by Jeannie Watt
Elaine’s eyebrows went up. “No kidding. I’m doing my best to convince him that I’m not my disease. That I’m still me. We haven’t been together for that long, but it feels like forever and I need more...contact than I’m getting.” She blinked a couple of times and looked away, but not before Molly saw the moisture clinging to her eyelashes. “Sorry to vent. More than you wanted to hear, no doubt.”
“Honestly... I don’t blame you for being irked.”
“Mike’s hardheaded, but if I keep hammering away, maybe I’ll get through.” She let out a small snort. “Keeps me from thinking about my treatment, so maybe it’s all good.” She glanced over at Molly, then back out at the men under the tree. “Forgive me for saying that it’s interesting to see how things have changed between you and Finn since the last time we spoke in this very kitchen.”
Yes...that awesome conversation that Finn had overhead. Today she was going to set the record straight before moving on to safer topics.
“They haven’t changed that much,” she said. “We’re friendlier than before, but still just friends.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
Molly narrowed her eyes at her former science teacher. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve made a career out of reading people. I had to for survival. Trust me, Finn isn’t looking at you like a friend.”
Molly’s stomach tightened at the woman’s adamant tone. She moistened her lips and tried again. “We know each other well...”
Another cocked eyebrow, and Molly gave up. She followed Elaine’s gaze out to where Finn was sitting next to his grandfather and pressed her lips together. It wasn’t fair of her to string Finn along if he wanted more than she could give.
Did he?
Why wouldn’t he be happy with a mutually beneficial relationship that didn’t involve the prospect of a broken heart?
She’d so thought they were on the same page. She glanced over at Elaine.
“Are you sure?”
“All I can do is tell you what gut instinct tells me. That boy likes you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MONDAY CAME TOO SOON.
Molly woke up with a headache and it only intensified when she discovered that the dean had called in sick that day. She felt like going home sick, but what good would that do?
She muscled through her classes, muscled through her evening class. When she stopped at Finn’s desk after her lecture she simply said, “No results yet.”
“See you later?” he asked quietly.
Molly shook her head and moved on. Denny was also out sick, so she could have probably spent more class time with Finn without fear of someone reading something into it, such as her giving him the answers or being involved in a relationship with him, but her head still hurt and she just wanted to go home, go to bed and shut out the world for a while.
Every now and again one was entitled to do just that. Tonight was her night and that was what she told Finn when he came into her office after class.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m just tired.” Confused. Frustrated on many levels. And uncertain as to her next move in the game of life.
“Maybe we should go hiking with Georgina and Chase this coming weekend. Get away.”
“I’ll have a lot of work next weekend.”
“And maybe we shouldn’t be seen together?”
“There’s that,” she agreed.
“Hell of a way to live, but I understand. I don’t want to mess with your job.”
“And I don’t want to mess with you.”
Finn stilled. “Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s very important that we are on the same page here...about what we have and what we want.”
He reached out to gently brush her hair back over her shoulder, his fingers caressing her neck. “I guess I want you.”
Not what she’d hoped to hear. Twelve years ago she would have died of happiness at those words. Today they scared her death. He wanted her and, if she were honest, she wanted him...but wanting was the first step toward heartbreak. The first step toward getting into a situation where control was out the window and another person’s actions could destroy you.
“Finn.” Her voice grew husky. “That isn’t going to happen. Not in the way I think you want.”
“What? In like a real relationship way?”
“I don’t want a real relationship, Finn. I can’t handle one. I don’t want to deal with the uncertainty that comes with a relationship.”
Finn stepped back and regarded her for a moment, then wiped a hand over his face. “We all have baggage, Molly.”
“True.”
“We don’t have to carry it alone.”
“Some of us choose to carry it alone.”
“Why?”
“I fought hard for my independence and I don’t want to compromise it.”
“How will being with me compromise your independence? I’m not pushy.”
“I don’t know that, Finn. We haven’t been together.”
“And you won’t risk getting to know what I’m like in a relationship?” He moved closer. “You can always leave later.”
It was too damned hard to leave now, and they’d barely gotten started. “That isn’t fair to you.”
“It is if I know what I’m getting into.”
Molly tipped up her chin. “You knew it a few days ago and you’re fighting me now.”
“Are you not willing to take a chance because I don’t fit your cookie-cutter description of your perfect guy? The one you mentioned to Elaine? Mr. Boring and Dependable?”
“The one you heard about while eavesdropping.”
He narrowed his beautiful eyes at her. “Yeah. That one. Would you loosen up and take a chance if I were that guy?”
“But you aren’t that guy. You will never be that guy.”
“The problem is you, Molly. You let one bad situation color everything in your whole freaking life. We are good together. We are great together. And guess what? I am dependable. You don’t need a college degree to be dependable. I can show you plenty of guys who do have the paper who aren’t.”
“I’m not some kind of a snob. I just know the characteristics that will work best for me.”
“Invisible and absent?”
Molly mouth hardened. “Those will do for a start.” Her chin dropped for a moment. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t fair. She looked back up at Finn. “I love your company. I love being with you in bed. But it—”
“Has no substance?”
“Damn it, Finn. I’m trying to save us both some heartache.”
He jerked his chin up. “Guess what? It’s too late for me.” His mouth clamped shut and then he muttered, “I can’t believe I just said such a douchey thing.”
“Finn...” The look he gave her stopped her from saying more. Froze the words in her throat. A moment later he was gone, the door closing behind him with a cold click.
Molly leaned back against her desk, her fingers gripping the edge. What in the hell had she done? Right move? Wrong move?
The only move.
* * *
DEAN STEWART WAS back at work on Tuesday and he invited Molly into his office after her last class of the day. She settled in the hot seat once again, folded her hands in her lap. And waited.
The dean made a show of studying the papers in front of him, although Molly was certain he’d already been over them—probably a couple of times.
“Your marks are high,” he said.
“I told you. I might have erred on the side of optimism.”
“I see from the dates that you’ve given me a progression over time.”
“I wanted you to see that he’s improving.”
&
nbsp; “And he has.” The dean leaned back in his chair, tapping a pencil against his lower lip. “But we aren’t in the business of remediation during our normal classes, English Basic Comp being one of those.”
Molly took a deep breath. “I thought I could help him. And we don’t have a remedial English class offered until next semester.” The instructor was on paternity leave and everyone else’s schedules were overloaded.
“We need to adjust this student’s grades.”
“It’s not fair to fail him when he’s come this far.” And she’d just emotionally skewered him less than twenty-four hours ago. She had to stop thinking about that. If he wanted more than she could give, then it was the only thing she could do.
The dean set his pencil down. “I didn’t say fail. But he’s a D student.”
“What if he gets a diagnosis?”
“He can retake the class with provisions for his disability. I’m totally on board for differentiated assignments. Given the lack of a remedial class, it makes sense. But he has to have the skills we say he has when he finishes the course.”
“Of course he does.” Molly leaned forward. “I don’t want this guy to feel like a failure. That won’t do any of us any good.”
“Are you involved with him?”
“I’m not.” Her words were instantaneous and adamant. She was no longer involved with him—and the short time she was, she would hold close. “But I want him to succeed. I want all my students to succeed. Even Jonas. I use grades to encourage and inspire. In Finn’s case they encourage and in Jonas’s they were supposed to inspire him to try harder.”
“You did well there, as you will see with our next Simon meeting.”
“Another?” Molly asked weakly.
“Tomorrow at five o’clock.”
“What happens to Finn?”
“The grades will change, but since the midterm and final projects count for the most, he can rescue himself.”
He. As in him alone. That was how it would have to be, if he even continued in the course.
Molly felt like growling as she left the dean’s office, but she managed a smile at Penny and a few cordial nods on her way down the hall. Teachers were such great actors. She went into her office, closed the door and leaned back against it.
At least she hadn’t heard the words You’re fired.
Yet. She still had quite of bit of time left in the semester and the remainder of the evaluation process to get through. She gathered her grading into her briefcase, jammed the lid shut and thanked her lucky stars that the hallway was now empty. She started for the entrance, her footsteps echoing on the tile floor—a sound she usually loved because it meant she was where she wanted to be. Now she wasn’t.
You wanted to teach. You signed on for this.
She had. Most of the time she loved her job, and she’d known going in there’d be conflicts with students, parents, other instructors, administrators.
She hadn’t counted on the Finn part.
* * *
MOLLY SEARCHED THE CUPBOARDS, then finally gave up and leaned back against the dishwasher and put her forehead in her hand.
No chips.
How could that have happened?
She paced into the living room, turned around and paced back. She was never one to pour her problems out to others, but now she really and truly wished that Georgina was home so that she could discuss the events of the day—even if it meant coming clean about things that had happened between her and Finn. Her sister was an adult and she’d already clued in to the fact that she and Finn were more than mere acquaintances...or at least had been. Her sister had a good head on her shoulders. She could deal and damn it, Molly needed to talk to someone. And she needed chips.
But Georgina wasn’t at home, which meant that Molly had the whole empty house to herself. The place had never seemed so big. Or echo-y. And she hadn’t felt so uncomfortable with herself since Blake had first left—before the anger had set in, when she’d been dealing with the bewildering pain of his betrayal. Mourning the loss of an illusion.
But now she was once again dealing with a loss. Things between her and Finn were never going to be the same, and she’d never be in his bed again. She probably shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but at that point their perceptions of their situation had been in alignment. They were enjoying each other. A lot.
Now they weren’t because their wants, needs...perceptions...were no longer in line with each other’s.
Temporary mourning. That’s all. She hadn’t been with Finn long enough for it to be anything else.
She went into her room and flopped down on her bed, dragging a pillow over her face, shutting out the light. Darkness felt right. She could deal with entitled Jonas and his influential family and whatever they might throw at her. She could even deal with losing her job—even though she hoped it didn’t come to that. She just needed to gather her strength, get it together. She needed to reassess.
* * *
FINN COOLED HIS HEELS in the waiting room of the administrative office, feeling very much as if he were waiting to see the principal, which in essence, he was. The only difference between now and high school was that back then, he’d at least had an inkling of the crime he’d committed. Right now, he didn’t have a clue as to what was about to happen. He assumed it had something to do with Molly and his grades, but until he saw the dean, he wouldn’t know for certain.
At the moment he was more concerned about Molly than his grades. It hadn’t taken long after their recent blowup for him to realize that he’d essentially reneged on his promise to her. They’d had the fun times he promised...but he’d also been moving in the direction of a relationship. It was part of a natural progression. They did well together, so why not spend time together? A lot of time.
But Molly wasn’t ready and she’d been candid about that. She had strong ideas about what she needed in life to achieve that security that was so important to her and he needed to give her time to understand that he was trustworthy and dependable—that he wasn’t like the jerk she’d cut loose after he’d done whatever to her.
“Finn Culver?”
He looked up to see a slightly built man in a neat suit standing in the doorway. “I’m Dean Stewart. Thank you for coming.”
“Not a problem.”
The dean ushered him into his office and closed the door. He waved him to a chair and then, instead of moving behind his desk, took the chair beside him.
“How has your experience been here at Eagle Valley Community College?”
“A little bumpy in the beginning, but it’s gotten better.”
“Glad to hear that.” The dean hesitated for a moment, then said, “Do you know why you’re here?”
He shook his head, having learned a long time ago to give nothing away.
“We’ve been investigating some grading practices here at the school and your grades were some that we took a closer look at.”
“I can understand that.”
“You can?”
“Ms. Adamson was trying to teach me four years of English in one semester. I...wasn’t all that motivated in high school English. Plus, it appears I’m dyslexic.”
“I see.”
“So to help me deal with my problem, Ms. Adamson shortened my assignments, saying it was better to practice something well a few times, rather than to practice it badly a lot of times.”
The dean considered for a moment, then nodded. “Good advice.”
“My brain is not a big fan of organization—not the kind involved in writing, so she helped me with some techniques to help me sort things out. She’s done me a lot of good.”
The dean glanced down at the floor, then back up at Finn. “Your grades are too high.”
“How much too high?”
; “You have Cs. You should have high Ds, according to other instructors who have read your work.”
“Yeah. I can see that. But I’m getting better. Before Ms. Adamson knew about my difficulty, she graded my first paper...thoroughly. Once she figured things out about the dyslexia, she came to me, encouraged me not to drop the class and offered extra help.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he tried to figure his best tactic. He decided to go with honesty. “She’s a good teacher. She shouldn’t get in trouble because of me. I’m not your usual student. Hell—” he cracked a smile “—I’m barely a student. But I feel more like one now than I did when I first started.”
“I see that your math scores are good.”
“Never had a problem with math. I still don’t.”
“What is your career goal?”
“I’d hoped to...” He couldn’t say it. How could he tell this guy that he couldn’t handle basic English, but he wanted to teach? “Figure that out. Guess I won’t be an English major.”
The dean allowed himself a weak smile. “I guess not. You understand that the majority of your grade comes from the end-of-term project. You can still earn a C, but the daily grades will be reduced.”
“Do what you have to do.”
“We value you as a student, but you understand that we have a reputation to uphold.”
“And students like me don’t help you out much.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
Finn simply smiled and got to his feet. “I appreciate the heads-up about the grades. Ms. Adamson is a good instructor. You’d be foolish to let her go.”
And he’d be foolish to continue as he was, wasting people’s time. He was better, but he was never going to be much more than a D student in English. He had other skills and maybe it was time to see about using them rather than trying to teach them.
Rather than go back to the feed store, Finn did something he probably should have done a while ago. He consulted the campus map and found the ag mechanics building. Since he attended night classes, most buildings were closed by the time he arrived, so he never investigated what ag mechanics had to offer. Perhaps the instructors would have an idea of how he could best use the skills he did have—whether they had career and course options more in the line with his specific talents. Maybe he wouldn’t be making a huge difference in society, helping people achieve their goals, but he could fix their cars and bend their metal.
