“This is a key to my houseboat. I want you to have it. I did a lot of thinking there.” He reached out to hand it to her, stopping when Grace went to grab it.
“You can go whenever you like, whenever you feel the need to escape.” He smiled slightly. “I do like to have a cup of coffee on the deck in the mornings after my run. I would like it if you would join me. Starting tomorrow.” A shadow passed over his face and he looked away. “I think it might do both of us some good.”
Grace chewed her bottom lip. The key felt warm in her palm. “Thanks, Noah. I will take you up on that.”
Noah smiled. “Good.” He nodded at the group of dogs that had grown bored and were now wrestling each other in the sand. “I’d better get these mutts back to the house and hosed off.”
He whistled and the dogs sprang to attention. Even crazy, antisocial Furby, who had been barking at the dogs off and on, stopped by Grace’s side and sat.
“I’ll see you for coffee in the morning?” Noah asked.
Grace smiled. “Yes. You will.”
With that, Noah and crew walked off, leaving Grace on the beach alone with Furby. Grace opened her palm and looked at the key. The early morning sunlight glinted off the gold key.
An escape. She looked across the horizon where she could see the houseboat bobbing slowly off the pier.
Maybe that was exactly what she needed. No Gabe. No Ryder. No Joey. As much as she loved them, their questioning glances were almost too much. She didn’t have any answers for them. She didn’t have any answers for herself.
Maybe now she could find the answers and peace she needed.
***
On the walk back to Joey’s, Grace felt the phone on her hip vibrate. Grabbing it, she looked down, expecting to see Gabe asking where she was for breakfast. She was surprised with a number she didn’t recognize. She let it go to voice mail. When the phone vibrated again, she clicked on the notification.
“Shit!” Grace said as she listened to the message. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
“Ms. Delchamp. This is Troy Comeaux at Point Shade High School. I received your resume this morning. I’d like to schedule an interview with you.”
What was she going to do? She didn’t want the job! She had only sent her resume to get everyone off her back. She just wouldn’t call him back. Grace shrugged her shoulders.
That was it. She just wouldn’t call him back. Then she thought of the teacher’s salary she had seen posted on the parish’s website.
She did need a job.
That was a lot of money. Even more money than she was making singing on Bourbon. She could get her own place with that. She could save some until she figured out what she wanted to do next. She might even buy a car.
She was just kidding herself anyway. They weren’t going to hire her. She wasn’t qualified. She had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting that job. Maybe they would have a clerical job opening or something.
Sighing, she clicked through and found the number on caller ID and pressed the button.
***
Later that afternoon, Grace walked into Snapper’s, already feeling foul.
“I have an interview tomorrow,” she told Gabe as she sat down.
“Oh really? That’s great,” he said. “Where at?”
“Point Shade High School. That sub position.”
“Awesome,” he said.
“I’m not going to get it,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I’m not a teacher. And I don’t want the job anyway,” Grace said.
“Well, it will work until you can figure out what you do want.”
“They aren’t going to hire me,” she argued.
“You never know. I think we should toast to the interview,” he said, holding out his glass.
“I. Don’t. Want. This. Job,” she said, glaring at him.
He smiled back. “Well, okay then. Let’s just toast to new possibilities,” he said.
She finally smiled. “I can toast to that. Hopefully, I’ll have some. Speaking of which, I have my writing notebook. When do you want to get together and do some writing?”
“Whenever you want. We can start tomorrow after your interview if you’d like. Since we’re not going to be celebrating your employment, Miss I’m Not Going to Get the Job Anyway.”
“I’m not. They probably just have to interview a certain amount of people.”
“You never know.”
“Let’s toast and talk about something else,” Grace said.
“Talk about what?” Ryder asked as he walked up. He hugged Grace, shook hands with Gabe, and had a seat beside Grace.
“The job I’m not going to get.”
“You have an interview?”
“Yeah, but I’m not going. I changed my mind,” Grace said. “I’m not going to waste anyone’s time.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want the job.”
“Grace, it’s a good opportunity for you. It’s only temporary. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go back,” Gabe said.
“So why go in the first place? I’m not going to get the job.”
“Then what’s the harm?” Gabe asked.
“Why should I?”
“Grace. Go to that interview,” Ryder demanded.
“I’m not going.”
“Listen, Grace. Go.”
“Nope.”
“You’re being an idiot.”
“You’re being an ass.”
“And?” Ryder flashed her a smile. “What’s new?”
“Just go. What other option do you have right now? You cancelled your gigs. You need a job. Steady income. Go,” Gabe, always the voice of reason, said.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go, but I won’t accept it if they offer.”
“You’re too smart for that.” Gabe ruffled her hair.
“You’ll do what you need to do. You always do,” Ryder said. “And on a side note, you are going to meet Noah in the morning for coffee.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “You talked to Noah?”
“He talked to me about it last night. And I agreed that it was a good idea.”
“I’m going to go. He said it would help him too.”
“I have no doubt,” he said, and patted her leg. “Now, let me go whip Gabe’s ass on the pool table.”
“You do that,” Grace said before grinning, not at what Ryder said but at Gabe rolling his eyes behind Ryder’s back.
She leaned back on the barstool and propped her knees on the ledge of the bar. She would meet Noah for coffee. She would go to that interview. They wouldn’t hire her, but it felt like a step in the right direction. A step Grace needed to get her life back together.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun was a yellow dot in the pink morning sky as Grace ran down the deserted beach. On the horizon, she saw Noah’s houseboat bobbing slowly by the pier. A lone pelican rested on a wooden pylon jutting out of the water. She slowed to a walk as she approached, her hand going into the pocket of her hooded sweater to find the key.
Maybe Noah was right.
Her footsteps echoed across the old wooden pier as she walked to the boat. She passed through the small metal gate and onto the deck. She felt like an intruder, and even though she had the key, she chose not to use it. Going instead around the deck to the front of the boat where a pair of white wooden rocking chairs sat.
She settled into one of the chairs and let the movement of it and the water lull her into a sense of serenity she hadn’t felt in days. From where she sat, she could see the sun slowly continuing its ascent into the sky.
Grace leaned back, closing her eyes. Random words and phrases began to string together with a melody.
She hadn’t written an original song in ages. It was time. She would bring her music journal and leave it here somewhere safe so she could write down ideas.
The sound of footsteps alerted her to Noah’s presence before she saw the dogs run across the
beach, free at last to romp in the surf.
The boat creaked as Noah entered the cabin, Grace assumed, to make coffee. Soon, the sliding glass doors opened.
“Mornin’,” Noah said, and Grace felt his dark eyes on her, assessing her. He set a cup of coffee down beside her. “I can get cream and sugar if you need.”
“I’m good,” she said.
“Nightmares?” he asked.
Grace nodded, and he exhaled a breath as he settled into his chair. She was struck again by the changes he had made since the year before. Not as skinny, not as withdrawn, he seemed to have put his demons to rest. For the time being, at least.
Steam rose from his coffee in the cool morning air as he took a sip. He leaned back in the chair, looking out at the horizon, his thoughts farther away than Grace could ever know.
“Grace, I’m not going to ask you what happened. That’s for you to tell when you are ready. I know that Ryder knows, and that’s good enough for me. I just don’t want you to think these morning talks will be about me trying to get you to talk. Hell, some mornings I may not even want to talk at all. Sometimes just sitting can do wonders for the mind.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever really just sat and done nothing,” Grace said. She felt like she was sometimes constantly in motion. Music, practice, running, social life, she was always busy unless she was sleeping. And she wasn’t even doing that too much these days.
“Maybe it’s time you started,” he said, taking another long sip of coffee. He was quiet again as he stared straight ahead. Grace said nothing as well, not sure of what to say.
He exhaled a deep breath. “When I got back from Iraq, I had nightmares. A lot. I got to the point where I dreaded sleep. I still have the nightmares every now and then. I probably always will. At least Em seems to have gotten used to them. I think I scared the shit out of her a few times.”
“I’m sure she understands,” Grace said.
“I’m sure she thinks she does,” Noah said, “and I love her for it. But she can’t. No one can who hasn’t been there.”
“Do you ever talk to her about it?” Grace asked.
“Not really. I’ve never talked about it with anyone, until now.”
“Why me?” Grace had to know. Why talk to her rather than Emily?
“Like I said when I handed you the key, I think this can help both of us. Emily knows I need to talk and that you do too.” He drained his coffee cup.
“Want another?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She handed him the cup, and he disappeared back into the cabin.
“So, I hear you have an interview today,” he said when he reappeared with fresh coffee.
“Yes, I guess I’m going,” Grace said. “I still don’t know if I want the job.”
“I understand,” he said.
“You do?”
“I do. And we can talk about that later. You can tell me all about it tomorrow morning. If you want to.”
Grace nodded and smiled. She sipped her coffee and looked out at the calm water. Noah was right about one thing. These talks might just be good for them both.
***
Walking through the double doors of the high school, Grace tugged on the one dress shirt she owned, feeling like she was wearing a Halloween costume that didn’t fit quite right.
“Ms. Delchamp, thank you for coming in,” the principal said as she walked into his office. He motioned to the seat across from his desk.
Great, the principal’s office, Grace thought. Like I didn’t sit here enough in high school.
“Please, have a seat.”
Grace sat in the chair and resisted the urge to cross her arms and glare.
She. Did. Not. Want. This. Job.
She didn’t want to be here, but that was okay. She wasn’t going to get the job anyway.
She mentally shrugged her shoulders and met the principal’s eyes.
“So, Ms. Delchamp, what we have here is an English teaching position, eleventh graders. Your resume states you have a degree in music education. Why did you never pursue a career in education?”
Because I don’t want to teach, she thought. She paused while she thought of a more acceptable response. “I’ve always loved to play music. I wanted to see what I could do before I settled down into a career. So, I moved to New Orleans to play there.”
“And you’re coming back because…?”
Her stomach rolled, and she fought to keep her face impassive. “It wasn’t working out.”
“Okay, let me tell you a little bit about this position. It is a substitute position for the remainder of the year. Due to an unfortunate series of events, the teacher we had will not be returning.”
That’s one way to put it, Grace thought. The dude lost his mind and ran around half naked in a city park wearing lipstick and panties.
“I understand,” Grace said.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he said.
“I’m a musician. I’ve been writing and playing music since, well, since as long as I can remember,” she said.
“Why teach?” he asked.
“I had hoped to share my love for music with students eventually.”
“What do you know about teaching English?” he asked.
“Very little,” Grace admitted. She wasn’t going to try to impress him. She didn’t want this job, and so far it looked like she wasn’t going to get it. She relaxed and waited for him to say, “Thank you for coming in, we’ll call you.”
“Basically, you just teach them the curriculum set forth by the state. Teach them reading skills and how to speak and write grammatically,” he said.
“That sounds like something I could do,” Grace said, playing along.
“If I asked you what your main fault was, what would you say?” he asked.
“I’m stubborn,” she said. There, that should do it. Nail that coffin shut.
He smiled at her. “That’s not always a bad thing. I’m going to be honest here, Ms. Delchamp. I like you and I need to fill this position. It being during the year, it’s been rather difficult to find someone with the qualifications, especially here in a smaller town. If I offered you this position today, would you take it?”
He’s going to offer me this job, she thought. Damn, damn, damn. What would she say. What could she say? Ryder was right, she needed some income.
“I would take it.”
“Well, then it looks like you’re hired.” He sat forward, his hand extended. “Welcome to Pointe Shade High School. If you have time, I can give you the grand tour.”
Grace nodded, speechless.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
She was still cursing as he led her through the now quiet halls of the school. He took her through the small but modern library first, as it was adjacent to the office area.
“We have all the new technology that the students would need to be prepared for college and life after. What classes we don’t offer here, we have online options for.”
He led her out of the library and down the hall, stopping at a room and opening the door.
Grace’s mouth fell open when he clicked the light on.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” the principal said.
“A bit?” Grace asked. Grace wondered if the room was the remnants of a hurricane, or if someone really could work in what could be described as chaos. Books of all types littered the floor: textbooks, novels, workbooks. You name it and they were on the floor. The bookcases spilled over too, shoved full of books and notebooks that looked like they had been housed there since the school was built. Student work was plastered all over the walls. Some posters had yellowed and faded.
“Mr. Thibodeaux left in a hurry, as you may know, and has not yet come to clean up his belongings. A janitor will be in later today to bring some kind of order to this, so don’t think that you’re going to be responsible for the organization and preparation of this room.”
“Thank God,” Grace said under her breath.
The principal chuckled.
“How about you plan on starting next Monday? That will give you time to prepare, and we can get this room in proper order. Would you like to take any materials with you?”
Grace stepped over piles of books and folders to cross over to the teacher’s desk that was also piled high with stuff. She grabbed what looked like a teacher’s manual. Looking again, she saw a copy of The Great Gatsby. She grabbed that too.
“I think this is enough to get me started.”
“Great. Is there anything in this room you see that you’d like to keep?”
She scanned the room one more time. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Keep the books, that’s it.”
“A clean slate,” said Mr. Comeaux. “I like that.”
“Me too,” Grace said. “Me too.”
Mr. Comeaux shook her hand at the main intersection of the hall after the tour. “Well, Ms. Delchamp, we’ll look forward to seeing you Monday, then. Please call me if you have any questions at all between now and then.”
“I will,” Grace promised. “See you Monday.”
He nodded, and Grace walked away, a tight knot of anxiety tangled in her stomach.
What the hell was she going to do now?
***
A few miles down the road, she pulled Joey’s Jeep over on the side of the road. She had borrowed it thinking that pulling up on a Harley would not make the best first impression. She called Ryder.
“Ryder? I got the job. I start Monday,” she said. “Now what the hell do I do?”
“Well, you go to work,” he said, and laughed.
“And? I don’t know anything about teaching English.”
“You speak it, don’t ya?” he asked.
“Most of the time.”
“Well, then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Teaching reading, books?”
“You read, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You write music?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You read, you speak English. You can write. The rest you can figure out.”
Running On Empty (Fleur de Lis Book 2) Page 11