A Sister's Promise (Promises)

by Lenfestey, Karen

  “What’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. “I—I just really need to talk.”

  “Can you come over here? I’ve been drinking and I probably shouldn’t drive.”

  Kate didn’t want to leave her house, but she didn’t want to be alone any more either.

  When Kate arrived, Trish took one look at her and said, “Looks like you could use a drink. Follow me.”

  They went into the kitchen where Trish uncorked the souvenir bottle of champagne Kate had given her last summer. “Now that you’re here, I can break into the good stuff.”

  “But why are you drinking?”

  “I’m celebrating the fact that I’m finally off my meds.”

  Kate nodded, unable to muster more enthusiasm. She could hear Trish’s dad and another male voice coming from the den and was anxious to hide her red eyes. Carrying two glasses, Kate followed as Trish walked upstairs. Once inside the pink room decorated with a poster from the TV show “Friends” and a shelf of dusty tennis trophies, Trish closed the door behind them.

  Kicking off her shoes, Kate sat on Trish’s bed. “No offense, Trish, but I don’t know how you can stand to still live at home. I couldn’t wait to get out of Aunt Suzy’s house.”

  Trish filled their glasses and placed the bottle on her desk. “It’s not so bad. I’m saving for the down payment on a house. But we’re not here to talk about me. What’s going on?”

  Kate filled her lungs to capacity, trying to figure out where to begin. “I’m not even sure. I asked Mitch if he’d thought any more about having a baby and he freaked out. He packed a bag and took off.”

  “Oh, Kate.” Trish put her glass on the night stand and wrapped her arms around Kate’s frame. “I’m so sorry.”

  Kate nodded and tried to stop the tears from restarting. She looked up at the ceiling fan and blinked several times.

  Trish leaned back, her eyes serious. “Has he ever done that before?”

  “No. Never. He’s so even-tempered. That’s one of the things I love about him.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  Trish stood up, grabbed a box of tissues and returned to the bed. “Where do you think he went?”

  Kate shrugged. “I have no idea. A hotel maybe.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back as soon as he cools off.”

  Studying Trish’s face, Kate tried to see how sure she was. “I just don’t know what to do.” Kate’s breathing felt stilted. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “You’re not going to lose him, Kate. You’ve been together for ten years.”

  “But he said I’m changing the rules in the middle. And he’s right.” Kate wiped her nose then downed her glass of champagne.

  Trish reached for the bottle and refilled Kate’s glass. “So, you’ve decided you want to have a baby?”

  Kate shrugged. “I’m not one-hundred percent yet, but I think so. I just wanted to talk about it more with Mitch. I wasn’t saying we need to definitely start trying.”

  Trish raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s exciting. The fact that you’ve changed your mind about a kid.”

  “Not if it destroys my marriage it’s not.”

  # # #

  After more sympathy and champagne, Kate excused herself and walked to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. While inside the black and white striped room, the doorbell rang. She heard the front door open and muffled voices through the floor.

  As she exited the washroom, she glanced over the balcony railing, open to the living room below. Feeling a little tipsy, she decided not to get too close to the edge. She saw Trish’s dad talking with some other men. He didn’t see her.

  Then she noticed Mr. Mohr. What was he doing there? Next to him, she recognized the elderly superintendent. Besides those three people, Kate saw a fourth man in a black suit and red tie. With his half-bald head and crooked nose he reminded her of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. Something weird was going on; everyone looked like they should be at a funeral.

  “Where is this Jennifer?” Mr. Mohr asked. “She’s late.”

  Hearing the name Jennifer, Kate rushed into the enclosed part of the hallway. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she felt compelled to listen.

  The doorbell rang again and she peered around the corner. A woman in her thirties who looked tired of fighting the elements entered the room. She loosened the gray scarf wrapped around her neck like a noose. When Trish’s dad tried to take her coat, she mumbled something inaudible and kept it. Dressed in faded jeans and salt-stained winter boots, she sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with the strap on her purse.

  Trish’s dad introduced everyone, sounding very formal. When Kate heard it, she recognized the bald guy’s name. Mr. Darrin. The school’s attorney.

  Everyone fell silent.

  “Well, we’d like to hear what you have to say,” the superintendent prodded.

  “I’m very nervous,” the frail woman’s voice said.

  I would be, too, Kate thought. There wasn’t a lot of warmth in that room. But what did she expect—trying to ruin the career of a devoted counselor with her lies? Why would she do such a thing to Rhonda?

  “Did you read my e-mail?” she asked.

  Just then Trish opened her door and started to say something. Kate put her finger to her lips and waved for her to come over. They crouched down like children trying to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Kate felt incredibly juvenile and unprofessional, but she needed to know what Rhonda was accused of doing. Maybe she could somehow help disprove this woman’s story.

  A female voice drifted up to Kate. “Well, like I said, I was taken advantage of when I was at Foxworth High.”

  Trish’s eyes got as big as quarters. Kate nodded as if to say, “I can’t believe it either!”

  “By whom?” Kate recognized Mr. Mohr’s drill sergeant tone.

  Jennifer took a deep breath. “It was my World History teacher, Mrs. Cochran.”

  Trish furrowed her brow and mouthed, “Linda Cochran?”

  Kate was confused. She felt sure Mr. Mohr had addressed Rhonda as the guilty one. And Rhonda had sounded defensive. Had she really been standing up for Mrs. B?

  Kate couldn’t imagine Mrs. B, more frigid than Antarctica, being intimate with anyone.

  Kate stared at the corners of an electrical outlet in the hallway while Jennifer explained how she stayed after class to get tutoring. “My parents were fighting all the time and they didn’t even notice when I was gone. Mrs. Cochran drove me home from school when one of them forgot to pick me up. And then one time she suggested I come over for dinner. It wasn’t like anyone was cooking dinner at my house. So, I went. Sometimes she would brush up against me when she walked by or touch my hair and tell me how pretty I looked. Eventually she started giving me a hug goodbye every time I left her house.”

  The room fell silent. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Jennifer asked. Kate heard her unzip her bag. Kate imagined her hands trembling, just like her voice. “Anyway, she did some stuff to me.”

  “I’m afraid we need details, Miss Taylor,” the superintendent said.

  The conversation paused and Kate envisioned Jennifer taking a puff of her cigarette, trying to calm her nerves. “At first it was just the hugging. Then there was some kissing. Do I really have to say more?”

  “Who initiated the kissing?” Mr. Darrin, the lawyer asked.

  “She did,” Jennifer retorted, obviously offended by the question. “She started everything. I’m not gay. I was just vulnerable. And she saw that and took advantage of it! She’s a horrible person and shouldn’t be allowed around children.”

  “You weren’t exactly a child,” Mr. Darrin said.

  Her tone turned sharp. “Yes I was! She was the teacher. An authority figure. I used to think it was my fault, but my therapist said Mrs. Cochran needs to take responsibility.”

  Kate nodded. She felt bad that Jennifer had to say this to a room full of strangers—the majority of whom acted like she w
anted to cause trouble. It wasn’t right. The counselor side of Kate wanted to go sit next to her and reassure her that this wasn’t her fault.

  “What else happened?” the superintendent asked.

  It sounded like Jennifer started to cry. “I can’t. . .I can’t. . . .”

  “How do we know what you’re telling us is true?” Mr. Mohr asked.

  Kate pondered that question. When she’d thought Rhonda stood accused, she had discounted the story. Now, she felt sorry for Jennifer.

  Jennifer blew her nose. “Don’t you recognize the truth when you hear it?” The room remained silent. “I’m not the only one she did this to. I know someone else who was a victim like me.”

  “Who?”

  “I tried to get her to come with me, but she wouldn’t. She wants to remain anonymous.”

  “So how much do you want?” Mr. Darrin asked.

  “You think I want money?” Her voice raised in pitch and volume. “What she did to me was wrong. Sexual stuff. It messed me up for a lot of years. That woman must be fired.” There were some shuffling sounds. “That’s what I came to say. Now I’d like to go.”

  Kate heard the front door open and close. No one said goodbye.

  Kate and Trish stared at one another wide-eyed for a moment.

  “From a legal standpoint,” Mr. Darrin began, “what the woman described is not technically child molestation, due to the alleged victim’s age at the time of the incident.”

  The floor squeaked as if someone paced below. “For all we know this woman is crazy,” the superintendent said. “She admits she’s been in therapy. I think that what’s best for Foxworth Community Schools is to keep this quiet.”

  Kate suspected Mr. Darrin was probably punching at his Blackberry, like she had seen him do at school board meetings. “This allegedly happened so many years ago that the statute of limitations has expired. Our best option is to work out a settlement and have her sign a nondisclosure statement.”

  Kate inwardly fumed. They were so detached. Didn’t anyone care that it was their job to protect the students? What if they had a daughter in Mrs. B’s class? They wouldn’t care about the statute of limitations then.

  Then Mr. Mohr spoke. “I’m going over to Linda Cochran’s house tonight to find out the truth. I will not have someone working for me who crosses the line with students. I don’t care how many years have passed.”

  Kate was so proud of him. In this case, his inability to see anything besides black and white shone as an asset.

  Trish waved Kate back to her room.

  When Kate stood up, her left knee cracked and she froze. Even though she was hidden behind the wall, she could feel four sets of eyes turn toward her. Her heart knocked so hard she could feel it against her ribs. She remained motionless for what felt like an eternity. She didn’t even allow herself to breathe.

  “That’s probably just the cat,” Trish’s dad said.

  Kate and Trish remained still until the men began talking again. Then the women tiptoed down the hall.

  Once her door closed, Kate half-whispered, “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe it’s Mrs. B. Can you?”

  Trish shook her head in disbelief.

  “You know her better than I do. Can you see her doing something like that with a student?”

  “No.” Trish scratched her nose. “I mean. . .I don’t think so.”

  “You think maybe she did it? I didn’t know she was a lesbian.”

  “She’s not,” Trish replied quickly. “Just because a woman kisses another woman doesn’t mean anything.”

  Kate stared at her. “Do you know something?”

  Trish sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Kate sat down next to her.

  With one finger Trish traced the lines along her palm. “There was this one time, back when I was in high school.”

  “What? Did she do something?”

  “No. Not really. It just seemed weird is all. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

  Kate touched her forearm. “Tell me, Trish.”

  “I’d just gotten dumped by my boyfriend and I felt like my world was crumbling. I couldn’t really talk to my dad about it. I was totally stressed. Mrs. Cochran sensed something was wrong and she asked me to stay after school to talk. Eventually I broke down and told her how horrible everything was. She was great, really. Then she put her hand on my thigh. For some reason, it made me feel funny. Suddenly I realized the lights were out in the hallways and the school was empty. I jumped up and ran home.”

  “Are you sure that’s all she did? If you could corroborate Jennifer’s story, they would have to fire her.”

  Trish shook her head. “That was it.”

  Then Kate heard a forceful knock on the door. She and Trish locked eyes and sucked in their breath.

  After a long pause, Trish finally opened her bedroom door. Trish’s dad and a tight-lipped Mr. Mohr stared at them. Kate felt confident this wasn’t what her boss meant when he told her to put in extra hours.

  “Were you listening to our private conversation downstairs?” Mr. Mohr asked, suddenly reducing Kate psychologically to a guilt-ridden teenager.

  Was she really going to lie? At her age? She hesitated, her head feeling a bit wobbly. “Yes.”

  “How much did you hear?” Mr. Mohr demanded.

  Kate shrugged her shoulders. “Pretty much all of it.”

  An uncomfortable moment passed before anyone spoke. “Well, regardless what you may have heard or think you heard,” Mr. Mohr said, “you are not to speak to anyone about this. Not to any parents, staff or students.”

  Kate’s stomach churned. She wondered how her life could get any worse.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Flipping through her wedding album, Kate dabbed at her eyes with a balled up tissue. For three weeks now, this was how she spent her evenings. All of the classic poses mocked her: the kiss, the rings, the white cake topped with a ceramic bride and groom. She rubbed her hand over the photo of Mitch doing the “Chicken Dance” that used to make her smile. On the last page, Mitch stood between Kate and Joely, his arms looped casually around their shoulders as if they were best friends.

  The phone rang and Kate’s heart leapt, hoping it was Mitch. She closed the album cover with a soft thud and jumped up to check caller ID. She sighed in disappointment; it was Joely. She picked up the phone and heard, “I’m not coming for Christmas.”

  Kate sat up straight. “Are you having a flare? Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “It’s not that. . . . I just got a new client and she wants this mural painted before her family comes for the holidays.”

  For the first time since she’d been married, Kate hadn’t bothered to hang stockings or get a tree. She hadn’t been looking forward to the date at all. It was probably best that Joely wouldn’t expect a celebration. That way Kate didn’t have to explain that she and Mitch were. . . separated.

  Joely continued speaking as if Kate had argued with her. “Besides, Christmas is really for children.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Christmas is for family.”

  “Well, I don’t have one.”

  “Joely, that really hurts. I’m your family.”

  “I know, but it’s not the same.” She paused. “I’ve decided this year I’m doing what I want for Christmas.”

  “Which is what?” Kate asked.

  “Be with my friends.”

  Kate started to speak, but stopped herself, considering her words. Maybe Joely didn’t want to see Mitch after what he’d said to her during their argument. “Are you sure we can’t get together? Just the two of us?”

  “I’ll mail you your gift.”

  Feeling pressure in her chest, Kate tried to figure out if she would really have to face Christmas solo. “No. Don’t do that. I’ll come see you.”

  “I’m too busy this year. Sorry.”

  Kate had the feeling Joely wasn’t really that sorry.

  As soon as she hung up, the phone rang again. Caller ID spelled
out Mitch—Cell. She picked it up on the first ring.

  His baritone voice sounded tense. “Hi, Kate. How are you?”

  “How am I? Are you kidding me?” The angry edge to her words surprised her. “I’m going crazy, that’s how I am.”

  He sighed loud enough for her to hear.

  “Where are you? I at least deserve to know that.”

  “At the Fairmont Inn.”

  She took some comfort in visualizing his location. An idea popped into her head. “Is there another woman?”

  He laughed, stopping short. “Of course not.”

  That meant there was hope. “When are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know. I’m calling to see if you’ll still meet me at my parents’ house for Christmas. If you’re not there. . .they’ll know something’s wrong.”

  “That’s because something is wrong. Why don’t you come home right now so we can work things out?”

  “I’m not ready.” He paused and the silence actually hurt. “Will you be in Denver?”

  Now she sighed. She wanted to see him. Desperately. “I guess so.”

  “Good.” He hung up.

  Still holding the phone, she stared off into the distance. Her eyes landed on the coffee table and its stack of unopened envelopes hand-addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Hopper. She had no doubt they contained Christmas cards; she couldn’t bring herself to read about little Julie’s prize-winning science fair project or to see pictures of a smiling family visiting the Grand Canyon. She put down the handset and walked over to the table. She picked up the cards, envious of everyone else’s happiness, and tossed them into the empty fireplace. Then she reached for the box on the mantle and struck a match.

  # # #

  “I-I-I-I’m dreaming of a Whi-i-i-te Christ-mas” Bing Crosby sang as Kate sat in her in-laws’ enormous A-frame log cabin. Mitch’s parents, both wearing different shades of red cardigans, sat in wing-backed chairs flanking the stone fireplace. Kate thought the scene resembled a Hallmark Christmas card. Everything appeared perfect— except for the fact that upon her husband’s suggestion, they were only pretending to be happily married.