by Kira Blakely
No calls and one message. I tapped on the icon to open it, then set off walking toward the exit.
Hey, darlin’, can you pick up some brown onions from the store? Want to make a bake for dinner.
A brown onion bake? That sounded like the least appealing thing ever, but I shot off a reply to Pammy regardless.
On my way home, nowwwwhghfr. I slapped into the door and my finger skidded across the screen.
“Whoa there, little lady. You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” a voice said. That same voice that sent shivers down my spine every afternoon.
Greg Harrington. Again.
It’d been almost two months since he’d last cornered me, but once was one time too much.
I backpedaled one step, rubbing my arm, my phone clenched in my fist, then stopped and stood my ground.
The horrible memory of him cornering me by my desk stalled my steps. I wouldn’t let that happen again. And he couldn’t do it if I stood in the center of my classroom, with its cutesy alphabet letters pasted on the walls and the corkboard with all the kids’ pictures on it.
Greg stroked fingers through his slicked back hair and stepped into the room. He didn’t come in real close this time but tucked his hands into the pockets of his chinos and cocked his head to one side.
“May I help you, Mr. Harrington?” I asked, and thankfully, I didn’t squeak it out. I let anger wash over me instead of fear, though that thudded along in the background, too. A constant white noise that would deafen me given the chance.
Greg didn’t say a word, just gave me that sharky smile.
“I should head home, Mr. Harrington. My aunt is waiting for me,” I continued. Gosh, why did he make me so nervous? It wasn’t as if he was super huge or overpowering. No, he wasn’t, but he was still bigger than me.
“You could get fired so easily,” he said.
“Pardon?” I blinked. That was the last thing I’d expected.
“Oh, come on, Miss Stinson,” he continued. “You know the mothers at this school smell blood in the water. They hate you. They’re threatened by you. They want you gone.”
“No one can fire me but Principal Henrietta.” And even then, it had to be for perfectly legal, valid reasons. Even if they discovered I was pregnant before I told them, there was nothing they could do. Except make me super uncomfortable.
Like Greg was, right now.
“No one can fire me but Principal Henrietta,” he said, mocking me. Apparently, I sounded like a raspy chipmunk. “Charlotte, you know what they’ll do to you. I came to warn you.”
“Warn me?” I asked, and my pulse ticked up a notch. “About what? I don’t need any warnings, Mr. Harrington, and I wouldn’t expect to receive any from you.”
Houston would’ve approved of this. Of me standing up for myself.
Greg drew closer, and his gait reminded me of the smooth motion of a shark approaching its prey. The Jaws theme tune played in my mind.
He halted right in front of me, his breath too hot, too close. “Yes. Warn you that you can get in a lot of trouble. If you don’t do the right things.” He gripped my upper arm.
“Excuse me?” I ripped away from him but stood my ground. I had to. He was a weak man, a bully, and if I didn’t stand up to him, he’d likely keep doing this type of thing over and over again.
And not just to me.
“You heard me. You need to do the right things to make sure you keep your position. I can put in a good word for you with Jenny,” he said. “I will, if you know what’s good for you. Come with me. We’ll go to the motel on the outskirts of town. No one will be there, just you and me. That’ll be fun, won’t it?”
Slime ball! And now he’d tarnished my memories of that motel and my very first time with Houston. My first time ever. “No,” I said, firmly. “You need to leave, Mr. Harrington, and if you don’t, I’ll report this directly to Principal Henrietta. This is sexual harassment.”
“Oh, please, do you really think they’ll believe you? There are already rumors circulating about you, Miss Stinson,” he said and shrugged.
“I don’t care about rumors.” This was about integrity.
“Come here,” he said and slipped his arms around me. He drew me into an awkward hug, connected us by the abdomens.
I balled my fists up, one still wrapped around my cell, and raised them. I’d sworn I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize myself at Daisy Oaks, but this was the last straw. I’d knock this dude’s lights out if I could.
“Greg!” a woman shrieked from the doorway. Jenny Harrington stormed into the room, purple locks—yeah, she’d changed them again—bouncing in their curls. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Jenny, darling, I—” Greg let go of me and took a couple steps back.
I released my fists and rubbed my arms, shuddered at what’d happened, at this man’s unwanted touch. What if Jenny hadn’t crashed in? I’d have hit the man full on in the face, probably, and then what?
Screamed?
There had to be a couple teachers still around, working or packing up or—
“How could you?” Jenny hissed.
I steeled myself for the husband-wife conflict incoming. Except, it wasn’t. Jenny hadn’t aimed that at Greg. Instead, she glared at me as if I’d grown an extra head.
“Huh?” I slipped my cell back into my pocket. My palms were super clammy, probably because I’d leaked pure disgust at Greg’s close proximity. “I haven’t done anything, Mrs. Harrington. Your husband—”
“Don’t you dare!” Jenny raised a finger tipped with a metallic blue nail and held it under my nose. “Don’t you dare besmirch my husband’s name in front of me. I saw what happened here. You hit on him. You seduced him. I told Principal Henrietta about you, and I was god damn right, I was god damn right.” She’d reached supersonic levels.
Behind her, the color had returned to Greg’s cheeks, and he bore a smile. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Jenny.”
“I know, dear,” Jenny said, but the truth was there, in her eyes. The truth that she obviously denied, refused to let out because it would collapse whatever view she had of herself. “This woman is a seductress. A temptress.”
“Mrs. Harrington, this is ridiculous. I don’t want anything to do with your husband, in fact, I asked him to leave my classroom several times,” I said and squared my shoulders. Not taking this lying down. No way. What would Houston have done? “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to report Mr. Harrington for harassment. To the police.”
Greg smirked.
He knows it’s his word against mine. Who will they believe? Me or him? Will the other folks in this town look at me differently after I’ve spoken to the cops?
“I’m doing it,” I said, more to myself than to either of them.
But a kernel of doubt unfolded in my mind. Greg was big time. He was rich. He was popular with everyone. He could make this go away. Perhaps, the two of them together could make me go away, if they wanted to.
Jenny ground her teeth so loud they squeaked. “That’s enough out of you. I’ll be calling Principal Henrietta tonight to report your inappropriate advances on my husband. And if you think you’ll survive another week here, you’re wrong.” She dropped that finger, at last. “You won’t last a day.”
She spun on her heel, nearly whipped my nose with those purple locks, then grasped her husband’s arm and dragged him toward the exit. For once, he didn’t look at me. He didn’t make me want to strip my own skin off, wash it, and hang it out to dry.
I sagged.
This wasn’t happening. I couldn’t deal with this on top of all the other stuff. On top of wanting someone I’d never have and being pregnant with that same someone’s baby.
My nose prickled, and I scrubbed it, furiously. No crying. You’re not a kid anymore.
Outside, birds tweeted in the summer heat, and a lawnmower started up in the distance. No screaming kids. They’d all gone home, at last. Summer was in the air and the
strange nostalgia that came along with it.
Every summer back in Ohio had been filled with watermelon or cycling or running down to the park to play softball with my friends. We’d taken dips in the lake, laughed and teased each other, and each day had seemed a paradise.
An island of respite from all the pressures of school.
Life had been so simple back then. What’d happened?
“Man up,” I whispered and walked out of my classroom. I shut the door behind me, turned, fished my keys out of my bag, and locked up. “Man up, girl, you’re better than this.”
But I couldn’t bring myself to square up again, to act like I’d be fine and this was all OK. It wasn’t OK on so many damn levels.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Pammy yet, to tell anyone, in truth. Not even a doctor, because it was surreal, and deep down, I wanted something more. I wanted to feel his arms around me again, supporting my weight in more ways than one.
I was alone. Totally and utterly alone. I touched my belly and sighed.
Maybe not totally. At least I have you, little bean.
Chapter 14
Houston
“Houston, darling, I’m so sorry to do this to you,” my mother croaked on the other end of the line. “I know how important your work is to you, but I need you here. I’m not feeling well, and Doctor Henman is out of town again. The replacement he’s got here is a total hack.”
I clicked my ballpoint pen, my cell pinned to my ear while I signed a release form. A young mother sat on the chairs nearby, holding her baby in a blue swaddling cloth, a little blue hat on his crown. His father hovered next to them, like an overprotective hen. Or cock?
“You’re ill?” I asked. “Mom, are you sure? I don’t mean to be a dick—”
“Houston, language!”
“I don’t mean to be a prick,” I continued and ignored the gasp on the other end of the line, “but you’ve called me out to Summit Springs before for an illness, and it was an ingrown toenail.” One I’d had to remove for her. Mom was terrible at doing things for herself, but she had a heart of gold.
And while she didn’t do much for herself, she’d done everything for me. To give me a good future. Unlike my jackass father.
Not now.
“Houston, what are you suggesting?” Clarissa’s voice strengthened. “That I’d lie?”
“No, that you’d over exaggerate. There’s a vast difference.” Excuse the pun.
“I’m not exaggerating and, frankly, I can’t believe you’d even suggest it. I need your help, darling.”
“What are your symptoms?” I asked and eyed the mom and baby. They were sweet together, almost enough to melt the obsidian around my heart. Almost.
“Oh, uh, respiratory distress—coughing—and I’m dizzy and feverish. I have the chills. And a sharp pain in the right side of my chest.” Mom sniffled. “That’s it. All those things. Ooh, the pain is terrible.”
It sounded almost like pneumonia, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure without actually seeing her. “You checked into a hospital?” I asked and finished my signature with a flourish, then handed the clipboard to a nurse beside me.
I readjusted my grip on the cell.
The silence on the other end told me all I needed to know, and it wasn’t good. “Mother?”
“I’d like to, but I—oh, it’s not that serious,” she said and coughed, feebly. “Darling, I’m not calling you back because you’re a doctor but because you’re my son. I need the love and support.”
I hinged on the cusp, then toppled over. “All right,” I said, evenly. “I’ll be there in three days. Mom, check into a hospital, please. I’ll meet you there.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll see you soon, honey. And thank you. Love you.”
“You, too,” I replied, gruffly, then hung up.
Shit, Jason would be super happy about this. Over the fucking moon in fact, but it was something I had to do. If my mother needed me, I’d be there for her, just as she’d been there for me, at every graduation and school meet. She’d been my rock, and I’d be that for her in return.
It took an argument with Jase—which I won, I always did—packing my damn bags, and a day of flight and traveling before I finally arrived in Summit Springs.
Mom hadn’t checked into the hospital, of course. She was stubborn as a damn mule.
She’d waited it out until I’d arrived and had a chauffeured car fetch me at the airport and drive me all the way to the small town.
I fumed on the car drive over, the cutesy buildings swishing by and my focus on lecturing Mom thoroughly. I despised people who endangered themselves unnecessarily. And Clarissa Pope wasn’t a dumbass. She knew better than this.
Besides, if I didn’t go through all the harsh yet needed things I’d say to my mother, I’d think about her.
Was she still here? Still working at that school? She’ll want to hear from you again.
I tapped my fingers on the armrest and didn’t search the streets. Didn’t peer into the shops. Definitely not.
Finally, we pulled up to Mom’s mansion, and I got out before the suited dude could open the car door for me. I grabbed my overnight bag and jogged up the stone-front steps, columns flanking them on either side, and to the vast wooden door.
I didn’t bother knocking or waiting for my mother’s geriatric butler. I simply burst in and stormed across the marble flooring, peered up at the glossy stairs that led to the second floor and the dainty rail that I’d never liked.
How easy would it be to topple over? Ridiculous choice.
“Mom?” I yelled.
“Oh, Mr. Pope.” The butler shuffled out of a door at the far end of the hall, carrying a silver tray in one hand. I always forgot this guy’s name. Butler was what I called him and that was how it’d stay.
“Doctor,” I replied.
“Yes, Dr. Pope. I hardly expected to see you here,” he said and rolled his lips together. What he lacked in chin, he made up for in tufty white hair.
“Butler, where’s my mother?” I asked. “And what the hell is on that tray?”
“It’s your mother’s lunch,” Butler replied, with another of his signature lip rolls.
I walked up to him and lifted the cloth that covered the food on the tray. A roast lunch. Potatoes, spicy chicken—my mom loved hot food—and pancakes on the side, coated in maple syrup.
“This is her lunch?” I asked. “Are you mad? She’s ill. She needs fluids. Make her a chicken soup, for fuck’s sake.”
“There’s no need to be rude, Dr. Pope,” Butler replied. “And she’s not ill. She’s in the best health I’ve ever seen her.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes at the man.
He jolted, and the plate rattled on the tray. Lip rolls on repeat, baby. “I—Dr. Pope.”
“What do you mean, she’s not ill?” If she called me back for another ingrown toenail, I swear to god…
“Dr. Pope, I—”
“Houston?” Mom’s voice traveled down from her bedroom above us. “Houston, leave Jeffrey alone, dear, and come upstairs this instant.”
I grunted.
Butler sagged and backed up a few steps to give me room.
I ignored him, took the stairs two at a time, adjusting my grip on the handle of my bag over and over again. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, as I strode toward her door, past that dainty railing. “Why are you eating roast potatoes and—” I swept into her bedroom—more like chamber—and froze, mid-stride.
My mother sat up in bed, pink-cheeked and dressed in her usual summer attire, a cotton blouse, windows thrown wide open, sunlight heating the mauve carpeting. Her four-poster’s sheets looked unwrinkled, certainly not as if she’d slept in them recently.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Darling, how are you feeling? Jet-lagged? Would you like something to eat, to drink? Butler’s cooking up a veritable feast.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” I dropped my bag with a dull thud. “Why is that, exact
ly?”
“Because I was hungry. You see, darling, I’m feeling much better. Whatever I had is totally gone now.” She plied me with a smile as radiant as that summer sunshine streaming in. “But I really appreciate that you’ve come all this way.” She threw back the covers and rose, dusted off her skirt, then plumped her locks though there wasn’t a hair out of place. “Anyway, now that you’re here, you might as well stay for a while and enjoy the summer. It’s quite lonely in this big old house.”
I took in the information as best I could, did my best to still the anger brewing in my gut.
I loved my mother. I’d do anything to help her. Drop anything at a moment’s notice, but this was bullshit.
My career had already taken too many knocks, and this disappearance might’ve been the final straw. My argument with Jason had ended with me leaving, and yeah, I considered that a win, but he wasn’t happy.
And the board members wouldn’t be happy.
If I lost this opportunity, thanks to one of my mother’s whims…
“Mom, how stupid do you think I am?”
“Pardon me?”
“You can’t recover from pneumonia without medical attention in the span of three days,” I said, and the lid on my pot of rage rattled and threatened to pop off. “You lied to me. You weren’t sick.”
“No, I was,” Clarissa replied. “I swear, I was. I wouldn’t lie to you, Houston. I really was feeling horrible, and I did need your support, but about a day ago I started feeling better and by then it was already too late to tell you to go back since you were well on your way.”
I pressed my knuckles to my forehead and shut my eyes.
Fuck. Jason is going to freak and that’s going to make me freak. I wasn’t good with authority, never had been. I preferred doing things my way, and that usually pissed off people, including the board members and the chief of staff.
They’d take any reason to kick me out, particularly since I’d just come off the back of a scandal.
“Huey?” My mom walked over and put out her hands. “Give me a hug, come on. I haven’t seen you in months.”
“Why did you do this?” I asked.
“I was sick.” She folded her arms around me and rested her head against my chest. “I really was. You know, I’d never do anything to hurt your career. I love you, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”