Teach Me a Lesson

by Jasmine Haynes

  “My mom said they were getting out of hand. But I don’t think anyone was listening to her at all.”

  A petition. All right, he had time to undo any damage before it really began. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Eric. I’ll take it from here.” Another conversation with Smith was in order. This time, he’d need to make a few threats of his own.

  “I talked to Melody and—”

  Lance cocked his head. “I thought Melody wasn’t speaking to you anymore. Isn’t that how this whole thing started?”

  Eric’s face flushed, whether with embarrassment or something else, Lance wasn’t sure. “Yes, sir,” he said deferentially. “But this is extreme. So I sent her a text. And she answered. She doesn’t like what they’re trying to do to Miss Moore either.”

  It was miraculous. Charlotte had gotten them together without even trying. The two teenagers were putting aside their differences and rallying round her.

  “All the kids like Miss Moore, don’t they,” Lance said, musing almost to himself.

  “Yeah,” Eric agreed. “Most everyone thinks she’s awesome.”

  “And your parents are going to other parents to get them to sign a petition to get rid of her.” Not that he’d let it happen, but a little help never hurt. “Perhaps those parents need to hear another point of view from their kids.” He let the idea sink in.

  Eric’s face suddenly animated. “Yeah.”

  The seed would germinate. Hopefully when Kathryn Wright started making the rounds with her petition, she wouldn’t find a whole lot of signers.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE STOPPED DEAD JUST BEFORE SHE ENTERED THE QUAD. She was later than normal because she didn’t have an appointment until after the first period.

  And there, right in the center of the quad, students streaming around them on their way to class or the library or a lab, stood Melody and Lydia. Good God, Lydia was befriending the girl. Charlotte could have cried. It was the one good thing in a really bad week, and this was only Tuesday, for God’s sake. By involving Lydia, at least she’d done something right where Melody was concerned.

  She hung back beneath the relative darkness of an awning to watch. Lydia did half her talking with her hands and arms, not to mention a very mobile face. The girl couldn’t hide anything; what she thought was written all over her features for everyone to read. When Melody spoke, her arms stayed at her sides and her body exhibited very little movement, as if she kept everything buried deep inside. Her brown hoodie and blue jeans were like the dead leaves of winter versus Lydia in all the vibrant colors of New England trees in fall. The utterly amazing thing, though, was that Melody talked. The girls weren’t fighting. Melody hadn’t stomped on Lydia’s shoe or poured the contents of a Coke can over her head. They were talking. Lydia nodded. Then Melody nodded. They parted company, and Lydia grabbed the arm of one of her BFFs—Lydia had many—and dashed up the steps. At the opposite end of the quad, Melody rounded a corner and disappeared.

  Charlotte stood there for at least another minute and pondered the meaning. She could have kissed Lydia. Then again, maybe she needed to find out what was going on. A sly question or two to Melody in their session today would draw out the answer. As she finally moved on toward her office, she could only hope this was a good thing. But it seemed a little too fast. She was suspicious of huge turnarounds in a short space of time. Still, it was a good beginning. It had to be.

  She was on tenterhooks through her first two appointments of the day, both of which concerned course planning to facilitate acceptance into the schools of choice. One was an Asian girl interested in high-level computer languages, the other, her brother, a year older, who had structural engineering on his mind. She often found that Asian students of immigrant parents chose career paths early and were very focused in their goals.

  Melody was a horse of a different color, so to speak, but this morning as she entered the office, Charlotte felt there was the slightest buoyancy in her step that hadn’t been there last week. Though that might be wishful thinking.

  She started with something innocuous. “How was your weekend, Melody?”

  “Fine.” The girl toyed with a loose thread on her sweatshirt.

  “Did you do anything fun?”

  “Watched some movies on cable.”

  Okay, this was sounding like a repeat of last week. “Did you try any of my suggestions?”

  Melody crossed her ankles and drew her feet back beneath the chair. “I haven’t seen a new pimple since yesterday.”

  Staring at herself in the mirror looking for new pimples wasn’t exactly what Charlotte had in mind. The difference here was not that Melody looked in the mirror, but that she was sharing what she considered was a triumph.

  “That’s good. Maybe you’re feeling a little less stressed.” Charlotte could only hope.

  “Not really.”

  After a pause in which Melody added nothing, Charlotte decided it was time to bring up Lydia. Melody had isolated herself. She needed friends, activities.

  “I wanted to—”

  But Melody talked right over her. “I saw Eric yesterday.”

  Charlotte’s heart started to beat faster with anticipation.

  “And I didn’t kick him, slap him, bite him, or dump a beaker of sugar water over his head.” Melody smiled. It was sheepish, a bit self-deprecating. But it was a smile, and she was actually poking fun at herself.

  Charlotte wanted to punch the air. Instead she merely said, in keeping with the humor, “You didn’t spill Coke on his shoes either?”

  Melody rewarded her with another smile.

  Fabulous. Things were looking up. Yet Charlotte didn’t think she’d had a thing to do with it.

  * * *

  LANCE ASKED MRS. RIVERS TO CALL SMITH’S OFFICE. HIS secretary said he hadn’t been in yet this morning. So Lance had Mrs. Rivers call the Smith home. No answer there either.

  He knew something bad was coming his way. He just wasn’t sure what exactly, or when.

  The what and the when arrived at eleven o’clock in the form of Smith’s posse, which included his wife and the Wrights. Lance was ready for them. He wasn’t about to bullied. No way was he firing Charlotte.

  They bypassed Mrs. Rivers and barged into his office en masse, Smith with his chest puffed up, Kathryn Wright in a chic black suit that had cream-colored panels down the front of both the jacket and skirt. The outfit was two inches too short and tight for a woman her age. Her husband stood back a pace, looking as if he’d dressed for the golf course. Jeanine Smith faded into the background as though she were simply another piece of furniture in his overcrowded office.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Admittedly, he sounded sarcastic. He also didn’t care.

  To his surprise, Kathryn Wright took the first shot. “I do not want Miss Moore counseling my daughter. She’s a sex therapist, and she has no business talking to Melody. Or any of the other kids in this school, for that matter. You should have told us that before you issued your orders the other day.”

  He ignored the sneering tone. “Charlotte Moore is a family therapist whose practice includes dealing with sexual trauma and related psychological maladies. But at this school, she deals with career planning and common teenage issues, and she is not counseling your daughter on anything sexual.”

  Kathryn leaned forward and pointed as if she could reach him over the desk. “What she’s doing is telling my daughter that I’m a crappy mother and that the things I’m trying to do for Melody are bad. She’s undermining my relationship with my daughter.”

  “Yeah, she’s undermining our authority,” Steven Wright piped up as if he were his wife’s backup singer.

  “She’s a bad influence,” Smith said, speaking for the first time.

  “She demonizes parents,” Kathryn added.

  “She says we just throw money at the problem,” Steven finished.

  Jeanine Smith contributed nothing at all.

  “The chairman of the scho
ol board”—Kathryn gave the title an air of reverence—“says you can’t force Melody into counseling if we object. You don’t have the right.”

  Lance eyed the woman. “I offered counseling in lieu of suspension or expulsion.” He shot a look at Smith. “I do have the authority to suspend or expel any student who breaks school rules.” He turned back to Kathryn Wright. “Which would you prefer?”

  “I—well—” She started to sputter.

  “We just don’t want that woman counseling her,” Steven Wright said, for once having a voice when his wife didn’t.

  Smith stepped forward, obviously feeling the meeting was moving beyond his control. “We want her resignation. She doesn’t fit in here. The parents don’t want her.”

  They couldn’t possibly have gotten a petition signed this quickly. Smith was bluffing. Of course, the chairman could simply bring the matter before the school board. With support, he could do just about anything he wanted.

  Lance wouldn’t let it come to that. “There is no basis for firing Miss Moore.”

  “Nobody wants her here,” Smith countered.

  “The students love her.”

  He looked pointedly at Jeanine Smith. She was the key to this whole thing. Her husband didn’t like the idea that she’d talked to Charlotte. Maybe she’d revealed something, and he was afraid of it getting out. Lance willed her to say something, to defend Charlotte. Yet she stood mute, her eyes downcast.

  “I am not standing here debating this with you,” Kathryn Wright interjected. “I have the right to choose my daughter’s counselor. And I don’t want that woman. I know Melody’s meeting with her right now, and I want her out of there.”

  “Right now,” Steven echoed her sentiment.

  So that was the reason behind the timing of the meeting. They’d staged a dramatic show. They were correct about one thing: He did not have the right to force Charlotte on them.

  He also knew Charlotte. More than anything, she wanted to help Melody. This would break her heart.

  22

  CHARLOTTE WAS SURE IT WAS A BREAKTHROUGH—SOMETHING major. They were on the verge. True she didn’t trust quick turnarounds, but there were things at work in Melody, and maybe all the girl had needed was Eric’s acceptance. Or rather to acknowledge it, because she’d always had his acceptance. She’d simply never taken it.

  “Would you like to tell me what you two talked about?”

  Melody parted her lips. Charlotte crossed her fingers the girl was ready to reveal everything that was on her mind.

  And the office door opened. No knock. No voice requesting permission.

  First in was Principal Hutton. Then the Wrights. And behind them, the Smiths.

  Damn, damn, damn. Charlotte stood. They’d ruined everything. The moment with Melody was lost forever. “What’s going on?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wright would prefer that Melody speak with another counselor.” Lance looked at her without a flicker of emotion. He was every bit the authoritative principal.

  Charlotte felt as if an invisible band encircled her chest tight enough to cut off her breath.

  Melody jumped up, out of character for a girl whose usual pace rivaled that of a snail. “But I don’t want to talk to someone else. I want Miss Moore.”

  Charlotte secretly cheered, despite what was actually happening in the office. This was another breakthrough. Or maybe Melody was just fighting her parents. Whatever the reason, in the face of the principal’s heartlessness, the girl’s support warmed Charlotte.

  Kathryn Wright tried placation first. “But she isn’t good for you, sweetie.”

  “We’ll find you someone more in line with our thinking,” Mr. Wright added like a punctuation mark.

  Melody’s lips tightened. “I don’t want someone you choose. I want someone on my side.”

  Mrs. Wright pouted. “We’re on your side, honey.”

  “I’m the chairman of the school board, young lady.” David Smith stepped farther into the room, shoulders back, chest out. Like the cock of the walk. Charlotte felt like plucking his tail feathers right there in front of everyone. You can’t get it up, so you want other men to screw your wife for you. What would they all think of that?

  “You’ll have to talk to someone else now because Miss Moore won’t be working here much longer.”

  His words chilled her. She looked at Lance. All he said was “This isn’t the place to fight your battles, Smith.”

  They weren’t particularly comforting words.

  “What do you mean she won’t be here?” Melody’s eyes flashed from her parents to the principal and finally to Charlotte.

  Mrs. Wright held out a hand. “Never you mind, sweetheart. We’re taking you home.”

  “I’m not a child.” Melody stepped back, avoiding her mother’s touch. “And I’m not going home. I have classes. I want to go.”

  “But you said you hate school,” Mrs. Wright cajoled.

  “I don’t want to miss my classes. I’ll never catch up,” Melody said stubbornly.

  Her mother backed down. “All right, fine, but you’re not talking to this woman ever again.” She narrowed her eyes on Charlotte. “I’m going to make sure you don’t undermine any more parents from now on. The chairman will see to it.”

  “Mrs. Wright—”

  The woman held up her hand and turned her face away in a teenage talk-to-the-hand gesture.

  In the doorway, Jeanine Smith stared at Charlotte, then slowly mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  Why didn’t she speak up, tell them Charlotte was a good therapist? But she knew why. Jeanine’s husband. Jeanine’s fears.

  “You don’t have any grounds on which to fire me,” she stated the issue aloud, just so everyone understood.

  “I totally agree,” Lance said. She felt him suddenly inches closer to her.

  “We don’t need grounds,” Smith said, his eyes hard as he stared at her. “We only need to tell people what you do in your outside practice.”

  “Oh yes, you do need grounds, Smith.” Lance’s voice was deadly. She’d never heard quite that tone out of him.

  The man stepped closer, crowding the principal, but Lance didn’t back off.

  “Remember that offer I made to you at lunch, Hutton? Well, it’s off the table if you haven’t taken care of things by tomorrow.”

  Offer? What on earth was he talking about?

  Lance was an inch or two taller, but right now, his air of dominance seemed to add five inches over the chairman. “That offer was never on the table as far as I was concerned. And if you want her gone, then bring on your proof. You have until tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Shall we say ten thirty? School’s out by noon for the holiday.”

  “You’ll be sorry you crossed me, Hutton.” David Smith shook his finger, his face a danger-zone red, then he turned and marched out of the office. In the hallway, he simply expected Jeanine to follow. Which she did.

  “Melody.” Mrs. Wright held out her hand. Melody didn’t take it, but she did follow her father into the hallway. She gave Charlotte one last look before she disappeared around the doorjamb.

  “I’m not letting them fire you,” Lance declared. “Only I have that authority, not them.”

  “Yes, but I see you allowed them to take Melody away.” That, more than anything, made her stomach drop. “We were right in the middle of a breakthrough.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His face was impassive. She didn’t think he looked sorry at all. “That’s just a platitude.”

  “They are within their rights to request another counselor.”

  She knew that. She was disappointed for Melody. Or was this really all about Charlotte herself? Because she’d failed Melody in some way.

  Lance closed the door, leaned back, his hand on the knob. “Now tell me what’s going on with Smith. This is all about your therapy with his wife. I want to know what it is, then we can nip this whole thing in the bud.”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.”


  He stood straight, towering over her the way he had David Smith. It reminded her too much of the way Mr. Smith had towered over her yesterday in her office.

  “I know all about your confidentiality. But that’s mitigated when these people threaten your job. I need ammunition.”

  “I’ll handle this myself.”

  “How? By talking to Jeanine Smith again and asking her permission?”

  She flared her nostrils at his tone. “Yes.”

  “That hasn’t worked. You need a new tactic.”

  “You know, I’m not totally incapable. I’ll figure one out.” She could confront Smith in his home. But that would only antagonize him more. And she still couldn’t say anything about the therapy. So honestly, what ammunition did she really have?

  Lance stepped into her, forcing her to back up until her butt was against the desk. “My dear Miss Moore,” he said, his lips only an inch from hers, “I know what’s needed here.” He slid a hand down her belly, fitted his fingers between her legs.

  Despite herself, her breath was suddenly fast and hard in her chest. “Stop it. Anyone could walk in.”

  “I locked the door.” He stroked, pushing deeper into the vee of her thighs.

  Charlotte swallowed, put her hands on his arms to push him away, but somehow didn’t end up doing that at all. “Someone could see in the window.”

  “The blinds are closed.”

  Oh. Yeah. She’d closed them to protect Melody, shutting out prying eyes. “I’m already in enough trouble. This isn’t going to help.”

  He nuzzled her neck, licked her ear, blew a warm, tantalizing breath on it. “I can help. Just tell me a tidbit. Something I can use against him. I’ll fix everything.”

  Between his lips and his fingers, she was sliding down a very slippery slope. “No. I can’t. It’s unethical.”

  Removing his hand from between her thighs, he palmed her butt cheeks and held her against his cock. He was hard. “Then let’s both go to Smith’s house and confront him. We’ll scare him into thinking you told me.” He tongued her ear.

  It damn near drove her mad with desire. “That’s as bad as actually telling you. And it’ll make things worse for Jeanine.” She was breathing hard, her head lolling back as she let him do anything he wanted.