by Susan Finlay
“Believe me, they were misbehaving before they ever met you. It’s not you. What you do or don’t know makes no difference.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
Ron winced. “Sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.” He set his keys down on a table. “Can I get you something to eat? I haven’t had lunch. Would a sandwich be okay?”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Won’t you at least try to eat something? You need to keep up your strength.”
“I guess. I’ll try.”
He went into the kitchen, returning a short time later with two plates and two cups of tea. After lunch he returned to school and sat in his office, thinking about the situation. He’d done the best he could with Claire under the circumstances, but was that enough? He didn’t think so. He certainly had failed with Celia. A female would know what to do; someone totally different from Ron and from Celia’s mother, someone stable and comforting. Decision made, he went to the faculty lunchroom to talk to Nancy Palmer, the English teacher whom he trusted and Claire liked. They went back to his office and Ron told her in strict confidence what had happened. Nancy assured him she would keep their secret.
After school let out for the day, they went to Ron’s apartment together. When they arrived, Ron hesitated outside his own door. God, he hoped he was doing the right thing bringing Nancy here.
When Claire saw Nancy with Ron, she cried out, “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone. How could you betray me like that?” She jumped up from the sofa, and paced, wringing her hands.
Ron grabbed her and tried to calm her. “Claire, I only told Nancy. I needed someone else to help. I’m not equipped to deal with this. You need a woman to talk to. Please don’t be angry.”
He coaxed her back to the sofa and she calmed down. Then he and Nancy talked to her at length and Ron was relieved that his decision to bring Nancy proved right.
Late in the afternoon Ron said, “I’ll make us some sandwiches for dinner.” He stood up to head into the kitchen but stopped when Claire shouted “Oh no!”
He stared at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t know it was dinnertime. I have to go home.”
“Huh?” Ron said. “You don’t have to leave. If you don’t want sandwiches, I’ll go out and get some takeout. Nancy and I planned to stay up with you all night, if you need us too.”
“I can’t stay here,” Claire said. “I have to get home to my son. He’ll be expecting me now.”
Ron and Nancy exchanged glances. “Your son? You never told us you had a child.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t like to discuss my personal life at work. Besides, it’s not like I have a lot of free time at the school.”
Well, she was right about that. They had little time to discuss their private lives, but still, most of the faculty members knew the basics about each other. Until now, he hadn’t realized how little they knew about Claire.
“Where is he?” Nancy asked.
“At his nanny’s house.”
“His nanny? How old is he?”
“He’s three-and-a-half. I’m supposed to pick him up by six o’clock. The nanny goes to college classes on most weeknights and it’s a quarter past five now. I don’t have my car. It’s at the school.” Claire was back on her feet, pacing like before.
Ron said, “I’ll take Nancy back to the school so she can get her car, and I’ll take you to your nanny’s house to pick up your son. Then I’ll drop you off at your home.”
Nancy said, “Someone should stay with her tonight. Do you have anyone who can stay with you, Claire?”
Claire’s face reddened. “No. But I’ll be all right.”
“I’ll stay,” Nancy said. “You can drive both of us back to school. We’ll take my car to Claire’s. That way, if we need anything, we’ll have transportation.”
Ron pulled up next to Nancy’s car and watched until they drove away, then he leaned his head on his steering wheel and wept, thinking about Claire and Celia.
CLAIRE WENT INSIDE the nanny’s house to get Marcus, while Nancy waited outside in her car. When they came out and Claire opened the car door, Marcus looked up at his mother and said, “This isn’t our car, Mommy.” Claire put her hands on his shoulders and said, “It’s all right. This is my friend, Nancy. She’s going to drive us home and spend the night because I’m not feeling well. She’s going to help out.”
Claire made the introductions, and then helped Marcus climb into the car.
“Mommy, where’s my car seat?”
“Oh, I forgot about that. We’ll have to make do without it tonight.”
“Okay.”
As Nancy pulled away from the curb, she said, “If you don’t mind, “I’ll make a quick stop at my house. I need a few clothes, toothbrush, and other necessities. We can stop and get something for dinner to take to back to your home on the way.”
After dinner Marcus fell asleep on the sofa next to Claire.
A while later, Nancy came over to the sofa, scooped him up, and carried him upstairs to his room. When she returned to the living room, she and Claire talked for a while, about kids and growing up mostly. Nancy had three grown kids of her own, and she shared some of her own experiences in child rearing. Claire was glad for the distraction from her own thoughts. Around eleven o’clock they decided to call it a night. They gathered up sheets and blankets and prepared the sofa bed for Nancy. After saying their goodnights, Claire retreated upstairs to her room and shut the door.
Alone again, Claire tried to push away pictures from her mind. She almost succeeded until she laid down and her mind flooded with fragments of memories, ancient and new. Her body still ached, but it was the mental anguish that was almost unbearable. How would she ever be able to go back to work? She knew she didn’t really have a choice, but the thought was terrifying. Even walking into that office felt impossible. Her mind played games with her, tormenting, ridiculing, and blaming. Why did they do this? Why didn’t she see it coming? She was supposed to be brilliant, and yet she hadn’t anticipated this. She felt like a fake, not so smart after all. She hated them for the attack.
She hated herself, too.
Tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she looked at the clock on the nightstand, and sighed. Would she ever get to sleep? She began to doubt her effectiveness as a leader. Had John Richmond been right about her failing? Maybe she was living in a dream world. Maybe she couldn’t fix the problems at the school.
The logical thing to do would be to call Brad again and tell him everything. He wanted proof, and she had that now: the hospital emergency room could verify it. He would take her back to the center and erase her identity. What choice would Brad and his bosses have? And hadn’t that been what she wanted?
She sighed. Why couldn’t anything be simple?
Her thoughts argued on and on. She needed to get out this horrible job. She wasn’t doing anyone any good, especially not to herself. But leaving now would be admitting failure. Was she prepared for that? It wasn’t like before, when she’d blown her cover by slipping up. That was nothing compared with failing at a job. She’d never done that before. And could she really abandon ship and leave the school to the gangs and bullies? She hadn’t ignored the crime that Callum was committing. She’d gone out of her way to make sure he and the others didn’t get away with it, though of course she had other reasons as well. Was this any different?
She rolled over in bed, wincing from pain in her side, where she’d been stabbed. Turning once more, the pain dissipated somewhat and she closed her eyes again, still trying to fall asleep. Then another thought occurred to her. If she stayed in the job, could she make a difference, or was she nothing more than another incompetent Midland school principal?
Slowly, and with care to avoid causing herself pain again, she pulled her legs up and curled into a fetal position, the safest position she could think of—but three unwanted faces, each with a set of brown eyes, stared fiercely at her in her mind.
A shiver ran through her. She hid her head under the fuzzy pink blanket on her bed, trying to blot out the images, and it worked. Only now her thoughts shifted to another memory, one that had occurred in England long ago when a group of male students in her high school had followed her and cornered her in the girls’ lavatory. She was the only thirteen-year-old in the school prepping for A-Levels, which had made her a target of ridicule for the older students. “If you want to be an adult, you haveta start acting like one,” they’d said. “You gotta do what other girls do with blokes.” Luckily, a couple of girls had shown up, and the boys had run off before they had a chance to do anything more than taunt. She’d never forgotten the fear.
Stop it! Don’t let any of those jerks ruin your life. She pushed away the mental pictures and tried to imagine going back to Midland and acting as though nothing had happened. The memories would probably diminish with time. But she knew the fear would haunt her for a lifetime.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IN THE MORNING, on Thursday, Nancy phoned Ron, telling him that Claire would be staying home for the rest of the week. Claire listened in on the phone call.
“She’s doing better, but isn’t ready to go back.”
“Are you staying with her, or coming in?”
“I’ll stay here today and try to be at work on Friday. We’ll have to see how it goes. She’s been sleeping a lot, which she apparently needs.”
“Thanks,” Ron said. “Do whatever you think is best.”
Claire stayed in bed all day on Thursday, not by choice but out of necessity. Her body ached even more than it had the previous day, and the pain meds and tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed made her sleepy. She would sleep a while, and then awaken when a nightmare made her sit up a scream out in terror.
Nancy attended to Marcus. Claire would occasionally hear laughter coming from the living room. Several times, when Marcus ran upstairs and into Claire’s bedroom, Nancy guided him away, and said, “Sorry, Claire.”
Claire tried to get up at noon. When she lowered her legs over the side of the bed and tried to sit up, her side hurt fiercely and she felt nauseous. She would never have guessed that the day after her stabbing would be worse.
Nancy brought Claire’s lunch into her bedroom. Claire nibbled at it and then set the plate on the nightstand. How could she eat when she kept choking up tears? She was worthless. She’d done nothing to fix the school and she’d let everyone down, including herself.
She rolled over with her back toward the window, and closed her eyes.
She awoke later to the sound of her mobile phone ringing in the living room.
Nancy poked her head in the doorway and whispered, “Are you awake?”
Claire nodded and rose up on one elbow.
“Steve Jensen is on the phone for you. He wants to know if you’re okay. He said you weren’t at the round table meeting yesterday and Kim said you were out sick.”
How could she have forgotten Steve and the meeting? He’d told her she couldn’t miss two meetings in a row.
She tried to think but her head was spinning. “Uh, I don’t think I’m up to talking with him.” She started to lie back down, stopped, and looked at Nancy. “Did he ask you what was wrong with me?”
“I told him you have the flu. I hope that’s okay.”
Claire nodded. “That was quick thinking. Thanks for covering for me. Did he ask who you were and why you were here?”
Nancy twisted her mouth, chuckled, and then said, “Yeah, he thought I was you, at first. I told him I’m a neighbor and I came over to check on you.”
Had he unwittingly given Nancy a hint about their relationship? Claire tried to read Nancy’s expression, but Nancy was giving her a poker face. That, in itself, probably said it all. Claire tried to hide her sigh. “Thanks, Nancy. Please tell him I’m fine, that I’m sleeping and I’ll talk to him on Monday?”
Alone again, Claire wondered why everyone except her could think quick and come up with easy lies. She was supposed to be the genius and yet she undoubtedly would have blundered if she’d taken the call.
In the evening Claire forced herself out of bed and wobbled into the living room.
“Mommy, you’re up!” Marcus rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her legs.
She patted his head. She didn’t dare try to pick him up or squat down to hug him.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, looking up at her.
She tried to smile. “I am. What have you been doing?”
“We read books and played games. Nancy’s nice. We’re watching TV. Do you wanna watch with us?”
“Sure.”
After everyone went to bed, Claire lay awake, still trying to push images of the attack out of her mind. The best way to do that was to think about something else, she kept telling herself. One of the biggest moments in her life, her move from England to the U.S., came to mind. The move had been both exciting and stressful—months of planning, getting work visas, sending out resumes, interviewing. By the time they actually were on their way to the U.S. and their new life, she and Callum had momentarily felt homeless and free like gypsies. He’d suggested they sell all of their furniture and most of their belongings and start over.
“This is going to be fun,” he had said as they made their way to Heathrow Airport in a taxi. “I already rented us a posh flat. We’ll decorate it with furniture and pictures that we’ll pick out together. No more his-and-hers, you know.”
She’d smiled, and nodded. They’d had plenty of arguments about what should stay and what should go when they’d first moved in together two years earlier.
“You’re going to love the place. Thanks for agreeing to the move. You won’t regret it. The university is prestigious and you’ll get to rub elbows with the best faculty in the world.”
A porter smiled at them, and asked which airline they were going on. He then loaded everything onto a cart and took it to the ticket counter. Once they finished with the check-in, they headed to the gate and an hour later boarded the Boeing 747.
She wouldn’t regret it. Ha! Trusting Callum was the first of many mistakes.
Claire flashed forward to another flight—her first one with Marcus when she’d fled Boston right after someone had tried to kill her in a drive-by shooting. That was back when she was still Juliet and Marcus was still Aidan. Callum should have been there to see his son experiencing something so big and exciting! Callum should be here now to see his son grow and learn. But he doesn’t deserve to see.
The flight attendant had pointed out their seats, and Juliet had helped Aidan into his seat and then settled into the seat next to him. After she sat down, she made sure Aidan was comfortable and safely tucked under his seatbelt. She had seated him next to a window and he was straining to see outside, so interested in seeing everything that was happening. He smiled and watched everything with bright eyes, and Juliet smiled at his eagerness. She felt herself relax a little, and settled into her own seat.
When she was situated, she couldn’t resist peeking through the window herself to see what the two-and-a-half-year-old was so interested in. They watched luggage carts being wheeled around, and saw men tossing suitcases and bags into the baggage compartment. Inside the airplane, she heard the throaty roar of the plane’s engines, and the whisper of the air conditioner. A man in front of her reached up to adjust the air direction, and Juliet decided to follow suit and adjust hers and Aidan’s vents, too.
Once everyone was seated, the flight attendants came around to check that seatbelts were fastened and tray tables were in their upright position. A few minutes later, the pilot welcomed his passengers via the intercom and told them they would be departing for Minneapolis-St. Paul soon. Ten minutes later the plane began to move, first backing up, turning, and then maneuvering its way down a long runway.
When the plane took flight, every muscle in Juliet’s body tensed momentarily. Flying wasn’t so bad, she thought, once they were at cruising altitude. It was
taking off, landing, and flying through turbulence that frightened her. But apparently not Aiden, who reveled in every acceleration and bump. Once the airplane stabilized, the attendant conducted her safety procedure demonstration, and the fasten seatbelt signed was turned off. Juliet leaned back then, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.
Juliet was finally calming down when Aidan began to chatter enthusiastically about how they were ‘eagles flying in clouds’. Although he was mostly a well-behaved child, he was already squirming in his seat. He unfastened his seat belt and scooted to the edge of his seat, so that his short legs, with hints of baby fat remaining, hung over the edge, and the toes of his sneakers tick-ticked against the seat in front of him. He giggled and smiled and asked a hundred questions, undaunted by his limited vocabulary, taking Juliet’s mind off her fear of flying for a while.
After his fourth trip down the narrow aisle to the lavatory, Juliet finally told him he would have to stay seated because she was growing weary of escorting him back and forth. She knew that he didn’t really need to go to the bathroom—he was only recently toilet-trained—he just liked to walk through the plane and to go into the tiny closet-like room. Once used to the sounds and motions of the plane, he quieted and played with some small toys that Juliet pulled out of his carry-on bag.
When he was finally settled in, Juliet sat back and closed her eyes again, hoping to sleep for a while. Sleep evaded her though and her mind drifted from place to place as she contemplated what she would do once she arrived in Minneapolis. She hadn’t a clue if she would find a job, but she couldn’t stay in Boston and wait for someone to take another shot at her or her son, nor could she wait for the police to come and arrest her for her inadvertent role in Callum’s criminal activities. Her biggest worry was for Aidan, her sweet, innocent boy. He’d already lost one parent—she couldn’t let him lose another. Looking over at him and watching him play with a toy, she thought about her life. She hoped things would work out; she would probably never again be a professor—she knew that—but couldn’t imagine herself unemployed. Her work, she hated to admit, was her life, her identity.
