by Ginny Aiken
“Oh,” said Hannah, “did I have to put the clean clothes in my dresser and the dirty clothes in the bathroom?”
“That was the idea.”
Hannah raced back upstairs. Reba went around turning on all the lights. That was another habit she’d developed after Ray was killed. The dark seemed too frightening.
Taking her suitcases to her room, she turned on the light and blinked at the sudden glare. The room was small, the closet smaller yet. In some ways, selling all their furniture had been a blessing. There was no way it would have fit in this house. A crocheted blanket covered the bed. Reba had made it after graduating college. She’d married Ray and set about being a wife.
Funny, she’d thought Ray had been more like his parents. He’d acted like them when he’d moved back home. When they’d gotten their own house, he’d been different. Good, still kind, but not as focused. He’d hated that she was smarter than he, not that he’d admit to it. He’d insisted she stay home and raise Hannah. She’d loved that part; raising Hannah had been a dream. They’d played in the park, watched movies, and learned to roller-skate. It was like getting a piece of her own childhood back, and Reba learned that the greatest thing in life was not getting more letters after her name, but getting chocolate-laced hugs from a little girl who called her Mommy. A little girl who now stood in the doorway.
“Can we call now? Hey, why are you just standing there? Are you sad? I know, you miss Bark. We better hurry.”
Mason answered on the second ring, as if he’d been by the phone waiting. He immediately came, bringing Bark and leftover turkey. He left when the ten o’clock news came on, and Hannah gleefully remarked that she was staying up so late that maybe she wouldn’t need to go to school tomorrow.
The freshmen came back to classes in much better moods. Most had gotten a fix of family and were glad to be back in a place where parental reins were a distant memory. Still, there were a few who openly admitted they did not intend to return a second semester. Others were quiet, already knowing grades would be a problem when it came to who was footing the bill.
Reba stood by the podium at the front of the classroom. She pulled her sweater tighter around her. Usually the heater made the room unbearable, but today the cold seemed to seep through the planks in the floor. She looked around the room. It was hers now. She’d put cheerful posters over the dents in the walls. She’d had the students make bright-colored collages along with their essays. “Okay, Cindy, why don’t you give the class an opinion about gas prices?”
“Fredrick’s Gas Station downtown has the highest prices I’ve ever seen.”
Reba nodded. “Jag, give us a factual statement.”
“Fredrick’s charges $1.52 a gallon for unleaded.”
Cindy glowed. Jag could have given any kind of a response, but the fact that he chose to add to hers showed their togetherness.
Later, walking to her office, Reba tried to remember feeling any interest in the college boys while at Shiloh. No, she’d spent most of her time dating a townie. She’d never forget him. Glenn Fields was the reason she’d gotten kicked out of Shiloh.
Opening her office door, she stepped inside, laid her book bag on the floor, and crossed to the window. Cindy and Jag were making snow angels. Winter break was in three short weeks, and the two would be separated for almost a month.
Reba checked her calendar. Volleyball season was over, and preparations for the yearbook were in full swing. Jag and about five others diligently took pictures. Cindy helped.
“What are you doing tonight?” Mason stood at the door. His brown-and-white sweater had snowflakes clinging to it.
“Where’s your coat?” Reba moved toward him, then paused. Ever since he’d dog-sat Bark, she’d fought the urge to touch his hair, straighten his tie, kiss his check. It was all Bark’s fault. Reba and Hannah hadn’t even been gone a week, and in that short time, Bark had decided Mason was master.
Now when Mason stopped by, Bark wiggled all over and begged to be picked up. Since Mason lived a mere two blocks away, Hannah loved to walk down to the end of the street—as far as she was allowed to go. If she saw Mason, she’d holler for him to come over. If that didn’t work, she let go of Bark’s leash, and the dog was off. Reba took to making sure she always cooked for three, just in case.
“Reba? You okay?” Mason hadn’t moved.
“Oh, snow days do this to me. I tend to drift. What am I doing tonight? Why?”
“Well, if you were willing to get Jag to watch Hannah, I thought we’d go out. Just the two of us.”
He was asking her out on a real date—not just an I’m-a-nice-guy-who-keeps-comingaround-for-no-reason-and-let’s-do-something. Reba suddenly wanted to say “yes” although that would mess everything up. The minute she agreed, there’d be more intimate talks. He’d want to know more about her marriage with Ray. Luckily, tonight’s dilemma was easy. “It’s the Winter Program at Hannah’s school. I can’t miss it. She still reminds me about missing Open House.”
“Okay. I’ll go to the Winter Program with you, but how about this weekend? Saturday? Just you and me.”
So much for putting off the decision. “Mason, things are good between us. Why chance ruining it?”
“Because we might not ruin it, as you say, but improve it. I’m willing to be honest. I was half in love with you when you were sixteen. I figure the other half arrived the day I saw you in my office and you didn’t know who I was.”
“I remembered quick enough!”
He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. Reba’s mouth went dry. She sat on the top of the radiator, although she was no longer cold. Mason put his hands on either side of her. She’d noticed his eyes were the color of chocolate, but she hadn’t known how deep the swirls of toffee and caramel went. She somehow had missed the invitation there. Oh, she’d known he was interested, but—
“Reba,” he said, his voice next to her ear, “I’m going to make sure you never forget me again.”
Then, he kissed her.
Families filled the auditorium. Mason looked around, surprised by how many people he recognized. There were a few scattered singles, and Mason was humbled by the fact that had he not joined Reba, she’d be sitting alone at Hannah’s Winter Program. He’d taken his three-pew family for granted.
The head of the school board said an opening prayer, the principal gave a short greeting, and the lights dimmed. Children dressed as trees decorated the stage. Who knew trees could sing so well? Reba leaned forward, mesmerized. By following her gaze, he figured out which tree was Hannah. The kindergartners stole the show. If they weren’t falling, then they were singing the song a beat after the rest or five decibels louder.
Afterwards the families went to the cafeteria for hot chocolate and dessert.
Hannah, the tree, ran off but quickly returned, leading another tree by a limb. She pushed that tree toward Mason. “This is Marky. He’s my best friend. He has a dog and a cat.”
Mason shook the limb.
“Are you Hannah’s daddy?”
Reba froze beside him, a brownie halfway to her mouth. Hannah lost her smile also.
“No,” Mason said. “I’m just a friend.”
Marky ran off. Hannah gave Mason a confused look, then followed her friend.
“I’m sorry,” Mason said, taking Reba’s hand. “I was not expecting that question.”
“Neither was I.”
“What does Hannah know? I mean, you haven’t even told me how Ray died.”
“Hannah’s too young to know. It would just scare her.”
“Death is part of living. Surely, she needs to know that.”
“Ray didn’t die because he was sick. He was murdered.”
She started wringing her hands. Mason took one and stroked her fingers. She started to jerk away, but he applied gentle pressure and didn’t ask any more questions.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“So much for keeping secrets. That is why we came to Creed.
I wanted Hannah away from the papers. I didn’t want to chance her hearing anything about Ray. I want her to remember the man who played catch with her in the yard. I don’t want her knowing that Ray borrowed money from the wrong people, and when he didn’t pay it back on time, they killed him.”
Mason’s apartment looked out over a convenience store and a parking lot. A week had passed since Reba confided in him, and she had avoided him ever since. He hadn’t a clue how to approach her. That she avoided him proved she didn’t want to talk about it. He honestly didn’t think they could leave the incident alone, though. It was out there; they needed to get past it. If Mason was honest with himself, Ray’s death wasn’t the only issue they needed to face and resolve.
He walked to work. It was easier than driving on ice. Opening the door to Clark Hall, Mason switched on the light, took off his overshoes, and stuck them in a closet, then hurried up the stairs.
“Mr. Clark.”
Jag sat in the waiting room. The secretary hadn’t arrived.
“How did you get in, Jag?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I picked the lock. You have a ridiculously easy lock to pick. It didn’t even take me a minute.”
“Where did you learn to pick locks?”
“Television.”
“I’d rather you not do it again, okay?”
Jag hadn’t taken his tennis shoes off. Snow clung to them, and a wet circle was spreading on the floor.
Mason hung up his coat and walked to his office. Jag didn’t move. His legs were straight out, crossed, and for the first time he avoided Mason’s eyes. Oh, no, thought Mason, Cindy.
“Come in, Jag. Let’s get it over with.”
Jag picked up a folder from the seat next to him. His jean jacket was unbuttoned, and if Mason wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Mason sat at his desk. Jag took the same seat he’d occupied back in August when he’d wanted to transfer into a different English class. That had been the day Jag met Cindy. That had been the day Mason met Reba, again.
“You know I’m taking pictures for the school newspaper?” Jag spoke to his hands. They writhed as much as Reba’s usually did.
“I think that’s great. I’ve seen your work. You’re good.”
“Yesterday, the editor assigned me to take a picture of you. He wants one of Mrs. Payne, too.”
Mason could understand the newspaper wanting Reba’s, although if he remembered right, they’d already done the “Meet the New Teacher” article.
Jag put a folder on Mason’s desk. “I took this from the editor’s desk. I’ve had it since five yesterday. I could not decide what to do.”
Mason took the folder. Opening it, he saw two double-spaced typed pages. This wasn’t about Cindy. It was the headline that jumped out at him. ALCOHOL, RESPONSIBILITY, AND FRIENDSHIP: HOW DO THEY MIX?
Chapter 9
The elementary school called at noon. Hannah’s temperature was almost one hundred. Reba raced over, signed Hannah out, and came back to Clark Hall. She had two classes and no time to get a substitute.
Cindy ran to Reba’s house and brought back some medicine and blankets. Reba put Hannah next to the radiator on the floor. Linda Simms agreed to keep an eye on her, and Reba decided to get her lectures done quickly and assign library time. Anything to keep close to her baby. Her first class went fine. Her two o’clock was a little different. Jag arrived ten minutes late. Instead of taking his usual chair in the front, he headed for the back and then avoided her gaze. When she called on him, he answered the questions but initiated no discussion. By the time she’d hurried through her notes, her own head was pounding.
She barely managed to get her office door open before she heard Hannah’s words. “Mommy, I throwed up.”
Linda Simms mouthed, It was spit.
Hannah was getting too big to carry. The sidewalks were slippery, and any other day Mason would be there to offer his help. After getting some broth inside Hannah and turning out the bedroom light, Reba sat at her new, used couch and hit the button on her answering machine. Dean Steward’s voice was curt, “Mrs. Payne, could you attend a meeting in my office at three?”
It was stand-up three now. Reba got her directory and called the dean’s office to beg off. Five minutes later, she hurried around the living room picking up Hannah’s toys and the mass of ungraded papers on the coffee table. Whatever Dean Steward wanted to talk about was so vital that he was coming over.
Peeking out the window, Reba felt her stomach hit the ground. Not only was the dean making his way to her house, but Jack Hillman, the sponsor of Shiloh’s school paper, and Mason Clark were trudging along.
Mason brought in kitchen chairs so there’d be enough seats in the living room. Reba poured coffee and waited.
Dean Steward cleared his throat. “This is the first time we’ve faced a situation like this.”
“Like this?” Reba asked.
Mason opened his briefcase, pulled out a folder, then handed her a piece of paper.
Reba read the headline, skimmed the rest, then closed her eyes. Mason had worried about this since her first day. Their names were near the end of the article. “When will this hit the stands?”
“Next Friday,” Jack Hillman grunted.
“We would rather the piece not run—” Dean Steward began.
“But most of my journalism students already know. Furthermore, that’s what the paper is for: to print information. Sometimes that information is …” Jack frowned and gave Reba a compassionate look. “I thought I’d pull the article, but it’s not negative. It’s mostly informative. I think we can turn this into a good thing. Look at you now, Reba.”
Reba decided not to tell him about her doubts or Ray’s death. She looked at Mason. Funny, now that the past was about to hit the present, he looked calm.
“Is my job in danger?” Reba asked.
“No,” Dean Steward said. “We knew about your past before we hired you, and we also knew about your present. As far as we’re concerned, you’ve presented a wonderful Christian example to our students. We’re pleased with your performance. When Roger Howard told us about your work in Albuquerque, the board was unanimous about hiring you. This meeting is mainly to try to formulate a response. Students will have questions.”
“Mommy, I throwed up!” Hannah called from the top of the stairs.
Before Reba could stand, Mason did. “Gentlemen, Mrs. Payne has a daughter who needs her attention. The last time she and I faced a dean about this matter, she paid the consequences. This time, it’s my turn.”
Glenn Fields had relocated to Omaha, Nebraska. A few phone calls and Mason had an address. It had been a sleepless night, a prayerful night, a night when Mason desperately wanted to call his own father but decided that, this time, it was all up to him.
During the long drive, he tried to rehearse what he wanted to say. Nothing sounded right, but closure seemed to dictate that without meeting with Glenn, there would still be this area of open wound.
Mason was often guilty of presupposing. He’d expected Glenn to live in a run-down apartment in a part of town best avoided. Instead, Glenn’s house was near a golf course where the snow hid the favorite pastime of the neighboring residents.
Children played in the yard. Their snowsuits hid age and weight. The front door opened before Mason could stop the car.
Glenn Fields had been Reba’s friend. Mason knew the guy. It was hard not to. Mason had kept up with Reba’s activities, and Glenn was one of Reba’s activities. Still, if Glenn had passed Mason on the street, Mason wouldn’t have recognized him.
The first thing Mason noticed was the absence of a wheelchair, or at least crutches. Glenn held the door open invitingly.
The living room was bigger than Mason’s apartment.
After a handshake, Glenn introduced, “This is my wife, Bunny.”
Bunny had obviously just gotten off the exercise bike Mason could see in the family
room. She looked a lot like Cindy with her swept-back hair and winning smile. “We’re glad you stopped by. It will do the two of you good to talk.”
Bunny had coffee waiting in the kitchen. Glenn limped slightly as they walked. If Mason hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed it.
“Thanks,” Mason said, accepting a steaming mug. “I appreciate your meeting with me.”
“I’m curious. Why are you here?”
Mason took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I thought I’d let you look at this.”
Glenn read it, then passed it back. “So.”
“I owe you an apology,” Mason said. “When you—we—were in the accident, I didn’t even feel sorry when you lost your leg. I figured you’d asked for it by drinking and driving.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Glenn’s words could have been harsh, but they weren’t. They were curious.
“Did you know Reba is now teaching at Shiloh?”
“Yes.”
Mason blinked. “Really.”
“She’s been here twice. Brought her little girl. The kids play just fine. You see, Reba did feel sorry about my leg. She’s kept in touch with me. But, if it will soothe your conscience, that accident wasn’t your fault. I harbor no grudges. It was my own stupidity.”
“Am I here to soothe my conscience?” Mason took a sip of coffee. It burned, but he forced himself not to flinch. “I guess I am. Look, I’ve felt guilty since that night. I managed to stay in school; Reba didn’t. I walked away from that accident; you didn’t. Now, Reba’s little girl might find out about this incident because maybe there was something I could have done that night six years ago that I didn’t.”
“Reba’s a lot tougher than you think. She always has been.”
Mason nodded. “Well, I’ve got an idea. It’s not perfect. It might not even make things better, but I think it’s worthwhile. I wondered if you were interested in helping out.”
Shiloh’s chapel period began at eight in the morning. As a student, Reba had paid over eighty dollars in tardy and absence fines her first year. Her second year, she’d doubled that. As a teacher, she hadn’t missed or been late even once.