by Ines Saint
“But how was that Johnny’s fault?”
“Johnny was supposed to bring the toilet paper, but he wanted to support a local business to impress his dad, so he bought thirty individual rolls at Mr. Moody’s old general store, as if that wouldn’t look suspicious.” Marty shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Of course when Mr. Moody found out about the teepeeing, he told on Johnny.”
“But Johnny wouldn’t give any of you up,” Roberto reminded his son.
“No, but I wasn’t going to let him clean the mess up on his own. It rained that night and the toilet paper tore and got stuck to the tree branches in little bitty pieces. It took us days to get it all out.”
Marissa giggled, imagining it, and Marty smiled despite himself. “I remember the goat incident,” she said, “but I don’t think I ever heard the details. All I remember is you guys getting kicked out of school for a week and Mom and Dad being furious,” she said.
Her mother frowned. “That one’s definitely not funny.”
Marty looked down at the table. “That one was the worst . . . but it wasn’t his fault.” He paused and started to play with a saltshaker, looking embarrassed. “The football team decided to kidnap our rival’s unofficial mascot, which happened to be a goat that belonged to their starting quarterback. We were going to set it free during the homecoming game. Johnny was against it, he thought it was cruel, but he couldn’t talk us out of it, so he volunteered to keep it in his father’s office’s backyard that night so he could watch over it. But the goat started whimpering and whining and Johnny called me to tell me he was taking the goat back because it was crying. To be honest, when I went to see it, it was pretty sad. So we took it back together and got caught red-handed.”
“Oh.” Michelle said. “You never told me he was against it.”
Marty shrugged one shoulder. “I felt bad about the whole thing. Still do. I swear, the sound of that wailing goat haunts me at night sometimes.” He offered them a self-mocking smile.
Marissa pictured Johnny babysitting a whimpering goat. The image made her stomach feel funny, and she pushed her plate aside, no longer able to eat.
“Hey, don’t feel too bad,” Roberto said to all three of them. “Remember, there were plenty of girls who boycotted the homecoming dance that night to keep them company.”
Marissa managed a smile. Her brother and his friends had always been popular with the girls.
But that night, she had a nightmare of giant dogs chasing a whimpering goat through a run-down, haunted house. But in her nightmare, the house wasn’t haunted by a bride. It was haunted by Ana Maria.
Chapter 9
Marissa woke up the next morning feeling chilled to the bone. It had been a long time since she’d dreamed of Ana Maria. The dreaded, long-ago mixture of helplessness and uselessness gathered in the pit of her stomach, and she had to fight hard to keep things in perspective.
She got to school over an hour early to prepare for her meeting with Amy and Johnny. It was hard getting any work done at her parents’ house because her mother always wanted to talk. And after her nightmare and Johnny’s teasing the day before, she needed to keep things strictly professional where he was concerned. An outline of how the entire meeting should go would keep them on track. No veering off. They’d stick to the talking points.
But when she got to her classroom, Amy was already waiting for her. It was only Wednesday, but they’d barely had a chance to talk about anything except how well their classes were doing and how the grant application was going. Marissa guessed her friend wanted to catch up.
Unfortunately, Amy’s idea of catching up involved dishing and gushing about the new school psychologist.
An hour. All she wanted was an hour without Johnny’s presence hovering over her.
“I’m really pumped about this new school psychologist. He’s completely on board and you can tell he’s enthusiastic about his job. He knows all about building things and he has great insight . . . What do you think?”
What did she think? She thought she’d better explain that she and Johnny already knew each other so that when they all sat down there was nothing to talk about except school business. “I think you and I have been so busy we’ve barely talked this week. Johnny, I mean Mr. A, is my brother’s best friend, and I’ve known him since I was a baby. That’s why I came in early today, to work on some talking points. He tends to get off topic with me.”
Amy reached for Marissa’s notebook and scanned what she’d written while she chatted on. “I’m glad you already know him, because I’ll admit, I’m very curious about him. He’s so good-looking and yet he seems oblivious to it. Charming, professional, and modest to boot.”
Marissa couldn’t help it. The glowing review irritated her. “Modest? Ha! He’s a cocky little know-it-all is what he is.”
“Uh-oh.” Amy looked up. “You two don’t get along?”
She plopped herself down in the nearest chair and eyed her friend. Marissa needed a good venting session, and Amy was a great listener. “We get along when he’s being serious, which is rare when he’s around me. And I need him to be serious.”
In the space of one year, Amy had become her dearest friend. She was fun, bubbly, smart, and real. The fact that she was nearly forty years old, had been married for ten years, and had been through years of infertility issues also made her wise, empathetic, and devoted to her students. Her husband had come out to meet the kids during his lunch break the day before, and he and Amy had half-jokingly referred to the students as “our kids.” It was sweet.
Marissa glanced at the clock on the wall. They had half an hour before Johnny arrived. She met Amy’s curious gaze. Our kids, she thought. They were her kids, too. Already she cared so much about them all.
But why did the staff and kids all have to act like Johnny must be superhuman because he was attractive, caring, and smart? As if one quality precluded the next. As if he was infallible because he smiled often? He’d kidded that Brian was her errant knight, when, in fact, Johnny had been the errant knight once and it had ended badly.
Marissa swallowed hard. Her stomach was in knots. It wasn’t so much that she could tell Amy why she was so apprehensive; it was that she should. She’d never told anyone. She’d worked hard to keep it in the past. But the surprise of Johnny being the school psychologist, the whole thing with the puppies, the stories from the past . . . it was getting to be too much.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re in some distress.” Amy covered Marissa’s hand with her own.
“I am. Something happened. A long time ago.” Her chest felt constricted, and she had to squeeze the words out. “Johnny and I . . . we were pretty good friends. My brother’s other friends pretty much ignored me, but Johnny would always notice how hard I studied, and he’d poke and prod and tease, and get me to tell him about my day and my friends, and what I was up to besides school. It was good for me, and I was always happy to see him.”
She looked away then. Her chest hurt worse than before. “One day, when I was fifteen, I was upset because ‘bring your kids to work day’ was coming up at the post office—my dad’s a mailman—but I couldn’t go because someone was on vacation, my dad had extra rounds, and I had to get home early for some reason. It was a twenty-minute walk back to Spinning Hills along the river, and I wasn’t allowed to walk alone. So Johnny offered to pick me up and take me home.”
She took a moment to breathe in and out a few times, past the rock-hard ball of resistance in her chest. “We were driving along when I spotted this girl surrounded by a bunch of boys in an alley. I knew something wasn’t right, and when I pointed her out to Johnny, the boys closed in on the girl and we heard her scream. Johnny stopped the car, ran out, and yelled at me to go into the nearest building and call the police while he ran down the alley. I wanted to run after him, but I knew someone had to call the police, so I ran into a building and shouted at everyone in the lobby about what was going on and where, and a few of them took to their phones. I kn
ew they were taking me seriously and so I ran back out to see some of the boys were still holding on to the girl, while Johnny was getting beat up, badly, by the others.”
She paused, remembering the panic of the moment again, and Amy scooted her chair nearer. “It’s okay,” she said.
Marissa nodded and swallowed before continuing. “But he didn’t stop fighting. He cussed, and hit, and grabbed, and he was never kept down for long. He was so mad. I jumped onto one of the guys’ backs, just grabbing at his hair and clawing at his neck. The police came then, broke up the fight, and tried to figure out what was going on. It turned out the girl didn’t speak English.” She finally looked at her friend. “I was so happy that I had let Abuela Rosa teach me Spanish. I was able to help her get her story out, and the two policemen were so understanding. They promised they’d look out for her. And I got the girl to give me her address before they took her home. I really wanted to follow up; I could tell she needed a friend . . .”
“How did Johnny fare?” Amy asked, biting her lip.
“Johnny was swollen and bloody. They really hurt him, Amy. But when he saw how upset I was, he hugged me and whispered over and over again that I was kind and brave, and he begged me not to worry about him.”
When he’d dropped her off at her house, he’d kissed the top of her head and smoothed her cheek with his thumb. He’d be fine, and he’d do it again, he’d said. And Marissa had fallen in love with him as much as a ninth grader could. She’d never admitted that to anyone. They all thought she’d had a crush on him before then, but she hadn’t until that moment. And even then it wasn’t a crush. It was love. But it hadn’t lasted, because she’d realized how bad they were for each other.
“What happened to the girl? Were you able to follow up with her?” Amy asked in gentle tones.
Marissa stared, unseeing, at the desk. “I—I did. We did. Her name was Ana Maria, but following up wasn’t easy. She lived on Jove,” Marissa explained, mentioning a street in a rough neighborhood. “My parents forbade it, but Johnny and I would sneak over there anyway, whenever we could manage to get away. Probably about once every other week. We were so misguided . . .”
This was the part she was dreading. Marissa swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. “At first, it was nice. She was so happy to have friends. She and I would teach Johnny Spanish, and he was so funny.” Marissa’s whole body ached with the bittersweet memory. “But she started to like Johnny as more than a friend. I could tell. I asked him if he liked her back, hoping that he did and that it would be like a fairy tale. They could be high school sweethearts and he could get her out of there when she was older. But Johnny was oblivious. He said he only liked her as a friend, and he thought I was silly for thinking Ana Maria liked him. He thought she saw him like an older brother, the way he thought I did.”
That had shown Marissa how oblivious he truly was, because to her, Johnny was the sun and the moon and everything that was good and bright in the world. Still, she wanted him for Ana Maria.
Tears gathered behind her eyes and she held her breath, wanting to keep them back. “We didn’t know what we were doing, inserting ourselves into this girl’s life. Didn’t know a thing about her problems, or what she truly needed. When she told Johnny how she felt—when he couldn’t respond—her face . . .” Marissa’s voice cracked. Her throat ached. “We stopped going as often as we used to. I couldn’t drive. Johnny was my only way to get to her, and we didn’t think he should go as often. Ana Maria’s mom couldn’t afford a phone, so I couldn’t even call. And then one day, a long time after, she—she hanged herself.” The words rushed out, before she could force them to stay inside. Tears began to fall, and she put her face in her hands. She’d never spoken of it. Had retreated into a depression no one but Johnny understood. She’d blamed him. It had been her outlet. But it wasn’t his fault. Poor Ana Maria. Poor Johnny.
Before she knew what was happening, she was pulled up and gathered into strong male arms. Johnny’s scent surrounded her. Amy hugged her too, quick and hard, before saying, “I think you two need to be alone.”
Marissa grabbed on to Johnny’s shirtfront and cried and cried, feeling as if she’d never stop. “I’m sorry.” She hiccupped. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh. It’s okay, Marissa. It’s okay.”
Johnny hugged her tighter and she buried her face in his chest. Until that moment, he hadn’t known how badly he needed to hear those words from her. It had taken him years to make sense of everything that had happened and finally forgive himself. It hadn’t been easy. Tears clogged his throat, but he’d fought them back with everything he had. He’d never had a problem with people crying, but he had never been able to do so himself.
“I’m so scared it will happen again.”
“I know. I know,” Johnny whispered before kissing the top of her head. “It took me a long time to understand that what happened to Ana Maria wasn’t because of me. It was a lot of things neither of us was equipped to handle. But don’t you see? We’re honoring her memory with the careers we chose. Look what we’ve chosen to do with our lives . . . Here we both are, seeking out another chance. Only this time, we have the knowledge and the maturity. The one thing I was never able to forgive myself for was how I helped you sneak behind your parents’ back to see Ana Maria. They expected and deserved so much more from me. I should’ve protected you, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
He held her for a long time and suddenly felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone else before. This was the Marissa of his youth, his best friend’s intense, do-good little sister, the girl who loved to smile and laugh but often got too caught up in trying to get everything right to remember to do so. She was the girl who’d jumped on top of a brawny guy’s back to try to get him to stop punching Johnny. The girl who’d cared enough to befriend Ana Maria . . .
And she was the mystery woman with the passionate, searching, probing kisses he couldn’t forget.
“We know what we’re doing. We’ll get it right this time. And you’re a beautiful woman, Marissa. Do you know how common it is for boys to have the hots for their teachers? I’m sure we’ll get a chance to prove how far we’ve come.”
Marissa hiccupped again, and his heart soared. It was a little laugh, but it was a start. “Are you afraid you’ll do some permanent damage, or do you feel confident you’ll know how to deal with it?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I feel confident I’ll know how to deal with it.”
“See? I feel confident, too.” Johnny tilted her head to look into her eyes. Her tears made the flecks in her eyes shine brighter. “I can’t promise something bad won’t happen again, puppy-eyes. I wish I could. I can only promise you I’m as prepared as I’ve ever been and ready to do my best, and that my best will only get better with experience. I can promise you my heart is in the right place. And I can promise I’ll reach out to others if I need help or support.”
“Puppy-eyes?” she echoed. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.” She smiled then, a tremulous, apprehensive smile that told him she trusted him to do his best, but she cared too much not to worry herself silly once in a while. His heart rioted. There was no denying it, no disguising it, and no way to downplay it any longer.
He was in love with this girl.
Her eyes searched his. Could she feel the overwhelming pain and pleasure of being so close and feeling so much?
“It’s an endearment. You’re looking at me with your eyes all hopeful and beseeching. That’s how the puppies look at me.”
Marissa’s eyes flitted away. “Was Ana Maria the person you were talking about in the elevator? The person you said you hurt?”
Johnny nodded. “Was I the charming boy you were talking about?”
“Yes,” she managed.
He held her face to look into her eyes, while wiping a few of her tears away with his thumbs. “Have you forgiven him?” His voice was so low, so tender. Her heart slowed and breathing became difficu
lt. Don’t think, don’t feel. Don’t think, don’t feel.
“I’ve forgiven the boy . . . and I think I can learn to trust the man.” Why was she feeling so much? Don’t think, don’t feel. Breathe in, breathe out. “But you and I, we’re so bad for each other . . .” she said, her eyes flickering away.
Johnny’s heart dropped. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice steady, his eyes not leaving her face.
Her throat worked. “We’re adults now, but look at us. You stayed late yesterday, painting your office, I was here all day Sunday, and now we want to paint the entire school and clean up the school yard. I encouraged you to take on five puppies, which made you have to buy the most run-down house in town, and we have no idea how big those dogs are going to get. Johnny, the whole thing could prove to be a nightmare.” She sighed and met his gaze again with a beseeching look. “Don’t you see? We encourage each other to take on too much, to get too involved—to lose ourselves. And that’s never good for anyone in the end. I’m glad we’re friends again, Johnny, and—and I trust you with the kids, but I don’t trust us. We shouldn’t make any decisions together, that’s for sure. We should always get outside opinions and input.”
Johnny searched her face. “What are you so afraid of, Marissa?”
“I just told you.”
“No. You didn’t. Do you even know?” he asked, but because it suddenly hurt to look at her, he let her go and slowly made his way to the door. He hesitated a moment before looking back to say, “I looked at the puppies’ paws and how loose their skin was before I said yes. That’s usually a pretty good indicator of how big they’re going to get, and the vet confirmed my guess. They’ll only grow to be about fifteen to twenty pounds. And the house is going to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, Marissa. I got it for a steal and it’s going to allow me to live mortgage-free.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. But it’s okay.” He paused, feeling angry at himself, but not quite sure why. When she didn’t say anything, he sighed, wondering why he now felt so alone when only a moment before, he’d felt such a deep connection. He shook his head and left.
