Liars' Games (Project Chameleon Book 1)

by Susan Finlay

  Steve said, “Geologists claim the story of the Garden of Gods began nearly 300 million years ago, when sediment from the Ancestral Rockies was carried eastward and spread out into great alluvial fans. This sediment was then reddened by ferric iron and long covered by a shallow inland sea.” He was pointing to the beautiful red rocks a few hundred feet from where they were sitting.

  Claire shielded her eyes from the bright sunshine as she looked at the rocks. “I love the red rocks.”

  Steve continued. “I’ve read that some sixty million years ago—when the modern Rocky Mountains began their upward thrust—the horizontal sedimentary rocks were elevated and tilted. Later, the forces of wind and rain gradually stripped away the softer layers, sculpturing each rock into the forms we’re now seeing.”

  “That’s fascinating. You must have been a great science teacher. Do you miss it? Teaching, I mean.”

  “Sometimes. I like what I’m doing, of course, but I have to admit I’m a science junkie. I love talking about science, especially geology.”

  She laughed, and said, “I do understand. Although much of my career was in teaching mathematics, I started out teaching science. I’ve always been torn between those subjects.”

  He grinned and said, “Yeah, I suspect we’re both kind of fanatics when it comes to science, facts, and teaching, in general.”

  Again she laughed. “I think that’s probably a true statement, I’m sad to admit. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m also a science fiction nerd.”

  He laughed so loud that she felt her face growing red. He reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I don’t know anyone who’s as big a sci-fi nerd as yours truly. If people at work knew my passion, they’d tease me to no end. So don’t tell them, okay?”

  “My lips are sealed, as long as you don’t tell on me,” she said, and then laughed.

  After they finished and cleared everything away and packed it back into Steve’s vehicle, they set out on a long hike, wanting to climb on some rocks, especially those known as Balanced Rock and Sleeping Indian, but Steve told her it was now prohibited, because of the damage people were causing to the soft sedimentary formations. Meandering through the little hills and gullies, they laughed, played at hide and seek, and sat on boulders soaking in the rare sunshine. He took her hand on several occasions to help her climb up onto the a few higher boulders, and she was conscious of where his warm flesh touched hers. As they meandered on, Steve took her hand in his and for the first time in a long time, Claire almost forgot about her problems.

  She was interested in everything here, and she asked many questions that Steve seemed happy to answer. He told her about the plants—the Mountain Shrub, Ponderosa Pines, and Pinion Junipers, and about the animal life and history of the area.

  Steve said, “I can’t wait to show you some of the other places in Colorado. You’ll love it here. I think you’ll love exploring up in the mountains. In spring and early summer, the wildflowers are spectacular. If you’re interested, we could even go snow skiing up at Vale. And in late spring or early summer, there’s river rafting up in Glenwood Canyon.”

  Claire smiled and said, “I can’t wait. It all sounds wonderful. In many ways this place reminds me of Albuquerque, where I lived before moving here. Seeing this makes me a little less homesick.”

  “I remember you told me you lived there.”

  By late afternoon, their legs were beginning to ache and their feet were tired, so they started back home. On the drive, Steve said, “Why don’t we stop for dinner? I know a little hole-in-wall pizza restaurant on the way. They have the best pizza around.” He gave her a sideways glance, and then added, “If you like pizza. I guess I should have asked, first, huh?”

  She laughed, and said, “I do like pizza. But this time I’m buying.”

  He smiled, and said, “Fair enough. We’re not far from the restaurant.”

  “Oh, I do need to call the babysitter though to make sure it’s not a problem.”

  “We’re almost to the restaurant. Why don’t we go in, get a booth, and then you can call her. If it’s not okay, we’ll leave.”

  After they were seated at a booth in the restaurant Claire went to the ladies’ room and pulled out her mobile phone. She made a quick call to Angie. Angie sounded happy and told her they would make sandwiches and watch TV together.

  At dinner Claire and Steve chatted for a while and then Steve paused and gazed at Claire, looking like he wanted to say something. She took a deep breath and asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, I’ve told you a lot about my past, but I’ve noticed you’re holding back from me. Last week when I asked you about trust, you said you trusted me. I can’t help wonder if that’s true.”

  She bit her lip. How could she answer that? For that matter, did she really trust him? If so, then maybe she could open up a bit more.

  “I don’t talk much about my past. Not with anyone, really.”

  “Not even with Marcus’s father?”

  Claire smoothed back some hair from her eyes. “I did talk to him about it. I guess I don’t like to talk about my childhood because it . . . well, stirs up bad memories. I’m sorry. I don’t like to admit some of the things my parents did.”

  “You can tell me, Claire. It’ll help me understand you better.”

  She sat silent for several minutes, staring off in the distance, without really looking at anything. Finally, she took a deep breath and let it out. “My dad was a disciplinarian. Strict not only with me, but also with my mother. He would lock me up in my bedroom after school and force me to study. He didn’t lock up my mother, but he severely restricted her. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him.”

  “Didn’t he leave the house to go to work? What did your parents do for a living?”

  “When I was young, my father worked on an assembly line in a car factory during the day but worked on inventions at home the rest of the time. He pushed himself hard. My mother worked in the same factory answering phones and doing clerical work.”

  Steve nodded.

  “Later, my father quit his job and worked on his inventions full-time. He used my mother’s inheritance money to support the family. Sometimes he would travel to try to sell something he’d designed and built. During his away time, my mother took advantage and, well, let’s just say she did some things she shouldn’t have done.”

  “While the cat’s away, the mice will play?”

  Claire tilted her head and gave a half-smile. “Something like that. I discovered she was having an affair and she begged me to cover for her. I was torn. I was sixteen and I understood how it was between my parents, but I didn’t approve of her affair.”

  “What did you do?”

  “About a month later, my father left on a four-day trip. Two days later, he came home unexpectedly. His sales pitch hadn’t gone well. My mother wasn’t home. He questioned me about where she was and I tried to lie but botched it. I’m a terrible liar.”

  “So what happened?”

  “When she returned that evening, they argued. It was horrible. I’d heard them quarrel before. This was different. He hit her and she screamed. After the third scream, I was certain my father was going to kill her. He might have, too, but I escaped from my bedroom by smashing through the hollow-core bedroom door with my desk chair. When I reached my parents, he had her on the ground, trying to choke her. I pounded on my father’s back, surprising him and releasing my mother long enough for her to get out of the house.”

  “Wow! Where did you go?”

  “We went to a neighbor’s house and stayed two nights. After that, we moved into Jack’s house. Jack was the guy she was having an affair with. I stayed for a few months and was able to find a decent job. Once I had enough money, I became an emancipated minor and rented my own place.”

  “So your parents never got back together?”

  “No, they divorced. My father has spoken to me only once since.”

&nbs
p; “Because you covered for your mother?”

  “Yes. I helped her and left with her. He said I lied to him and betrayed him.”

  “That’s sad. What happened to your mother? Did she marry the other guy?”

  Claire looked down at her empty plate. Steve placed another slice of pizza on it.

  “Things didn’t work out between them. Karma maybe. Six months later she caught him with another woman. Mother moved in with me. She was depressed, and got fire from her job because she wasn’t concentrating on her work. After that, she would stay in bed half the day. One day, when I returned home, I found her in her car, dead from asphyxiation. She’d given up and taken her own life”.

  Steve reached out and placed his hand over Claire’s.

  “That’s really sad. But I’m glad you confided in me.”

  When the conversation idled, Steve looked at her for a long moment, and then said, “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Okay.”

  “A while back, I overheard part of a conversation between you and John Richmond. He said something about you being Senator Reynolds’s mistress. Is that true?”

  “No. I’ve never actually met the senator. I hadn’t even heard the name until John said it. I don’t know why he thinks I’m involved with the man.”

  Steve nodded. “John gets something in his head and hangs onto it whether it’s true or not. Makes it hard to work with him sometimes.”

  “He seems to have taken an instant dislike to me.”

  “Yeah, it’s not the first time he’s done that.”

  Steve told her a couple of short stories about working with John, while they finished eating. Claire paid the check and they left the restaurant.

  They arrived at her home around eight o’clock and stood near her door gazing at each other. Steve pulled her close to him, leaned down to kiss her, and then stopped.

  He looked at her, and Claire felt heat rising and her heart racing. She knew what he was asking without him speaking aloud, and she had to fight her own desires, as she said, “I had a wonderful day. I want to invite you in, but I need to get Marcus, and I’m not sure I’m ready.” She gave him a shy smile, and hoped that he wouldn’t be angry with her.

  He sighed, then said, “I understand. I don’t want to push.” Smiling, he added, “I’ll be calling you again soon.”

  After a long passionate kiss, he turned and left.

  She watched him get into his car and pull away. It had been such a wonderful day, and she realized how lonely she’d been over the past year. Don’t get too used to having him around, she told herself. It can’t last. But she wanted it to.

  As she lay in bed later, she thought about their date, about the nature park, and about her parents. Steve’s comment about Marcus learning to ski got her to thinking about her childhood and how little she’d done outside of school. She thought, too, about Marcus’s childhood so far. She hadn’t really taken him out to parks and other fun places in more than a year. She used to take him on weekend outings all the time when they lived in Boston. Steve was right. Marcus would love to learn to ski and deserved to get the chance.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CLAIRE TOOK VARIED routes to Nanny Kate’s apartment and to the school in the week that followed, watching through her rearview mirror for signs of the sedan. She didn’t see the car or the man again, but was afraid to let down her guard. Her new handler worried her, too, especially since he wouldn’t tell her what had happened to Brad. Work was so busy, though, that she had scant time to think about it.

  Standing on the auditorium stage Wednesday evening, Claire studied the disappointing group of about fifty parents sitting in the audience. She’d hoped for a much larger turnout for the first parent meeting. Steve, Frank, and about a dozen teachers stood along the sides of the room. After introducing herself and Ron to the group, Claire said, “Students here at Midland are struggling. Many have failing grades and are in danger of not graduating. Equally alarming is the fact that many students here are afraid for their safety. Some are continuously being bullied or threatened, some are exposed to drug usage or drug dealing on campus. Almost none will come forward and file complaints, for fear of retaliation. We also have a gang problem, one we believe to be our biggest threat. Some members want to leave their gangs but are afraid—afraid to leave because doing so places their own lives at risk with that gang.” She paused and looked around at the faces in the audience. “Teachers here are also being bullied into suboptimal practices and are at risk and in danger daily. There is no doubt in my mind that the majority of failing students are failing due to the conditions here at Midland.” She watched their reactions before continuing.

  “We have created a plan to solve these and other problems so that our students and faculty can be safe and thrive. This plan has required our faculty to engage in special training and to implement specific enforcement and engagement tactics to terminate undesired behaviors and improve school conditions. But our staff cannot wholly solve these problems on their own. Part of this plan requires the involvement of parents and the community. We need your support and your help.”

  She paused again, waiting for any response from the audience. Other than a few coughs, the room was silent. Continuing, she said, “One way you can help immediately is to talk to other parents of Midland High students, encouraging them to also become involved.”

  “What is it you want people to do?” someone yelled.

  Claire looked for the speaker.

  A plump middle-aged woman was standing up and waving her arms. “We got jobs to do. How we s’posed to help out in a school?”

  “Good question. There are many things you can do. Some could volunteer during school if they have time, others can tutor students after school or in the evening. All of you attending more of these parent meetings and talking about your concerns and your ideas for improving things will help.”

  Ron stood up and walked toward Claire. He held another microphone. He said, “We could also use guest speakers at some of our school-wide assemblies. We’re trying to open up the lines of communication between students, teachers, administrators, parents, and community leaders. What we’d also like from you, as parents, is to talk with your kids. Maybe you have some real life experience you’d like to share, such as mistakes you’ve made and learned from. You likely don’t know this, but when I was in eighth grade, I was in a gang for a short time. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I was coerced into joining. I’m going to talk to the students about that experience and try to get them to open up.”

  A man stood up. “I was in prison for five years. Did time for drug dealing. Clean now. I could talk to ‘em.”

  “We would appreciate your talking to them. Sharing your experience with them, sharing the consequences you suffered and what you learned would be great.”

  Several more parents spoke up and offered help.

  Claire noticed that many were still frowning or sitting with their arms crossed. It’ll take time, she told herself.

  Steve walked her out to her car after the meeting, and they stood outside talking for a few minutes about the meeting. “I think you’re doing a great job,” he said. “It’s not easy, even for someone who’s been there for a long time, and here you’ve only been at the school less than two months. I’m very impressed.”

  “I didn’t think I could do this. I can’t tell you how close I came to giving up. And we still don’t know if what we’re doing will help.”

  “No, we don’t. It’s too soon to tell, but that fact you’ve gotten this far is amazing.”

  As she got into her car, Steve leaned in and said, “And if I forgot to tell you, I really enjoyed our day together in Colorado Springs. Let’s plan something again, soon, okay? I have a funeral to go to out of town this weekend. My uncle. I told you about him the other day. But next week?”

  At the second parents’ meeting two days later, on Friday, the turnout was larger, perhaps ninety attendees this time, not including teachers. Before the
meeting officially started, Frank came and sat at the back of the room. Claire walked over and sat next to him for a moment.

  “I’m glad you came. Why don’t you sit up front?”

  He smiled. “This is your party. I’m just here for moral support. Go get ‘em.”

  “Thanks.” She got up and walked toward the front of the room, but glanced back once, with a smile.

  After the first parents’ meeting she and Ron had discussed many of the initial ideas proposed by parents and teachers, the most ambitious and the one they ultimately chose being a face lift of the school by employees, students, and parents. This involved painting the interior, cleaning and waxing the floors, general cleaning up of classrooms and washrooms, and trimming the bushes around the exterior of the building.

  After her opening remarks Claire said, “We need your help. We want to give the school a face lift, but cannot afford to hire outside help to do the actual work. We propose a community team building project, getting all of us involved, employees, faculty, students, and parents. By all working on this together, instead of trying to fund raise to hire outside help, the project can build team spirit, camaraderie, and pride in both our community and our school. Not only that, but by having students and faculty take part in the work, they’ll be more likely to keep it nice looking. If we can get your support and help, we can pull this off. This can be a win-win scenario for all of us.”

  “How you gonna get the money to pay for all that?” a parent asked.

  “Great question. We’ve already spoken to a couple paint store managers and owners. Two of them have generously offered to donate supplies, including paint, brushes, rollers, drop cloths and other materials needed. We also talked to one of the major hardware chains and they agreed to donate mulch for around the exterior of the building. We were hoping, too, that parents and teachers might also have some extra supplies at home, like brushes, rollers, roller pans, ladders, rakes, trimming tools, etc. that they could bring in and use or loan to students to use.”