She shakes her head. “You need to stay where I can see you.”
Marty side-steps past her. “I’ll get out of your hair. Is it okay if I get Max something to drink?”
“Oh, well, are you sure? He’s fine here with me.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do. What d’you say, Max? An Italian soda?”
“Cool.”
The two of them gone, the office is almost big enough to breathe again. I step around the desk, take the chair from the corner, and offer it to Julia. “What’s up?”
She sits, depositing an oversized bag on her lap. What’s so all-fired important that women have to carry it with them wherever they go? “Tess said I should stop in and fill out the paper work.”
I drop into my chair. Why is it that, when it comes to Tess, I’m dumped in the middle of a conversation? “Paperwork?”
Her eyebrows hike beneath her bangs. “For the job?”
“You’ll have to clue me in.”
Her shoulders droop and she sighs. “I was afraid of this. You know, it’d be good if you and Tess could come to some kind of truce.”
“We’re doing okay.” And to my surprise, it’s true. Hasn’t been a screaming match for weeks now. “What job are we talking about?”
“She didn’t say, exactly. Just that you’re short-staffed and need some help.”
“You got any waitressing experience?”
She grimaces. “Not unless you count waiting on Max.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for a new job.”
“Just part time. My bookkeeping hours have been cut and—”
“Bookkeeping?” Could this be my out? “I thought Tess said you work for a doctor’s office.”
“I do. As their bookkeeper.”
“I stink at bookkeeping.”
She smiles. “Either you like it or you don’t.”
“Don’t. Definitely. When can you start?”
“How about yesterday?”
I grin. “You’re my hero.”
“I can cook, too.”
“That just might come in handy. If Maris can’t come in for some reason, can you cover?”
“If I get enough notice to find someone to watch Max.”
“You got it.”
“Whew.” Her eyes light up—or are those tears? “I can’t thank you enough, Jake. I didn’t know what we were going to do.”
“Are you kidding? I could kiss Tess for this.” Heat rises to my neck. “That’s not…I mean…” I fumble with the desk drawer. “Let’s get that paperwork filled out.”
Hope that comment doesn’t get back to Tess.
Chapter 18
Tess
Three weeks into the school year and I can breathe. The paralyzing anxiety of the first day, standing among all those anonymous kids, is almost a faint memory. Their faces now have names, and most of them even have a personality to go along with them.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I’m in the classroom working with the students. We’ve been discussing Lord of the Flies and analyzing the characters—psychology wasn’t such a waste after all. How is Piggy most closely tied to the adult world? And other thought provoking ideas. More often than not, we end up going down a rabbit trail of random thoughts and ideas. One of my weaknesses.
The other two days of the week, I’m on campus attending credential classes. It’s one of these days, mid-September, that Carol and I walk the pathway and bask in the Indian-summer smells—that time in between summer and fall, a season unto itself as far as I’m concerned.
“So, it takes me all of five minutes to realize this kid wrote his book report from the movie instead of the book.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson. He named the actor instead of the character.” I shake my head, still amused at the slip. “Anyway, I called him up to talk about it…” I grab her arm. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
She laughs. “You’re delightful, Tess. You’ve certainly managed to get over your fear of the students. Ashton loves you, by the way. Sounds like that’s the consensus.”
“I don’t know about that. Every class has its challenges. What I don’t get is why a kid would go through all the work to get into Honors English if they’re too lazy to actually do the work when they make it?”
“There can’t be many of them.”
“Enough.” I shrug. “But Katie’s given me some great ideas to reach them.” Pitting one challenge against another.
Carol steps off the path and heads for an empty bench. “Sounds like you and your sister have a great relationship. Pretty unusual given the age difference.”
Rather than sit beside her, I settle on the lawn and rest my back on the bench. “She was young when our mom died. I’m more mom than sister.” I focus on a towering oak and swallow the lump that catches me off guard. “Now that Dad’s gone…we’re all we have.”
“You mentioned your dad before. How long’s it been?”
“Five months.” Five very long months.
“That must be hard.”
I pluck at a blade of grass that blurs in my vision, thankful that Carol can’t see my face. “I think it’s harder on Katie. She doesn’t say much, but Jake told me she shared with him how difficult it’s been not to have closure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” I take a quick swipe at my eyes. “He went down to Mexico. Fishing expedition. He had a heart attack. They had his body cremated and sent home. And since we never saw him…”
“No closure.”
“No closure.” It was easier when I was angry. A barrier of sorts from my grief.
“Did you have a funeral?”
I smile. “We had a party. Dad would have loved it.”
“When my grandmother passed, we had quite the blowout.” She sighs. “A temporary reprieve from the grieving, but it doesn’t make it easier in the end.”
“I think death is harder on those left behind. I mean, Dad’s got nothing to complain about now. He’s not here dealing with Katie, anyway.”
“Problems?”
Maybe she can give me some sage, motherly advice. “Katie was seeing a young man who works at the restaurant. Nice kid, but he’s four years older than her.”
“And Katie’s what? Sixteen?”
“Yeah. I told her last month that she’s not to see him anymore. She thinks I’m being unreasonable. But Jake’s on the same page. In fact, I think if I didn’t put a stop to it, he would have.”
“It’s one thing to have four years between you if you’re both in your twenties or thirties, but sixteen? Daniel and I would definitely nix it.”
“Knowing that helps, even if it doesn’t change things with Katie. That is one stubborn girl, let me tell you.”
“Ha. I wonder where she got that from.”
She’s got a point. “Knowing she comes by it honestly doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
“I’m just saying.”
A group of four young women stroll by, their voices getting louder and louder as they compete to be heard above each other, punctuated with laughter and an occasional squeal. I was like that once.
And then I blinked.
“Well, Tess.” Carol stands. “I should be getting home. I haven’t even figured out what I’m cooking for dinner tonight. Too bad Bella’s isn’t closer.”
I push up from the lawn with a clumsy gymnastics move. “You should bring your family up this weekend—on me.” I dust the grass off my rear. “I’d love to meet the rest of the gang.”
She smiles and nods. “I won’t have to twist Daniel’s arm. He’s always up for a free meal. And Italian’s our favorite.”
“Great. Text me with the day, time, and number in your party, and I’ll get reservations for you.”
Carol gestures past the quad. “You going to the west parking lot?”
“Yeah.” We move together back onto the pathway. I’m feeling comfortable and lazy
—not up for the drive home. A twenty-minute nap in my car and I’ll be rested enough to work a shift at the restaurant. I twist to the side to stretch a kink from my back. “Do you think…”
It can’t be. Heat surges to my face, and the air is sucked from my lungs.
“Tess?” Carol’s voice is faint and tinny. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I checked.” A vice squeezes my chest. Impossible to breathe. “I checked. He…his name…it wasn’t…”
“Call 911.”
Black spots dance in front of my eyes and everything’s spinning. Carol and someone I don’t know walk me to the grass. Where’d he go? I turn my head, but everything’s in a fog.
“Tess, we’re going to sit you down. Do you hear me?”
I can’t stay here. I have to get out. People are closing in. I can’t breathe. Oh God. Don’t let me die like this.
“We have help coming, Tess. Do you hear me? You’re going to be okay.”
But she’s wrong.
* * *
Jake
I check that table six is ready, grab a stack of menus, and wave the foursome over. Where the heck is Tess? If I’d known she wasn’t going to show, I’d have called someone in to cover the front. Once everyone’s seated, I assure them their waitress is on the way and excuse myself. Katie, loaded down with a tray, passes. I follow.
She stops at table nine, flips open the tray holder, and lowers the food.
I wait, one eye on the front door.
Katie lifts a plate. “Okay, everyone. Let’s see what we’ve got. Mrs. Morelli has the spaghetti.”
Mrs. Morelli, dentured smile in place, shuffles her utensils to make room. “You have such a good memory, Katie.”
“Not really. You order the same thing every time.”
“Still. There must be a thousand people who come here every week.”
“Oh, at least.” Katie laughs. “Here’s your lasagna, Mr. Morelli. And we’ve got the manicotti for Mr. Jacobson and the seafood fettuccini for Mrs. Jacobson. Is there anything else I can get you?”
Profuse thank you’s all around.
“You’re so welcome. I’ll be back in a few to check on you.” She spins, tray pinned to her side, and spots me. “Stop stalking me, Jake.”
I ignore her and follow as she moves through the dining room. “You heard from Tess?”
“Nope. Maybe she got hung up at school.”
“Think you can cover the front?”
She reaches the hall to the kitchen and stops, one hand on the door. “Sure. No problem. Just as soon as you get yourself an apron and take over waitressing.”
“You’re hysterical.”
“Well, what do you want me to do? Cover the front or the tables?”
Jeanine pushes through the door, arms loaded, and we both back up. “Not the safest place to hang out, guys.”
Maybe Jeanine…
“Don’t even think about it.” Katie steps into my view. “It’s just me and J out there. Instead of hiring Julia to do the books, maybe you should have hired another waitress.”
“We’d be fine if Tess showed up.”
Katie rolls her eyes. “She’s not even supposed to be working, remember? That was the whole idea behind Dad’s grand master plan to put you in charge.”
So much for a master plan.
“Hey. I got it.” She stops mid-way through the door and gives me a wicked grin. “Why don’t we yank Maris out of the kitchen and let her man the front?”
I scowl at her retreating back.
Jeanine passes in Katie’s wake. “Big group waiting to be seated.”
A glance at my watch and head back to my post. Tess is over an hour late. Why didn’t she call? My gut twists. Maybe she couldn’t call. I’ll get this group seated and try her cell again. With any luck, she’s struck in traffic. Or forgot she was scheduled.
Six people stand at the reservation desk. Eyes on the table chart, I give them a cursory glance. Only table that’ll seat this many without rearranging is nine—but that’s where the Morellis and Jacobsons are seated. If we put eight and seven together—
“Jake?”
I look up at six pairs of eyes. The lighting’s dim. Had to be one of the three men. But who…?
“Jake Holland?” A man—tall, blond…familiar—steps forward. “It is you.”
It only took eighteen months for my past to catch up. You have the wrong man. But I knew this day would eventually come. “Connor.”
His companions smile. Any friend of Connor’s…If they only knew.
“I…uh…” I rub my eyebrow with a thumb and focus on the table chart. “I’m afraid we’re all booked up tonight. Long wait. There’s another restaurant two blocks down. Great seafood.”
Katie appears at my side, nudges me with her elbow. “No, we’re not. We’ll just put a couple tables together and it’s all good. I’ll take care of it.”
I have to unclench my jaw to speak. “Katie will seat you when the table’s ready.” Gotta get out of here. Hands fisted, I turn and get about five steps.
“Hang on, Jake.” Connor, right behind me, grabs my shoulder. “Can’t we talk?”
I glance around the dining room—anywhere, but at Connor.
Across the room, Katie lays out a table cloth, watching me. With suspicion? Curiosity?
With a jerk of my head, I have him follow me to Sean’s office. Once there, I close the door and sit on the edge of the desk. The space is crammed—claustrophobic.
He leans back against the door, hands shoved into his jeans pockets—designer jeans, no doubt. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yep.” I cross my arms, look up at him.
“You just…disappeared.”
“Didn’t see any reason to stick around.”
He drops his gaze to the vicinity of his shoes. Probably Italian. Expensive. “So, this is better? Waiting tables?”
“It’s honest work. And no one gets hurt.”
“It’s a waste.”
Couldn’t agree more, but I’m not about to tell him. “It serves a purpose.”
“You had a lot of friends, you know. We’d’ve stuck by you.”
“Stuck by me?” I snort and shake my head. “You can’t even look at me now. Don’t know why you shoved your way in. Should have grabbed the out—taken your friends somewhere else.”
He raises his head, looks at me for the first time. “Does your family know where you are?”
“Look, Connor.” I stand and reach for the door handle. “Appreciate your concern. But I think it’d be best if you just forget you saw me here.”
“Are you hiding, Jake? Punishing yourself in this hole in the wall?”
“What difference does it make, really? I mean, in the greater scheme of things.”
He shrugs. “Suppose that’s up to you. You’re the only one of us who thought you had a purpose.” He moves through the door and turns to look at me. “The rest of us? We were just in it for the money and power.”
From the door to Sean’s office, I watch him slip back into the dining room. A movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. Katie, arms folded across a tray, watches from outside the kitchen.
Chapter 19
Tess
I roll over in bed with a groan and bury my head beneath my pillow. I didn’t make it to the restaurant last night, and I’m tempted to sell my soul to stay in bed this morning, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, where it’s safe. Where I’m safe. But something stronger than sanctuary pulls me up and out.
Yesterday’s panic attack is still fresh in my mind—and the reason for it still turns me into a heap of raw nerves. It took every ounce of strength I had to pull out of it and talk Carol down from calling 911 as Professor Fields, ten years older and ten pounds heavier, disappeared behind a crowd of students. But it was him. I know it was him. How much longer do I allow him to have power over me?
A hot shower, a strong cup of coffee, and my Curious George lunch box give me the strength to make t
he now-routine commute to Will C. Wood High School. I’m armed with a detailed lesson plan and questions to launch the students into a rousing debate. With any luck, the kids will forget I’m even here.
At least the high school campus is far removed from the college campus. There will be no twisted English professors lurking in the trees. It’s hard to believe that after only a few short weeks, I find the presence of my students comforting.
My students. When did that happen?
Ms. Barmore doesn’t even bother opening the classroom on my teaching days anymore. In fact, more often than not, she doesn’t make an appearance until the third period. It gives me a sense of ownership to be the first person in the classroom. To write the assignment on the whiteboard. To welcome the first-period kids as they trudge through the door, sleepy-eyed.
All except Mikaela, who bounces in with barely suppressed energy. “Morning, Miss O’Shay.” Her smile is infectious. This is what I choose to focus on today.
“Morning, Miss Sunshine.”
Her nickname was born out of what I referred to as her “hippiness”—long, straight hair, embroidered peasant blouses, and bell-bottom jeans. She resembles a flower child from the sixties. According to her, that’s her intent.
As the kids file in and get a look at the whiteboard, rumblings of a discussion ensue.
Trevor Linden, self-appointed class leader, stands at his desk and waves at the board. “Thought this was an English class.”
I close the door behind the last straggler. “Very astute of you, Trev.”
“What’s with the history subject?”
“Anyone have an answer for Trevor while I take roll?”
Mikaela drops her backpack onto her desk with a thud. “It’s kind of the whole theme of Lord of the Flies.”
A couple more comments are made, and by the time I have roll sent to the office via the computer, there’s a rousing debate.
“Okay, class.” I clap my hands to get their attention as I move to the front of the room. “Who can give me the definition of anarchy?”
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