The Wallflower

by Jan Freed

  “I got there in time,” Sarah said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Elaine shouldn’t have called you, but I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. Thanks for coming, Fred.”

  He nodded, and they shared a look of mutual caring and affection. “Turn the heater on high in the car. When you get to Kate’s, drink something hot. I’ll call later to check on her.” His gaze moved to study the quiet residential street that led to Bruce’s house.

  Oh, no. Surely not? “Fred, he’s got another guy in there with him—maybe more. Don’t you dare do anything macho and stupid,” Sarah ordered. That got his attention.

  He flashed his rare white grin. “I’m not exactly known for being macho, Sarina. And the one thing I’m definitely not is stupid.”

  Sarah found herself being handed decisively into the driver’s seat and buckled in before she knew what hit her. Giving in to Kate’s greater need, Sarah relented and started the engine. She didn’t like driving off, leaving Fred behind in this strange mood.

  But like he said, he wasn’t macho and stupid. Nothing would happen. What could he do?

  FRED ADLER HAD beaten the crap out of Bruce Logan.

  After five days, Jack was still a little pissed. He’d been deprived of the pleasure of rearranging Bruce’s face himself. Leaning back in his creaking chair, he stared vacantly at his closed classroom door.

  If the emergency room doctor hadn’t pronounced Kate untouched and basically unharmed, nothing would’ve kept Jack from a brother’s revenge. Not to mention acting on the black rage he’d felt learning Sarah might’ve been hurt. Only her quick thinking and bravery had saved his baby sister, and herself, from becoming victims—

  Wood cracked. Jack blinked down at the snapped pencil in his hands. Not the slime bucket’s neck, unfortunately. He’d lost his shot at that. But with all due credit, he had to admit the Adler boy kicked damn good butt.

  Tossing the pencil pieces onto his open calendar, he frowned at the heaps of paperwork awaiting his attention. Plan period—his last hour of the school day—was normally a time to clear out some of this mess. Yet the clutter in his mind far surpassed that on his desk.

  Mentally reviewing the past five days, he sorted through his confused thoughts and emotions.

  Jack had talked to Bruce’s parents on Sunday, seen for himself their son’s swollen face and bandaged ribs. But it had taken Bruce’s cohort—an eyewitness to what went down—to calm high tempers on all sides.

  The “friend” had squealed about the barbiturate they’d slipped in Kate’s beer, then revealed the details of the fight. Bruce’s parents had shut up about lawsuits. And Jack had realized Bruce’s reputation as a cool stud was history—a fitting punishment. Worse than a jail sentence in the kid’s mind.

  By Monday afternoon the story had already filtered to the teacher’s lounge. Fred, the computer nerd, had challenged Bruce to “try to take someone who doesn’t wear a bra.”

  A smile tugged at Jack’s mouth now. Who would’ve thought Fred was a black belt in karate? Not Bruce, who’d launched into the fight with cocky confidence. And ended it curled moaning on the ground. He wouldn’t be bothering Kate again. His parents and Fred would make sure of that.

  The damsels-in-distress angle made Fred an even more romantic figure at school. Girls were all aflutter with admiration. Guys were calling Bruce a wimp.

  Jack’s smile broke free. Sarah was having a field day capitalizing on the publicity on Fred’s behalf. Her little band of misfits was slowly evolving into a clique the student body admired, rather than ridiculed. Sarah would go to the top of her profession. He’d never known a woman with her energy, her enthusiasm, her fire...

  The memory surged forward again. Sarah, hot and wet beneath his mouth and hand. An electrical storm in his arms, setting off jolts of desire in his own body that took him excruciatingly close to release. If the door to that closet had opened three minutes later, he would’ve been buried deep where he’d wanted to be for weeks. Where he still wanted to be. Where he didn’t dare be, for fear of never wanting to leave.

  Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes. God, he was hard again. A chronic condition since the episode in the closet. Served him right for hurting Sarah. She knew he regretted his actions, but he doubted she knew why.

  In one of life’s twisted ironies, the woman who understood and supported his secret ambition most was also his dream’s greatest threat. He’d wanted personal and creative freedom for as long as he could remember.

  But he sensed that one word from Sarah could bind him to her side. In Dallas, where her dream and opportunity intertwined.

  A quick knock brought his head up. The door opened and Donna walked in, graceful and lovely in a white sweater dress. Why didn’t the sight of her quicken his pulse? They shared the same traditional values. She would be content putting the man she loved before her own career. She would be content to create a loving home wherever that might be.

  She would be boring, the uncharitable thought came out of nowhere.

  “A call just came in for you,” Donna said, blushing slightly beneath his analytical gaze. “Linda said the man sounded quite urgent. I thought you might like to know.” She held out a pink message slip.

  His stomach turned over as he reached for the note. Before he read the name, he knew. Irving Greenbloom requested a return call as soon as possible.

  “Jack?” Donna hurried around the desk and laid a hand on his arm. “Is it bad news?”

  He looked up into her kind eyes. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Would you mind if I use your office to make a phone call?”

  “No, of course not. Come on. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

  Jack followed her to the administrative offices in a daze. Irving had warned not to expect news on Free Fall until the end of the week. Maybe the interested production companies had backed out. Maybe the auction had bombed.

  Donna led him past the curved public reception counter manned by volunteer moms to a private back hallway. As many years as he’d known Donna, he’d been in her office only three or four times. The third door on the left. Orderly, windowless and bland. Like his classroom, he realized, frowning.

  He stood jingling his pocket change, feeling awkward as hell while she stacked papers and tidied her already neat desk. She’d saved his job when the cleaning lady had discovered him with Sarah. They hadn’t talked about that embarrassing moment, but Jack knew he’d wounded Donna as much as Sarah.

  Damn. He should’ve made this call from home.

  “Okay, it’s all yours,” Donna said brightly. “Dial nine to get an outside line. I’ll have Linda hold my calls. Take all the time you want.”

  “Thank you.” He waited. Surely she wasn’t planning on staying at her desk?

  “Jack...” She blushed prettily, heightening the blue in her eyes.

  Damn. He should’ve made this call from home.

  “I know you were honest with me from the beginning about not wanting to...get involved. But...I hope you were equally honest with Sarah. She’s pretty vulnerable right now. It would be easy for her to lean on someone strong.”

  Sarah? Lean on someone? He couldn’t hide his skepticism. “Sarina the Fearless, defender of the weak? Sarah doesn’t want to lean on anyone. She’d be insulted if I thought she did.”

  Donna’s mouth pursed. Her eyes grew cool. “Sarah will fight to the death in defense of someone she loves. The problem is, she doesn’t love herself nearly enough.” Easing out from behind the desk, she avoided his gaze and walked to the door. It was almost closed when she paused, her head poking through the gap. “You’re a good man, Jack. Hardworking. Responsible. Smart. But you don’t know shit about women.”

  Click!

  Jack grimaced at the closed door. He’d managed to inspire the first unladylike language he’d ever heard from Donna. Now there was something to be proud of.

  And she was dead right, Jack admitted, dragging the phone to a more convenient spot
on the desk. He would never understand women. He’d been trying for years to figure out the ones he lived with, and only seemed to make them unhappy.

  Maybe it was time to concentrate on his own happiness, for once. Maybe at this time in his life, he could only do that without any females cluttering his mind.

  Two HOURS LATER, Sarah left the steamy bathroom and headed for the kitchen to make a mug of tea. This was her favorite part of the day. The strain of seeing Jack and Donna at school was over, as was her vigorous walk at the track. She’d washed her hair and felt refreshed and relaxed.

  Well, as relaxed as she could feel considering both her best friend and the man she loved avoided her like the plague. There were a few bright rays piercing her personal gloom, however. Kate’s remorse and gratitude, for one.

  She’d apologized upside down for calling Bruce to pick her up, then entering his house alone. It would be a long time, if ever, before rebellious anger overrode her common sense again. And, of course, there was the story of Fred’s heroics to lighten Sarah’s spirits.

  Grinning, she filled her teakettle and set it on the stove to heat. If ever there was an image consultant’s dream opportunity, this was it! When she got through with him, his status at school would rival Tony Baldovino’s. Once she convinced Fred to cooperate, that is. Which she would. He would thank her for it one day in his Forbes article.

  The phone rang, jump-starting her heart.

  Mrs. Anderson had delivered the repaired phone the day before. Donna had dropped it off at the main house with a request that Sarah receive it at the housekeeper’s convenience.

  Was Donna calling to break the ice at last?

  Sarah rushed to pick up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Sarah, it’s Jack.”

  Adrenaline flooded into her bloodstream.

  “Look, I’ve been driving around thinking for the past hour, and the car keeps showing up on your street. I’m at the convenience store by the school. Would you mind letting me in the driveway gate? I’d like to talk to you without having to disturb Mrs. Kaiser.”

  “All right,” she managed evenly. “But let me give you the security code, and you can open the gate yourself.”

  Her mind was a blank. She could barely breathe, much less think. The code. What was the damn code? Ah, yes. She rattled off the sequence.

  “Got it. Thanks, Sarah. I’ll be there in two minutes. Bye.”

  “Bye,” she croaked to the dial tone. Two minutes?

  Sarah raced into the bathroom and groaned at her reflection. Her hair was still wet, her face scrubbed free of all makeup. No time to change from her shapeless gray sweatshirt and pants. Just once she’d like Jack to see her in the full war paint and battle garb of a twenty-seven-year old woman dressed to kill.

  Grabbing her makeup bag, she did the best she could under pressure. Lipstick, powder and blush brought her back from the undead. She’d just lifted her hair dryer when the sound of the electronic gate froze her arm in midair.

  She stared at the woman in the mirror, her face flushed, her lips parted, her eyes lit like Roman candies, and warned her silently not to expect too much. There could be any number of reasons Jack would want to talk to her so urgently after driving around “thinking.”

  Still, when he knocked, she couldn’t prevent the weightless surge of her heart. She put away the makeup bag and hair dryer, walked slowly to the door and pulled it open.

  He wore the charcoal gray T-shirt and trousers she’d first seen in his foyer—minus the black jacket. One palm was braced high on the door frame, his other hand shoved deep in a pocket. A pose similar to the one Bruce had struck. Yet heavens, what a difference!

  “Hi,” he said softly, contained excitement in his eyes.

  “Hi,” she breathed, entranced with the spectacular biceps he’d hidden all this time.

  “Can I come in?” Amusement tinged his voice.

  She met the matching gleam in his gaze and backed up hastily. “Sure. Sorry.”

  The whistling teakettle gave her an excuse to regain some of her dignity. She bustled into the kitchen. “I was about to have some tea. Do you want a cup? Or I could make coffee?”

  He closed the door. “Yeah, coffee would be good. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No. It’ll only take a minute.” Polite small talk. Very small. When his expression said he had something big to say. She turned and filled her automatic drip machine with jerky movements. “So, what’s on your mind, Jack?”

  “Three-hundred thousand dollars and an offer to rewrite Free Fall. It’s official. I talked to Irving this afternoon from school.”

  Her hands stilled. Her heart sank. She forced her features into a semblance of pleasure and whirled. “Jack, that’s wonderful! Oh my gosh, we should be drinking champagne, not coffee.” Hurrying to the refrigerator, she slung open the door and peered inside, as if a bottle would magically appear. Anything to gain a few more private seconds to compose herself. “The only thing I’ve got that fizzes is Diet Dr Pepper. Which will it be, Mr. Hotshot Screenwriter? Guess coffee will have to do.”

  She closed the door and faced him again. Her smile came easier now. Especially when he released his own full-to-bursting grin.

  “So, tell me everything,” Sarah demanded. “Why have you been driving around thinking for an hour? Why aren’t you home telling your mother and Kate the good news? They’ll be so happy for you, Jack.”

  He sobered frighteningly fast. “I don’t think so.”

  “How could they not be?” But somehow she knew. Had known from the second he’d said the word rewrite.

  “Because the director wants me in L.A. ready to start work by the end of next week. If I accept, I’ll have to live there indefinitely.”

  “Oh.” No, no, no, no.

  “What should I do, Sarah?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CRUEL CRUEL QUESTION. Wasn’t it enough that the thought of him leaving was an arrow through her heart? Did he want her to pack his bags and wave goodbye with a smile?

  His expression was a mixture of eager little boy and conflicted adult. The same as when he’d first shared his dream with her in this very room. He hadn’t gone home with his news. He’d come to her first for a reason. Did she dare hope it was because her support, her encouragement, and that of no one else’s, was what he sought?

  She pulled the shaft out of her heart and prayed for the strength to make it through the conversation. See him out the door and on with his new life. Then—and only then—could she quietly bleed to death.

  “What should you do?” she repeated in a scoffing voice. “That’s ridiculous. You should go live in L.A.”

  An emotion she couldn’t read flickered quicksilver in his eyes.

  “Ask me something that isn’t a no-brainer,” she challenged.

  “Okay.” He folded his arms. A stunningly masculine pose in his clinging T-shirt. “How will Mother and Kate manage without me? They can’t stay in the same room ten minutes without arguing. What will my kids do when a substitute teacher is thrown at them right at the end of their senior year? Beto and Tony are barely squeaking by. Jessica could go either way, depending on how interested she is in the material—”

  “Whoa, whoa, Jack. One question at a time. Why don’t you sit at the bar. I’ll pour you some coffee and we’ll look at the situation objectively, okay?”

  Looking unconvinced, he nodded and parked on the stool with his elbows on the counter, his gaze following her as she moved about the kitchen. It was all she could do to keep her hands from trembling, her mouth from blurting, “What about me? Don’t I rate a question in your life?”

  At last she gave him his mug of coffee, carried her tea to the empty bar stool and sat facing him, their knees almost touching. Her best bet for getting through this without begging him to stay was to keep it light.

  “All right, Jack. As hard as it is for you to believe, you’re not indispensable. No one is. People are amazingly flexible creatures—well, people wh
o don’t put commandments on their walls, that is.” She offered a small smile, which he sheepishly returned. “Your mother and Kate will miss you terribly. And yes, they’ll probably fight a lot without you. But you know what? I think in time, they’ll grow closer to each other with you gone.”

  He lifted his coffee, blew the rising steam, took a sip. His obvious doubt was tinged with hope.

  Nothing like a little pressure, Sarah thought “I mean it. They’re much too dependent on you, Jack. You’re bound to have realized that long ago, but the pattern was set. It was easier for everyone not to cross over the lines. Without you there to handle every little problem, they’ll be forced to think for themselves, maybe even rely on each other for once.”

  Slowly, he set down his cup, raised his eyes, studied her face. When he spoke, he did so quietly. “Not every woman is as independent and strong as you, Sarah.”

  She double-checked his expression, but he seemed sincere. He also seemed...something more. Intensely more.

  “Women are only as independent as they have to be,” she said dryly. His expression was not going to get to her. “When the crutch goes to L.A., your mother and Kate will walk. You’ll see. And as for your students...”

  His frown returned. He really cared about “his” kids. A truly honorable man.

  “They’ve had—what? Six months with you at the pulpit? If they haven’t learned Morgan’s Ten Commandments by now, they ain’t gonna find religion in the next three months. The ones that would’ve passed with you, will pass without you, and vice versa. They’ll adapt to a new teacher without being scarred for life. Especially if you take that damn bell and lose it some place in L.A.” She took a sip of tea and smiled into her cup.

  “You’re going to miss my damn bell,” he said with mock offense. “Just you wait.”

  He’d decided that so easily. Too easily. She resisted the urge to press her heart and staunch the flow of blood. He didn’t even realize what he’d revealed.

  Sarah covered her involuntary wince of pain with another long slow sip, then set the mug on her knee. “Okay, on to the next question. Who else do you think can’t live without you?” She almost pulled off a flippant tone. She did manage a flippant tilt of her head.