by Sally John
Britte sat in Cal’s cruiser. He drove her home while Joel followed them in her Jeep.
Mr. Kingsley.
The General.
Her knight.
Joel.
“Britte,” Cal said, “if you have any suspicions, you know the guy might hurt others. It’s got nothing to do with your cardinal rule or forgiving him.”
She didn’t reply. They’d already covered this, and she wasn’t going into something as vague as the creepy feelings she felt around Gordon Hughes. Or the even vaguer notion that he abused his wife.
He couldn’t really have done this, could he? It was beyond her comprehension that anyone was capable of it. If it weren’t for her incredibly sore body, she wouldn’t believe it even happened.
“All right, I’ll do it without your help. But just promise me one thing.”
She heard the concern in his voice. Since she’d been in third grade, Cal had treated her like a little sister. Usually in the negative sense, but still…like family. “What?”
“Don’t walk alone to your car. Don’t be anywhere alone by yourself. Call me if you have to. Just don’t take the chance. The guy was obviously waiting for you. You shouldn’t even go home alone, especially at night.”
“No problem with that tonight.” Through the windshield she saw Brady standing outside her house, his truck parked on the street. He’d evidently used his key to go inside. All the front lights were on and the garage door was open. Joel was driving her car into it now. And here she came with the deputy sheriff. “Can we turn on your siren?”
He pulled into her driveway. “Promise me you will not get into a similar situation.” It wasn’t a question.
“Promise.”
“Since you think you can forgive the jerk who did this, I take it keeping your word is also a cardinal rule with you.” When she didn’t comment, his voice rose. “I’m serious!”
“Cal, I said I promise. I mean it. The truth is, I’m scared to death.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “And I mean it. Call me anytime for an escort.”
“Thanks for worrying.”
The car door opened on her side. Brady stuck his head in, looked at her, and sharply inhaled. Wordlessly he helped her out and hugged her. “Thank God you’re all right.”
She heard the tears in his whisper, and, willing her own not to fall again, teased, “You call this all right?”
Joel and Cal joined them. Great. Now she had three big brothers. No…only two. Joel was in a category by himself.
Joel. It felt good to say it.
Brady announced he was staying the night. Cal agreed it was a good idea.
“Brade,” she said, “you don’t have to disrupt your life for this. Somebody got mad and pushed me down. I’m sore. I just want to take a hot bath and go to bed. End of story. Go home. You didn’t call the folks, did you?”
“No. I figured no reason to wake them up.”
Joel cleared his throat. “Britte, if your brother doesn’t stay, I’m staying.”
They all stared at him. It must have been his “General’s” tone that stopped the conversation. She knew he meant it.
He went on. “None of us want you to be alone. You should not be alone tonight. Tomorrow night is negotiable, but not tonight. So who’s it going to be?”
What she wanted was to fall into his arms again. For the whole night? That’d be fine with her.
He stepped over and put his arms around her in a brief hug. “You’d better choose Brady. Otherwise, the kids would have a field day. Stay home tomorrow. I’m calling for a sub first thing.”
She looked up at him. His face was hidden in the night shadows. “No, don’t do that. I’ll be there.”
He gently touched her bruised cheek and murmured, “Ice it some more.”
Cal offered to take Joel home and they left. She walked with her brother into the house, grateful not to be alone.
“Brady, thanks for staying.”
“No problem. Anything I can do for you?”
She shook her head. “Just make yourself at home. Keep the bogeyman away.” She rambled as she headed toward the hall. “I think the spare bedroom is presentable. There are bagels in the fridge. Why don’t we leave a light on—”
Brady laughed. “Stop avoiding it, sis. When did this thing start between you and Joel?”
She paused and looked back at him. “Tonight. Pure adrenaline. It’ll pass.”
It hadn’t passed by morning, but neither had the aches and pains, nor the bruise on her cheek, nor the raw scrapes on her face. But she made it to school, early as usual. She entered the back door and spied Joel across the commons. Not good timing. She was shaking like a leaf after parking in her usual spot out back and replaying last night. Even in the cold sunshine with Brady sitting nearby in his truck, she succumbed to an onslaught of sheer terror.
Joel met her in the center of the area. “Britte, I called a sub.”
“Well, call her back. I’m here.” She tried to smile, but it hurt.
“Why?”
To see you. To see if his eyes were still warm. They met hers now. They were still warm. She felt intoxicated with the eye contact. “I never miss a day.”
“You look like you should be in the hospital.” He took the attaché bag from her hand and set it in on the floor. Gently, he grasped her hands in his and turned them over, inspecting the palms. Both were covered with gauze. “What are you going to tell the kids?”
“The truth. There’s no reason not to, is there?”
“No. Maybe one of them knows something.” He let her hands go and picked up her bag. “I’ll walk you to your room.” As they turned by the office, he stepped inside and told Lynnie to cancel the substitute. They strolled down the hall. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“I’m always up for this.”
“Britte, you can give yourself a break now and then. That’s one reason for lesson plans.”
“Uh, my lesson plans aren’t ready.”
He stopped and stared at her. “You turn your book in every week.”
“But I, um,” she glanced away, “I just copy into it from last year’s, which is pretty similar to the previous year’s. In class I kind of wing it. I mean, I have a broad outline. I know where we’re going, deadlines for tests, etcetera, etcetera.” She looked back at him. “Things change, day by day. Different kids need different approaches. For example, in calc today, we’ve got to go over yesterday’s lesson again. How I’m going to do that is stored here.” She tapped her head. “A sub could follow the book, but the kids would miss a valuable day. Goodness, that sounded repulsively egotistical.”
Chuckling, he touched her elbow and urged her along beside him to her room. “A bit. Miss O, you certainly had me fooled about the lesson plans.”
“I’m sorry. It was insubordinate.” She grinned and then winced. “Ouch. It hurts to smile.” She unlocked her door, flipped on the lights, and walked inside.
“Actually, I wasn’t totally honest myself about lesson plans.”
“How’s that?”
“I never read yours.”
“You what!”
He shrugged and went to her desk, where he set her bag. “It was quite obvious to me the first week of school that you know what you’re doing. You certainly don’t need me looking over your shoulder.”
“That’s awful!”
“I couldn’t exactly play favorites.”
Their eyes locked again, and she knew it wasn’t adrenaline. She was a favorite? He had her fooled, too. “The memo!” She shrugged out of her jacket, draped it across the back of her chair, and slid out a drawer. “I taped it to the page you should have read last week.” She pulled out the notebook and opened it on the desk.
He peered over her shoulder. “Yep, still there, right where I would never see it.”
“I wouldn’t either. I haven’t opened this book since I gave it to you. Joel, I really am sorry. I tried to find you yesterday to apologize. My behavior wa
s despicable.”
He leaned back against the desk to face her. “You don’t have to apologize. I needed—I truly needed to hear those things.”
“But I had no right to say them with such anger.”
“You had every right. If you said you talked to me twice about the request, I’m sure you did. You obviously wrote the memo.” He glanced up at the clock. “In all the commotion last night, I forgot to mention I’ve got a special meeting with the board in about five minutes. I’d better get over to the superintendent’s office and fix what I botched the other night.”
“The superintendent’s— A board meeting just for my team thing?”
“Hey, your girls team thing is important.”
She smiled.
“Britte, you have my permission to call me on the carpet anytime I start strutting around like a general again.”
“I don’t need permission. You better make that an order, General.”
He laughed, a hearty sound, a curious sound because it was…unguarded.
Pure adrenaline it wasn’t.
Joel rushed down the hallway beside Liz, the student who had come to get him. He could see Britte. She stood outside her classroom, leaning back against the lockers, arms crossed, head bowed. It was only 8:40, halfway through first hour.
He motioned to the panic-stricken student to go on inside the room. Even before the door shut, he was slipping his arms around Britte’s shoulders.
“Joel,” her voice was a gasp, “I can’t do this!”
He pulled her away from the wall, and she sank against him. “You don’t have to, Britte.”
“But I never run. Not from anything!”
“This isn’t running. You’ve got to take care of yourself first.”
“The girls are scared. The boys keep staring, but they don’t say anything. Nobody can work. This stupid incident shouldn’t interfere! Those kids should be teasing me about it!”
“It’s not a teasing matter. Shh,” he soothed, his voice muffled against her head. It crossed his mind that he had himself physically separated numerous teen couples in the hallway standing nowhere near this closely. “Lynnie took one look at you and told the sub to stand by. I’ll take over until she gets here. I want you to go home right now. And that is an order, young lady. I’ll go in and get your things. All right?”
She nodded.
Reluctantly, he willed his arms to let her go.
A few moments later they made their way out to the back parking lot. He sensed her fear, sensed that his arm around her would encourage her, but he kept his distance. He tried to convince himself it was because too many classroom windows faced their way, too many eyes were noting their progression. On another, deeper level he admitted that he didn’t touch her because of the simple fact that he wanted to so badly.
She reached over and gripped his elbow. “I’ll come back for practice at 3:30.”
“No, you won’t. Let Anne and Tanner run practice. I will personally call them and tell them the situation. Britte, give this some time. Stay home tomorrow, too. It’s the last day before Christmas break and only a half day. You won’t miss that much.”
“I’m not saying I will, but if I do, please tell the sub to read the paper that’s in my upper right-hand drawer. It has assignments for the break.”
“You taskmaster, you. Christmas homework?”
“Naturally. Where did I say the paper is?”
“Upper right-hand drawer. I won’t forget.” He risked a glance at her. “Not this time.”
“I know.”
He squeezed the fingers that held his elbow. They reached her car, and he opened the door for her. As she settled behind the steering wheel, he leaned inside. “Now that I think about it, even though it’s broad daylight, I don’t want you going home alone.”
“Well, guess what?” Her voice wasn’t back to full power yet, and her eyes kept filling. “I don’t want to either. I’m going to my mom and dad’s.”
“Good. I hope your mom will make you some chicken soup.”
Her smile didn’t quite lift the corners of her mouth. Her eyes immediately teared up again.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Joel, you don’t have to be so attentive—”
“But I do.” The words flew out, as if they’d bypassed his mind. And they kept coming. “I don’t have a choice in the matter. I can’t remember what else it is I’m supposed to be doing.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“Adrenaline.”
If she hadn’t opened those magnetic eyes of hers at that precise moment, he might have been able to agree with her and escape what he hadn’t meant to start. “I don’t think so.”
Twenty-Three
“Britte.” With that one syllable, Joel’s voice conveyed anxiety, hope, and tenderness.
I never should have drunk that tap water! And to think I drank even more in the nurse’s room! Phone to her ear, she snuggled back against the pillows and pulled the down comforter up around her shoulders. It was Friday, and she was at the farm still, in her old bedroom. “Good morning.”
Silence hung between them. It was the first time they had ever spoken over the telephone. Britte suddenly thought what an awkward mode of communication it was and wondered why it was she had called him. She wanted to see his eyes. Was Wednesday night and yesterday all a dream? Were his eyes distant, his mind moving on to other tasks at hand?
He cleared his throat. “Given the fact that it’s nine o’clock, I take it you’re not coming in, Miss O?”
“I should have called sooner, but I just woke up.”
“Getting lazy, are we?”
“I don’t know what it is. I went to sleep at noon yesterday!”
“It’s called recovery. How are you?”
She hesitated. He had called twice last night, her mother said. But this was a school morning. “Joel, you’re busy. I was only checking in—”
“I’m not too busy.” There were muffled noises indicating that he was walking. A door clicked shut. “Talk.”
She smiled at his “General’s” tone. It meant he was serious. “Before I opened my eyes, I thought it was a bad dream. Then I opened them and realized I wasn’t at home. Then I replayed it all again.”
“Any new thoughts?”
“No. I just want it to go away.”
“It takes time. You’ll have to be patient, a virtue I don’t imagine you’re very comfortable exercising.”
“That’s a rather impertinent assumption!”
He chuckled. “One of my specialties. Seriously, I know you well enough to realize that not being able to work is probably more difficult to endure than the injuries. Speaking of which, how are they?”
“Well, I don’t hurt as much. The swelling’s down, but the purple has spread, so now I have a black eye. I need to come to practice at noon today.”
“No, you’re not allowed back here yet.”
“But Anne and Tanner are both working. They can’t do it, and with the tournament next week—”
“We’ve got it covered.”
“Did you move it to later? I promised the team they could have Friday night off.”
“We didn’t move it.”
“You didn’t cancel it!”
“You’re sounding much better, Miss O.”
“This is my team we’re discussing! I can’t entrust them to just anyone.”
“How about to me?”
“You! Joel, you don’t have the time to coach a practice.”
“It’s on my calendar. I’m serious. So, what do you say? Trust me to do an okay job?”
“Of course I trust you to do that, but I can’t ask you—”
“You didn’t. Britte, I want to do this.” He paused. “For you. If you’ll let me.”
Suddenly, conversing by telephone didn’t feel all that awkward. It felt downright intimate. “Okay, I’ll let you. On one condition. Don’t call them
girls. They’re ladies.”
“Got it, Miss O. Anything else?”
“Nothing I can think of at the moment. You know, your ‘way-cool’ points will skyrocket with this one.”
“Whew! Am I glad to hear that! It’s one of my top priorities.” Again, he paused. “How about my ‘way-cool’ points with you?”
She thought a moment. “I must say, General, you’ve almost dug yourself out of the negative side.”
The delightful, rare sound of his unguarded laughter sang in her ear.
Britte climbed into her Jeep, hit the automatic door lock, and sat, parked inside her garage with its door down, its overhead light on. She hadn’t come out to warm up the car before it was time to leave. No way was she opening the big door and turning on the engine until the very moment she was ready to back out and drive away.
She hesitated, shivering. Or shaking in terror? “Lord, I’m having a tough time here. I’m afraid of my own shadow.”
It was Sunday, late afternoon, Christmas Eve, and she was determined to make her first venture out alone. That morning her frightful face and aching body convinced her to go back to sleep instead of to church, but at least she had spent last night in her house, alone. Yesterday there had not been a practice, and so she stayed all day at the farm. Her parents accompanied her home after dinner. Dad had double-checked all the door and window locks. Somehow she had convinced Brady to let her go it alone. The lumpy mattress in her spare bedroom probably influenced his decision.
Joel hadn’t called after his Friday practice. Just as well. It saved her from having to convince him, too. Maybe he hadn’t called because he understood she needed to face it alone and the sooner the better. Or maybe he hadn’t called because Christmas break had officially started. He was probably leaving town. She didn’t know the first thing about his family. At his age, he very likely had children somewhere. And an ex…
Her shoulders sagged. She hadn’t thought of that.
But had she heard that he was divorced? No…only that he was single. Which didn’t explain a whole lot when it came to divorce, separation, widowhood, unmarried fathers…
Of course, before…before the attack, his marital status or family background or Christmas plans hadn’t mattered to her one way or the other.