He cocked an eyebrow at me. “What makes you think I know anything about archery?”
“It seems like the kind of unnecessary skill that the fancy boarding school you attended would’ve taught.”
He rolled his eyes, but then gave a half-smile. “All right, I admit they did. And yes, I probably still remember something about it. I guess I can order some equipment. But don’t you think that Derrick would like to do that, too?”
“I’m sure he would, but I truly think it’s important you spend time with each of them as individuals. You should definitely do that now, while I’m still here.” My voice shook a little—I hoped he didn’t notice how the thought of leaving affected me. “I can spend time with the one twin while you’re with the other.”
“All right, I’ll give it some thought.” He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “Falconry and archery. Are there any other ancient art forms ending in RY that you’d like me and my family to revive?”
I laughed. “I can’t think of any. Hmm… maybe pottery?”
“That one is definitely outside my wheelhouse.”
“Burglary?”
He chuckled. “It’s not stealing if you’re the king.”
I sucked in a breath. “Will you really be king someday?”
“Yes. And Derrick after me since he was born before Elyse.”
Wow. What a thought. I couldn’t believe I knew not one, but two people who were going to be kings.
Nico correctly interpreted the expression on my face. “It is rather mind-boggling, but I’ve had my whole life to get used to the idea.”
Without realizing it, I’d twisted around and was facing him again. “Do you think Derrick ever thinks about it?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a good question.”
“He sometimes listens in on that tour they give in the afternoon. I think he’d like to know more about his history. And falconry is part of that. It’s a connection to you and your grandfather.”
“I never thought about it that way before.” The intensity of his gaze made my heart pound faster, and I had to look away. “You’re very astute.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“I mean it. Will you tell me something—please?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re so good with the twins. You have this way of figuring out what they need. What they’d enjoy and what would help them come out of their shell. In short, you have the instincts of a good teacher. Tell me why you left it.”
I drew in a breath, already shaking my head. “It just wasn’t for me.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t believe it. It seems like it was what you were born to do.”
“That’s what I always thought, too.”
“But?” he prompted.
“I was wrong.” My voice was barely a whisper.
I stared down at my feet, feeling Nico’s eyes on me. Finally, he sighed and got up. “I said no drinks, but you look like you could use one.”
He went to the cabinet at the side of the room and took out some glasses. I didn’t object… maybe a drink would help me talk about it. But did I even want to? The only person I’d spoken to about it was Autumn, and that had been months ago right before I quit. Since then I’ve tried not to think about it, let alone talk about it.
I still didn’t want to—if I was being honest with myself. But… maybe it was time. I’d told Elyse that she needed to talk to someone. And I was encouraging Nico to go out of his comfort zone and try new ways to interact with the kids. Could I ask less of myself than I did of them?
But part of me wanted to run back to my room and bury my head under the covers, literally and figuratively.
Nico handed me a glass. I took it and sniffed the aroma. “Whiskey?”
“Bourbon. I figured we’d continue your education in the classics.”
Hmm. It smelled kind of good. “What language are we toasting in tonight?”
Nico remained standing, a thoughtful look on his face. At last, he said, “How about Japanese? I hosted a few Japanese business associates last year and they taught me. Kanpai.”
Clinking my glass to his, I repeated the unfamiliar word and then sipped the amber liquid. As I licked my lips, I considered it. “I like it.”
“I’m glad.” He looked around the room, and then seemed to make a decision. One by one, he turned off the lamps on the end tables and by his desk. Soon, the flickering light from the fire was the only one in the room. He came over and sat by me, his voice gentle. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk when you can’t see the other person very well.”
He paused, giving me a moment, and then continued. “It’s just us, Cara. I’m not here to judge. But I consider myself to be your friend, and this seems like a major unresolved issue for you. I would really like it if you’d trust me enough to talk to me about it.”
My mind temporarily tuned out the scary parts of what he’d said and zeroed in on the word friends. Were we friends? We’d been heading that way, but then we’d skipped right past that point during our make-out session on this very couch. Now I didn’t know what we were.
I sighed. Friendship was a good goal. Just because I wanted more didn’t mean I didn’t want to be his friend. So maybe I could make myself talk about it—for him.
And hell, maybe even for me.
I took another sip of the bourbon and thought about where to begin. “I always wanted to be a teacher. It was the only career I ever considered.”
“What about the theater?”
“That’s the love of my life, but I knew it was never a viable option. Trying to make it as a full-time actor is almost as unlikely a career path as… as…”
“As being a prince?”
“Probably,” I said, nodding. “Neither are the kinds of things high school guidance counselors recommend. So no, I didn’t see myself with a full-time acting career, but I knew that the theater would always be part of my life. I knew I’d see plays, act in community theater, write… there are a million ways to stay involved. As you pointed out, I even managed to find a fellow theater nerd right here in Falkenberg. It’s part of who I am.”
Nico was silent for a moment, giving me time to continue. When I didn’t, he asked, “But last year at the high school, you taught English, or I guess they called it Language Arts, not drama, right?”
“Right. They didn’t even have a drama club at that school—and had no interest in starting one.” My voice was bitter. The school I’d worked for had clearly thought fostering creativity in its students was a waste of time.
“Did you like teaching English?”
“I thought I would. I’ve always loved writing. I was happy when I got the job.”
Nico sighed. “And now you can barely bring yourself to talk about it. If public schools in the US fuck up the teachers this much, I wonder what they do to the students?”
“They’re not all bad,” I said. “The school I attended for high school was amazing.” For a moment, images of many former teachers flashed through my mind. My favorite of all was Mrs. Hayes, my old drama coach. I sincerely doubted that any of my students from last semester ever spared me a thought.
“What was wrong with the one you taught at?”
“How do you know there was something wrong? Maybe I just suck at teaching.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Maybe you should. You guessed right, it was a crappy environment, but I should’ve made it work anyway. My whole life I’ve been dealt lousy situations. My mother dying—and my father, he was absent for years. And Autumn and I, we were always broke, and I worked so hard to keep my grades up and to try to get a scholarship. Every time a hurdle was thrown in my path, I overcame it, Nico. Until I started at that school. The one time I failed to rise to the occasion was when it mattered most!”
“Shh…” Nico soothed as he traced a tear track on my cheek with one long finger. “It’s okay.” He plucked the glass from my shaky fingers and took my hand, pulling me towards him. With
the practiced ease of a father, he deftly rearranged me so that I was leaning against his side, his arm around me. I buried my face in his soft, dark shirt as he stroked my arm and my hair.
When had someone last held me like that? It had been years, if not longer. Nico’s arms felt safe. His body was warm. It was like being in a protective cocoon. His touch soothed me and I was grateful he didn’t rush me.
Finally, I continued. “After all those years of wanting to be a teacher, it was nothing like what I’d thought it would be. It was awful. Can you imagine that? To have something you’d dreamed about for years be a horrible experience? I taught sophomore English, and the kids didn’t want to be there. They didn’t care about books or plays or anything. And I don’t blame them… the school administration and the department chair managed to stomp out any spark of enjoyment the students might’ve had. What they wanted me to do, it wasn’t teaching. It was just test prep. There was no creativity. No giving children a chance to express themselves. It was all rote memorization presented in the dullest way possible. It was like… have you ever read or watched A Wrinkle in Time?”
Nico shook his head… I could feel the slight stubble on his chin brush past the top of my head.
“In it, the main characters travel to this planet where everything is regulated. Every step of every person’s lives is dictated. There’s no creativity. No spontaneity. Not a single person there gets to make their own choices. There aren’t any of the things that make life worth living.”
“What a terrible waste, to put someone as creative and caring as you in a school like that,” Nico murmured.
“I was miserable, but it was my students I was worried about. They were absent a lot, and I didn’t blame them. A lot of them didn’t care about graduating. My own high school made me realize all the possibilities in the world. That school taught students that there weren’t any.”
“I’m sorry,” Nico said, his large, warm hand rubbing up and down my arm. “For you and for them. I went to good schools, too. I wish all kids did.”
“I tried,” I said wearily. “Even though the principal and the department head didn’t want me to. I tried to create interesting assignments and activities whenever I could. But there was just so much curriculum to cover. To prepare students for the tests. It wasn’t enough… no matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t enough. The students were miserable and I was, too.”
“It must’ve been really bad to quell your natural enthusiasm.”
“It was. And the worst part is there was no reason for it. The other teachers and I—well, most of the other teachers—could’ve taught in more creative, interesting ways. But then we wouldn’t have been able to cover all the facts and figures the students were supposed to learn. Still… I tried.”
“What did you do?” For a moment, his soft lips rested on the top of my head.
“There was a suggested reading list for tenth grade. Most teachers didn’t use much from it because there wasn’t enough time. But there was a play on it—The Taming of the Shrew. I spent hours arranging and rearranging the required study materials so that we could fit in a little of the play at the end of each class.”
So many students’ faces ran through my head, but one stood out the most.
“I knew we’d never be able to put on a real play, but since we were reading it together in class anyway, I assigned roles to students so they could read the same parts each time. It was hard—most students had such spotty attendance that they were only there a few times a week. But in one class, there was this girl named Teresa. I assigned her to read Katherine’s part.”
“Is that the lead? It’s been a while since I’ve read Shakespeare.”
“Yes. Katherine is sharp-tongued and feisty, and Teresa really got into it. Before, she’d been absent as much, if not more, than the other students, but from the moment I assigned her that role, she came every day. I found out that she’d often missed class because she needed to help in her family’s store or with her older relatives. But once we started reading that play, she managed to make it to every class.
“We could only spare about ten minutes per day on the play, but as we worked our way through it, students started embellishing. Some used accents. Others brought simple props. They got into it. They wanted to know more. And no one was more excited about it than Teresa. She actually started memorizing her lines even though all the other kids just read from the book. And she’d come in during her lunch break and I’d teach her tricks from the theater like how to project your voice. And she’d ask about what kind of inflection to use when delivering certain lines.”
The ghost of a smile graced my face as I remembered how much I’d enjoyed talking with her. She’d hoped to be the first in her family to attend college. She’d wanted to study business so that she could help in her family’s store. But then my smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Nico sighed, stroking my hair. “That’s a lovely story about the play, but I know it’s not going to have a good ending.”
“It doesn’t. We… I mean I, aimed a little too high. The students seemed to enjoy it so much that it seemed a shame not to have them share it with their families. I brainstormed with my classes, and we decided to put on a reading for their families and friends one evening the week before Thanksgiving. It wasn’t a real play, but we’d read selected scenes and do our best to make the material come alive for the audience.”
In my mind, I saw the energy on my students’ faces while we planned for the reading. “No one was more excited than Teresa. She invited her entire family. She was so into it, and for once was actually excited about her school work. I’d heard from other teachers that her attendance in their classes had improved greatly, too.”
“I wished the story ended there—with you and the students happy.”
“Me too.”
“So what happened?”
“The principal found out. He accused me of taking up valuable class time on such a frivolous matter. He wrote me up and put me on probation. He assigned the department head to observe my classes and examine my lesson plans. But the worst thing was… he canceled the reading.”
Tears flowed again and Nico held me tighter. “It was all arranged… we had a space lined up at a local library. The school wouldn’t have had to do a thing. We’d done it all ourselves. But they wouldn’t let us. The students were devastated, and I… I felt so helpless. I’ve never given up on anything in my life, and though I argued and pleaded, there was no changing their mind. They were adamant that the reading would not happen. And it didn’t.”
Without thinking about it, I wrapped my arm around Nico’s chest, hugging him as he held me.
“What happened after that?” His voice was full of understanding.
“Nothing. I taught the most by-the-book, boring lessons imaginable after that. With no reading aloud at the end of class. No chance for students to engage with the content. No reason for them to keep coming to class at all. But at the end of the semester, they took those damn tests and did about as well as the other classes did, which isn’t saying much.”
“And Teresa?” Somehow, Nico knew she was the most important part of the story.
“I saw her once after the reading was canceled. Just once. She came late to class one day, and just sat there. She didn’t talk to anyone. She didn’t participate. I tried to talk to her after class, but she gave me a sad smile and said she had to go care for her little brother who was sick.”
“And you didn’t see her again?”
“No… she dropped out. She never came back that semester and one of the other teachers told me she’s not there this semester, either. She dropped out of high school because of me, Nico.”
“Not because of you,” he murmured, kissing my forehead as he cradled me.
But I didn’t want to be comforted. “It was my fault. Before I was her teacher, she came to class. Not all the time, but enough. Then after the reading was canceled, she stopped coming altogether. She won’t gradua
te high school because of me.”
Nico pulled me closer as I sobbed against his chest. He spoke in a low, soothing tone. “It’s not you, Cara. Students need teachers like you. You’re the solution, not the cause. It’s not your fault they micromanaged you so much that there was no chance of giving those students the kind of education they deserved.”
He meant well, but I knew the truth. That beautiful, talented girl who had so much potential had dropped out of school because of me. I’d tried to help her. I’d done my best, but it hadn’t been enough. “I can’t ignore the truth, Nico. Teresa attended classes before I became her teacher, and she dropped out after. That’s a fact, and it’s one I’ll always have to live with. If I’d just stuck to that awful curriculum, she’d still be in school.”
“It’s not your fault,” Nico whispered, stroking his hand up and down my back.
I appreciated his tenderness and his concern. I loved the feeling of being in his arms, being cared for by him, but I knew his words weren’t true. I’d caused a young woman with so much potential to lose hope and give up.
I’d never forgive myself for that.
21
Cara
The next day was a strange one. Part of it was the kind of mental fatigue anyone would feel after a very emotional night. My body was probably dehydrated from the tears I’d shed.
But it was more than that. I wish I could say I’d turned a corner, and that I’d gotten a handle on the guilt I felt. I wish I could say I’d made peace with the way I’d let Teresa and the others down.
And maybe I had—a little. Talking with the prince had definitely helped. Saying it all out loud had helped. But I still had a long way to go before I could forgive myself.
The other reason I felt disoriented today was because of Nico. All day long, the memory of his arms around me kept returning. He’d made me feel so safe and secure. And last night, I’d been too upset to think about the ramifications of the way he’d held me, but today it kept entering my thoughts. If he truly didn’t want to be with me and didn’t think there could ever be anything between us, why had he taken me in his arms like that?
Dashing: A Royal Cinderella Billionaire Story Page 15
