Hold Me Close

by Rosalind James

  “Nope,” he said. “At least—second year. They signed my contract again, so I’ve got somebody fooled.”

  “Nah. He’s a star,” Rochelle told Kayla. “Always has been; although let’s just say that nobody expected him to become a teacher. An actor, maybe. A movie star, don’t you think? Piece of cake?”

  “Don’t answer,” Luke said. “Please. Preserve my fragile ego.”

  “So why?” Kayla asked, surprising herself, but she really did want to know. “Why a teacher? And what kind of teacher?”

  “Science,” he said. “I always liked biology.”

  Another snort from Rochelle. “I’ll say. Anatomy, too.”

  “Hey.” He frowned at her. “I told you, quit messing me up.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s going to hear soon enough. And that you were the one who got hold of the entire box of crickets before they could get dissected, senior year, and let them loose in the library.” She sighed. “That was a great day.”

  “You did?” Eli asked. “Awesome.”

  Luke put his hands over Eli’s ears, which made the boy laugh. “You didn’t hear that. And I ask you,” he appealed to Rochelle, “was anything ever proved? Was I suspended? No. There you go.”

  “‘Not guilty’ isn’t the same as ‘innocent.’ Not the same thing at all. If there was something going on,” she told Kayla, “Luke was either doing it, or he knew about it.”

  “Which would make me,” he said, “the perfect principal. Because I still know about it.”

  “We were all surprised, though,” Rochelle went on, “that he went to college here. And then he stayed here afterwards, and that was a total shock. All that magna cum laude stuff? Always thought he’d go to medical school. All right, maybe not a movie star, but wouldn’t he make a great handsome doctor? Orthopedist or something, in some resort town. Aspen, maybe. Driving a Jaguar.” She sighed. “Total fantasy material.”

  “Please,” Luke said with pain. “Unreliable car like that? Unreliable, foreign car, with a trunk you can barely fit a toolbox into?”

  “You can take the boy out of the country,” Zoe said, “but you can’t take the country out of the boy. Just like Cal.”

  “Yep,” Luke said. “That’s about it. If it doesn’t have a bed on it, it’s not my ride. But, yeah. I did plan on that, at least the doctor part. You know what they say. Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”

  “So what did happen?” Kayla asked.

  He shrugged. “I wanted to take a year before I started that whole grind, study for the MCAT and all that—the entrance exam. And come around to the idea of the big city, too, probably. Probably stalling, now that I think of it. Paradise High needed a science teacher, and there I was, all that chem and bio fresh in my brain. It seemed like a good in-between job. Thought I’d hate it, tell you the truth. That, after a year of that, I wouldn’t be able to get out of town fast enough. And instead, I liked it. And then I did it for another year, because I had a junior I thought should do the Intel Science Talent Search, and I wanted to stick around to help her with it. She did real well, too,” he added with a reminiscent smile. “Didn’t take the top prize, but she got a good scholarship out of it. Exciting times. And . . .” He picked up another french fry and dipped it in ketchup. “Guess it was where I was meant to be. Hey, Cal played in the NFL, and what’s he doing now? Right back on the farm.”

  “Is he really?” Kayla asked. “I didn’t know that.” She’d known, of course, that the confident, hard-muscled boy she’d known had grown into a more-confident, harder-muscled man. Into a star. But she hadn’t known he’d come home to stay.

  “What, have you heard of him?”

  “Of course.” She gathered herself. She didn’t know why she didn’t just blurt out that she was the girl he might or might not remember as “Little Kay,” except that it would invite so many questions, so much explanation, and she didn’t feel like doing that. Not today. “Cal Jackson, right? Seahawks. I just didn’t know he was a farmer. But you aren’t.” She’d wondered about that, too. Whether the family had left the farm, and why, if not, Luke was living in town.

  “Only room for one boss out there,” Luke said, “and it was never going to be me. Zoe’s the only person alive who can get the drop on Cal.”

  Zoe was smiling, her face lighting up and making her, suddenly, almost beautiful. “It’s a tough job,” she said, “but somebody’s got to do it.”

  “And as much fun as this has been,” Rochelle said, shoving her plate away, “Zoe and I have a date. Going back to my place to look at wedding dresses online, start getting some ideas.” She sighed at Zoe’s groan. “And you’re the only woman I know who’d make that face about that. Want to come with us, Kayla?”

  “Uh—” Kayla was taken by surprise. “I’ve got Eli.”

  “I think Luke should take Eli for a couple hours. You guys can go to the hardware store,” Rochelle said while Luke was still opening his mouth.

  “How do you know I need to go to the hardware store? Not that I mind,” he added hastily. “Sure. Glad to.”

  “Men always need to go to the hardware store,” Rochelle said simply.

  “Well, I’d love to join you, of course, but—” Kayla was fumbling for words.

  “I wish you would,” Rochelle said. “Because, A, you could help me out, gang up on Zoe a little. And, B, no offense, but—is that haircut on purpose?”

  Zoe gasped. “No. You are not allowed to say that. Way over the line.”

  “Well, honey, somebody has to,” Rochelle said. “Did you just whack at it with a knife, or what?”

  “More or less.” Kayla couldn’t help it, she was laughing, even though she was embarrassed, too. “Let’s just say it was a rush job, and the guy who cut it wasn’t an expert.”

  “And, see, you didn’t even have to tell me that,” Rochelle said. “I can’t promise pro results, but I can even you up and make it cute, and it’s my humanitarian duty to do it. So come on. Let’s go. Right up the street.”

  “But Eli—” She glanced at him, but he didn’t look too horrified at the prospect of spending time with Luke. And Daisy, of course.

  “Well, as a matter of fact,” Luke said, “I do need to go to the hardware store. And Eli and I have some male bonding to do, too. I think you should go on, Kayla. Not that I don’t think your hair’s real cute right now,” he added.

  “Good save,” Rochelle said. “But it isn’t, and you know it.”

  He picked up the check. “I’ll just . . . go get this while you all decide,” he said hastily, then swung out of the booth and loped over to the register.

  Rochelle laughed. “Wuss.”

  She and Zoe were both looking expectantly at Kayla. “Do come,” Zoe said. “You see what I’m up against. She’s like a . . . a tornado. All the time.”

  “What do you think?” Kayla asked Eli. “Would you mind going with Luke for a little while? Just an hour or so.”

  “Two,” Rochelle said inexorably. “Hair first, because that’s a friggin’ emergency, then wedding dresses until Zoe tells me she’s exhausted and she doesn’t care and she’s just going to go to Bridal Barn and pick the first thing she sees. One hour, max, before I’m hearing that. But add the hair, and possibly a little bit of wine? Two hours.”

  “It’s OK, Mom,” Eli said. “If it’s OK with Luke.”

  “It’s OK with Luke,” Rochelle said. “Trust me.”

  Which is how Kayla ended up, more than two hours later, more than a little bit buzzed on white wine and limp from too much laughter, hastily unfolding her crossed legs from her spot on Rochelle’s funky purple sectional couch in her tiny Main Street apartment. She stood up a little self-consciously as Luke and Eli crowded into the little room, and Rochelle said, “Here you go, boys. Behold a new woman.”

  “What do you think, Eli?” Kayla asked. She did
n’t dare ask Luke.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  The other women laughed, and he looked embarrassed, but Luke had a hand on his shoulder. “Yep,” he said. “She looks nice, all right. Pretty, too, doesn’t she?” His eyes were warm, and there was a glow lighting her up inside that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “How about turning around, Kayla, showing us the back?”

  She did, came around laughing, and lifted her hands to run them through the short, choppy little cut. Her hair had grown out a bit in the six weeks since that day at the pawnshop, but now, thanks to Rochelle’s clever scissors and some hair product, it was defined into chunky curls, and she looked . . . cute, she thought. And what was more, she had a tub of control paste in her purse that Rochelle had pressed on her.

  “I never use it,” the other woman had said. “I was going to throw it away.” And even though Kayla suspected that wasn’t true, she’d accepted it, and now, she was glad she had. The appreciative light in Luke’s eyes told her he liked how she looked, and she liked it, too. She felt girlish and young right now in a way she hadn’t in years. Carefree, that was the word. It might have been the wine, and it might have been the company, and it might have been the haircut. But whatever it was, she’d take it.

  “Yep,” Luke said, “that’s what we call pretty. Good job, Rochelle. You ready to go?” he asked Kayla. “Or do you want Eli and me to give you a little more time? We’re only half done getting that sink fixed, and I could use the help.”

  “No, that’s OK.” She knew she should stop smiling at him, but she couldn’t. “Eli and I have a whole other outing to get ready for, though I might have to take a nap first.”

  “Well, in that case, he should definitely help me out with my sink.” He looked down at the boy. “What do you say?”

  “Sure,” he said. “If you want.”

  “Right, then,” Luke said. “Let us take you home, Kayla, if you’re good with that.”

  “I’m good,” she said. “I’m all good.”

  And right now, she was. Or at least she was getting better.

  A LITTLE HELP

  It was Wednesday. Hump day. A few more hours, and it would be Thursday. Kayla finished the vacuuming, dumped the contents of the wastebasket into her trash can, locked the door with her master key, and rolled on to the next office. The administration office.

  It had been a shock her first night working this floor, seeing the plaque on the door. Lucas Jackson, Principal. Even though she’d known that was what he did, because he’d told her only the week before. But if she hadn’t felt the gulf between them before—and she had—she’d certainly felt it when she’d been emptying his garbage, running the vacuum cleaner under his desk.

  This was her job, though. This was her freedom. This was what was allowing her to see some of the shuttered, pinched look leaving Eli’s face, to see him running to meet his friends in the morning, laughing as he rolled on the grass in Luke’s backyard after school with Daisy while she licked his face. That was what mattered. It didn’t mean that this was all she was, or all she would ever be. And all the same, it was with an effort that she put her key in the lock and opened that outer door.

  She turned on the lights, flipped the switch on the vacuum cleaner she carried on her back, and took care of the front office and the assistant principal’s room. And, at last, she turned the key in the other door. Luke’s door.

  He was there. Behind the desk, at the computer. He looked up, frowning a little, and she froze.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She realized the vacuum cleaner was still roaring and flipped the switch. Silence fell like a blanket around them, and the windows behind Luke yawned black.

  “Kayla.” He set down the folder he’d been holding and stood up.

  She laughed, but it came out unsteady. “Sorry. I don’t have to vacuum if you’re busy. Just let me get your trash.”

  He pulled out his wastebasket and handed it to her. “I didn’t realize this was what you were doing.”

  “Yep. Everybody needs a job, right?” It came out much too jolly, and she retreated with his wastebasket, picking up the other two along the way and fighting back the tears. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid to care, and wrong to be ashamed. There was no shame in doing a job. There was only shame in doing it badly.

  He was still standing when she came back and handed him his wastebasket again. “Want me to vacuum?” she asked. “Or would you rather I didn’t disturb you?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I mean—” He laughed. “I mean that I don’t want you to vacuum. I don’t mean I don’t want you to disturb me. I’d love you to disturb me.”

  “Oh. Well—uh—I’ve got to work.” She looked at the papers on his desk. “Like you, I guess.”

  “Yeah, this report is due to the superintendent tomorrow, and this was one hell of a day.” He stretched his arms overhead and leaned back. “Beginning of the school year. Whew. I’m about to hang it up anyway. Can you sit down for five minutes, maybe? Take that thing off your back? It looks heavy.”

  “No. Sorry. I’ve got a lot to do.”

  She left, closing the door behind her. She’d vacuum his office tomorrow. When he wasn’t in it.

  He called himself ten kinds of fool as he sat there the next night and waited for her. Nine thirty, and he’d be back at school at seven tomorrow morning. All the same, here he was.

  At last he heard her out there, then her key in his door, and she’d swung it open and turned off the vacuum again.

  “Oh.” She looked confused. And nothing like happy to see him. “I need to vacuum this time. Sorry.”

  “No problem.” He stood up and picked up his wastebasket. “I’ll get this. There a can out there? Any others I should do?”

  “What—yes—the other two offices. But there’s no need.” She went to take it. “My job.”

  “Nah. I’ll do it.”

  He came back as she was finishing up. She’d been much too quick, and was switching off her vacuum cleaner and getting ready to go.

  “Sit down.” He perched on the edge of the desk, one booted foot swinging. Less intimidating than behind the desk, because he thought that might be the problem. “Take a break and talk to me. Keep me company. Ten minutes.”

  “I can’t. I have the rest of the floor to do.”

  “So skip a few of the classrooms. I could give you a list of who I don’t like. It’s a pretty long list.” He grinned, trying for casual. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but something was wrong. Something was much too different from their lazy Saturday.

  “I’m new. I’m still on probation. If I don’t do my job, I’ll get fired.” Her shoulders hunched at the words, as much as they could with the heavy device strapped to her slim shoulders.

  “I’ll . . . Well, hell. I’ll vacuum for you, then. Come on. Sit and talk to me a minute.” He couldn’t stand to watch her lug that thing around, irrational as he knew it was. He’d grown up watching his sister bucking bales behind the tractor at ten. He knew girls could be strong. But all the same, it was killing him. On Saturday, when he’d dropped her off at her house, she’d been relaxed and sleepy, so pretty and happy in her green dress and her new haircut. Now, only a week later, she was looking so tired. Wearing those faded jeans that were too big for her, cinched at the waist with the wide leather belt, along with an oversized T-shirt and those battered tennis shoes that looked like they’d come from Goodwill. And that vacuum cleaner on her back. It all just looked . . . wrong. It was wrong. Sue him. It was.

  “You can’t vacuum for me,” she said, a little smile trying to make its way out now. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What, you doubting my competence? I’m good with machines. Plus, I have a master key. Bonus. Ten minutes. Sit down. Please,” he added quickly.

  She looked at him again, set the wand of the vacuum cleaner down, and eased one wide strap off her shoulders
. He stepped forward, took the machine from her as she pulled her arm from the second strap, and set it on the floor. It was just as heavy as he’d expected, too.

  She sat in his visitor’s chair and rolled her shoulders a couple of times, and he said, “Isn’t that better?”

  “Well, yes. But I’m not fragile, you know.”

  Yes, he didn’t say. You are. “So,” he said.

  She smiled. Maybe she was relaxing a bit after all. “So.”

  He laughed. “All right. I’m feeling a little stupid. I just . . . like talking to you, I guess. So you always work nights?”

  “Yes. Four to midnight.”

  “Too bad it couldn’t be while Eli’s in school, huh?”

  “I had to take what I could get at the time. And this was it.” The relaxation was gone. Why? Did she think he’d judge her? He knew she was broke. He got it. The ex was probably a bum. Nothing new there.

  “So who’ve you got watching Eli?” It was going to get pricey paying for that much childcare. How was she even making rent? None of your business. And not like they were the only family in Paradise struggling to get by.

  All her wariness and tension were back. He’d had too many tense people in that chair—adults and children alike—not to recognize it.

  “My neighbor Doreen,” she said. “She’s doing it. Eli’s fine. He’s home in bed. He’s asleep for half my shift anyway. It’s fine.” Which was a lot of protesting in answer to a simple question.

  “Huh. I wonder—” He hesitated, but, no, he had to say this.

  “What?” She had her hands pressed between her knees, unconscious of what she was betraying.

  “I don’t want to upset you,” he said slowly, “but I should tell you. When I went down there last Friday night to pay Eli for the week, he answered the door by himself, and I didn’t see anybody else there. I thought you were in the bedroom or something, but if you were working . . .”

  “He answered the door?” she asked, clearly alarmed. “He’s not supposed to do that.”

  “Uh-huh.” The suspicion was growing. “And I heard the TV next door, at Doreen’s place. I remember thinking it was loud.”