“Well, we had better be going now,” Ida said after she had chattered for nearly forty minutes. “I’ll be back around to see you on Monday, if you’re still here, that is. Oh, say, you really should try to get out of here today, Hugh. You know how you’ve been promising to come to church with us one of these days—well, tomorrow is the first Sunday for our new pastor. He’s from California, but I think we’re going to like him anyway. Sure wish you were going to be joining us.”
Jessica gave Mr. McGregor’s hand a squeeze, Ida kissed him on the cheek, and the two women left. In the car on the way home, Ida extended the Sunday-go-to-meetin’ invitation to Jessica as well. According to Ida, her church was the best in town.
“Thanks, but I really need to settle in and try to regain my strength,” Jessica replied, hoping that being Mrs. Dane’s tenant didn’t automatically mean she would be expected to attend all of Mrs. Dane’s suggested meetings.
Church hadn’t been part of Jessica’s life since she was eight. She didn’t intend to start going now. Her mother had been the spiritual influence in the family, and when she had died in the middle of Jessica’s second-grade year, Jessica and the rest of the family found it difficult to continue a friendly acquaintance with a God who would let a woman like Carol Morgan die. As Jessica saw it, as long as she lived a good, moral life, God wouldn’t bother her, and she saw little reason to be bothering him. After all, he had wars and starvation and global warming to worry about. He didn’t need to be bothered with her petty whims.
Ida seemed to assume Jessica had visited the grocery store since yesterday, because she said something about did Jessica enjoy cooking for herself now that she was settled and could she find everything okay in the kitchen. Jessica replied, “Yes, everything is just fine.” The truth was, Jessica was rationing her two bags of Ramen noodles. The night before she had found a Snickers bar in her purse and conservatively nibbled about a fourth of it before placing it in the refrigerator. It looked awfully sad and limp, all alone on that refrigerator shelf.
“I can understand your wanting to get yourself situated, Jessica. Once you’re settled, I do hope you’ll come to church with me.” Mrs. Dane’s tone was light and not pushy. She dropped Jessica off at her front door with another invitation for Jessica to call her if she needed anything.
The weather was so nice, and Jessica wasn’t feeling too tired from the trip to the hospital, so she meandered into her backyard after Ida left. An old chaise lounge with a dirty cushion awaited her on the deck. Jessica stretched out and closed her eyes, tilting her face to the August sun. Malibu it wasn’t, but it was still wonderfully soothing and relaxing.
As much as Jessica’s body relaxed, her mind began to tense up. She reviewed her situation for the four hundredth time. I have twelve dollars to my name. I have half a bag of noodles and five bites of a candy bar. I won’t get paid for at least one week, maybe two. I don’t know anyone I can borrow money from, plus I’d be too embarrassed to ever do that. Kyle said he would help me out, but then I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off here on Thursday.
I have no car. No money to buy a car. Why didn’t I plan to bring more money with me? What was I thinking? Was I thinking? How am I going to pull all this off? At least my next rent payment isn’t due until October first. What about the phone? And the electricity? How am I going to do this? I’ve never been in debt in my life!
I can’t go back now. I have to make this work!
Jessica felt exhausted over all her troubles. She tried to sleep in the warm sun, but her brain wouldn’t stop long enough to let her. She tried to walk off some of her tension. The garden toward the back looked brown and ready to be torn out. The thought of yard work appealed to her, even though her leg was still sore. At least the physical labor would burn off her mental energy.
Jessica carefully knelt down and began to pull out the dead vines and stalks. She pulled back the leaves and found a big Italian squash that seemed edible despite the drought conditions in the garden. Another, smaller one next to it had rotted on the underside, but this granddaddy looked just fine.
Jessica felt as if she had found a rare treasure. Food! She carted the zucchini into the kitchen and washed it in the sink. It was at least a foot long, having hung on past its picking time.
She wasn’t sure how to prepare it. Cooking had never been a priority in her life. Maybe steamed would be good. After scanning the cupboards for some spices, she found a nearly empty container of cinnamon, a full box of baking soda, and a bottle of garlic salt. It didn’t take her long to steam the pan full of sliced zucchini and garnish it with the garlic salt. She deemed it a culinary success.
Proudly carrying her bowl of zesty, steaming nutrition into her dining room, Jessica sat at the table, eager for her feast. She almost felt as if she should pray, but she didn’t know what to say. The first bite entered her salivating mouth and melted against her healing tongue. It was good. Very good. She savored each bite.
Maybe I’m going to be okay after all. If I just take each day at a time, I can do this. I don’t need anyone to help me out. I’ll be fine by myself.
Jessica pushed herself away from the table, stretched out across the couch in the living room, and tried to reinforce all the positive messages she had just given herself. Without warning, a single salty tear dipped over the edge of her eyelid and coursed its way down her cheek. No one was there to see it. No one to guess how terrified she really was.
Chapter Four
All right, teachers, if you’ll find your seats, we need to start this meeting.” A brusque brunette wearing a red blazer and black straight skirt pounded her hand on the podium at the front of the large meeting room.
Jessica found a seat near the back. She still felt uncomfortably conscious of the stitches in her upper lip. Actually, the morning had been fairly successful so far. She had managed to shower, dress, do an adequate job on her hair and makeup, and then walk the four blocks to the high school without feeling exhausted.
The best part was the table that had greeted her at the door with fresh coffee, a basket brimming with muffins, and a tray of fresh fruit slices. Some primal urge within her whispered that she should grab five muffins and several apples and stuff them into her purse. The day before, all she had eaten was the rest of her Snickers bar and a small bowl of steamed zucchini.
However, Jessica had managed to control herself and had taken only one blueberry muffin and several orange wedges. She had spoken to no one while busying herself at the table stirring a packet of sugar and one of powdered creamer into her Styrofoam cup of coffee.
Now, sitting by herself on the cold metal folding chair, she sipped her coffee and glanced around the room, observing her fellow teachers. Many of them were obviously old comrades; they huddled together in several groups, making small talk as if they were at a dinner party. When they found their seats, they all sat together. Jessica felt as if it were the first day of school and she was the new kid.
“Good morning, staff,” the brunette said with a smile. “I’m so glad to meet all of you. My name is Ms. Charlotte Mendelson, and I am the new principal here at Glenbrooke. As most of you know, Mr. McGregor has been hospitalized, and I have been called on to fill his position. I come to you with three years’ experience as principal of Logan High School in Salem.”
Ms. Mendelson continued to list her accomplishments and promised that the coming school year would be the best Glenbrooke had ever seen. Jessica guessed her to be in her early thirties, with a hint of a New England accent. She spoke with cool articulation and frequent hand gestures that displayed her long red fingernails. She seemed out of place in this small town.
“Any questions then?” Ms. Mendelson concluded after more than an hour of speaking authoritatively from her stack of notes. “Fine. You will find your classroom assignments listed by the back door. I know it’s going to be a wonderful year for all of us.”
Suddenly Jessica felt the cold fingers of panic creeping up her neck. How would h
er name be listed? If Mr. McGregor gave her real name to Mrs. Dane, did he list her at the school as Jessica Morgan, too?
“Oh, one more thing,” Ms. Mendelson called out above the escalating noise of chairs shifting and conversations starting up. “I need to see the new English teacher.” She scanned her slip of paper, “Jessica…”
Jessica moved to the front quickly, “Yes? I’m Jessica.”
Ms. Mendelson scanned her up and down before replying. Her eyes rested on Jessica’s lip. “I understand you are here under Hugh’s personal recommendation.”
Jessica nodded.
“May I ask what happened to your face?”
“I was in a car accident a few days ago.”
“You’re all right, I hope.” It didn’t sound fully sympathetic, but Jessica guessed it might be as good as it got with someone like Ms. Mendelson.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You will have those stitches taken care of before classes start, I assume.”
“I see the doctor on Wednesday.” Jessica felt a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
Charlotte Mendelson seemed to be examining Jessica’s lip even closer before asking, “Did they tell you it would leave a permanent scar?”
Jessica had wondered about that horrible question a hundred times during the past few days. Each time she had concluded to sweep the fear back under the carpet. How could this person pull up the rug and expose Jessica’s terror like that?
“Was there something you wanted to see me about?” Jessica asked.
Charlotte pushed on, as if she were the one who had changed the subject. “It seems we don’t have your file. I suppose Hugh forwarded it to the district office already, but our secretary had only a yellow Post-It note saying, ‘Jessica—English, arrive Wednesday or Thursday.’”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Would you go to the office then and provide the necessary information before going to your classroom?” It was more of a demand than a question. Ms. Mendelson turned on her high red heels. She called out to a man whom Jessica guessed might be the football coach by the blue shorts he wore and the white just-a-tad-too-tight T-shirt covering his broad chest.
Jessica found her way down the hall to the office and tried to lower the temperature on the anger gauge in her head. Ms. Mendelson was someone she would have to learn to work with, and the best route might be to try to walk away from every possible conflict with her that arose.
Jessica wished she had dressed nicer for today. Instead of business attire, she had worn jeans, an ivory T-shirt, and a natural tone vest with four antique brass buttons down the front. She had pictured herself spending the day cleaning out cupboards and decorating bulletin boards, not being forced into a battle with her new boss. If she had known, she definitely would have worn the blue Liz Claiborne suit. Yes, definitely a consideration for the first day of school. Or perhaps for the first school board meeting.
When Jessica opened the door of the school office, she noticed a man with vaguely familiar broad shoulders at the counter, speaking to the school secretary.
“Could you tell me which room Miss Fenton is in?” the deep voice of Kyle Buchanan asked.
“Miss Fenton? I don’t believe we have a teacher by that name,” the small woman replied.
“Actually, it’s me,” Jessica said.
A smile spread across Kyle’s face as he turned to face her. “You’re sure looking a lot better! How are you feeling, Jessica?”
The secretary peeked around Kyle’s broad frame. “Oh,” she said, “so you’re Jessica. We didn’t even have your last name written down. Fenton, is it? F-e-n…” The secretary stopped, with her pencil poised on her notepad, waiting.
“T-o-n,” Jessica finished for her.
“Good. I need to ask you a few questions before you leave the office.”
“I won’t keep you,” Kyle said. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Jessica. His green eyes raced around her frame and face before coming to the finish line—her eyes. “I’ve been on duty at the station the last few days, but I have the next few off, so I thought I’d see if you needed anything. Don’t you need to go back to the doctor’s on Wednesday? Could you use a ride?”
Jessica was about to give her usual, “That’s okay, you don’t have to worry about me” answer, when Charlotte burst through the door.
“Well, hello!” she cooed the moment she saw Kyle. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m the school principal, Charlotte Mendelson.” She held out her hand, as if Kyle were expected to kiss it. Kyle politely shook it.
“Kyle Buchanan.”
“By any stroke of good fortune, are you the new teacher I haven’t met yet?”
“He’s a firefighter,” the secretary piped up from her overflowing desk. “Everyone knows Kyle.”
Charlotte kept on smiling and said, “Well, a firefighter. You’ll have to come and do an assembly on fire safety for me. I’m sure you’re a fabulous speaker. Shall we step into my office and arrange a date?”
Jessica felt her anger toward this woman boil up inside all over again.
“Actually, I need to get going,” Kyle said politely. “Anyone on our crew would be glad to help out with an assembly. You can call the fire station whenever you find a time that fits in with your schedule.”
“Fine. I’ll do that.” Charlotte smiled at Kyle as if she could magnetize him.
He turned his attention back to Jessica. “Wednesday, then?” he asked. “I’ll call you and find out what time you want me to pick you up.”
Jessica nodded.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Kyle nodded to each of them and left.
“How do you know him?” Charlotte asked Jessica.
Jessica considered not responding and simply walking away, but she would have to come back anyway to answer the secretary’s questions. Plus, like it or not, this woman was her boss. She had been in worse situations. She could handle herself with Charlotte.
“We met on a blind curve.”
“What?” Charlotte demanded.
Jessica took two steps past Charlotte and asked the secretary, “Did you need me to fill out some papers for you?”
The tiny woman behind the desk looked wide-eyed at Jessica and said, “Oh, yes, only a few forms here. We have nothing about you in our files, you see. And sometimes it takes days or even weeks to get copies from the district office. It would certainly help if you wouldn’t mind filling these out for me.”
“Sure. Would you like them back today, or may I bring them to you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow would be fine,” the secretary said, nodding her head.
“We need them today,” Charlotte inserted into the conversation. “Until those papers are filled out, you are not officially employed at my school. Do you understand, Ms….?” Charlotte shot a sharp glance at the secretary as if Jessica were invisible. “What’s her last name?”
The secretary quickly fumbled for her notepad. “Uh, Fenton. Jessica Fenton.”
“Do you understand, Ms. Fenton?”
Jessica would not let this woman get the better of her today, tomorrow, or any day. Charlotte Mendelson would not control her.
Without a word, Jessica turned to the secretary and said, “Would you like me to use a pen or pencil, or does it matter?”
“Pen, of course,” Charlotte barked and strode into her office, purposefully leaving the door open.
“Pen, I guess,” the woman replied, handing Jessica two short forms. “And this is a school handbook. You can keep that. I guess I’ll take the forms when you’ve completed them.”
Jessica sat in a straight-backed wooden chair in the corner of the waiting area, as far away from Charlotte’s door as possible. She filled out her name, address, and phone number, which she copied from a card she had placed in her purse the day before. There wasn’t much else in her wallet. She had burned her Sprint FONCARD, her Bank of America Versatel card, her California driver’s license, and four major credit cards. All that was left w
as the card she had made the night before with her hand-printed new identity and the last studio photo taken of her and her mother.
From the principal’s office, Jessica heard Charlotte’s speaker phone as she made a call. It rang twice, and then a male voice answered, “Glenbrooke Fire Station. This is Bobbie.”
“Kyle Buchanan, please,” Charlotte replied.
“Kyle’s off for the next three days. Can someone else help you?”
“No, I think I’ll try him at home. Say, do you happen to have that number handy?”
Jessica tried to block out the game going on in the next room. She stuck to her forms, filled them out front and back, and handed them to the secretary.
“I’ll see you later,” Jessica said and left as quickly as she could to hide in the safety of room 14—her room. She opened the door, slid inside, and leaned against the closed door while letting out a pent-up sigh.
Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Plain enough, old enough, and just clean enough. Room 14 reminded Jessica of one of her old high school classrooms. The long brick buildings that housed Glenbrooke High School had to be thirty, maybe forty, years old. The room had the smell of ground-in eraser dust, and yet many improvements such as the new lighting and the white boards that replaced chalkboards made it a “modern” school.
Jessica focused in on her desk at the front of the room. Reverently she approached it and ran her hand across the wood surface, feeling each nick. She smiled contentedly to herself. While the desk was old, solid wood with an intriguing relief map of its many years etched across its surface, the chair was brand new, with black vinyl arms and a gray fabric seat. It had two levers on the side so the chair could be adjusted up and down or back and forth. Jessica tried out the high-tech gem, chuckling to herself as a pull on the first lever took her down instantly. Better not show the class clown where that lever was. But then, class clowns already know those things, don’t they?
Secrets Page 4
