“I was just showing your first draft to our newest teacher,” Ailene said, opening the door.
Annabelle turned to face their guest, plastering a fake smile on her face, but it faltered the minute her eyes met the hypnotic green ones of their graphic designer. She gasped. “Davis, you’re a graphic designer?”
“I am.” Davis rubbed her forehead. “You teach here?”
“I do.”
The silence stretched between them as Ailene peered from one to the other. “You two know each other?”
Heat immediately spread up Annabelle’s neck and into her cheeks. She had no intention of explaining to her boss how they’d met, but she didn’t know how to keep dodging the cloud over them. Thankfully Davis was quicker in her response. “We’re kind of…neighbors.”
The explanation seemed to appease Ailene. “That’s nice, and convenient for our suggestion for the brochure.”
“How’s that?” Davis seemed distracted because, even when she addressed Ailene, she kept darting glances at Annabelle, her eyes seeming to search for more than could be revealed in a business meeting. She appeared both weary and wary. She’d lost weight, her once-lean figure appearing almost gaunt.
“We love everything about it except the photos we selected.”
“That shouldn’t be hard to fix. You can certainly send me others to try.”
“That’s the thing. The pictures we took after our summer renovations don’t have the students in them, so we need you to take some new ones.”
“New ones,” Davis repeated. “Sure.”
“I thought maybe you could just hang around Ms. Taylor’s class this morning as the kids arrive and see what you think would work best.”
Davis shrugged. “Okay, but I’m not really a photographer, and I didn’t bring my camera with me.”
“You can use the school’s new one. It’s high-definition and has all the fancy bells and whistles.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a professional come in?” Davis offered diplomatically.
“Or maybe we could get the art teacher to just stop in and take them,” Annabelle said, trying to let Davis off the hook. She certainly didn’t seem too excited about spending any more time with her, and who could blame her?
Ailene waved them both off. “We’ve never used professionals before. Besides, we’ve got cute kids, and I can’t imagine Ms. Taylor ever having taken a bad picture.”
“No, I’m sure she’ll photograph beautifully,” Davis murmured.
Annabelle’s face flamed again, this time less from embarrassment and more from pleasure. She’d gone from being complimented almost daily to wondering if she was worthy of love and devotion. Praise from Davis, of all people, caught her off guard.
“Great. The kids will arrive soon. Why don’t you show her to your classroom?”
“Do you even have time this morning?” Annabelle offered Davis one more out, trying not to make more out of her sweet but surely passing comment.
Ailene answered for her. “I’m sure it won’t take any time at all. Then you can just pick your favorites to put in the brochure.”
Davis shrugged. “It’s okay with me, as long as it’s okay with you. I don’t want to invade your world. The world of your classroom, that is,” she rushed to add.
Annabelle smiled. Davis was trying to protect her by respecting her personal space. Suddenly her own defensiveness over her sanctuary didn’t seem quite so important. Funny how receiving someone else’s concern could make her want to be more open. “I’ve got a lot going on right now, but we can work something out.”
“I’ll try not to get in your way or hold you back.”
Were they still talking about taking pictures or something bigger? Either way it didn’t change her feelings about this situation or her response to Davis. “I trust you,” she said. And strangely, she meant it.
*
Davis followed Annabelle down the brightly lit hallway. On one side, a beautifully detailed mural covered the wall, featuring children at play near The Carter Center, The Martin Luther King Memorial, and other famous Atlanta landmarks. The other wall displayed student artwork and poems in splashes of color, scribbled with a mix of joy and concentration by tiny hands and big imaginations. The space held an exuberance that would’ve been contagious if not for the tension radiating from the woman in front of her.
Annabelle hadn’t wanted Davis in her classroom, she didn’t want her behind the camera lens, maybe she didn’t even want to be in the same airspace as Davis, and who could blame her? Davis respected her so much for the strength she’d displayed in rebuilding her life. She wasn’t wallowing in remorse and anger. She seemed tired and cautious, but appeared to have escaped the weariness holding Davis captive. Annabelle didn’t need to be pulled back into the fire. Then again it wasn’t as if Davis loved bumping into a life-size reminder of her biggest failure either, but somehow she couldn’t relegate Annabelle to the “to be avoided at all cost” category of her life, especially with the spark of connection that’d shot through her when Annabelle had looked into her eyes and said, “I trust you.”
Trust wasn’t something she thought herself capable of anymore, and by most standards Annabelle had even more reason to feel that way. How could she look at anyone, especially Davis, and utter those words? But she’d said them, and Davis had believed her. She seemed nervous, sometimes awkward, but never hostile, never angry or resentful. Davis once again found herself in awe of Annabelle’s grace.
Trust—check. Belief—check. Respect—check. And neither one of them seemed to hold the other responsible for what’d happened. So why did seeing her make Davis’s chest ache? Was it because, when she looked at Annabelle, she saw every way in which she fell short?
Annabelle entered her classroom and glanced nervously around. “So this is it.”
“Nice.”
“Thanks. It’s a good school. I’m lucky to have access to such wonderful resources.”
“Yes. Not many of the city schools are stocked like this one, but they’re lucky to have someone like you to put them to good use.”
Annabelle turned away at the compliment. “I’ve still got a lot to learn.”
Was she really the most self-deprecating woman in Atlanta, or had Nic’s betrayal shaken her self-esteem so completely that she doubted her ability to shine even in other areas of her life? A wave of anger surged through Davis, but she tamped it down. She hadn’t known Annabelle before, so she couldn’t make assumptions about how the last few months had changed her. Maybe she’d always blushed easily or shaken off compliments. Maybe she’d never understood how beautiful or strong she was. It wasn’t hard to see how she’d held Nic’s heart. Still, Davis had a hard time believing the sadness in Annabelle’s eyes had always existed or that her smile had never shone brighter than the politely distant line it formed now. What had she looked like when truly happy? Davis wished she could have known her before that awful morning.
“Are you okay?” The gentle brush of Annabelle’s hand against her shoulder was so light she could’ve convinced herself it wasn’t real, if not for the tremor it caused. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her with such tenderness. No, that wasn’t true. She remembered but she didn’t want to.
“Sorry. I zoned out. I’m not much of a morning person.”
“I wasn’t only talking about right now.” She shrugged. “I meant, in general.”
“Oh.” Now it was her turn to look away from the concern in Annabelle’s eyes. “Sure, I mean, life continues, right?”
Annabelle nodded. “It does.”
“What can you do but walk on?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I like that you said ‘walk on’ and not ‘move on.’”
“Yeah, well, I’m pushing through, but I can’t say I’ve gotten anywhere yet.”
Annabelle looked curious. “Really?”
“I work, I eat, I sleep…sometimes. What else is there?”
“I don’t know. I jus
t, I thought maybe when I saw you and Cassandra…”
“Cass?” She paused for a moment. “Wait. You thought Cass and I were a couple?”
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, no.” She rushed to calm Annabelle’s embarrassment and correct the misconception that would’ve been funny if not for how sad it seemed to make her. “Cass is a friend, my best friend since college, so I guess that makes her my longest relationship, but never romantically. She doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body.”
“And that’s important to you?”
“I, um…” She turned away again, staring out the window as she considered the question. With anyone else she would’ve given a flippant remark to avoid examining her fear of being alone, but Annabelle deserved the same kind of genuineness she’d offered of herself. “I don’t know. I used to dream of finding someone passionate, and I even let myself believe I had, but now I can’t imagine letting my guard down enough to enjoy anything like that. How can I ever trust my emotions again after where they left me? God, I don’t mean to be maudlin, it’s just—”
“No, people keep telling me ‘next time you’ll know when something is off,’ like that’s some sort of comfort. I thought we were happy right up until I overheard someone else. My intuition didn’t save me, but even if it had, it’s like…if I ever let myself fall in love again, I’ll have to wait for the other shoe to drop. For years, decades even.” She seemed to suddenly realize her voice had risen and immediately pulled her tone back to the level expected from an elementary-school teacher. “I just meant, I understand what you’re saying.”
Davis finally met Annabelle’s deep-blue gaze again, this time searching for the connection she’d avoided. So, she did understand the pain, the grief, the loneliness, the doubt. Relief overwhelmed her, clogging her throat and stinging her eyes. So many people nodded sympathetically or offered clichés of encouragement, but they couldn’t really feel the kind of heartbreak she saw reflected in Annabelle’s expression. Emotion exploded in her chest, stretching mental muscles she hadn’t used in a long time. Compassion, sorrow, and reassurance mingled within her to create a sensation she’d both avoided and longed for: connection with another human being.
As quickly as the connection had been forged, it was severed at the sound of children racing toward the classroom door. Annabelle looked away as three boys careened around the corner, crashing into each other in a mass of arms, legs, and superhero backpacks.
Davis stepped backward to steady herself from the shift of energy in the room. The emotional ties between Annabelle and herself had been all-consuming for those heavy seconds, but now the children captivated Annabelle’s attention. Davis felt cold and empty outside her focus and struggled to remember why she was there.
She glanced to the camera clutched in her hands. Pictures. Right. She hit the power button and flipped up the flash even though she probably didn’t need it, given the classroom’s abundance of natural light. Each little motion moved her one step closer to her professional self, her controlled self, her detached self.
She switched off the viewing screen on the back of the camera and lifted it to her eye instead. She liked the protective barrier the lens offered, allowing her to zoom in on people around her while keeping her most expressive features hidden. Focusing on the boys as they hung their backpacks on tiny hooks, she snapped a couple shots, then directed her aim toward the door where Annabelle greeted a little girl. The child clung to the folds in her mother’s skirt so that it tented out in front of her, revealing only two big brown eyes and a set of dark pigtails. The mother attempted to shoo the girl into the classroom while talking in a stern tone about the fact that they were in the second week of school and should be past the shy stage.
Annabelle, on the other hand, crouched down to the child’s level and spoke in a gentle tone. Davis couldn’t make out what she said, but it was clear that instead of shaming the little one, she tried to ease her with praise and reassurances.
She snapped one picture and then another, and with each shot she saw the child slip farther from her mother’s side. If the frames played back in rapid succession, they’d serve as a how-to movie on soothing children, with the final frame beautifully displaying the girl snuggled safely and happily in Annabelle’s arms.
The exchange was so comforting to watch, Davis almost felt as though she were the one receiving the embrace. When Annabelle rested her chin on the child’s head, looked directly into the camera, and smiled sweetly, Davis’s finger snapped another photo seemingly of its own will. The picture would never be in a brochure, but it deserved to be framed and displayed proudly on someone’s bedside table.
Davis shook her head and lowered the camera. She didn’t know where that thought had come from, and she didn’t like the accompanying surge of warmth. Annabelle was a beautiful woman, and she exuded all sorts of amazing qualities that would make some very lucky woman happy someday, but Davis wasn’t that person. She wasn’t capable of that kind of openness or genuine caring, nor could she afford to give someone else the power to hurt her. Annabelle didn’t seem adept at deception, or to even possess a devious impulse, but Davis had been devastatingly wrong before. No way in hell would she put herself in the position to make a mistake like that again.
*
Annabelle turned back to face the class after adding the roots to the tree she’d drawn across her chalkboard. The sight of Davis in the back row still startled her. She’d been so unobtrusive, at times Annabelle had forgotten she was there, but every time she caught sight of her bright-red hair, it disconcerted her all over again. At least she wasn’t forced to confront the sadness in Davis’s eyes, since she’d mostly hidden behind the camera. Surely she had enough photographs by now. She’d been shooting for almost two hours. It wasn’t that she minded Davis staying. She didn’t mind at all. That’s what bothered her.
Shouldn’t she hate her?
And even if she didn’t hate her personally, shouldn’t she hate everything she represented? The thought of Nic in someone else’s arms still hurt so badly she thought she might be physically sick, but for some reason she didn’t associate those feelings with Davis—at least not all the time. She certainly didn’t feel that way about her now as she smiled and glanced up from her viewfinder politely, almost expectantly.
Expectantly.
Right.
She’s waiting for me to go on with my lesson.
Annabelle flushed at having been caught daydreaming in front of her class. She often spaced out while doing menial tasks, but she’d never slipped in front of her students.
“And those roots suck up water that soaks into the ground and carries it up to the leaves,” she said, quickly finishing her lesson and glancing at the clock. Two minutes till ten o’clock. She must not have spaced out too long since they were still on time for their next activity. “All right, if I see pencils and books put away neatly, bottoms in chairs, and mouths closed, we’ll line up for recess.”
The children snapped to order quickly under the promise of playtime, and within a minute she had them all out the door.
Davis walked beside her to the fenced-in playground. She took one shot from a wide angle, then zoomed in on various children using the slides or swings stationed around them. In the classroom, Annabelle had avoided looking at her for fear of feeling exposed, but out here she allowed herself the luxury of watching her work.
Davis’s face was so expressive, even with her eyes largely covered. Her forehead furrowed and her eyebrows arched as she lined up the lens with her subject. Then her lips would either curl upward or purse together, making it immediately clear whether she got the shot she wanted.
Annabelle caught herself watching those lips. They were full and beautiful without a hint of embellishment, their natural pale pink a complement to Davis’s fair skin tone and strong jawline. Those lips…soft and confident, fit her personality as well. Annabelle realized she’d moved past her current observation to knowledg
e she wished she didn’t have, and her cheeks flamed at the memory of Davis’s mouth crushed against her own.
“Are you all right?”
The words sounded far away beyond the rushing of her own pulse, but she knew the voice belonged to Davis, which only heightened her embarrassment about where her mind had wandered.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look, I don’t know, flushed.”
“It’s the heat,” she said quickly, drawing from her now-familiar excuse. “I’m still not used to being out in it all the time.”
Davis didn’t look convinced.
Annabelle had to change the subject quickly. “Are you getting the photographs you need?”
“I’ve filled the memory card. I’ll sort them tonight, but in addition to the brochure, I think they might want to frame some of these for around the school or use them as stock photos for things like the website or press releases.”
“Well, you certainly went above and beyond.”
She smiled almost sheepishly. “I’ve had fun. Ailene was right about the cute kids. Not to mention your photogenic qualities.”
Thankfully, the blush the compliment inspired paled in comparison to the one she’d been recovering from, so it probably wasn’t noticeable. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“It’s the truth. I mostly do boring corporate stuff. Lots of old white guys along with charts and graphs. Being around you and the kids is rejuvenating.”
“Well…I know what you mean about the kids. They’re a breath of fresh air in what could easily be a very stagnant existence.”
“They’re so excited about the whole world. Who would’ve thought root systems could be mind-blowing, but when you see it through their eyes, it’s like, ‘oh yeah, those things I never see until I hit them with my bike actually sustain everything growing above ground.’” Davis’s smile burned brightly for a few seconds before it faded back to sadness. “It was a refreshing change from my current outlook on life. I just wanted to stay in their world as long as I could.”
Does She Love You? Page 20