School's in Session

by Various Authors

  His arms tightened around me. "You've been through a lot."

  "Nothing's been the same ever since Mom died," I told him, my lip quivering. "I just miss her so much, I'd give anything to just tell her that I love her and that…that I'm so s-sorry." I burst into harsh, wracking sobs, falling into him as I buried my face in my hands. In that moment, everything faded—the fight with my dad, losing my job, everything. Even Josh went to the back of my mind until all I was left with was the all-consuming pain I'd been carrying around with me for the last few years.

  "Shh, honey. It's going to be okay, I promise."

  "It's not okay," I hiccupped. "I'm a horrible person."

  "Michelle, don't say that." He pulled back to give me that look of his, but I yanked free.

  "It's true! I'm a horrible person and it's never going to be okay, ever again. If I could have just told her…if I'd known how little time I had left with her, I never would have…" I trailed off, unable to speak coherently through the tears.

  "Hey now," he gentled, walking toward me. Josh reached up and brushed my tears away with his fingers, but they were quickly replaced with new ones. "What's this about, sweetheart? Why would you think those things about yourself?"

  "I d-don't think it," I insisted stubbornly, looking at him through watery eyes. "I know it. I w-was an aw-ful kid. I was so…so mean. I said such mean, awful things, Josh," I wailed. "I was terrible to her and she was n-nothing but nice to me!"

  "She was your mother," he reminded me patiently. "She loved you. She knew you didn't mean it."

  "But wh-what if she didn't?" Finally, I spoke aloud the thought that had been haunting me since her death. "What if she died thinking I…thinking I h-hated her?" Just hearing the words spoken aloud was enough to send me back into a fit of heaving sobs.

  Josh pulled me to him, holding me and patting my back while I cried. He didn't say anything or try to shush me; he kept me in the safety of his arms and let me cry it out. I didn't know how many minutes passed—it could have been five or fifty for all the notice I took. All I knew was that when I was finally able to stop, I felt weak and exhausted.

  He reached over to wipe my tears away, leaning over to kiss the streaks they'd left in their path. "Do you feel better?"

  "A little," I admitted in a little-girl voice. Suddenly, I felt shy around him. It wasn't every day that I confessed my deepest fears. I'd just told him things I'd never even told Ben, things that I tried to pretend I didn't feel and worse, I'd just fallen to pieces right in front of him.

  "What can I do, honey? How can I help you feel better?"

  I peeked at him from under my lashes. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish that she'd punished me for how I acted. She never did, but…" I'd never felt so vulnerable in my life as I did when I told him that. My heart pounded nervously as I waited to see how he'd respond.

  "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  "It's not…I…"

  "It's what you need," he guessed quietly.

  I gave a small nod of my head, avoiding his eyes and staring at the floor.

  "Okay, honey, here's what I want you to do. Go to my bathroom and open the first drawer. There's a wooden hairbrush in there I want you to bring to me. I'll be sitting on the couch and you have exactly sixty seconds to join me. Understand?"

  For some reason I couldn't quite comprehend, hearing his command somehow made me feel relieved, lighter somehow. "Yes, Sir."

  "Then get to it. Sixty seconds."

  I scurried off to do as he'd ordered, easily finding the brush he'd mentioned. I opened the drawer and stared down at it. It was blond oak with a long handle and a large back. Just seeing it made my bottom tingle as I imagined what it would be like to have it come smacking down on my ass. I knew that soon enough I would know firsthand and the idea was both thrilling and a bit frightening.

  "Ten…nine…eight…" I heard Josh counting from the living room.

  Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I picked up the brush and ran out of the bedroom.

  "Three…two…"

  "I'm here!" I exclaimed. "I'm here."

  "One," he proclaimed, the corners of his mouth twitching as I stood in front of him, trying to catch my breath. "Hand me the brush, please." I quickly obeyed, noting that he set it on the couch beside him. "Over my lap."

  I was momentarily caught off guard. I was so used to him putting me in the position he wanted me that doing it myself was entirely foreign and a bit uncomfortable. I could guess what he would say if I voiced my thoughts aloud, so I summoned up the courage I needed to lower myself over his lap.

  "Good girl," he praised, rubbing my cheeks. "Now I want you to understand something from the onset: I am not spanking you because you think you're a horrible person, nor am I spanking you for anything you said or did when you were a kid. What I'm going to be punishing you for is for torturing yourself with guilt."

  "But—"

  "Hush," he admonished gently. "I'm not through. You are a wonderful, beautiful, thoughtful person, Michelle. Your mom adored you and I'm sure she was proud of the woman you grew up to be."

  Just hearing his comforting words had me crying again before he'd even laid down the first swat. When it came, I could tell he was holding back and not using his full strength. Even so, I yelped and bucked on his lap as the tender wood hit my shorts, seeming to bypass the fabric so that the hurt sank right into my skin.

  The second stroke made me gasp and yell, "It hurts!"

  "That's the idea, honey," he replied, administering another stinging smack. He slowly peppered my bottom with burning smacks, one after another. Unlike times in the past where he'd spanked me, I didn't kick, I didn't struggle. I surrendered to the pain and the tears that had abated returned full force until I was a sobbing, snotty mess.

  He used the back of that brush to create a fire in my bottom, one that I feared would never be extinguished. I cried out with each thudding swat, clinging onto his knee as if for dear life. All the anger and pain I'd kept bottled up for so long flooded me in a torrent of emotions, but bit by bit, I forgot everything but the safety of Josh's lap and the punishing bite of the brush.

  My ass was so hot that I didn't even notice when he stopped. I just kept sobbing until I didn't think I'd ever be able to cry again.

  "Shh, you did so well, sweetheart. Take a deep breath and then we'll talk."

  I took several quavering breaths before I nodded that I was ready. I'd thought he would help me up off his lap, but his hand stayed firmly on the small of my back.

  "I know that you're sad, Shelly. You've been through so much and for a lot of it you've been on your own. You have no idea how much I admire your strength."

  I felt tears of a different kind slide down my cheeks as I relaxed over his knee.

  "What do you think your mother would say if she saw you ruining your life with all this guilt and bitterness?"

  I knew what she'd say. She'd tell me that forgiveness was the quickest path to happiness, something she'd told me a thousand times before. All these years I'd thought I was stubbornly refusing to forgive my father or grant him even a speck of mercy, but I hadn't been able to forgive myself, either. The truth was, in the back of my mind I'd thought the cancer was my punishment—then, when I was pronounced cured and had lost Ben, then my job, I'd known that Karma was exacting its revenge. Deep down, I'd suspected that I deserved everything I got.

  "Shelly?"

  "She wouldn't like it," I admitted.

  Josh pulled me up in his arms, holding me tight against him. I gave a muffled cry as my throbbing ass hit his hard thigh, and he leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Neither do I. You're a beautiful, kind, strong woman and I want you to cut yourself some slack. And the past is the past—I want you to work on forgetting the bad stuff, okay? It doesn't do any good to focus on it."

  But if I let go of that, what was left? I'd spent practically my whole life focusing on my hatred and feeling guilty for it. If you took that away, what if there was nothing lying underneath?r />
  "You don't have to do this on your own anymore," he murmured in my ear, as though he'd read my thoughts.

  I nodded, leaning against him and closing my eyes. I inhaled the comforting, masculine scent of him, and felt surprisingly light and clean, as though he'd somehow scrubbed me free of all the dirt that had been clogging up my life for the last decade.

  We sat quietly for a few minutes and I was basking in the security he provided. He leaned over and kissed the top of my head once more before saying, "Come on, baby. We need to get ready for work."

  "Do we have to?" I groaned, reluctant to leave the safe haven of his embrace.

  "Afraid so."

  "All right. I better get home and change," I said, sliding off his lap.

  He gave me a quick once-over. "You can go as you are. Don't worry, I hear your boss is the forgiving type."

  "Forgiving enough to let us call in sick?"

  "Not on your life!" He grinned, reaching around to give me a firm pat. "Now, how about that shower?"

  After school, Julia swung by to remind me of the faculty mixer she'd mentioned earlier in the week.

  "Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty tired." And sore, I added silently.

  "Oh, come on!" she cajoled. "It'll be fun! Besides…I hear that Mr. Black with be there." She winked at me then disappeared, leaving me with my mouth agape.

  Did everyone know? Oh, boy.

  Shortly after I finished putting all the supplies up and laying out the lesson plan for Monday, Josh poked his head in the door. "Hey. Everyone's going to this mixer at Grady's," he said, naming the only restaurant in Pike County with a bar. "Are you coming?"

  "I guess you could drop me off and wait five…no, make that ten minutes before you come in."

  He arched a questioning brow. "We're not in high school anymore, Shel."

  "Technically, Professor Black, we are," I said in my best sultry voice, stepping toward him.

  "Uh-huh." He clearly was not impressed with my humor. "Go or don't go, it's up to you. But I'm not going to play games. I can drop you off at home if you want."

  I nibbled my lower lip as I considered him. I wasn't quite ready to face my dad—despite the revelations that morning, I didn't know what I was going to say to him. And the fact of the matter was, I wanted to spend more time with Josh. "What if people figure out we're dating?"

  "Is that what you're worried about?" He chuckled, taking my hand and sliding his thumb over the back of it. "Shelly, we're together and I don't care who knows it."

  Who could hear something like that without smiling? "Okay. If you're sure."

  "I am." He bounced a finger off my nose. "Now don't ask me again or I'll have to give you detention." I shivered in a way that had nothing to do with fear and I could see by the way his smile widened that it wasn't lost on him.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "All right, let's get out of here."

  It was only a five minute drive to Grady's. "There are the guys," Josh said, gesturing at the bar, as we walked in hand-in-hand.

  I tugged my hand away. "Julia's sitting at a booth. I think I'll join her."

  "Okay. Have fun, sweetie." He leaned over and kissed me quickly on the lips before walking toward the bar.

  I watched him go, thrilling at the powerful movements of his toned, muscular body. It was enough to make my panties dampen. Once he'd sat down, I turned and headed for Julia who waved enthusiastically when she saw me. "Hey."

  "Hey yourself!" She laughed. "So, when I told you Mr. Black was coming, why didn't you tell me he was coming with you?"

  "Oh, that? It's nothing," I objected, sliding into the booth. "He just gave me a ride. My car won't start."

  "Damn, girl, if that's all it takes to get that kind of treatment, I'll take a sledgehammer to mine." My eyes widened and she threw back her head and laughed. "Don't worry. I'm just kidding."

  I gave her a tiny, embarrassed smile. "How was your week?"

  "Oh, what a week!" she sighed dramatically. "First weeks are usually tough, but this one absolutely takes the cake!"

  I listened intently as she began to regale me with the stories of her week, finding that I liked her. I hadn't been entirely sure when I'd worried that she was a better fit for Josh, but now that I felt assured of his love, I felt myself relaxing around her. Her stories kept me laughing and I found myself sharing with her in turn. We ordered drinks and I was enjoying myself immensely when Julia stopped in mid-sentence.

  "Well, look who it is."

  I followed her eyes and saw Josh striding toward us in long, purposeful strides. My heart leapt at the sight of him and I smiled in welcome until I realized how serious his face was. What had I done now?

  "Shelly, may I have a moment?"

  I gave Julia an uncertain, wide-eyed look and she nodded before sliding out of the booth and walking away. "What is it?"

  "Officer Stanley just came in and found me. He said they need you at the police station right away."

  "What? Why?" I asked.

  "It's your dad."

  My heart lodged in my throat. "What happened?"

  "I don't know, Shel. They just said that you needed to come."

  I leapt to my feet, about to powerwalk past him when he grabbed my arm.

  "Take it easy. I'm going to drive you. Come on." We walked to the car in silence and I let Josh open my door for me. I'd just climbed in and put on my seatbelt when he opened the driver's side door. "Hey, are you okay?"

  "I'm just so sick of this!" I burst out. "I'm sick of everyone judging me because I had the misfortune to be that man's daughter." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. Not because they weren't true, but because I expected a reprimand.

  When he spoke, his voice was calm and thoughtful. "I don't think that's it. I think you're sick of feeling pitied."

  I didn't answer and Josh drove in silence, leaving me to think about what he'd said. I wasn't surprised my dad was at the police station—I'd always assumed that he'd seen the inside of a jail cell more than once—but what did surprise me was my strong reaction to it. I was terrified that something had happened to him and even as I tried to tell myself that I shouldn't care, that whatever it was he'd done it to himself, but there was no denying that I did care, despite my best intentions.

  Josh had barely parked the car when I jumped out, ignoring him calling my name as I ran into the police station. I spotted my dad right away—it was hard not to. He was standing in front of an officer, his posture defensive as he yelled. As I stepped closer, I saw that it was the same man who'd pulled me over and given me a ticket.

  "You've got some balls thinkin' you can treat my daughter like that!" I heard him yell. "If you've got a problem with me, Bob, take it out on me, but I'll be damned if I let you take it out on my kid!"

  "Dad."

  He was squared off with the cop, his face a mask of rage. He stiffened when he heard my voice, but he didn't turn around. The place was crawling with cops, but they were all standing around, watching the confrontation with amused grins. Why weren't they doing something?

  "You tear up that ticket, you piece of shit, or—"

  "Or what?" the cop taunted.

  "Dad," I called, louder this time.

  "Go home, Shelly," he told me without turning around. "I'm handling this."

  "Dad, please." I walked closer, looking between the two of them warily. They both looked ready for a fight, looked like they wanted one, in fact. When I was in range, I took his hand and he turned to me in surprise. "It's okay. Please, come home with me."

  "It's not okay. No one gets away with mistreating my daughter."

  "I appreciate it, Dad, but you can't handle it this way."

  "Listen to your daughter," the officer—his nametag read Bosley—said smugly. "Go on home, clean out your couch cushions and put it on the ponies."

  That did it. My dad shook me off and raised his fist, ready to take a swing at Bosley. I wanted to scream, but it stuck in my throat. Just then, Josh
came behind him and grabbed his arm.

  "Mr. Johnson, let's get out of here. You've made your point."

  "How can someone pointless make a point?" Bosley sneered.

  I was surprised at the anger that flared in my chest. The next thing I knew, I was stepping forward and slapping the man's arrogant face as hard as I could. There was a minute of stunned silence all around us and I could hear my heart pounding loudly in my ears. "You owe my father an apology," I snapped.

  He stared at me, eyes wide as his cheek reddened where I'd hit him. There was a chorus of guffaws around the room and he narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. He was about to reply when Josh interrupted.

  "I'll be taking them both home now, Officer Bosely."

  "Be sure that you do," was the only reply he managed.

  We'd just gotten outside when my father tugged his arm out of my grasp. "I still have some things to say." He put his hand on the handle, but I put my hand over his.

  "Daddy, please, don't."

  When he turned toward me, the shock was evident on his face. I hadn't called him "Daddy" since I was a little girl. I shocked him further by flying at him and throwing my arms around him, hugging him hard.

  "What's this?" he murmured, rubbing my back.

  "I love you," I replied, my voice thick with emotion. I clung to him, thinking that despite his mistakes, maybe I'd been too hard on him. He clearly felt more for me than I'd ever realized and sometimes, that was enough. It was enough for me.

  "I love you too, Baby."

  I peeked over his shoulder and saw Josh watching us, his arms across his chest and a smile on his lips.

  "Good girl," he mouthed.

  Epilogue

  Michelle

  Two months later

  "This is a bit clichéd, don't you think?" I asked, tugging on my short plaid skirt and eyeing my black knee socks dubiously.

  "It's what naughty girls wear to punishment detention," Josh informed me, sitting on the edge of his desk.

  "It's not in the teacher's handbook," I mumbled, uncomfortable in the black Mary Janes.