by Erin Wright
She made another wild swing at the Michelle blob, but came up with nothing. “Hi, Mrs. Mor,” Hannah heard Michelle say sweetly.
Man, she’s fast. She must’ve had Mor-Vision on speed dial, just waiting for this opportunity.
She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about that fact, honestly.
“I’m calling on behalf of Hannah Lambert,” Michelle continued. “Does your husband have an opening anytime soon for her to get fitted with a pair of contacts?”
Hannah sank back into her chair, defeated. She felt naked as a blue jay without her glasses on to shield her from the world, and being blind as a bat to boot sure didn’t help matters.
She glared at the Michelle blob as menacingly as she could.
“Sure thing, dear,” said Mrs. Mor, her voice tinny through the phone speaker. “Your first appointment is here, Dr. Mor!” Hannah heard her yell, and then back to Michelle, just as sweet as pie, “We had a cancellation this morning so we have an opening at 4:15 today. Would that work?”
The Michelle blob was looking at Hannah, she just knew it. She nodded sullenly. Yeah, 4:15 would work. Didn’t mean she had to like it, though.
“She says that’d be wonderful,” Michelle said in a super cheerful voice. Hannah glared even harder. Suddenly, the super power of shooting death rays out of her eyeballs seemed like a completely awesome ability to have. “She’ll see you then.”
And then – finally! – Hannah’s glasses were being slid back into her hands and she could put them on and see the world again. She sat back up, feeling better already. She glared at Michelle, who was grinning triumphantly, as Hannah took an overly large bite of her healthy muffin.
“Ummmm…ummmmm…” she groaned in fake ecstasy. If Michelle could do it, so could Hannah.
Sadly enough, though, Michelle just laughed at her.
Hmph.
Someday, Hannah was gonna get Michelle back for all of her teasing and ribbing.
Today just wasn’t that day.
Chapter 15
Elijah
Elijah knocked on the open door of Hannah’s classroom, just like he did every afternoon, to announce his entrance into her world.
She looked up, just like she did every afternoon, to murmur a distracted hello before going back to work on whatever it was that she did after school.
Except, today weren’t like every other afternoon. Today, he had a bouquet of purple-and-white daisies underneath a dirty towel on top of his cleaning cart, ready to be revealed like some sorta janitorial version of a magic trick.
He began to push his cart into the room, but in shock, he stopped and stared instead.
Outta habit, Hannah had just gone to push the bridge of her glasses up her nose, except…there weren’t no glasses to push up. She was apparently wearing contacts.
He was stuck in the doorway, staring at her, takin’ in the differences. Sure, she’d been pretty the other day when he’d pulled off her glasses, but she’d also been squinting up at him. Now that her glasses were gone but she could still see everythin’, he realized how big and gorgeous and blue her eyes were.
A mountain-lake-on-a-summer’s-afternoon kinda blue.
His eyes dropped to her hands, which she were keepin’ hidden behind her desk, cradled in her lap. Was she fiddling with her fingers, all nervous-like? Was she just waiting for him to say something – to mention the change?
He wanted to say something, but blurtin’ out, “You gots yourself some contacts!” didn’t seem real suave, so he pushed his cart into the room a little ways instead, hopin’ that if he were standing close to her, maybe it wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking to pull the towel off the cart.
He caught his breath as he got closer. She were staring up at him, still seated, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she waited for him to speak, but she looked…different somehow. More than just the glasses being gone, her whole face was different.
Did she…did she have lipstick on?
He took another step closer, tryin’ to see.
He musta waited too long to say something, because she finally murmured, “I better get back to work,” into the strained silence of the classroom, and dropped her eyes back down to her cluttered desk.
Mascara.
He’d be willing to bet next week’s paycheck on the fact that she was wearin’ it today, and as far as he could remember, she’d never done that before. Not that he’d been staring at her eyeballs or nothin’, but he also couldn’t remember her lashes being that long or dark before. They used to be this golden color, like the color of her hair but lighter. You had to be close to see them, but now, he could see ‘em real easily.
Not, he reminded himself again, that I’ve been starin’ at her eyeballs like a lovesick fool. I’m just an observant guy.
The silence had stretched on too long. He needed to ask her out and get it over with.
“How’s Brooksy been doin’?” he blurted out, and immediately wanted to kick himself for it. Where on earth had that come from? “Uhhh…I mean, has she been kickin’ any boys lately?”
“No, she’s doing much better,” Hannah said, looking back up at him, her face lighting up from having somethin’ to talk to him about. “And her clothes…she’s coming to school with clothes that look new, and that actually fit her. Did you talk to Sarah about it?”
“Yeah, we had a discussion,” Elijah grumbled, gettin’ pissed all over again when he remembered that conversation. Sarah’s words had been all slurry as they’d talked, and he’d been just damn sure durin’ the whole conversation that she wouldn’t remember what they’d talked about come morning.
He’d asked her what’d happened to the clothes she was s’posed to be buying for Brooksy with that $200 he’d practically killed himself to give her, and she’d hemmed and hawed around the question for a good five minutes before finally admittin’ that she’d gone makeup shopping with it.
“I looked at her clothes, and they were fine,” she’d told him as snotty as could be. It hadn’t come out how she’d planned, though; she had a hard time pronouncing “clothes” and had added an extra syllable into it: clothezes.
“No, they ain’t,” Elijah had bit out. He’d wanted to tear into her – how dare she make him pay his truck payment late just so she could have some fancy-ass makeup – but from past experience, he knew there was no point.
It were better to focus on Brooksy and how Sarah’s actions had hurt her. Or, more to the point, how Sarah’s actions had made Sarah look bad, which was really all that she cared about.
“Brooksy split her pants at recess yesterday. Do you want everyone to think that she comes from a poor white trash family?”
He’d dug the knife in right where it hurt Sarah the most, and hadn’t felt the least bit bad about it. If all Sarah cared about was appearances, then by God, he’d use that to get Brooksy what she needed. Sarah had always made fun of the way Eli talked; had wanted the best of everythin’; had made him feel like a loser ‘cause she weren’t drivin’ a new car each year.
Callin’ her white trash were the worst thing you could say to her, and Eli enjoyed doin’ it a little too much.
Sarah had been silent for a moment, and then he’d heard the muffled sound of her covering up the phone and demandin’ of Brooksy, “Did you split your pants at school?” He hadn’t been able to hear her answer but sure enough, Sarah had came back on the line and had snapped, “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” before hanging up the phone.
No apology, no excuses.
Anyone who expected something else from Sarah would be sorely disappointed. He’d learned that a long time ago.
“Well, it’s sure made a huge difference,” Hannah said brightly, bringing Elijah back to the present. And back to the part where he had flowers hidden underneath the dirty towel on top of his cart. As he looked at the cart, the flowers seemed blazingly obvious, somethin’ a blind person wouldn’t miss. What else would cause such a bizarre-shaped lump right there on top?
But Han
nah hadn’t so much as looked at it since he wheeled his cart into the room.
He opened up his mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and yanked the dirty towel off his cart while blurting out in one breath, “Will-you-date-me?” He grabbed the bouquet of daisies and shoved them at her, over top the piles on her desk, into her hands that she’d been keepin’ hidden there.
Hannah took ‘em slowly, looking down at the bouquet and back up at him to ask, “Date you?”
“Well, go on a date,” he clarified.
“And where would you take me to, on this date?”
“Uhhh…”
Which were when his brain froze up, of course, offerin’ up absolutely nothing.
He’d been thinkin’ beforehand ‘bout a coupla different places but hadn’t managed to pick one yet.
Now, all of those places and any other place on the planet other than Hannah’s classroom seemed to have completely disappeared from his mind, as if none of ‘em existed. “As long as you’re with me, I don’t rightly care where,” he finally admitted.
“What a romantic,” Hannah teased him lightly as she brought the flowers up to her face to breathe in their smell.
He scowled at her. “It’s not romantic – it’s practical,” he protested.
“It’s a good thing to be a romantic,” she told him seriously.
Huh. Sure. Girls are so weird sometimes.
“I’d love to go on a date with you…somewhere,” Hannah said, serious as a heart attack but her eyes…they was glintin’ with mischief.
Had she always had this teasin’ side to her and he’d just missed it behind those coke-bottle glasses?
“The glasses…thing…” He waved his hand in the general direction of her face. “It looks good. Mighty good.”
What he really, really wanted in that moment was for the ground to swallow him up. Talkin’ to a woman was proving to be just as difficult as he’d thought it was gonna be.
And he hadn’t exactly thought it was gonna go real smooth.
“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling up at him. She had a real pretty smile, with small, straight, square teeth, not oversized and overlapping in the front like his. He’d always been self-conscious about his smile ‘cause of the overlap and ‘cause of how big his teeth was – he felt like a horse sometimes, with teeth way too large to fit in his head. Hannah’s were just perfect. Made him wanna make her smile at him again.
“So, I’ll see you on Friday. Six-thirty. At your daddy’s house?”
She nodded, still smiling slightly at him.
“Good, good.” He backed up, pulling his cart with him, his magic trick over for the moment. “I’ll…uhh…see you then.”
“Um, before you leave,” she called out, stopping him before he could escape down the hallway, “could you empty my trash cans? They got a bit full today.”
Shhhhiiitttttt…
He felt the red creep up his neck again as he nodded and hurried towards the two trash cans she’d put out around her room. It was the whole reason why he’d been in her classroom, after all – at least according to the school district – but he’d completely lost his mind and had forgotten all about his job.
The thing that kept him from being homeless and starving. That thing.
Trash emptied, he hurried outta the classroom and down the hallway, decidin’ that he’d sweep and mop her floors later. Preferably when she weren’t anywhere near the building.
He was done making an ass of himself, at least for today.
Chapter 16
Hannah
Hannah watched in the mirror as Carla carefully brushed her cheeks with some sort of rouge. She was having Carla do her makeup yet again, which made her feel a little worthless, like a small child who couldn’t take care of herself. When she’d confessed that to Carla, she’d just replied with a laugh that she loved to do it, which made Hannah both roll her eyes and sigh with envy at the same time.
Of course she did. Carla did this sort of thing effortlessly – lots of makeup, lots of jewelry, lots of colorful clothes. She always included her signature turquoise somewhere in the outfit, which she would then pair with another bright color – pink or lime green or a brilliant purple. Somehow, instead of looking like she was an escaped clown from the insane asylum like Hannah would with that much going on, Carla had this amazing ability to make it look good.
She reminded Hannah of a colorful bird from the tropics – flitting and fluttering about, always on the move, always gorgeous.
“I really should learn how to do this,” Hannah murmured without a drop of sincerity as Carla put some final touches on her hair with a curling iron, brandishing it as skillfully as a swordsman with a rapier. She had to admit that having her hair down, the red curls spilling everywhere, was a lot more flattering than having her hair pulled straight back into a strict bun. Then again, she hadn’t wanted to be beautiful before now, so it wasn’t exactly a struggle to up the bar in the looks department.
“Pshaw,” Carla said dismissively, “and take away all my fun?” She stepped back to admire her handiwork, her hands on her broad hips as she studied Hannah in the mirror. “He’s not gonna believe his eyes when he sees you tonight,” she pronounced with excitement.
Hannah looked back at the bathroom mirror, her mouth twisting in disbelief. She did have to admit that she looked…different. She wasn’t sure if she liked war paint or not, though, and that was all she could think of when she saw this much makeup on a person: They were getting ready to go to war.
Without Hannah even saying a word, Carla laughed at her. “You do not look like an Indian about to go to war,” she said, her bright eyes crinkling in the corners with amusement. “You look beautiful.”
Hannah stuck her tongue out at Carla. It was perhaps possible that she’d used the war paint analogy more than once with her friend.
Just possible.
There was a loud knock on the front door, startling them both. Carla looked at her, excitement stamped all over her face. “It’s him!” she announced in a whisper-squeal that only Carla could produce. “I’ll just let myself out the back door.” She hurried and gathered up her things, heading for the back door before turning back to whisper, “I want to hear every detail at the next meeting. Every one of them,” and with that, she shut the door behind her quietly, slipping through the backyard and out into the back alley where she’d stealthily parked her turquoise van with HAPPY PETALS emblazoned on it for a quick getaway.
Hannah pulled at her above-the-knee skirt – normally something she never, ever wore, but Carla had absolutely insisted she put on because “It shows off your legs,” as she bluntly put it – and then walked as sedately as she could towards the front door, forcing herself not to race over. She hadn’t been this excited about a date in…never, actually.
Never, ever, ever.
Despite her best efforts, her breath was coming in short gasps by time she opened the door. She wouldn’t pass out. She wouldn’t. That would be embarrassing, to say the least.
So she just wouldn’t.
And then she opened the door to find Mr. Morland standing there, looking way more handsome than she had any idea he could look, and he’d already been handsome before, and…
Her vision darkened a bit around the edges and she wondered if she could faint gracefully or if she’d be one of those people who crumpled to a heap on the floor, hitting her head on the way down and waking up in the hospital with a giant white bandage wrapped around her head.
That would be just her luck.
The ridiculousness of the scenario playing out in her mind pulled her away from the heat of her thoughts long enough for the danger to pass, so she was able to look up at him with a smile instead of with an, “Oh my!” and a Scarletesque faint.
“Hello,” he said with a smile, and then all talking stopped as he drank in the sight of her.
She’d never been so thoroughly looked over before – she was used to blending into the background. In fact, it was what she tri
ed to do. If given even a quarter of a chance, she’d melt into the hustle and bustle of life and no one would ever think twice about her.
It was what she’d always wanted.
But now…
Having Elijah Morland look at her like she was laid out for him on a platter? As if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on?
Turned out, she didn’t mind being noticed after all.
“I didn’t know…you’re…wow.” He stuttered to a stop and just stared at her for a moment longer. “Hannah, you’re beautiful,” he finally got out.
She ducked her head, letting the curls of bright auburn hair hide her flaming cheeks for a moment. They were a brilliant red, and not from the blush that Carla had so liberally applied.
“Thanks,” she said softly. She studied him through her eyelashes, letting her gaze travel from his well worn but polished shoes, up his black slacks – she didn’t even know that he owned slacks – and to the open collar of his shirt. He’d actually worn a button-up shirt tonight, also something she didn’t know he owned.
Isn’t Elijah just full of all sorts of surprises…
The thought caught her up short.
When, exactly, had she stopped thinking of him as Mr. Morland, and had started thinking of him as Elijah? She searched back in her mind, but couldn’t remember.
This was dangerous, of course. He was the father of a student.
She absolutely, positively shouldn’t be doing it.
Of course, she also absolutely, positively shouldn’t be going on a date with him, so…
“Ready to go?” she asked, ignoring every clanging warning bell going off in her head.
For once, she’d live dangerously. Never mind that she didn’t have a rebellious bone in her body. She could pretend, right?
Just for tonight?
He held his arm out for her and she slipped hers inside of his, feeling the rush and tingle of being so close to a sexy man.
