Dreaming of You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  “YOU’RE CRAZY. THIS is craziness.” Darby sat cross-legged on Nora’s bed, watching her fill one suitcase after another. “Why would you even believe Crystal Menlow?”

  “Why would she lie?” Nora poked her head out of her closet to meet Darby’s gaze.

  Darby picked at a loose thread on the comforter. “Please don’t go. I don’t feel right about it. Crystal’s lying. She’s an ice witch. You know what her son says about her.”

  “It’s just sad that those two don’t get along.” Nora fished through her closet, carefully selecting her wardrobe. How many dresses would she really need? Cole had said there would be numerous fundraising activities, but how many were formal? “Honor your mother and your father and all that.”

  “Don’t be a hypocrite,” Darby said. “You know this decision is going to put your parents in the hospital.”

  “This isn’t about them.”

  “Blake’s bombshell already broke their hearts.”

  Nora threw her boots onto the bed more forcefully than she needed to. “They should have told me!”

  “Of course they should have, but I get why they didn’t.” Sometimes when Darby smiled, she still reminded Nora of the ten-year-old girl with pigtails and buck teeth that had beaten Nora in a hopscotch game on the school’s playground. “So, why do you think you haven’t met Irena Rowling?”

  “I told you, she’s been traveling. She’ll be back the week before school starts.” Nora gathered a collection of scarves and dropped them in an empty suitcase. Her wardrobe as a teacher wouldn’t need to be very different from that as the president of Apex. But inland weather wasn’t as easy to predict.

  The ocean kept the weather in Shell Beach foggy but moderate. Canterbury was only fifteen miles from the California Coast, but it was nestled at a higher elevation in the foothills, making the temperatures more extreme. She’d read that in the winter there was occasionally ice on the roads. She shivered and threw a flannel shirt into her suitcase.

  “Seriously, I don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents,” Darby said.

  “I’m not sure I will.”

  “They’ll figure it out!”

  Nora thought about this. “I just want to meet her.”

  “So meet her! You don’t have to move up there and take a job at her school!” Darby froze. “Do you even like kids?”

  “Everyone likes kids. Only monsters don’t like kids.”

  “Have you ever spent any time around kids?”

  “Well, no. But I’m not sure why that matters.”

  Darby rolled her eyes. “You, my friend, are brilliant, but clueless. And gullible. You need to talk to your parents.”

  “Not about this.” Nora went back to raiding her closet. She came across a red dress sprinkled with yellow daisies. She’d loved it but Blake had said it made her look like a school marm...well, that was exactly what she was...now. She wondered if Cole would like this dress. Maybe she would wear it on the first day of class. Her chest tightened as she thought about facing a room filled with teenage girls.

  She hadn’t liked teenaged girls even when she’d been one.

  “This is so dumb.” Darby flopped back against the pillows.

  “It’s just for one school year.” Nora went to the bed, plopped down, tugged her laptop to her, and pulled up the Canterbury Academy website. “The school is gorgeous. It’s surrounded by green hills dotted with these ancient oak trees. They have a Four-H program with horses, chickens...”

  “Sounds smelly.” Darby peeked over Nora’s shoulder at the screen. “Ooh, is that your boss?”

  “That’s my brother.”

  “If I married him, we could be sisters!” Darby sat up and hugged her knees.

  A wave of revulsion swept through Nora. She told herself that feeling territorial about her brother was a typical response. Especially since she’d just met him and he was so brand new in her life. It made sense that she wanted to keep him for herself. Right?

  Darby bumped Nora’s shoulder and read her mind. “But maybe you want him for yourself.”

  “He’s my brother,” Nora repeated.

  “Says who? Crystal?”

  Nora closed the lid of her laptop with a sharp click.

  “You need to talk to your parents,” Darby repeated.

  “You keep saying that, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, they’re sailing in the Atlantic and for another, you know they don’t like to talk about stuff like that. They’re not warm and fuzzy like your parents. They don’t do emotions.”

  “That’s why I can’t believe your dad had an affair!” Darby pointed her finger in the air, punctuating her words. “And your birth mom supposedly just handed you over?” Darby made a face. “And your real mom took in your father’s love child?” Darby shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I saw the photos myself. My real mom, as you call her, was not pregnant in any of those pictures.”

  “Are you sure of the date?”

  “It was stamped on the back of the pictures.”

  Darby sat up on her knees. “We need to get a copy of your birth certificate.”

  Nora shook her head, thinking of that fruitless endeavor. “I already tried. I may not be Irena Rowling’s daughter, but I definitely don’t belong to Weatherford and Katheryn Lance.”

  Blake and I are in a car bouncing along a dusty road hemmed in with a thick forest. The car sputters and dies. Blake gets out, but he doesn't check under the hood. Instead, he tosses the keys and tells me that he's leaving. "Don't follow," he says. "But where are we?” I cry. “I don't even know where we're going!" Blake answers by walking away. I think about following him but he disappears. I'm forced to find my own way, but I no longer know what I want or where I want to go.

  From Nora's Dream Journal

  CHAPTER 2

  Nora and Darby studied the club chairs piled into the back of Nora’s Land Cruiser. Darby’s brother and dad had helped put them in the SUV, but now that they were at Canterbury Academy, they needed help getting them out.

  “We can do this,” Nora said, placing her hands on her hips. This had been her mantra since they’d left Shell Beach, but her confidence had flagged now that they had now finally arrived.

  Darby’s frown said she disagreed and she was just about to say so, until her expression lightened as if the sun hiding behind the clouds suddenly decided to appear. Nora turned to see Cole Rowling and his mom—her mom—Irena Rowling walking down the steps of the Humanities Hall.

  Nora froze. She studied the planes of Irena’s face, searching for similarities to her own. Irena had Cole’s warm eyes, thick brown hair, and generous lips. Disappointment tingled through Nora and for the first time, she considered that maybe Crystal had been wrong.

  “What’s all this?” Cole asked.

  Nora wiped her hands on her jeans and cursed herself for not wearing something cute. She hurried over to shake Irena’s hand. “You must be Irena Rowling.”

  Irena smiled. “And you’re the new English teacher everyone is buzzing about.” Her hand felt warm and soft. “Nora Tomas.”

  Nora flashed Cole a look and he blushed beneath her gaze. “You’re putting chairs in the room?” He peered into the back of the SUV. It looked like a moving truck.

  “I want to create a reading space,” Nora told him. “The chairs are just a start....”

  “It looks like you need some help,” Cole said.

  “You have no idea how much,” Darby said.

  For the first time, Cole turned his attention to Darby. So, of course, Nora had to introduce everyone, even if she disliked the altogether-too-familiar look of a cat contemplating cream in Darby’s eyes.

  “This looks like more than a one-man project,” Cole said. “Let me round up Hector.” He must have noted Nora’s blank expressions because he added, “Our handy-man.”

  “He’s been summoned,” Irena said as she tapped on her phone. “This looks like
a man’s job,” she said to her son. “Why don’t you and Hector handle this under Darby’s supervision while I get to know Ms. Tomas?” She turned to Nora. “Would you mind if I stole you away from your reading nook?”

  “Are you kidding? I would love that,” Nora said. “But...I didn’t mean to make Cole and Hector my moving crew.”

  Darby waved as of shooing away invisible flies. “It’s nothing,” she said, looking way too happy to have Cole to herself—at least until Hector arrived.

  Irena motioned for Nora to follow her up the steps of the Humanities Hall. “How are you settling in, my dear?”

  “Well, I just got here so it’s too soon to tell, but I think I’m going to love it.”

  Irena lifted her chin. “Our students are...a rare breed, and my son tells me you don’t have a teaching background.”

  “That’s right.”

  Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the deserted hall, passing the mostly empty classrooms. Nora peeked in each room, hoping to catch sight of her new coworkers. Working at Canterbury Academy was going to be very different from working at Apex.

  “I need you to know that you might meet some resistance.” Irena stopped in front of a closed door and pushed it open to reveal a room bathed in warm sunlight spilling through generous windows overlooking the distant foothills. Cole had told her the room number so before arriving she had only known it was on the first floor. She hadn’t been prepared for the wash of excitement the empty room brought her.

  “You took a gamble on bringing up furniture.”

  Nora agreed, but she said, “My furniture is going to look great in here. But you’re right, I had no way of knowing that.” She pointed to the back corner. “I’ll set up the chairs, rug and bookcase over there next to the window.” She took a deep breath. “I love my furniture. It belonged to my grandmother and I didn’t want to leave it in the storage unit in Shell Beach.” She waited for a flicker of recognition to cross Irena’s face, but she remained impassive. “That’s where I’m from.”

  “Yes, that’s what Cole said. He told me quite a bit about you, actually. You made an impression.”

  “I did?”

  Irena nodded. “He even read your books.”

  “Oh, dear... They’re very girly.”

  Irena laughed. “Well, they got you the job!”

  “They did?”

  “Right now, there’s a retired dean from UCI who is cursing your name.” Irena leaned against the doorjamb.

  “He wanted my job?”

  “And he would have gotten it, too, if he’d had any theater experience.”

  “Theater experience?”

  “You do have theater experience, don’t you?”

  Nora shook her head, feeling ill.

  Irena laughed and the happy sound bounced off the empty walls. “No? But your protagonist in Love’s Lost Measure is a drama teacher!”

  “She’s a character!”

  “And so is my son.” Irena chuckled. “Well, he obviously had his own reasons for hiring you. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful. The girls will probably relate to you much better than they would to Turner Lawson.”

  Nora swallowed. “So, there’s a play?”

  Irena nodded. “Every year, and the girls—and some of their parents—take drama very seriously. We have a number of Hollywood’s children here.”

  Nora didn’t know anything about directing a play, but she had a friend who did. Chelsea had studied acting at UCLA and now was now involved in Shell Beach’s small community theater.

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “No.” Not if she could get Chelsea to help. “It’ll be fun!”

  Irena’s smile brightened. “Are you familiar with the term ‘drama therapy’?”

  Nora shook her head.

  “It’s a wonderful concept. In the guise of performance and make-believe, the children can act in new and healthy ways. The bit of distance from real life allows them to look at their own patterns and behaviors, and to experiment with better, healthier reactions. It also gives the shy a chance to overcome their anxieties in a loving and supportive environment and for the extroverted to do what they do best.” Irena took a deep breath. “Sorry, when it comes to childhood development, I can be quite passionate.”

  “You must love your students,” Nora said, wondering how this warm, generous woman could have ever been persuaded to give up her only daughter. But maybe that’s was why she had decided to open a girls’ school—to ease the pain of the loss.

  “Yes, I do very much. I hope you will, too.”

  Nora hoped the same.

  “BUT I’M SUPPOSED TO make you clam chowder,” Nora said as she unlocked the door to her cottage.

  “And I want to go out with the deliciously handsome principal.” Darby elbowed Nora and followed her inside. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Nora glanced around the cottage the school had supplied. She had a few of her things in it, but since it came furnished, she’d used most of her furniture in her classroom. The result was that her classroom was darling and her cottage was...not.

  “Maybe the principal...my brother...could join us here for chowder.” Nora frowned at the tiny eating space and tried to imagine the three of them sitting around the table.

  Darby squealed and clapped her hands. “That would be so great.”

  “It seems like the least I could do,” Nora said, “after all his help.”

  Darby whipped her phone out of her pocket. “Okay, I’ll call Cole.”

  “You have his number?” Nora asked, dazed by everything.

  “Don’t you?” Darby asked.

  When he’d offered her the job, they’d corresponded by email and he had called her Ms. Tomas, and she’d called him Dr. Rowling. Of course, his relationship with Darby would be much more casual. Darby didn’t work for him...but Darby wasn’t his sister, either.

  Nora sighed and dropped onto the saggy sofa across from the large picture window that overlooked wooded hills. The tiny house had a giant view. She told herself that she would be happy here, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to be happy anymore. But she didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, either. Been there and done that for much too long. She bounced back up and strode into the kitchen.

  She tried to explain her feelings to Darby as she made the clam chowder. Because Canterbury was six miles from the closest grocery store, they had gone shopping before they’d arrived. Now, while Nora chopped celery and potatoes and browned bacon, Darby went to work stocking Nora’s kitchen.

  Darby opened cupboards. “Wow, Cole was right. You really do have everything you need.”

  Nora peeked in the cupboard at the plastic plates, bowls, and cups. “I should have brought my own things.”

  “Why? You said you were only going to stay here for the school year.”

  “I know, but...I don’t want to feel like I’m camping.”

  “Girl, this is not camping.”

  Nora glanced out the window at the sun sinking into the dark hills. Her cottage was the last on the road, definitely the best location with probably the nicest view. She wondered if Cole had intentionally arranged this for her, or if she’d just gotten lucky. “It is great, isn’t it?”

  “What are you going to do after your year here?” Darby asked.

  “Publish another book.”

  Darby clapped her hands. “Oh, I can’t wait!”

  “But you can’t tell my dad! He practically died of embarrassment after the last one. I’m going to use a pen name.”

  “Oh, he’s such a prude!” Darby waved her hand, dismissing him. “Besides, once he finds out where you are, and with whom, he’s going to—for once—shut his jaw.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t ready to think about her parents. Yet. Eventually she would have to, but not now. Nora lifted the bacon out of the pan strip by strip and placed it on a bed of paper towels to drain while she stirred together cream and butter.

  Darby watched and groaned. “How is it that
you have such a bird body? No one who eats that much butter deserves to be thin!”

  “I love clam chowder,” Nora said. “It reminds me of my grandma Eleonore’s house up in Port Townsend.”

  “Did you stop to consider that if you aren’t your mother’s daughter, then even your grandmother lied to you?”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Nora said as she slid her chopped potatoes off the cutting board and into a pot of boiling water.

  “But if Crystal was telling the truth, that had to mean that your Grammy Eleonore lied.”

  Nora scowled and poked at the potatoes trying to float to the surface of the boiling water.

  Cole stuck his head in the door. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

  “When will the soup be on?” Darby asked.

  “Not for a while,” Nora replied. “The potatoes need to soften up, and then everything needs to simmer. Also, I need to make the bread and then it needs to rise.” She grimaced. “We’ve at least an hour.”

  “Can we skip the bread?” Cole asked as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  “No,” Nora and Darby answered at the same time.

  Cole laughed at their intensity.

  “You have to have the bread,” Nora told him.

  “It’s that good,” Darby assured him.

  “Huh, it sounds like I should have hired you to teach home ec,” Cole said.

  “Do they even have that at schools anymore?” Nora asked.

  “We don’t,” Cole said, “although I’m not sure why.”

  “Since we have some time, why don’t we go for a walk?” Darby suggested. “I’d love to see the campus.”

  Nora knew what Darby was doing and it bothered her, although she couldn’t pinpoint why. Darby wanted to claim Cole as her own. The girlfriend code—a pact they’d forged in junior high—clearly stated that once a boy, or man in this case— showed any physical sign of attraction, including handholding, hugging, or kissing, then that boy officially ‘belonged’ to the first recipient and anyone else pursuing him would be in violation of the girlfriend code.