He examined the emotions he was feeling. He should have been stressed and upset, but instead he felt a strange elation.
And he knew why. It appeared he’d been handed a golden opportunity for the change he’d been looking for. Longing for.
Now all he had to do was break the news to Corinne.
* * *
“You’re not serious?” Corinne shook her head, trying to shake off the bombshell Jesse had just dropped. “Why would you quit your job? She’s the one who should be quitting.” Corinne refused to utter that woman’s name in their home again.
Jesse cleared his throat and looked at the floor like a shy little boy. “This isn’t about her, Corinne. It will probably take some getting used to, but—this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and well . . .”
“What? What is it, babe?” He was scaring her. What could be so hard to spit out?
“I want to change careers.” He blurted it out like a confession. “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”
“Change careers?” She narrowed her eyes. “To what?”
“I’d like to go back to school and get my teaching degree.”
“What?” She couldn’t help it—she physically reeled backward.
“I think it’s what I’m . . . gifted for. I’m tired of being in a job that doesn’t make a real difference in the world.”
“Your job makes a difference,” she argued, scrambling for a reason to hang her comment on—and failing to come up with one. “Besides, you do make a difference in the teaching you do in our church. With the kids there,” she finished lamely.
“That’s part of what got me to thinking this way. Teaching the kids at Community Christian, that’s when I feel like I’m making a difference. That’s when I feel . . . alive. I’d like to feel that way about my job. What I do every day. Like I said, this isn’t just a whim. I’ve been leaning this way for a long time.”
“Define ‘long time,’ please.”
“Years.”
“Whoa.” Where on earth was this coming from? “You’ve been wanting to quit your job for years? How could I not have known this, Jesse? How could this have not come up in conversation?” She wouldn’t accuse him now, but she felt certain this was merely a reaction to the situation with Michaela Creeve. A defense mechanism of sorts. A way out.
But Jesse was so touchy lately. How could she make him see his reaction for what it was without accusing him of lying?
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was possible. But I see now that it could be. It wouldn’t be easy. But I’ve thought this through. I don’t have my head in the sand . . .”
But he did. He had his head so deep in the sand that Corinne didn’t know how he could even see that it was her he was talking to! “Babe . . . Jesse. We’d have to sell the house. I’d have to go back to work. Leave the girls in daycare.” The thought made her sick to her stomach.
And just as quickly sick with guilt. She was privileged to get to have her dream job—staying home with the girls. Privileged to have this beautiful home they lived in. They lived well on Jesse’s salary when few families could afford to live on one salary in this economy. Why did she think she was above that?
“I’ve thought about this a lot, Corinne. Yes, you might need to take part-time work, a couple days a week. But with Sari and Sadie in school, you could find something during the hours I’m home—so we wouldn’t have to leave Simone in daycare.”
“And what about during the summer?”
“I’d be home then.”
“So you’re not working at all?”
“No, I would.” He looked sheepish. “I’d work as much as I could. We might have to work on the scheduling. But if we sold the house, we could buy something else and get rid of the mortgage altogether. We’d have to downsize. And maybe trade in the Nissan for something more economical. I’m not saying it would be easy. For a couple of years it will be a little crazy. But I think we can make it work.”
Will be a little crazy . . . He was talking like this was a done deal. “When were you going to tell me this, Jesse?”
“What do you mean?”
“If this whole thing with Michaela hadn’t happened, when were you going to tell me that for years you’ve wanted to quit your job and become a teacher?”
He shrugged, but his eyes never left hers when he said, “Probably never.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“I didn’t think it would make any difference. It never really seemed like a possibility. But now . . .”
“How long have you been miserable?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.
“I never said I was miserable. But I’ve never felt fulfilled in my job at Preston-Brilon either. You know that.”
“Never?”
“No. Not really. I mean, it was nice to hand you that healthy deposit slip every payday. And it was worth it to me to have you at home with the girls. That’s important to you, I know, so I’m glad this job made that possible.”
“It’s still important to me.” It struck her that he was speaking in the past tense. “Have you already given notice?”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He rose and went to the window, his shoulders slumping lower with every step. He looked out toward the backyard, speaking with his back to her. “Maybe it was a crazy idea. I guess I’ll just gut it out. Maybe Michaela will leave.”
“Jesse, I’m not saying I wouldn’t even consider it. But . . . it’s not like you to run from trouble like this.”
He whirled and glared at her. “I’m not running away from anything. Like I tried to tell you—” He huffed and strode toward the dining room. “Just forget I said anything.”
“No, Jesse . . . Wait.”
He turned back around and she saw something in his demeanor she’d never seen there before. Defeat. She hated seeing him this way. Especially when it felt like she was to blame.
She had a sudden memory of her mother talking about what a great teacher Jesse would be. Did everyone but his own wife see his dreams, his longings? She went to him and put her arms around him, laid her head on his chest. “Let’s talk this out.”
He stood stiffly, not melting into her embrace like he usually did. Still, this wasn’t something they could just enter into lightly. “Babe, let’s talk about this. I want to know what you’re thinking.”
He relaxed a little.
She drew back to study him and recognized a spark in his eyes. Hope? “I’m listening. Talk to me.”
He gave her a quick hug and pulled out a kitchen barstool and straddled it. “It would be hard, like I said. I haven’t checked into it, but I’d probably need to go at least two years to get all the classes I’d need for a second degree. But maybe I could do some substitute teaching in the meantime. Or . . . something.” He picked up a ballpoint pen from the counter and twirled it through his fingers.
“What level are you thinking of teaching? What subject?” She still could hardly wrap her mind around this career change he was contemplating.
“High school. Or maybe even college. I’d probably teach math or science. Maybe chemistry. I was pretty good at that in college. But I could teach about anything—except English or literature. That’s not my strong suit. You know that.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “This is . . . I’m sorry, but I’m just struggling to . . . process this.”
“I know. But . . . do you think you could support it? Eventually?”
“It would change our lives. Me working. The kids in daycare.”
“Only Simone. The other girls would be in school.”
“Not in the summer.”
“Well, yeah . . .”
It didn’t seem like he’d thought this through quite as well as he claimed he had. “Are you sure it would be wise to teach at that level—high school? College?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but after this whole Michaela thing, I thi
nk you—we—need to consider it carefully about you teaching at that level.”
“What do you mean?” He looked genuinely puzzled.
She took a deep breath and willed her words not to sound like an accusation. “Jesse, it’s one thing to have a coworker accuse you, but if it had been a high-school girl making the accusations that woman did, we’d be in a very different situation right now. If you were a teacher and one of your students accused you of something like that, you could go to jail.”
Immediately, his jaw tensed. “How is that any different than one of the girls in my Sunday school class making a similar accusation?”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about that. But it’s not nearly as likely that someone from church would do that. Where everyone knows us. Knows me. And our family. But in a public school? Girls are ruthless. It happens all the time, Jesse.”
“Really?” His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “When’s the last time you heard about that happening?”
She sputtered. “Just . . . just Google it and see if it happens. It’s on the news nearly every day.”
He blew out a hard breath. “I’m not saying it never happens, but good grief, Corinne, I didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not going to walk on eggshells out of fear. You can’t let stuff like that dictate your life.”
“Well, it sure seems like it’s dictating our life right now. You have to at least consider it, Jesse. Especially if it’s already happened to you. What if you lost your job? They could take our girls away from us!”
He threw down the pen he’d been fiddling with. “Now you’re just grasping at straws. Making things up.”
“And you’re just in denial. You have to at least acknowledge it’s a possibility.”
He stared at her. “You still blame me, don’t you? You still think I actually did the things Michaela Creeve accused me of.”
She bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to explore the answer to his accusation. Maybe she did still blame him. Maybe she was just using it as an excuse. “I . . . I’m scared, Jesse. Our world has already been turned upside down by her accusations. And now you want to change everything!”
“I already told you I wouldn’t do this unless you were onboard.”
“Yes, but you’re not giving me a chance to get onboard. You’re already packed for the trip. Shoot, you’ve practically set sail. And I don’t even have my passport yet. You can say you’re not going to do anything without me, but I feel like if I don’t jump in and start swimming toward your boat, I’m going to get left behind altogether.” She gave a bob of her head, rather proud of the whole metaphor she’d just painted. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was exactly how she felt.
He looked toward the ceiling, his mouth set in a firm line the way it was when he was trying to control his temper. She braced for him to explode—something he did rarely, but memorably. Instead, he came to her, and took her hands in his. “If we let this ruin us, if we let it dictate our lives, we will be captive to Michaela Creeve forever. Do you want that?”
Her stomach twisted in a knot. “Of course not.”
“Then let’s forget about her and live our lives as if that whole thing never happened.”
“But it did happen. Jesse . . . You can’t just pretend it didn’t.”
“Oh? Watch me.”
There was that temper again. She’d seen his temper flare more often in the last month than she had in all the rest of their marriage put together.
He strode from the room leaving her adrift on a stormy sea without so much as a paddle.
17
I hope you’ll come and stay with us again.” Audrey put on her best innkeeper’s smile and walked with the couple to the door.
She returned to the porch and made a show of deadheading one of the huge geraniums that stood in front of the entry columns on either side of the porch. But she was mostly just waiting till the car with the New York tags disappeared from sight so she could jump for joy.
Grant came around the side of the house with a sprayer on the end of a garden hose in hand. “They’re gone?”
“Yes, and thank the Lord for small blessings.” She sank onto the top step and leaned her head against the column.
Grant dropped the hose long enough to climb the steps and deposit a kiss on the top of her head. “I thought you liked guests who stayed for a nice long time.”
She gave a very unladylike snort. “Not when it’s the Queen of Cluckingham and her poor slob of a king. Have you ever seen such a diva in your life?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, and I hope never to again in my life. That poor man. It was all I could do not to pull him aside and help him come up with an escape plan.”
“Grant! You wouldn’t?”
“Of course not, but I was tempted. It seemed like the humane thing to do.”
Their guests had arrived four long nights ago and Audrey was certain the woman had talked nonstop from the moment she stepped out of the car and asked if the valet could please park it for them. “Oh, by the way, I hope she left a nice tip for the valet.”
“No, but I had a couple of tips for her.”
“Grant!” She giggled. “But seriously, I hope you didn’t say anything?”
“Ha! Do you think I could have gotten a word in edgewise?”
“Good point. The worst moment was when they were dragging their Louis Vuitton luggage to the car, complaining all the while that they had to do it themselves, and he—”
“I would have thought that was the best moment . . . when they were leaving.”
“Let me finish. She actually said to me”—she affected an East Coast accent like their guests’—“I do believe we may return here when we’re traveling in the South next fall.”
“Did you tell her we wouldn’t be open that weekend? Whatever weekend that happens to be?”
She smacked her forehead. “Oh, why didn’t I think of it? But you can be sure there will be a sticky note by the phone with their names and a ‘do not reserve’ note.”
“I, for one, won’t need a reminder,” he said with a droll grin.
“If you’d only listened to me when I asked you—ahem, again—not to book on Tuesday nights.” She clucked her tongue. “I honestly don’t know how one individual can be so consistently obnoxious.”
“Speaking of which,” he said. “You haven’t heard anything about Jesse and Corinne’s pain-in-the-neck friend, have you? I wonder if they’ve made a decision about confronting her.”
“I haven’t talked to Corinne. It’s taking everything I’ve got to keep my mouth shut, so I figure it’s best if I don’t ask.”
Grant sighed. “I know. Whose brilliant idea was it to have a don’t-give-advice-unless-asked policy around here?”
“I believe that was you, Mr. Whitman.”
He gave her a hangdog look. “Well, it was a stupid idea.”
“Do you think Corinne would even tell us if that woman tried some other stunt?”
“The question is, would Jesse tell Corinne?”
“You don’t think there could be anything between him and that girl, do you?”
“Michaela? No! Of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?”
“It just seems odd that she would randomly single Jesse out.”
“Oh, my sweet, innocent husband. There is nothing random about Jesse Pennington. He may not get it, but anyone of the female persuasion will tell you the man is a hunk.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
She laughed. “If I’d been born twenty years later, maybe.”
He gave a little snort. “Sorry to burst your bubble, my dear, but you still would have been an older woman to him.”
“Whatever.” She winked, but quickly did the math, and it shocked her a little to realize how much older she was by the calendar than she was in her thoughts. “Back to the subject of this evil woman . . . Maybe she misinterpreted Jesse’s friendliness, but I don’t think for one minute t
hat he would do anything inappropriate.”
Grant was silent.
She studied him. “You don’t know something you’re not telling me, do you?”
He shook his head and gave her a wry grin. “I’m still trying to deal with the shock that my wife thinks my son-in-law is a hunk.”
“Oh, stop. And that information does not need to leave this house.”
He ignored that and turned serious again. “To answer your question: No, I don’t know anything that would make me doubt Jesse. But you hear stuff like that all the time. Men doing things in secret that no one ever suspected. I think I would have felt better if it had been Jesse who came and told us about this. He was awfully quiet last night.”
“He was . . .” She hated the direction this conversation was taking. They loved Jesse Pennington like he was their own. And she truly couldn’t imagine him doing the things that woman had accused him of. “He’s probably just embarrassed by the whole fiasco.”
Grant looked skeptical. “I hope that’s all it is. I just hope they take it seriously enough. If that woman really did take the girls in the car . . .”
Audrey shuddered at the thought. “I know Corinne was feeling nervous that day she was here. I’m sure they’re being extra watchful.”
“Yes, and it did seem like Sadie was telling a story to keep from getting in trouble.”
“I don’t know,” Audrey said. “Her story sure had a lot of details for being made up on the spot.”
“For instance?”
“She named the color of the car, which seat she and Simone sat in . . .”
“Yes, but she said it was a white car. What other color does she know? This whole family owns white cars.”
That was true. They’d laughed about it just a few weeks ago, sitting on the front porch after their Tuesday dinner together and looking out on a sea of white and cream-colored vehicles lining the driveway.
“And that little tyke has been known to tell some whoppers. Remember the night they got into the poison ivy down by the creek?”
That was true, too. “Well, she comes by it honestly. Her mom told a few tall tales in her day.”
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