The Wallflower

by Jan Freed

  He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, do please enlighten me.”

  Her eyes narrowed to match his. “There are no wrong answers in evaluating literature.”

  Jack threw a huffing glance at Beto and back. “Excuse me, but Noah Joad did not build an ark and fill it with animals.”

  She laughed, a rich chesty sound that exposed two deep dimples and small white teeth. “Touché. But you know what I mean.”

  He found himself smiling. “I think I get the picture.”

  She really was very lovely, even with that ridiculous hair and glow-in-the-dark lime green turtleneck. He wondered if her pale skin was as soft as it looked. The deepening rose in her cheeks intensified the color of her eyes...

  Jack started, aware of his surroundings for the first time in lord knew how many minutes. His arms were crossed, his butt propped nice and comfy on a student’s desk. Snapping to a stiff, military stance, Jack cleared his throat.

  Twenty-eight students were staring as if he’d just beamed down from the mother ship. What the hell had he been doing?

  Frowning, Jack turned to pass out the last few quiz papers. He’d been staring into pansy purple eyes like a besotted fool, that’s what he’d been doing. Yet it wasn’t the beauty of those eyes that had enthralled him, but the excellent brain behind them.

  Oh, God. He had a definite problem. He was out of line big time. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being the responsible and honorable man his father had been.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PLUCKING THE LAST fat-free donut from a plate on the bar counter, Sarah examined the marvel of culinary science in her hand. “You think they’ll ever learn how to take out the calories, too?” she asked Donna. “I probably shouldn’t eat this.”

  Her stomach growled a protest.

  “Oh, c’mon, you’ve only had one.” Perched on the next stool, Donna flapped a hand. “Live a little, it’s Saturday.”

  Thank goodness, Sarah thought.

  She needed a quiet weekend in the Kaiser guest house to recover from that...episode in English class the day before. That interval when she’d carelessly debated with Jack on an adult—instead of studentteacher—level. That moment when he’d stared into her eyes and everyone else had simply... disappeared. Had she imagined something that wasn’t there? A sexual awareness that made her heart pound erratically even now?

  “That donut was fresh when I stopped by the bakery this morning,” Donna pointed out. “Don’t blame me if it’s stale when you take a bite.”

  Flustered, Sarah focused on the treat poised inches from her mouth. “I really shouldn’t. But—”

  “Then don’t torture yourself, hon.” Donna patpatted Sarah’s knee. “Give it to me.”

  Sarah did. Slowly and grudgingly. “Funny how unpleasant memories have a way of blurring over the years. I’d forgotten how you can eat five donuts—”

  “Thicth,” Donna corrected around a huge mouthful of calories.

  “Pardon me, six donuts and still manage to look like that.”

  Popping the last bite into her mouth, Donna rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. She looked elegant and shapely in formfitting black pants—size five, Sarah knew because she’d asked—and a white cashmere sweater. Her dark red hair shone with health, her slate blue eyes with an inner glow.

  Sarah glanced down at her new gray sweat suit, bought by Donna at Sarah’s request, and knew John Steinbeck would’ve had a field day with the symbolism. She would always be cotton fleece, and Donna, one hundred percent cashmere. Yet their interwoven lives had formed the fabric of a strong and lasting friendship. The thought made Sarah get a little misty.

  Oblivious, Donna brushed crumbs daintily from her lap, reached for her Diet Coke, then took several long sips. “I don’t eat like this all the time, you know. Only—” she ducked her head and burped “—when I’m happy.”

  Maybe eighty percent cashmere, Sarah thought, laughing.

  She sipped her own coffee du jour, Diet Dr Pepper, then studied her friend closer. “You do look pretty chipper for someone stuck delivering groceries on a beautiful morning. So, what’s the good news? Tell me everything.”

  As if a switch had flipped on. Donna lit up from within. “Oh, Sarah, you’ll never believe it.”

  Intrigued, Sarah leaned forward. “Yeah?”

  “Yesterday in the teacher’s lounge...”

  “Yeah, yeah?”

  “I’d really given up hope on anything happening...” Wedgwood blue eyes grew dreamy and distant.

  “Snap out of it, Kaiser, and tell me.”

  Donna blinked. “Jack Morgan asked me out.”

  Sarah’s stomach slid to her toes. And stayed there. “As in, out for coffee?”

  “No! As in, out to dinner with him. Last night. After all this time he finally asked me on a date!” Donna broke into a beatific smile.

  Well, there’s my answer to whether or not I misinterpreted his interest in class. I was probably wrong about the damn turtle, too.

  “Well?” Donna appeared eager for a reaction.

  “A little late notice, wasn’t it? Asking on Friday afternoon for a date the same night?”

  “He apologized,” Donna said, bristling. “His previous plans fell through at the last minute. I know you don’t like him, but I thought you’d be happy for me.”

  Sarah mentally cringed. Even if Jack was attracted to her, she could hardly expect him to act on inappropriate feelings for the eighteen-year-old Sarina. Sarah felt guilty enough about John Merrit’s and Larry’s deaths without adding the destruction of a teacher’s career to her list of regrets. “I am happy for you. Really. So, tell me where you went and what you did.” I don’t want to hear this.

  Brightening instantly, Donna launched into a playby-play description similar to what she’d shared after dates in college. Sara had wanted to know every detail then. Now, the details twisted a knife of wistfulness deeper and deeper in her chest. She didn’t even want to think about what Steinbeck would make of that.

  At the end of an hour, Sarah knew Jack’s tweed sport jacket made his eyes look more brown than green, but they reversed color when he felt strongly about a subject. She knew he liked going to the movies and playing basketball. Browsing in bookstores and fishing in Galveston Bay. Also T-bone steak, a good vintage merlot, and pecan pie à la mode.

  His favorite color was purple, his favorite book To Kill A Mockingbird, his favorite movie a tie between Fargo and Terminator II. Sarah had questioned that last tidbit. But Donna had said, no, she’d heard him right. She’d then proceeded to describe his wonderful smell, the thrilling feel of his hand on the small of her back, the way he’d seen her safely to her condominium door—

  “Look, Donna,” Sarah interrupted, unable to stand another second. “I feel like a voyeur. It’s okay to keep some things private.” Although nothing had been sacred information in the past.

  Sarah squirmed under the dawning comprehension in her friend’s slate blue eyes. Perfect. Just dandy. How would she explain her irrational jealousy when she didn’t understand it herself?

  “Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so selfish. Rambling on about going out with a sexy man, when you’re virtually a prisoner outside of school. You must miss talking and...you know—being with Mark, terribly.”

  Sarah’s face heated. She was worse than mean and petty. She was pond scum.

  Donna bit her lower lip. “Now I’ve embarrassed you, and I didn’t mean to. Forgive me?”

  “Sure, forget it.” Sliding off her bar stool, Sarah carried the empty plate and glasses into the kitchen, then took her time putting them into the dishwasher. No way could she admit her confused feelings for Jack. But she could correct the impression she’d given about Mark.

  Turning around, she leaned back against the lip of the sink. “I do miss Mark, but we’ve never actually...done the deed.”

  Over the bar counter, Donna’s eyes were wide and alert. “I thought you said you two were serious.”

  “You know me.
Cautious to a fault about letting people get close.” The debacle with a handsome office colleague a year and a half ago had been Sarah’s last serious relationship. One-sided, she’d learned. All on her side of the bed. “Mark made no secret of the fact I was top candidate for his wife. But now...” She brushed a nonexistent crumb from her sweatshirt.

  “Well, that’s cryptic.”

  Sarah looked up. “I can think of at least two women who will try to move to the top of the candidate list while I’m gone.”

  Donna frowned. “But if he loves you, surely he’ll be faithful? You said the justice department explained to him why you had to disappear. He must be crazy with worry.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Sarah’s gaze faltered. She spun around, grabbed a sponge and wiped the spotless countertop. “But he’s being groomed to run for mayor in a few years. There are charity functions, highprofile events he has to attend—preferably with a woman on his arm. I can’t expect him to put his agenda on hold until I get back.”

  She scrub-scrub-scrubbed as the tightness in her chest increased. The truth was, no one was crazy with worry about Sarah Davis. Not her parents. Not her almost fiancé. Not her so-called friends at WorldWide Public Relations.

  Oh, the justice department cared about her safety. Also, both sets of attorneys in John Merrit’s murder trial. The former wanted answers to the bloodbath she’d left behind. The latter reassurance that she would—or would not—be able to testify as key witness.

  A gentle hand on Sarah’s arm stopped her mindless repetitive motion.

  “Sarah. Hon. I know this is a hard time for you, being ripped from your job and the people you care about, being treated like a high school kid again. Not to mention the homework, the hassle from Wendy’s crowd, the boredom of sticking close to school and Gram’s guest house all the time. But our plan is working. You’re safe, and that’s what’s important in the long run. We’ll get through these next months just fine, you’ll see. Before you know it, this will all be a bad memory.”

  Sarah had been wrong. Someone was crazy with worry about her.

  Turning, she gave Donna a fierce brief hug and pulled back. “Not a bad memory. A unique one, yes.” Sarah laughed thickly. “But not bad. Thanks to you. You’re the best friend anyone could possibly have. What can I ever do to repay you?”

  Now it was Donna’s turn to appear embarrassed. “Don’t be silly. I told you I’m keeping track of my expenses. You’ll reimburse me after the trial. Until then, don’t give paying me back another thought.” She started to turn, then stopped, a speculative gleam entering her gaze. “Of course, there are five more donuts around here somewhere, aren’t there?”

  Sarah huffed and, shaking her head, retrieved the bakery bag from the small pantry. “You’d better hope this happiness thing doesn’t last too long. Jack might be one of those jerks who only dates women who wear size five pants.”

  If Sarah handed over the bag a little more readily than a good friend should, she had no ulterior motive, she told herself. Donna had stars in her eyes like Sarah had never seen before. She would never knowingly do anything to hurt her extraordinary friend.

  That made Jack Morgan absolutely and positively off-limits.

  HANDS PROPPED ON his ergonomic keyboard, Jack stared blankly at his computer screen. Saturday afternoons in his home office were usually the start of a marathon spurt of writing. He normally didn’t slow down until the wee hours, then slept late on Sunday. Pure bliss. Something he looked forward to all week. But today he couldn’t seem to concentrate on his latest screenplay.

  Two red-haired females, as different as burgundy wine and orange soda, flooded Jack’s thoughts instead.

  He’d known one of them for years. Liked and respected her all that time. Donna Kaiser was beautiful and smart, a caring and responsible school administrator. A woman any man would be proud to date.

  Just like Susan, a cynical inner voice reminded Jack. The last woman he’d been involved with hadn’t wanted to “compete” with his mother and Kate. She’d forced him to make a choice, and he’d chosen to honor his responsibility as head of the household.

  Bye-bye, Susan. Hello six months of healing. He’d only recently felt the need for female company again. Casual company.

  Jack had vowed to keep his relationships light until Kate graduated and he was free. And Donna Kaiser wasn’t a casual relationship kind of woman. He knew that.

  Yet the day before, in his shaken condition after fifth period English class, he’d asked the assistant principal out on a date. He’d seen a hopefulness in her eyes at dinner he had no intention of fulfilling. And damned if he hadn’t given her a chaste kiss at the door, then asked her out again for the following Friday! What was his problem?

  Sarina, the answer echoed in his mind, mocking his head-in-the-sand innocence.

  Everything about the girl spelled trouble. For his career. For his equanimity. For the honor he strove to uphold. During those few pleasant hours with Donna, Sarina hadn’t poisoned his mind with inappropriate thoughts. So he’d opted to continue the antidote for as long as it worked. Not very gentlemanly, but he’d have to trust Donna to take care of herself. After all, she was a grown woman.

  Sarina, however, was not.

  Swearing, Jack focused determinedly on the computer screen and read his pitiful output for the day.

  Night—Outside Senator Maxwell’s Mansion Dressed in dark camouflage, his face blackened, MIKE tosses up a scaling rope that hooks on a second floor railing. He climbs, pulls himself onto the small balcony, extracts a small tool from his pocket and fiddles with the terrace door lock. PULL BACK...toreveal the scope and grandeur of the mansion as MIKE slips through the door and out of sight.

  CUT TO...Interior Bedroom—Night

  All is dark. MIKE moves stealthily toward a bed where ANN MAXWELL sleeps, caught in a beam of moonlight. Blond, thirtyish, modest white cotton nightgown. Angelically beautiful.

  ZOOM IN...on MIKE’S stern expression softening as he watches her sleep.

  WIDE SHOT...as he places gloved hand over her mouth. Her eyes pop open. She jerks and stares terrified up at MIKE.

  MIKE: Leaning over to speak in her ear Don’t scream. Jerry sent me. I’m not going to hurt you. Nod if you understand.

  When she nods wide-eyed, he slowly removes his hand.

  ANN: Urgently There’s a guard patrolling the grounds. If you didn’t see him outside, he’ll be here soon. He comes in to check on me every two hours.

  MIKE: Not tonight. Smiles grimly He’ll have one helluva time explaining his little nap to your father.

  Now what? Jack wondered. Originally he’d intended for Ann Maxwell to be a helpless victim of her father’s corruption, dependent upon Mike Ransom to save her life. But recently, she seemed to want a more active role in the plot. Maybe he would make her a bit stronger....

  An image of a fierce redhead defending Elaine at Wendy’s lunch table sprang to Jack’s mind. In Ann’s place, Sarina would insist on helping Mike, despite the danger and personal pain of exposing Senator Maxwell....

  Jack blinked. Damn, he was doing it again. With a growl of frustration, he scrubbed his face in his palms. He was becoming obsessed with the girl.

  Lowering his hands, he dropped his head back against the secondhand executive chair. Something had to change. Up until now, he’d tried to ignore Sarina as best he could. But maybe what he needed to do was learn more about her. In retrospect, the adultlike speech and demeanor that made him forget she was a student seemed more than unusual. How had she developed such confidence?

  Monday, he would take a look at her permanent record and start the process of demystifying Sarina Davis. Hopefully, this unhealthy fascination would disappear.

  Feeling better than he had in days, Jack resumed studying the computer screen. At last, his fingers moved over the keyboard in the steady clacking rhythm of peak concentration. Camera direction, action and dialogue came together in the craft he loved enough to treat as if it were a second job in
stead of a hobby.

  Mike flashes a last grin at Ann, climbs over the balcony rail and slides—Jack stopped writing midsentence, his fingers poised.

  Voices from the kitchen escalated in volume and agitation. He groaned silently. Please, no. Not another fight. He tried to regain his concentration, but the raging argument scattered his thoughts.

  “Jack?”

  Vera Morgan’s near shriek deepened his dread. Just once he wished his mother would leave him out of her conflicts with Kate. He didn’t answer, hoping they would resolve whatever had them in an uproar.

  Minutes later the door burst open. His mother stormed into the spare bedroom Jack had converted into a study. “That’s it! I give up. She doesn’t care who she embarrasses or hurts.”

  “What is it now, Mother?” he asked wearily.

  Hands on her trim hips, she pursed her mouth before speaking. “If you don’t care what Kate is up to, fine. I’ll leave you alone and call the police. Maybe they can handle her.”

  Jack swiveled his chair around. Behind his mother’s bluster, he saw real worry in her hazel eyes. He stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about finding these in Kate’s room.” She reached into her denim skirt pocket and withdrew something. “Your sister is a drug addict. What are you going to do about it?”

  Rising, Jack moved closer and examined the two rolled cigarettes in his mother’s palm. He picked them up and sniffed. Definitely marijuana.

  He’d talked to Kate on more than one occasion about the danger of seemingly harmless recreational drugs. She knew the physical and legal consequences of using them. What would Tim Williams say about Jack’s discipline theory now?

  If only he could sit back down and work on Mike’s and Ann’s fictional problems. “Where is she?”

  “In the kitchen, if she didn’t sneak off to meet that boy. He used to wait for her at the end of the block sometimes. She thinks I don’t know, but Phyllis Lowrey saw them out her kitchen window and told me.”