“I’m the first counselor, actually. Brother Silva. And no, not everybody speaks English. But you do, and since you two work together, it will be easier for you to show Brother Simon some Portuguese hospitality.” He gave Ackerley a calling card with his email address, shook their hands again, and left.
So much hand shaking in this church, so many kisses on the cheek. At least there were rules for when to do those, and as a single woman with only acquaintances in the ward, not many people greeted her that way. If only the other rules were as easy to remember.
Isabel exited the chapel and passed through the foyer. Once outside she took a breath and touched her forehead. The one place she never thought she’d see him and here he was.
She’d come to church looking for peace of mind, time to sort her feelings and recharge her inner balance. After the week she’d had at work, she didn’t feel her position there was as safe as she’d believed, and everyday brought a level of stress she wasn’t used to. Mr. Ackerley’s presence in the church building was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Brother Ackerley. He’d probably argue they were at church and not at the academy. As unfair as it was to blame him for it, she didn’t have the courage to stay and expose her vulnerable heart to more emotional strain. It was better she left. At least he could enjoy the rest of the meetings.
“So, have you been to the singles ward yet?” Ackerley said at her side.
Isabel jumped. “Stop sneaking up on me.”
He held his hands up, a contrite expression on his face. “Sorry. I thought you knew I was right behind you.”
She’d hoped he’d stayed behind. Isabel started walking down the street.
“Wait, you’re not staying for the rest of the meetings?”
She gave him a backward glance as he stood on the sidewalk. “I’m no longer in the mood for it.”
He didn’t follow her. Isabel’s hopes raised. Maybe it was easier to get rid of him than she thought.
But when she rounded the corner, he caught up to her. Isabel stopped. “You’re not staying either?”
His lips quirked. “I’ll go back later. I’ll walk with you for a little bit.”
As long as he didn’t intend to follow her home. A public garden lay ahead and maybe she could lose him there.
“What can you tell me about the singles ward, Sister Isabel?”
Isabel pursed her lips. “Drop the sister, Mr.—Ackerley.”
He chuckled lightly. She hadn’t intended the bad taste rhyme. Isabel headed for a bench in the garden, in the shade of a bougainvillea, and she sat down, purse in her lap. Ackerley paused for a moment and then sat at the other end.
“You don’t want me to address you as Sister Isabel? I have to say, I really like the way they use first names with brother and sister here in Portugal. Much more personable than last names.” He glanced at her, but she didn’t react to his observation. He went on, “Well, we’re not at the academy, so I’m not going to call you Miss Antunes.”
“You still don’t know how to say Antunes right.” It was petulant and childish, and she couldn’t stop herself. Her heart twisted with a pinch of guilt over the way she’d treated him at the academy. She’d watched him around all week. He was always cheerful and ready with a smile. He really was one of the good guys. It would be so much easier to dislike him if he were a rude, older man. Why did he have to be good looking, polite, and so pleasant to be around? Already the students loved him and went out of their way to greet him.
He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “What about Isabel? Do I say that right?”
Too well for her liking. And his accent— much too charming for his own good. Funny, since she usually preferred a British accent.
Isabel nodded at him. “To answer your question, Mr. Ackerley, I’m not quite sure what a singles ward is. Everybody keeps talking about it, but I don’t know what or where it is.”
“Call me Simon. We’re not at the academy and we’re not at church.”
He was persistent, she gave him that. “Simon.”
He smiled. “A singles ward is for members of the church who are between the ages of eighteen and thirty.”
Wow, those smiles of his. So genuine and warm. “The equivalent to a marriage mart, I’m guessing?”
Simon tossed his head back and laughed heartily. He had an honest laugh. “Well, yes, that’s the main purpose even though nobody likes to admit it.”
Just as she thought. “I’m turning twenty-nine soon so I guess I’m almost over the limit, or whatever they call it.”
“Officially, they don’t kick anyone out until they turn thirty-one, which will be my case in a couple of months.” He shifted on the bench and the hem of his pants rode up on his ankles. His socks had gray and mustard chevron stripes. Why wasn’t she surprised?
“And what will they do with you when you reach the old age of thirty-one?”
“I’ll attend a regular family ward, which I prefer anyway. It feels more real with people of all ages.” He looked at her. “And they still have activities for the over-thirty singles.”
“So many rules,” Isabel replied.
A soft breeze blew and a few pink petals from the bougainvillea fell on her skirt. Isabel inhaled the sweet aroma. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. If Avó Marta were still alive, they would have taken a walk to the historic downtown and stopped by the river’s edge.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been a member of the church?” He brushed off the bougainvillea petals from his legs and looked up to meet her eyes.
“I joined last spring.” Had it been that long already? “I’m afraid I’m not what everyone calls a strong, stalwart member.” She refrained from using the air quotes. “My grandmother was, and I joined with her.” Much to her surprise, Isabel had grown to develop her own belief in the new church. A tender, fragile one, but it was her own, and it was still growing. “We always did everything together, and this was important to her, so I did it too. She passed away two months later.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a soft voice. “Do you have any other family?”
She shook her head. “My parents died in a car crash when I was three years old. I was their only child.” Isabel twisted the strap of her purse between her fingers. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” It was becoming a bad habit, this tendency to open up to him. Something she rarely did with anyone else.
Simon looked down at his shoes. “My mother—” He hesitated for a moment and then looked back to Isabel. “My mother passed away when I was fifteen.”
Isabel nodded. They didn’t need to say anything else to know exactly what the other was feeling.
“That’s a lot of change in such a short period of time.” He continued. “You joined a new church and then you lost your only close family member. Plus, you have such a demanding job.” Simon uncrossed his legs and leaned in her direction. “I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “That sounds like something Grandmother would have said.”
Nobody had said anything that nice to her in a long time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Dear Amélie,
My family thinks I’m bonkers but what else is new, right?
I do miss London but I’m happy here too. I’m getting over my fear of strangers while trying not to scare the natives. It’s a hard balance, but I’m making progress.
My new job is going well and my co-workers seem to enjoy my company. If they don’t, they hide it from me. I’m sorry for you that you work with difficult individuals. I know it’s not much fun, believe me.
Today I walked to the local park and had lunch under a tree. Autumn will be here in a few weeks, but the weather is still nice, and I wanted to enjoy it out-of-doors after a whole week inside. I actually lay on the gras
s and sunbathed for a little while.
I had time to think about my family and my life and where I’m going. Do you ever have a moment to stop and think, Amélie? It’s sobering, in a way. It made me realize how small I am in the grand scheme of things, but at the same time I play an important role, especially as I put my hands to use in helping others around me. It reminded me of what you said a few weeks ago.
What are your plans for the weekend? I should say Sunday since Saturday is almost gone. I miss your day trips. Tell me about the exciting places in Lisbon.
As always,
Elliot
*
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Dear Elliot,
My moments to think come in the early morning just before the alarm goes off. I’m barely awake and still clinging to my dreams, and my mind fights running a schedule for the day. I push it off and burrow under the sheets a little longer. That’s when I think. And sometimes I almost pray.
We must live parallel lives for I too had a week mostly indoors and went out a little bit on the weekend. The weather has been nice here as well. Autumn is pushing its way in and summer is resisting for a while longer, which is fine by me.
There’s so much to do and see in Lisbon! I’ve lived my whole life here and I never get tired of it. It can be too much in the full summer season with so many tourists around. I really like it when they start going home, which is a bit selfish to say.
I like to walk in the shopping district and look at the windows. There’s a small store called O Hospital das Bonecas, The Doll Hospital. They fix and clean dolls and stuffed animals of all kinds, and they make them look like new again. I loved going by when I was little. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to take a child of mine there.
Well, I’m getting too sentimental.
Your old friend,
Amélie
CHAPTER EIGHT
Simon grabbed a tray from the cafeteria and walked to his office to eat lunch. Monday was only half way done and already they’d dealt with more problems than the previous weeks. Three cars clashed in a fender bender during morning drop-offs; a class pet vanished in fifth grade, and two of the first graders had puked at lunch. He’d smoothed things over with the traffic police, he’d retrieved the guinea pig from behind a cupboard, and the janitors had taken care of the problem in the cafeteria. He was glad he’d missed that one.
He sat at his desk and silenced his phone. Isabel was off campus trying to hire a plumbing company to come fix a bathroom issue in the upper grade hall, and he’d happily stayed behind to manage the academy in her absence. Just their luck that the full-time maintenance guy was out sick, as he’d found out in the past hour. Simon had turned off the water to the girls’ bathroom in the upper hall and rerouted the girls to use the facilities in the lower grades’ hall. They didn’t like it much but it was better than no bathrooms at all, as he had reminded them.
Meanwhile, the chairman had a family emergency and nobody knew when he’d return. Simon wasn’t too worried about it. Isabel managed the day-to-day at the academy, and she did it very well. He was there to help with anything she needed. That’s why they’d hired him, after all, even if his job description didn’t include crawling after pets.
His cell phone rattled on the desk. Simon put down his bowl of rice and tapped the screen. It was a text from the secretary: There’s a situation in the boys’ bathroom, Mr. Ackerley.
Simon walked out of his office and around the corner to where she sat. “What situation?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. One of the boys came over to tell me but I can’t leave my desk.”
Simon pocketed his phone. “It’s okay. I’ll check into it. Did Miss Antunes come back yet?”
She looked up from the computer screen. “Not yet, but she did send a message saying the plumber should be here soon.”
Good news. Hopefully they could get the issue fixed quickly.
When Simon approached the bathrooms, the sound of water running reached his ears before he entered. The girls’ bathrooms were still roped off. He pushed the door to the boys’ bathrooms. The faucets in the sinks were turned off and so were the urinals. But the toilets in the stalls had running water coming from the flush tanks and well on its way toward the door. As Simon moved to turn off all the valves, the water overflowed and spilled onto his shoes, his best pair of light brown leather wingtips.
An incoming text vibrated his phone: The plumber has arrived, Mr. Ackerley.
Let him in, please, he replied.
Simon shook his feet in vain. He was soaked to his ankles. Out in the hallway, he bent down and rolled up the hem of his pants just as the plumber turned the corner. He looked at Simon and said something in Portuguese. Simon gestured to the girls’ bathroom first then turned the other way to the fifth and sixth grade classes.
He knocked at the door of the sixth grade classroom and addressed the teacher. “I’m sorry for the interruption.” He turned to the students. “Does anyone know what happened in the bathrooms?”
Several students looked away from him, while others sent furtive glances around. The blushing cheeks and guilty looks were enough to tip him off that some of them did know what caused the toilets to overflow. “Okay, class captains, come with me.” Maybe if he brought them to the bathrooms, he could get a confession.
The teacher gestured at the door. “Please follow Mr. Ackerley.”
The oldest boy and girl stood from their desks and walked out with him. Simon stopped at the fifth grade class and repeated the directive. The four students followed behind him, trading glances and shrugs and murmuring in Portuguese, even though they all knew it was against the rules.
As they turned in the direction of the bathrooms, Isabel Antunes was already by the door.
She gestured at the boys’ bathrooms. “What’s going on here?”
Simon’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He held the door open for her. “The plumber is already in there. I’ll stay with these students.”
A few moments later, Isabel pushed the door and the plumber followed behind holding a bucket in his hand. Isabel talked animatedly in Portuguese and the guy nodded. The students stepped back and turned bright red. They definitely knew more than they’d admitted.
Isabel called for Simon. The plumber had pulled out the cover for the toilet tank and was in the process of extracting something from the interior.
“What is that?” Simon asked.
The plumber set it on the floor. It was made of a semi-rigid see-through plastic and there were streaks of color on it, now running on both sides.
Isabel Antunes tapped it with the tip of her shoe. “That, Mr. Ackerley, looks to be some kind of Moaning Myrtle.”
Simon looked at the floor where the strange object lay in a heap. The round glasses, the long hair in low pony tails. Just like the movie character.
Isabel walked past him. When Simon reached the hallway, she had the students lined up against the wall.
“Well, Mr. Ackerley is here now so who’s going to tell him what happened?” Her face was flushed but she didn’t raise her voice. At the continued silence, she touched the watch on her wrist. “We’re wasting everybody’s time, ladies and gentlemen. I advise you to confess right now. Class captains?”
The oldest boy and girl raised their heads. The boy spoke first. “The boys put trolls in the toilet bowls of the girls’ bathrooms.”
The girl looked between him and Isabel. “And the girls put the Moaning Myrtles in the flush tanks of the boys’ bathroom.”
Simon looked at them for a moment. “How did you even make these?”
“We used the 3D printer in the science lab,” said the sixth grade girl.
Isabel crossed her arms. “And where did you get the design?”
The fifth grade boy spoke up. “That was me. I came up with the design.”
Isabel exhaled loudly and pinched
the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she turned to the students. “For the time being, it’s demerits for all the students in both classes. We’ll talk about this later when Mr. Ackerley and I have discussed a proper consequence for this inexcusable behavior. Now, go back to class.”
After some instructions to the plumber, she left the bathrooms and Simon followed her down the hallway.
“That’s some serious talent these kids have,” he said. “Now we just need to redirect their focus to something productive.”
“Don’t worry. I intend to talk to the science and computer specialists about this.” She stopped and looked down at his feet. “What happened to you? You’re sloshing.”
“An unfortunate consequence of the bathroom pranks.”
“Pity. Those were nice shoes.” She opened the door to her office.
They weren’t nice shoes anymore.
After the last bell rang, Simon waited by the front door of the academy. His pants had half-dried and the secretary had brought him a pair of flip-flops. He suspected Isabel was behind the gesture, but couldn’t get it confirmed.
She stood outside, saying goodbye to the students and waving at the parents, probably making sure the parents kept their heads and didn’t get into more fender benders. As if anyone would dare do anything against the rules in her presence. How she managed to instill respect and affection at the same time baffled him.
She returned a few minutes later. “You’re free to leave, Mr. Ackerley.”
“I’ll do the rounds with you.” It was something they could each do by themselves, but he preferred to do it in her company.
She flicked a glance at his feet. “As long as you can keep up in those.” Was that a little smile?
“Not a problem. And thanks for them, by the way.” Simon trailed behind her as she turned off overhead lights and locked classroom doors.
“Why do you think it was me who sent them?”
“I asked the secretary how you knew my shoe size and she said she had no idea.” So maybe it had been a bit of a trick question.
She tsked. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
One Small Chance: a novella (a Love Story from Portugal) Page 5