun. Grabbing his jacket, he left his office, slamming the door so hard behind him everyone in the hall froze. Marching out the door, he muttered to one of the terrified looking receptionists that he would be gone for the rest of the day.

  Somehow, he navigated through the city and parked on the street near the cemetery. He got out of his car, leaving his jacket behind. The sun was high in the sky, making it one of the warmest summer days in Seattle. He stopped at the wrought iron arch and remembered the last time he had been here. It was a little over six years ago, at Vanessa’s grandfather’s burial. She’d been six months pregnant, wearing a new black dress and wide-brimmed black hat, her lips painted a fiery red.

  Marcus met her at the gravesite, leaving the office just long enough to stand by her side, and then returned to work. Looking back Marcus couldn’t remember if she’d grieved or not. The next day with her black dress in the closet, she had trotted off to her prenatal yoga class.

  Had they ever talked about her grandfather’s death, was it significant to her? Marcus couldn’t remember. He and Vanessa had never been close emotionally. Vanessa’s concerns were always about what was right in front of her. One day she was wiping away tears at her grandfather’s funeral, the next she was pampering herself with manicures, pedicures and going to yoga class.

  The sun beat down on him. He pulled at the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. Forcing himself forward he followed the path cutting through the sea of manicured green grass until he saw the fresh patch of overturned dirt with the slightest hint of baby green grass peeking up through the soil.

  A temporary placard was at the head and Marcus stood motionless at the foot of the grave. Feeling stifled by the heat and his rage he loosened his tie. He felt his face contort with emotion and clenched his fists.

  “Damn you, Vanessa,” he said and reached down for a handful of dirt. He threw it at the placard. It hit with an unsatisfying shower of dust. “Damn you,” he said again and squatted down, covering his face with his hands. Dirt mixed with the trails of sweat falling down his cheeks, leaving behind streaks of mud. “Why did you do this, why did you do this to us?” He sat back on the ground, pressed his head into his knees, and sobbed.

  The anger seeped out of him as he sat there and cried. This was the first time he had cried about losing Vanessa. When he rushed home that awful day to find his house engulfed in flames, he stood watching, waiting helplessly, next to his son’s ambulance for her to be rescued. He was stunned by the sight of her limp body being carried out by one bulky firefighter, followed by another. The relief that set in was enormous, but when he walked toward her, it was the second firefighter that caught his eye, a syringe in his hand. A police officer approached him with an evidence bag and the firefighter dropped it in. When Marcus questioned the man about it, he got no answers.

  “What was that?” he demanded as the firefighter pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat-plastered hair from his forehead.

  “I can’t say for sure,” the guy said. “You’ll have to talk to the police about it. I just found it next to her in the bathroom.”

  Marcus rushed to Vanessa’s stretcher then and overheard the words, “possible overdose,” as a paramedic put an oxygen mask over her face. She left in one ambulance and Marcus rode in the other with Brayden. He tended to his son and filled out paperwork for Vanessa. The whole time he wondered why a syringe had been anywhere near her.

  His parents came to the hospital and stayed with Brayden while he sat in the waiting room, anticipating an update on Vanessa. When the doctor finally arrived, he explained that illegal drugs were found in her blood. Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The doctor said she was awake and he could see her.

  He knew a better husband would be relieved that she was still alive, but he was enraged. It only got worse when he walked in and immediately asked her if she was using drugs.

  “Was that your syringe they found?” he yelled.

  She turned away from him and he knew the answer was yes.

  “What kind of shit are you doing Vanessa?”

  Again, she didn’t answer.

  “You do realize that fire nearly killed our son today and you. If Rosa hadn’t come back when she did, who knows what would have happened.”

  Her eyes were distant and unseeing.

  “When you get out of here, you’re going straight to rehab.” His voice was firm and commanding, but then he softened and walked to her bedside reaching for her thin hand. “We’ll work through this problem. We’ll get you better,” he said.

  “There isn’t a problem,” she replied.

  He dropped her hand and backed away. “The doctor found drugs in your blood. There is a problem and you’re going to stop it. I’m not letting you near our son again until I know you are clean.”

  She turned her head away from him and Marcus knew her addiction had won. She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep, she succumbed, letting him and Brayden go. When h
e left her room, he called Edward and told him to call when Vanessa had checked in to rehab. That call never came.

  Two weeks later Marcus filed for divorce. The last time he saw her was at the custody hearing where she was obviously high, her pupils were dilated and her body twitched nervously. It wasn’t hard for the judge to declare her unfit and award full custody to Marcus. The only wail of misery came from Deidre and not Vanessa. Marcus wasn’t sure if it was because her daughter was losing custody of her only grandson or if it was because her daughter was no longer a competent, responsible adult. Either way, Marcus marched out of that courtroom and never looked back.

  From that day on, he stuffed his grief away, pushing it down farther and farther as it layered up inside of him. Look at what it had done. It made him harsh and bitter. Then, he thought of what it had done to Brayden. Marcus had been angry with Vanessa far too long, blaming her when he too ignored Brayden’s needs. He had moved to Portland to erase his grief instead of facing it.

  Marcus sat there in the grass until the sky turned a dusty yellow and the sun dipped toward the horizon. Marcus pulled himself to his feet and stared at the grave of the woman he’d pledged to love until death.

  “Good-bye, Vanessa,” he whispered before turning back down the path to his car.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Emma walked out of the dining room with Luke and Brayden after another meal without Marcus when the front door flew open. Marcus, slumped over and tired-looking, trudged in. His suit jacket was in his hand, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. Brown smudges were painted on his cheeks and pants.

  “Hey man, we were just…” Luke said before sensing his brother’s mood and Emma instinctively pulled Brayden close to her.

  Marcus looked right through them, his eyelids at half-mast, and said, “I’m going to call it a day.” He walked up the stairs and Emma and Luke exchanged worried looks.

  Marcus’s mood hadn’t improved during the week and Emma, along with everyone else in the house, was giving him a wide berth. He was gone every morning before breakfast and home late, after dinner.