Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  "Okay," I said, feeling as shy as he sounded. The more we were together the more I liked him, and it wouldn't take much at all to make me like him. Could he be feeling the same way?

  "Then it's settled," Jeanine said, and I felt a flash of alarm that she'd be coming too then relief when she added, "Run an extra kilometer or two for me, okay?"

  "We don't need to," Andrew said, "since you're doing your own runs. Right?"

  "Yup. In fact, I'm feeling so on top of it all that I've joined a musical theater group. In October, I'll be in 'The Sound of Music'. As a nun, if you can get your head around that." She grinned at me and I smiled back.

  Andrew blinked. "The musical happens before the race?"

  She nodded. "Closing night is the Friday beforehand. Rehearsals start in July but it won't get busy until the end of August or early September so I'll be just fine."

  I wasn't sure I would be fine, even without adding such a big commitment, and I couldn't help feeling jealous. It helped, though, when she said, "I hope you two will be okay without me," and Andrew responded, "We'll be great, starting Tuesday," with a smile at me that lit me up inside.

  "Good," Jeanine said, and we moved on, but I still felt warm and fuzzy.

  And I felt even warmer and fuzzier later that day when I realized he could have just called me in the morning to make me run instead of going with me.

  *****

  Meeting Andrew at six o'clock Tuesday morning, the fuzziness was all in my head and the warmth was all outside.

  "It's a hot one," he said when I found him at the entrance to the path we'd be taking along the shore of Lake Ontario. "Good we're starting so early."

  "'Good' isn't the word that comes to mind."

  He chuckled. "What is?"

  "I don't like to use that sort of language," I said, smiling at him. How could he look so cute so early? He wore a baseball cap and shorts with a t-shirt from something called the Hero Hike, but it wasn't the clothes making him adorable. That was all Andrew.

  "Probably just as well." He jerked his head toward the water, and I looked to see three nuns in full black habits strolling along the shoreline.

  I burst out laughing and he joined me. When we calmed a bit, he said, "That couldn't have worked better if I'd hired them to show up."

  "Can you hire nuns?"

  "I don't know. Should I go ask them?"

  I giggled. "Better not."

  "Should we run?"

  "Definitely not."

  He gave me a mock glare from beneath the brim of his cap.

  "What? I said definitely yes."

  I blinked innocently at him and he smiled. "Of course you did. So let's go."

  We set off, and after we'd finished our warm-up and started to run for real I said, "Are you sure you're okay running with me?"

  "I'm awake now, I might as well."

  "No, I meant with me. I'm nowhere near as fast as you. We could start together and then split up so you get a real workout."

  He tipped his head from side to side, and I had a moment of wishing I hadn't said anything since I didn't want him to leave before he said, "Well, I was thinking about that. I run nearly every day so I don't mind doing my Tuesday runs slower. But if you wanted to run together on Thursdays too I'd probably need to leave you for most of it."

  I turned to look at him, surprised. "We didn't talk about Thursdays, did we?"

  "We didn't." His neck turned red. "You don't have to, of course. I just thought it might help make sure you did the run. But if you'd rather do it alone, that's fine."

  "No," I said quickly. Probably too quickly. He was offering me a lot, after all, and I maybe shouldn't accept. I wanted to, though, and I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have offered if he wasn't willing, so I said, "If you're sure you don't mind helping me Thursday too, that'd be great. I'd like that."

  "Me too," he said softly.

  I knew he was still hung up over his late girlfriend, and understandably so, but I couldn't help myself. I floated through the rest of the run on clouds of excitement and anticipation.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I refused to let the craziness of the last month of school ruin my running, even though the extra work of getting ready for graduation by myself didn't make that easy, so Andrew and I quickly fell into and stuck with a twice-weekly routine: meet on the Beaches path at six in the morning, mutter a little about how early it was and how crazy we were to run, then do our warm-up together. Tuesdays we stayed together for a full hour, but Thursdays after the warm-up he took off at a speed I could only dream of some day emulating then rejoined me at the end. We made sure to finish up close to the gym so we could take showers, then we had breakfast together before heading off to our respective jobs.

  I enjoyed every moment I spent with him, but I didn't realize how it was changing my life until Tosca commented. She and I were on morning recess duty the second-last Tuesday of the school year, keeping a close eye on the kids who were so excited about their upcoming release from the prison of our classrooms that they kept 'forgetting' the playground rules.

  One of the grade eight boys was deliberately trying to throw a ball onto the school roof. I called him over, and had to smile at his expression of shocked innocence. "Nice try, Blair, but I know you know better. I'll be throwing you up there myself if you keep it up."

  Blair, who'd been one of the smaller kids in my class my first year at the school but could now look me straight in the eye, grinned and said, "Like to see you try."

  I faked a grab at his arm while he danced away, then we laughed and he went back to his friends.

  Tosca smiled at me. "You're mellow these days."

  "Really? I don't feel it."

  "Well, you seem it. Everyone else is getting more and more tense but you just seem to be floating through your days even with the grad stuff coming up. What's your secret?"

  Time with Andrew, and the way everything seemed to make sense when I talked to him. I felt my cheeks go hot, and she grinned. "Or should I say who's your secret?"

  I laughed, trying not to feel too embarrassed. "It's running, I guess. I've been going four times a week and it really relaxes me."

  Tosca, no fool, said, "Do you go alone?"

  I shook my head. "I'm in a group on Friday and Sunday."

  She nodded but looked like she thought she'd over-stepped her boundaries, and suddenly I wanted to say more. I liked her; we'd been getting along great since working on her classroom management skills together, and I didn't want her to think I didn't want to talk with her. "But during the week I go alone with my group leader Andrew."

  "Ah." She smiled. "Well, he's doing wonders for you."

  She went to correct a student who was attempting to climb the playground fence and I stood watching the other kids and thinking about Andrew. Yes, he was doing wonders. Not only was I running far more and feeling stronger, but he was helping with my personal life too. We talked throughout our Tuesday runs, first discussing light topics like his cat Ruby's latest trick of sending random emails by walking across his keyboard and how Curly was developing a taste for nibbling my running shoelaces then moving into the deeper issues of my difficulties saying no and his questioning of how involved he wanted to be with the AdultAlert foundation.

  Just that morning, he'd said, "I didn't really think it through at the beginning. I wanted to be part of it, to do something Rhiannon had really wanted done, and I'm so glad we got it going. But now I don't know. I mean, do I want to do it forever? I guess I should, but..."

  Touched by his openness, I said, "I don't think you have to."

  He glanced at me as we ran. "But isn't it awful to pull out of it? I'd basically be saying I didn't care any more, and I'm not sure I can say that to her parents and Sandra."

  I wanted to disagree but I wasn't sure I could. There was certainly an element of that if he quit. "But you do care. They'd know that."

  He sighed. "I hope so. She was amazing and what happened to her was so wrong. I..." He c
leared his throat, then said, "Don't hate me for this but I have to say it."

  His intensity made me nervous, but I told him the truth. "I couldn't hate you."

  "I hope not." He cleared his throat again then said in a rush, "I don't know if I want to be fifty years old and still on the board of a foundation for a woman I knew for only six months."

  The honesty of his words, and the pain behind them, made any response I could think of seem completely inadequate.

  "That's horrible, isn't it? I'm horrible."

  "You're not. Not at all. I just... can't think of anything to say. But it's not horrible. It makes sense."

  We cruised along in silence for at least a minute, while I tried to find something I could say or do to help him, before he said, "Really? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?"

  "Really. In fact," I said as calmly as I could given my running-roughened breathing, "I promise that I will never say what I think you want to hear."

  He smiled and started to say something but I talked over him as a realization hit me. "I do that with everyone else. I do! I'm always censoring myself. But I don't feel like I have to with you."

  "You definitely don't. And I won't with you either."

  "Good." I had to smile. "I don't think you have been. You called me lazy on Sunday. Did you think that's what I wanted to hear?"

  He laughed. "Nope. But you needed to hear it. You were slacking off."

  I wanted to protest but he was right and we both knew it so I said, "Yup. I was up too late the night before and I was tired and didn't feel like running." Amanda had called me just after ten and kept me on the phone until nearly eleven, far later than I'd wanted to get to bed before our seven-in-the-morning run.

  "I like the way you said that."

  I glanced over and saw him smiling at me, his eyes warm and full of pride. Pride in me? I didn't think I'd ever seen a look like that directed at me, a look free of any demands or disappointment, and it surprised me so much I could barely say, "What do you mean?"

  "You presented it as a reason. Which it is. Not as an excuse. Which it isn't."

  I let this sink through my brain, trying to see the difference. "Reasons are what happened and excuses are why it's not my fault, right?"

  "You got it." He sighed again. "I just wish I knew which one was pushing me to quit AdultAlert."

  We ran in silence for a minute or so, then his watch beeped to signal the end of the hour. We settled into a cool-down walk pace and I said, "If you want help figuring it out, I'd be happy to do whatever I can."

  The sweet warmth of his smile when he said, "I'd appreciate that," still lingered with me on the playground. I didn't know how to help him, but I'd enjoy spending time with him to do it.

  Tosca returned. "You look even happier. Whatever you're on, can I have some? I may not survive the year."

  I laughed. "Of course you will. You've done a great job your first year teaching and next year will be even better."

  Her face clouded. "I don't know."

  Surprised, I said, "Really? The kids love you and so does everyone on staff."

  She shook her head slowly. "It's the parents... they push me around whenever we have meetings."

  Looking at my tiny coworker, shorter than most of our grade eight girls and delicately pretty, I could well imagine it. "I used to have that problem at the beginning. Parent-teacher conferences are intimidating, for sure. But I got better and you will too."

  She looked at me pleadingly. "I know you're crazy busy with grad so I won't ask you to help me, but do you know of any resources I could use on my own right now? I have the Kingsley parents, and the Brinkers."

  I grimaced. Both of those families had multiple kids in the school and everyone on staff knew how demanding and aggressive the parents could be. "Yeah, they're nightmares. I have notes from a conference session I went to a few years back about dealing with difficult parents. Do you want to check them out?"

  "That would be great, thanks. I hate feeling like they're in charge, and this way I can learn without taking your time."

  A kid rode by on another's shoulders and I snapped my fingers at them to stop while saying to Tosca, "Don't worry about my time. It doesn't matter."

  It took a few more snaps, but the kid reluctantly climbed down, and I turned back to Tosca to see her looking confused. "Of course I should worry. You've got grad and everything."

  I blinked. "What?"

  Her cheeks reddened. "You said not to worry about your time but I should. I do."

  I hadn't even realized I'd said that. I didn't have much to spare, that was for sure. "Well, but the conferences are coming up and--"

  "Hey," she said, "I keep meaning to email you about this but I might as well just say it now. I want you to know I'm happy to help however you want for grad. Okay? I can be your slave for the day."

  I laughed. "Don't say that to Mr. Brinker. He'd be all over it."

  She shuddered. "I'll remember. But I'm serious."

  "Okay, thanks. I'll try not to take you up on it."

  She shook a mock-threatening finger at me. "You'd better. You've been helping me for ages, and if I'm even half able to fake being in charge at the conferences it'll be because of you."

  "You are in charge. No faking needed."

  She gave a grunted laugh. "Tell the parents that."

  I smiled. "You'll tell them, by how you act. You'll be in control of the whole interview, do it at your pace." I had to laugh. "At your happy pace."

  She raised her eyebrows and I explained Andrew's 'happy pace' concept. "I like it," she said when I finished. "Sounds like a smart man."

  "He is."

  She winked. "Not too hard on the eyes either, am I right?"

  "My eyes have no complaints," I admitted, and we laughed.

  "Glad to hear it," she said. "So, when can I get those notes from you?"

  "They're in my room. I'll send a kid down with them. Deal?"

  "Yes, perfect. And once I've checked them out I'll let you know if I have any questions if that's okay."

  "Absolutely."

  "You'll tell me if I'm taking too much of your time, right?"

  I smiled at her earnestness. "Probably not."

  She scowled at me. "Then I won't come ask any questions. That'll show you."

  We laughed and I said, "Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But it's okay. I like helping."

  The recess bell rang then and we lined the kids up and sent them back into school. Amanda caught me at the door and muttered, "James is such an ass," and I qualified my statement in my head.

  I liked to help people who did something, anything, to help themselves.

  *****

  I sent a student to deliver my notes to Tosca right after recess so I wouldn't forget then launched into one of my favorite but also loudest science lessons, a 'things taste different without your sense of smell' experiment. The kids were engrossed in their work, but the noise level as they took bites of apples and onions and raw potatoes while wearing blindfolds and nose plugs then shrieked in horror when they discovered what they'd eaten was impressive.

  As a result, Tosca had to let herself in because I had no idea she was knocking.

  "Do you have a second?" she said over the din.

  "Sure." I joined her at the doorway. "Sorry. Science is noisy. Productive, but noisy."

  She smiled. "So I hear. Look, thanks for those notes."

  "You're welcome. I hope they help."

  "They have. I'd love to talk to you about them, though, if you have time. Maybe at lunch? Only if you have time."

  I blinked. "You've gone through them already?"

  She nodded. "My kids have art now and I decided the best use of my prep period was figuring out how to handle the interviews."

  Impressed that she'd gotten started right away, I said, "Good for you. And lunch would be fine. Want to go out?"

  "I forgot my lunch at home, so definitely."

  Once our students had finished their lunches
and gone out for recess to be supervised by other teachers, she and I hurried across the road to the pizza place. With a total of forty minutes off, we didn't have time for anything classier.

  When we were seated with pizza slices in front of us, paid for by Tosca over my protests, she pulled a small notebook from her purse. "Can we talk while we eat?"

  "Of course." I couldn't help admiring her determination to get better as a teacher. I'd felt it myself at the beginning, and still did although I had settled pretty solidly into how I operated.

  We talked through her questions, and then chatted about teaching as a whole, and as we did I began to wonder if I had settled too solidly. Tosca was open to changing anything and everything about her teaching practice to improve the experience of her students, and I hadn't looked at my own practice in quite a while.

  I admitted this to her, and she somehow managed to both understand why I hadn't and encourage me to put the time and energy into doing so. I'd always wanted to be a teacher and I'd always loved it, but the end of the year tended to blunt those feelings. Talking to Tosca made my love for my career rise again. She was smart and full of great ideas and surprisingly funny, so lunch was a blast.

  At the end, we agreed to meet a few times during the summer to talk about ways we could improve. We also decided to read two books on teaching a month and discuss those when we got together.

  She crumpled up her napkin and paper plate. "Should we invite anyone else?"

  "We could, if you want. Were you thinking of anyone in particular?"

  "I know you're good friends with Amanda. Would she want to?"

  I had to shake my head. "She doesn't want to think about work during the summer. Says she'd rather relax." Sadly, 'relaxing' meant obsessing about James then telling me far too much about it.

  "Well, should we make it just us then? And maybe next summer we'll get others involved."

  She smiled and I smiled back. "Sounds good."

  On the way back to school she said, "Tell me more about this running thing. Do you have a race or something or are you just doing it for fun?"