by Beth Andrews
She kept her hands at her sides, palms up, fingers splayed. Her hips still. Turning her head away from him, she stared blindly into the darkness of their room. The bed squeaked. Her body moved with each of his firm thrusts, rubbed against the softness of the sheet. The numbers on the digital clock changed. Changed again. And again. Until Steve’s fingers tightened, his body growing rigid.
He emptied himself into her with a low groan, his breath hot on her neck, his skin damp with sweat. And almost immediately, he rolled off of her and padded into the adjoining bathroom.
Leaving Joan to stare, dry-eyed, at yet another sunrise her son would never see.
* * *
EDDIE MONTESANO WAS back at Shady Grove Elementary, back in Harper’s classroom.
Max, too, she noted, spying the little boy’s head behind his father’s legs. Eddie, in faded jeans, a snug T-shirt and a worn Pittsburgh Pirates ball cap, stood in the doorway, almost in the same spot he’d been yesterday when he’d told her he didn’t need her help. And he was watching her, his focus so complete, so intense, it was all she could do to take a full breath.
Harper forced her attention to the sleeping newborn in her arms. But even as she smiled at the precious baby, she felt Eddie glowering at her from across the room.
God, talk about unnerving. She was about ready to jump out of her skin. Or hold tiny Dawn Rupert up as some kind of shield against his death glare.
What on earth was he doing here?
“She’s beautiful,” Harper told Dawn’s mother, Lydia. Harper lifted the warm weight of the baby higher and inhaled that sweet, newborn scent. Seriously, they should market this stuff. “And you look great.”
Lydia’s light brown hair was shiny and in soft waves around her pretty face, no dark circles or breakouts in sight on her clear complexion. Her green top hugged her post-baby boobs, her dark skinny jeans daring anyone to guess she’d given birth just seven days ago.
Good thing she was super sweet and funny, or else Harper would have to hate her on principle alone.
“Thanks,” Lydia said with the dismissive wave of a woman well used to not having to try hard to look good. “Honestly, she’s been such an easy baby so far, I’m afraid I’m getting spoiled. Not like that one.” Smiling, she nodded toward her older daughter, Shana, who skipped happily around her mother while singing the latest Beyoncé song under her breath.
Beyoncé. At seven. Whatever happened to “Mary Had a Little Lamb”?
“If Dawn keeps sleeping so much during the night,” Lydia continued, taking the baby from Harper, “I might be able to come back in a few weeks.”
Lydia was the classroom mother and a really good one, too. Then again, the woman probably made cleaning toilets look fun and effortless.
“Take all the time you need,” Harper said, unable to stop herself from shooting a glance in Eddie’s direction, only to discover he was no longer at the door. He and his son were now in the middle of the room. And slowly, steadily getting closer.
“I hate leaving you in a lurch like this but I’ll be back before Halloween. If you need someone before then, let me know. I’m sure I can find a sitter.”
Harper laughed. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about coming back before you’re ready.”
“Come on, Shana,” Lydia called as she headed toward the door. “Let’s get your baby sister home.”
“I get to help change her,” Shana told Harper proudly. A miniature of her mother, she had long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a penchant for T-shirts featuring Hello Kitty. “But I can’t feed her ’cause I don’t have boobs yet.”
By the door, Lydia groaned and sent a furtive glance in Eddie’s direction. “Shana Marie!”
Shana’s eyes widened. “What? That’s what Daddy told me.”
Harper bit her lip to stop from smiling. “I’m sure you’re a big help to your mom and dad.”
The little girl twirled so that her skirt floated out. “I am.”
“Less spinning,” Lydia said, “more walking, please.”
Harper laid her hand on Shana’s shoulder and guided her to her mother. “See you tomorrow.”
She waited until the Ruperts were well down the hall before facing her unexpected guests. Making her way slowly to her desk, she sent Max a comforting smile.
He ducked his head and slid farther behind his father. Were those tear marks on his face?
“We need to talk,” Eddie said flatly.
She sat behind her desk and linked her hands together in her lap. “Yes, I guessed that was your reason for being here. What can I do for you? From your expression, I take it this isn’t a social call.”
Or going to be a pleasant visit.
Then again, maybe he just wasn’t a pleasant sort of person. His brother James was. He was a complete sweetheart. Friendly. Kind. The type of man a girl could reason with, have a polite conversation with. A truly nice man.
This one storming toward her, his son in his wake? Not so nice or friendly. Which was a pity. She bet he’d be a real heartbreaker if he’d only smile once in a while. Luckily, she wasn’t interested in having her heart broken.
“If you have a problem with me,” he said, laying his hands on her desk and leaning forward, “you tell me. You don’t take it out on my kid.”
Eyes narrowing, Harper slid her gaze from Eddie’s furious expression to Max’s face. Yes, the boy had definitely been crying and she could easily guess why. But she wasn’t saying anything until Eddie explained that remark.
Standing, she mimicked Eddie’s stance so that they were nose to nose, though she doubted she looked quite as menacing as he did. “Excuse me?”
“Dad,” Max whispered, tugging on Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie laid his hand on his son’s head but didn’t turn his way. “Max told me you made him miss recess.”
She sent Max a pointed look. The boy stopped tugging, his face turning beet-red as he stared at the floor.
Oh, Max.
She could, and did, forgive the boy for his part in this little drama. But Eddie? He wasn’t getting off so easily.
“I see,” she said, tapping her mouth with her finger. “So, to your way of thinking, since you didn’t...what? Agree with me? Do as I wanted? I—in a devious and clever act of vengeance—made your son sit on the bench with me while his friends ran around the playground. Wow. I’m really quite the monster. And obviously I don’t have enough to do as all that was on my mind from the time you left this classroom yesterday was how I could get my revenge. Want to hear my evil laugh? It’s the one I use whenever one of my nefarious plans comes together.”
Eddie’s frown deepened, turned to confusion. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny. Especially from this side of things. Max,” she said, “did you tell your father why you had to sit out during recess?”
He lifted a shoulder.
She walked out from behind the desk and crouched so she and Max were eye level. “Do you want to tell him?”
He shook his head so hard, she felt a breeze from the swinging of his floppy hair.
“Tell me what?” Eddie asked.
The little boy wasn’t going to budge. Easy enough to tell where he inherited that stubborn streak.
She straightened. “Max had his recess privileges taken away because he misbehaved in class today and at lunch. He disrupted the class several times this morning by walking around during lessons and tapping the other children’s desks. And the report I received from the cafeteria monitor stated that Max deliberately poured milk onto Elliott’s sandwich because Elliott wouldn’t share his cookies. Max and I had a discussion about his behavior and I believe he understands what he did wrong, but since recess is a privilege and not some God-given right, he lost that privilege for today and the rest of the week.”
&n
bsp; Eddie slid his hand under the bill of his cap and scratched his head. Tugging it down again, he set his free hand on his son’s shoulder. “Wait for me out in the hall while I talk with Mrs. Kavanagh, okay, buddy?”
His eyes glistening with tears, his lower lip quivering, Max slunk off.
“Is this the part where you strangle me and toss my lifeless body from the window?” Harper asked, seeing as how Eddie still looked capable of murder. “Because if so, I should warn you that I’m heavier than I look, so tossing might take some real effort.”
He flicked his hooded gaze down her body, then jerked his head up. Must not have liked what he saw. And why that bugged her, she had no idea.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure which shocked her more—that he’d actually apologized, or that he was blushing.
It should have made him look ridiculous, the color washing up his neck and cheeks. It didn’t. He looked approachable and real and not quite as gloomy. And behind his embarrassment, she saw the shyness that’d been a part of him even when they’d been kids.
“You’re sorry I’m heavier than I look? Or that you’re not strong enough for that tossing?”
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” he said, with no hint of defensiveness or evasion. “And that I jumped down your throat.”
His sincerity took her aback, but it was her own sudden softening toward him that caused a weird sense of unease to slide along her skin. As if she were standing on a ledge and needed to be extra careful of each step she took, each move she made.
She should let him squirm. Should, at the very least, let him sweat it out, see how far he’d go to gain her forgiveness, her understanding.
But she’d never been much into making anyone beg. Even when such a prime opportunity stared her in the face.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We all make mistakes.”
“Okay?” he repeated as if trying to decipher her true motives. “That’s it?”
“I was going to make you write, I will not jump to conclusions on the board one hundred times but I only have so much chalk, and once it’s gone I pick up the tab for more, so why don’t we skip it?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. Took them out again, his gaze steady on hers. It set her on edge, the way he looked at her. Which was crazy. She was a grown woman. Had been married, had a daughter. She didn’t get all jittery because a good-looking guy stared at her.
God, maybe Sadie was right. Maybe she really did need to get out more.
She picked up a pencil from her desk to have something to do with her hands. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”
“I’ll talk to Max about his behavior today. He’ll have a punishment at home, too.”
Some parents went ballistic when their little darlings got punished in school. They took their children’s side, blamed the teacher and generally acted worse than whatever their kid had done. Eddie obviously wasn’t one of those. She respected that.
“That’s up to you, of course.” She debated whether to say more but really, when had she ever kept her opinion to herself? “Though—while I’m not condoning his actions in the least—I do think he regrets what he did. He’s a good boy. But I can’t let bad behavior go, even if that behavior is unusual.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m so glad you think so.”
He nodded as if she actually needed his permission or his agreement as to how to run her classroom. “You need someone to come in?”
“I hate to repeat myself but... Excuse me?”
“That woman with the baby said she can’t help out for a few weeks.”
“That’s right. She’s the room mother.”
“Which means...?”
“It means many things.”
“Why don’t you give me the basics?”
“She posts events and information to the classroom’s website, attends all the PTO meetings, organizes class parties and enrichment activities, collects donations from parents for supplies such as tissues, stickers—”
“And she comes in the room? Helps out here?”
“A few times a week, usually on Mondays and Fridays.”
He shifted, tapped his fingers on her desk absently, reminding her of his son. “What does she do?”
“Reads to the kids while I grade papers. Helps get snacks. Supervises when they go to the library—”
“I’ll do it.”
Harper blinked. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll come in two afternoons a week,” he said, all scowly and defensive, as if she was the one who wasn’t making any sense. “Help out with the kids.”
“I’m sorry. Shock short-circuited my brain and I must have slipped into a coma for a few moments. I could’ve sworn you offered to volunteer in the classroom.”
His mouth thinned. “I did.”
“Why? I mean, you’re not exactly what I’d call sociable.... No offense,” she added halfheartedly. Hey, if he took offense it was no skin off her nose. “If you want to observe my teaching methods, all you have to do is ask. You’re welcome to sit in on my class anytime you’d like.”
“I’m not trying to spy on you. I just thought you could use some help.”
“Oh, well...okay then,” she said slowly. “That’d be...” Weird. Possibly super uncomfortable. Not to mention having him in her room promised to be nothing but a huge distraction—to her class and her. Too bad she couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse to turn him down. “That’d be great. And you’d only have to come in for a few weeks.” An assurance for herself as well as him. “I’ll...uh...send the paperwork home with Max.”
“Paperwork?”
“Forms and regulations. There’ll be a background check, too. Have you volunteered at the school before?”
“I chaperoned a couple of field trips last year.”
“That’ll make the process easier. The checks should still be in place. If they are, you can start whenever you want.”
“I’ll be here Friday.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said, trying to sound as if she meant it. Hard to be enthusiastic and encouraging when all she could think was, what had she gotten herself into?
CHAPTER FIVE
WHAT THE HELL was he doing here?
Tugging the brim of his baseball cap down, Eddie slouched against the windowsill. As soon as he stepped into Max’s classroom ten minutes ago, he’d known volunteering to be the room dad...parent...whatever...was a mistake. He should have told Harper he’d changed his mind when she’d called him last night and told him his background checks were still good and he could come in today at two-thirty.
Yeah, he’d chaperoned field trips before, but this was different than walking with a small group of kids, getting them from point A of the zoo to point B, or doing a head count on that visit to the dairy farm to make sure no one had been left in the barn.
He didn’t know anything about being a teacher’s assistant. Had a hard enough time helping Max with his homework. What good would he be to these kids?
But he couldn’t back out now. Not when he was already here. Not when Max had been so excited that Eddie was going to help out in his class.
Not after telling Harper he’d do it.
He’d already made an ass of himself in front of her. No sense making a habit of it.
He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. At the front of the room, Harper wrote a sentence on the board as part of a grammar lesson. Must be casual Friday at the school because she had on a loose white Shady Grove Elementary polo shirt, a pair of shapeless khaki pants and sneakers.
He wished she had on that sweater from the other day instead.
But he liked her hair, how the sides were held away from her face by a clip a
t the back of her head, the soft sweep of her bangs. The ends grazed her shoulders, curling up slightly as if beckoning him to touch the strands.
His fingers twitched and he deliberately looked away. Kept his gaze somewhere over her shoulder as he tried to pay attention to what she said, in case she expected him to help the kids with their worksheets—dear Christ, he hoped she didn’t expect him to help the kids with their worksheets. The differences between a sentence’s subject and predicate held little interest.
To Max either. While the other kids kept their eyes on Harper and the examples she wrote on the chalkboard, raised their hands to answer questions and sat still, Max waved his pencil as if fighting off a horde of Stormtroopers.
Eddie gripped the edge of the windowsill, ground his back teeth together so he wouldn’t tell his kid to stop playing Star Wars and pay attention.
“Max,” Harper called as she wrote another sentence on the board.
Teachers, like mothers, had eyes in the back of their heads. Not that Max seemed concerned. He kept waving his pencil around, jabbing it into the air—or the stomach of an imaginary foe.
Eddie straightened, tension tightening his shoulders, the back of his neck. He remembered all too well the humiliation of being called out for his behavior in front of his classmates. He never wanted Max to feel that way.
“Max,” Harper repeated in the same mild tone and Max jerked guiltily.
“Listening,” he said, turning the pencil to hold it the correct way.
She smiled at him. “Excellent. I’m going to call on you to answer a question after this example.”
Max nodded and sat on the edge of his seat, eyes forward, his heels tap, tap, tapping the floor.
Eddie peeled his fingers open. That was it? Harper wasn’t going to sarcastically tell Max to get his head out of the clouds? Wasn’t going to give him a harsh reprimand or send him out of the room?
Like Eddie’s fourth grade teacher had done to him.
“Now, Max, let’s try with this sentence. ‘The man,’” Harper read, pointing at each word she’d written, “‘ate lunch.’ As we now know, every sentence has a subject, which is...?” She gestured to everyone.