Dreaming of You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  “And I’ve heard about Chad.” Nora looked around.

  “Of course she has,” Darrel murmured.

  Nora chose to ignore Darrel. Her mood lifted as soon as Irena walked through the door. Everyone but Harris, who had yet to emerge from behind the TV, took a seat in the plastic chairs surrounding a large conference table in the middle of the room.

  “Thank you all for being here.” Irena beamed at them. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it? We’ve an exciting year planned.” She looked down at her notes. “There have been a number of changes since we last met. First off, our enrollment is up! We’ll be adding twenty-three new students, raising our enrollment to four-hundred and fifty-four. All of our newbies are freshmen, except for one, Allison Thacker, a junior. Allison has had some unique challenges, so although we’ll want to be mindful of all our new girls and make a special effort to help them feel at home, Allison may need an extra dose of attention. We also have an addition to our tennis team! Colton McBride played in the pros about fifteen years ago. Colton couldn’t be here tonight—he actually won’t be joining us until the tennis season starts, but I’m sure he’ll be a real asset to our sports program. The girls are going to love him.”

  Nora felt more than saw Cole slip into the room. Her skin tingled with awareness as he took one of the upholstered chairs lining the wall directly behind her. Was this typical with siblings? She didn’t need to turn to know it was him because of the way Irena’s face softened as she looked at him. Their love for each other was almost tangible. Nora found this bittersweet—sweet for Cole, and more than a little bitter for her.

  I have a mother who loves me, Nora chided herself. This woman is a stranger. She gave me up nearly thirty years ago. But why?

  Barry elbowed her and roused her from her thoughts. Irena and everyone else was staring at her. Nora Irena motioned for her to stand.

  “Our new English teacher, Nora Tomas.”

  Nora stood, turned and met Cole’s warm gaze. She faltered beneath it and sank back into her seat.

  “Nora is new to teaching, but she graduated at the top of her class from Brown University with a degree in literature. She went on to get a Masters of Business Administration from Horn, and if all that all wasn’t enough, she was the co-founder and president of Apex Technology.”

  A murmur ran through the room.

  “And she’s also a published author!” Cole added warmly.

  “Self-published,” Darrel muttered.

  “She’ll bring a new and fresh voice to our Humanities program.” Irena went on to talk about the upcoming fundraiser, before shifting gears to the technology department. “As you know, our internet situation has been challenging, to say the least.”

  Barry leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Do you get cell service in your cottage?”

  Nora shook her head.

  “Me neither. The only place I get reception is on a hill near the front gates. I’ll show it to you sometime.” He made it sound like a date. “I can’t believe you’ve never taught before. I don’t think you have any idea of how difficult some of these girls can be.”

  Nora tried to look confident. “I know this is a unique school,” she whispered.

  “Unique... That’s one way to describe it.”

  “Harris, do you have the video?” Irena asked.

  Harris, flushed and sweaty, finally stepped out from behind the TV. “I think so.” Looking like a shooter taking aim at a target, he pointed the remote at the screen. Nothing happened. Harris let out a disgruntled sigh and tried again. The machine whirred and the screen turned pink.

  “Well, maybe next time,” Irena said with a smile. “Are there any questions or items any of you would like to bring up?”

  Nora barely listened to the conversations floating around her, while Barry’s words sank into her gut. He was right. She wasn’t a teacher. She didn’t have any experience with teenagers. What did she know about working with girls, who, like Allison, needed an extra dose of what? Attention? She didn’t know how to make anyone feel at home. She didn’t really know how to be emotive. That wasn’t how she’d been raised. She knew her parents loved her, but they did so at arm’s-length. Her dad showed his affection with his pocketbook, while her mom... Her gaze drifted to Irena.

  Self-doubt flooded Nora. What was she doing here?

  BACK AT THE COTTAGE, Nora tried to connect to Wi-Fi. She was about as successful as Harris. Tucking her laptop under her arm, she headed for the tiny town of Oak Hollow. It didn’t take her long to find the library at the end of Main Street. The rustic building had wood floors, an open- beamed ceiling, and row after row of books. Feeling like she’d just discovered her new second home, Nora took a seat in one of the club chairs flanking the river rock fireplace and pulled her computer onto her lap. After booting onto to the internet, she sent her parents a message via social media.

  Nora: Where are you? To her surprise, her dad answered.

  Dad: Casablanca.

  Nora: Like the movie?

  Dad: The very same!

  Nora: Cool. She paused, wondering how to ask what she needed to know. With a sigh, she decided that she couldn’t confront her parents about her birth until she could do it face to face.

  Nora: When are you coming home?

  Dad: Why? Is everything okay?

  Sort of. Not really.

  Nora: I’m not sure. I’m not in Shell Beach.

  Dad: Where are you?

  Nora: Oak Hollow. I’ve taken a teaching position.

  Dad: Teaching? Teaching what?

  Nora: English.

  Dad: What for? You don’t need the money.

  Nora: I’ve always loved literature.

  Dad: Is it a university?

  Nora: No. You know I don’t have a Ph.D. It’s a private high school.

  Dad: But you have a masters from Horn. With your experience, you could teach at a university.

  Nora: But I don’t want to teach at a university. And maybe they’d let me teach business classes, but I want to teach English.

  Dad: Why? What’s wrong with business?

  Nora: Nothing’s wrong with business. Nora felt ill. Why did all of her conversations with her dad end up in circles? She decided to change the subject.

  Nora: How’s mom?

  Dad: She’s fine. She just bought a rug from a man with a pet snake that sleeps in a basket.

  Nora: Can I talk to her?

  Dad: She’s asleep. The heat here is incredible. That snake had a good idea.

  Nora: Okay. Tell her I love her.

  They ended the conversation.

  Nora leaned back in her chair. She longed to confess to her parents what she’d done. She wanted to tell them that she’d made a terrible mistake. She was in way over her head. She didn’t know anything about teenagers, troubled or otherwise. Coming up with a lesson plan had been easy—even fun. She had every day for the entire semester all mapped out, but teaching wasn’t what had brought her to Canterbury.

  And chances were, someone would find that out.

  I'm heading into a school. I'm worried about a test on a subject I know nothing about. Thankfully, it's an open-book exam and I’m confident the text will provide all the answers. This book is in my locker. I step into a crowded hall. All around me, students armed with books jostle and laugh as they scurry into classrooms. Suddenly, I’m alone and am faced with an endless bank of identical lockers. I don't know which one is mine. And even if I did, I don't know the locker combination. Cole, the same boy from the other dream, appears. He assures me I won't need the book because the answers will become obvious during the test. I want to believe him as I follow him down the hall.

  From Nora's Dream Journal

  CHAPTER 3

  Pierre caught Vanessa in his arms. She breathed in his scent, ran her hands across his back and tried to capture every fleeting sensation of the moment. Pierre kissed her mouth, his hand pushing through her hair.

  When he pulled away, she cupped his face. “I t
hought I’d never see you again—”

  When someone knocked on the door, Cole shoved his tablet into the top drawer of his desk and said, “Come in.”

  Darrel strode into his office. She and Harris were the only two teachers left that had been hired by the Fergusons. This meant that they had known him as a child. What was that biblical saying, Never a prophet in your own land? Darrel still looked at him as if he was a misbehaving kid in need of a knock on the side of his head. And, he thought wryly, if she could see what was on his tablet, she would be right.

  Cole put on his principal face. “What can I do for you, Darrel?”

  Darrel stopped in front of his desk and glowered at him. “You know as well as I do that the blond Barbie doesn’t belong here!”

  Cole steepled his fingers and studied Darrel. He didn’t have to ask to know who she referred to. “Ms. Tomas is extremely well educated.” He knew this would bother Darrel because if anything, her own academic background was weak. Darrel had a degree from a no-name school. Before coming to Canterbury, she’d been singing in bars. His mom had told him that she suspected Darrel had gotten the job because she’d been the choir director for the Fergusons’ church and also a nurse. Secretly, Cole was counting the years until her retirement.

  “But she knows nothing about children!”

  “That remains to be seen,” Cole said.

  “It’s an embarrassment to this school that we had the chance to hire Turner Lawson, a professor from UCI, and you passed him up in favor of a pretty face.”

  Cole stood. “Darrel, I am your boss.”

  “Then you should act like it!” Darrel turned on her heel and stormed out of his office.

  Cole sank back into his chair and twirled to stare at the wooded hills outside his window. He loved this place with a gentle ache. He was proud of what his mother had accomplished. The school had blossomed since she’d picked up the reins from the Ferguson’s and he knew that he was a good principal. The students, teachers, and parents seemed to love him. All except for Darrel.

  Thinking about love made him pull his tablet out of his drawer. He turned it on with a smile and promptly forgot about the disgruntled musical nurse.

  Vanessa’s thoughts jumbled as the man in the moonlight pressed against her, filling her with a strange, intense heat. How odd that none of the other men who had fumbled their way to her lips had raised such warmth. She couldn’t think. She mustn’t drown. Clasping his shirt with both hands, she hung on while the kiss carried her away.

  NORA TUCKED HER LAPTOP into her bag and headed out of the Oak Hollow library. The sun felt closer here than at home. It warmed her skin and she paused beneath a large oak to look up and down the street. She loved Shell Beach with its surfer-vibe, but the streets and sidewalks would be teeming with tourists and beachcombers at this time of the year. Oak Hollow, in contrast, was sleepy in the middle of the day, as if everyone had decided to embrace the old Spanish customs and take a siesta. White stucco stores with clay-tiled roofs lined the streets. Red geraniums spilled out of flower boxes while bougainvillea in a variety of colors scaled the buildings and climbed over walls.

  Nora paused in front of an empty storefront.

  “I could fill a notebook with all the businesses that have come and gone around here,” a male voice spoke said behind her.

  Nora turned to see a middle-aged man with a drooping mustache. He stuck out his hand. “Jack Marino. I’m the mayor. Are you new in town?”

  Nora took his hand and shook it briefly. “Nora Tomas. Newly hired English teacher at Canterbury.”

  “Ah.” He looked her up and down and didn’t say what he was obviously wondering—why had Cole passed over the better- qualified literature professor from UCI for her?

  Nora’s stomach tightened.

  “Then I don’t suppose you’re interested in taking over the rent in this place.” He nodded at the storefront.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Well, I can’t say you’re alone.” His bushy eyebrows lowered a fraction. “This here used to be Pete’s Bar and Grill.”

  “What happened to Pete?”

  “There hasn’t been a Pete in the bar for a long time, but the last owner, Harvey Oats—” He stopped and his lips twitched. “Don’t laugh, that’s really his name. Anyways, Harvey decided to take his French fries to Texas.”

  Nora didn’t know what to say, so she tusked her tongue sympathetically.

  “You don’t know any restaurateurs, do you?”

  “Only wannabes,” Nora said, thinking of Darby.

  “If they turn into gotta-bes, give them my number. I’m a business broker as well as the mayor.”

  Nora agreed, said goodbye, and climbed into her car. The road wound through the lush countryside, and past pastures and fields filled with cows, a few llamas, horses, and a million-some dandelion. She paused when she caught sight of three people on horseback. The girls had straight backs and long bouncing ponytails. The man with them had his face turned away from her.

  Nora pulled her car to the side of the road, wondering if maybe these girls could be Canterbury students. She didn’t recognize the horses, but then she wouldn’t. She glanced at her watch, noting the time. The girls could check-in to the school after two and now it was close to five. The sun hung near the horizon, sending its rays through the leaves and branches of the oaks dotting the fields. On an impulse, Nora reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and snapped a shot of the horseback riders. The man turned. Cole. She stepped behind an oak tree’s massive trunk so he wouldn’t see her as she watched him through the branches and leaves. Her throat tightened and her knees went weak.

  He and the girls were talking but she couldn’t understand their words. Their laughter floated toward her. Nora grabbed the tree trunk, stunned by the force of longing and regret that swept through her. This man was her brother. How many years of laughter and love had she been denied because she and Cole had never had the chance to meet?

  You know him now, a voice in her head whispered.

  But not as well as I’d like, Nora argued. She resolved to fix that.

  FOUR GRADES, FOUR CLASSES. Analyze character, plot, setting, theme, and point of view in To Kill a Mockingbird—freshman class, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn—sophomore class, 1984—junior class. Animal Farm—senior class.

  Draw supported inferences; make predictions about plot, setting, characters, and theme; talk about relevance in today’s politically-charged society. Use textual evidence to analyze theme or meaning of a selection; analyze how irony, tone, mood, syntax, language, and sounds are used rhetorically and aesthetically.

  A knock on her door roused Nora from her lesson plan. She looked up to find Cole leaning against her doorjamb. Today he wore a white cotton button-down shirt that set off his tan, with well-worn jeans and a pair of leather shoes. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms. She wondered if he always dressed so casually, or if his wardrobe would change once school actually started. In two days. Her breath caught and her heart accelerated as she thought about the Monday ahead.

  “How’s it going?” Cole asked.

  “Good, I think,” Nora responded. “Everything looks okay in theory, but I’m afraid it could all go to Havana in a handbasket when actual students fill the chairs.”

  Cole grinned. “Yes, it’s always easier to preach to an empty room.”

  “That’s just it, I don’t want to sound preachy, I want...” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I keep thinking of the teachers and professors who most inspired me in school, and it occurred to me that the classes I loved had very little to do with the subject matter and a great deal to do with the teacher. Some teachers could move me to tears with an inspiring lesson on the value of a grocery list while others could take Hans Christian Anderson’s fairytales and bore me to death.”

  Cole paled. “You aren’t discussing fairytales, are you?”

  “Only as they relate to classic storytelling. Do
you want to look at my lesson plan?”

  He strode across the room and came to stand behind her. Leaning over her shoulder, he placed one hand on her desk. Her skin prickled and warmed from his nearness.

  “These look great,” he said. “Did you get a chance to look over Steven ’s class schedule?”

  “I did. And I admit, I copied a lot of his lesson plans. For example, I love his idea of studying a play in class and then performing it. That’s why we’ll be performing Alice in Wonderland. I had considered doing Pygmalion, but then who would I get to play Professor Higgins? This is the problem with an all-girls school.”

  A scowl settled between Cole’s eyebrows. “That isn’t the only problem. Believe me, there are lots of problems with having an all-girls school.”

  “Have you thought about making the school co-ed?”

  Cole pulled over a student’s chair and took a seat beside her. “Unless we did a serious renovation, I’m not sure how it could be done. Even if we had the resources to expand, we would want a somewhat close balance of girls to boys, and to make that happen even in the course of a few years would be problematic. No self-respecting guy is going to want to attend a school of just girls.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “How can you be so sure? Some guys would jump at the chance.”

  He laughed. “Maybe you’re right, but for the moment, it’s a moot point. We’re brimming to the gills with just girls. It used to be argued that girls do better academically—particularly in stereotypically ‘“male’” subjects—when there are no boys around to distract or inhibit them. But decades of research refute this. And some argue that while the girls may perform better in school, they may be inhibited and unsure of working alongside the opposite sex once they’re in the workforce.”

  Nora watched him as he spoke about education, his eyes lit with passion, his expression deeply concerned. Her thoughts went back to when she’d spied him horseback riding with a couple of the students. Admiration ran through her. She itched to cover his hand with hers, or to lean against him, or to find any excuse just to touch him.