by Kristy Tate
COLE LEANED BACK IN his chair, watching the door of the Green Hog Bar and waiting for Nora. Chad, just on the other side of him, was obviously doing the same. Cole tried not to think about the day they’d gone went horseback riding, but every time he was around her he remembered how she’d felt beneath him. She carried a sadness around her like an invisible gray fog. When he coaxed a smile from her, he felt like he’d scored a victory. He wished he knew where the sadness came from—he knew about her divorce, and he blamed her ex-husband. But more than anything, he wanted to be the one who broke through the fog and lifted her from the mire of her unhappiness. He had thought that possible until the afternoon he walked in on her pulling on her pants in Chad’s office.
He had to talk to her about that. That sort of behavior wasn’t tolerated with the girls and it couldn’t happen amongst the teachers. He hadn’t told Irena because he wasn’t ready to let Nora go...but it had to be done. He had to fire her. Maybe it wasn’t too late to hire Turner. Irena had been adamantly opposed to Turner, but why? He was certainly overly qualified.
Cole tightened his grip on his glass when Nora and her friend Darby walked in. There had been another woman with them earlier, a pretty redhead.
Chad sat up, smiled and waved. A wash of jealousy swept through Cole.
Hector nudged him. “Want to play a round of pool?”
“You’re on,” Cole said, pushing away from the table and turning his back on Nora.
NORA SAT AT A TABLE surround by the other teachers, who laughed and joked. Occasionally she tried to pipe in, but the longer she stayed, the more disconnected she felt. Darby clung to Chad on the dance floor while Nora thought about joining Chelsea, who had chosen to remain at the cottage and read through the script Nora had picked out for the autumn play.
“So, your friend and Chad, huh?” Barry leaned across the table and waggled his bushy eyebrows at Nora.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Nora said.
“They’re so hot, they’re smoking,” Barry said. “He’s the potassium nitrate and she’s the sugar.”
Nora smiled as if she was listening to Barry, but secretly, she was trying to tune him out. Someone touched her shoulder.
“Want to dance?” Cole asked.
Nora’s heart sped up. “Sure,” she said, trying not to sound not too eager. She followed him onto the dance floor. He’d obviously showered since the game and his hair was still damp. It curled around his ears and collar and she itched to touch it.
Half a dozen couples danced on the wood floor while Pharrell Williams admonished everyone to be happy via the jukebox. Cole took Nora by the hand and drew her closer. He leaned in to talk directly in her ear. “Your friend and Chad...what’s up with that?” His warm breath sent tingles down her back.
Nora glanced over her shoulder, smiling and pleased that Darby’s ploy was working. “I think she likes him.” Nora tried not to think about how she and Cole fit together like puzzle pieces. She was tall, but he was still almost a head taller. If he drew her closer, she’d fit perfectly beneath his chin. She tried not to be too obvious when she inhaled his warm, clean scent.
“But they just met, right?”
“Actually, they met the day Darby helped me move in.”
“Hmm.” Cole cleared his throat. “That day I walked in on you in Chad’s George office, did I misread that the situation?”
“I don’t know,” Nora said primly. “What did you read?”
“I generally don’t read romances.”
“But you read mine.”
“Yours are squeaky clean, but—”
“But?” She didn’t want to make things easy on him. If he’d thought the worst of her, she wanted to hear him admit it.
“I would hope you feel the same about dating your fellow teachers as you would the principal,” he said stiffly.
“Who said anything about dating?” When she felt him tense, she decided to tell him about the search for the perfect pair of sweatpants. “That’s all that was going on in Chad’s office. Did you really think I would hook up with Chad on his linoleum floor?”
“He has a big desk.”
She stepped away.
He caught her wrist. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so jealous, I’ve been plotting your dismissal for the last forty-eight hours.”
“You’ve been jealous?” Why did this secretly delight her? She chided herself for her feelings.
He brought her against him and tucked her under his chin. “You have no idea,” he whispered in her ear.
“We still can’t date,” she whispered, forcing herself to pull away just an inch.
“Yet. We still can’t date, yet,” he said.
I'm in a room surrounded by children of all shapes and sizes. The walls, floors, and ceiling are white and unadorned. There are no windows, but the room is brightly lit. The children are all dressed in shades of gray and light blue. Cole is there, although his pants and shirt are white, and he's wearing a red and blue bowtie. It's the one splash of color in the monochromatic room.
From Nora's Dream Journal
CHAPTER 6
By the end of the second week, Nora was sure of two things: she was totally and completely in love with teaching and she was half in love with Cole, her brother. Her heart sped up every time he entered the teachers’ lounge. She found herself looking for him in the halls. If she was in a crowded room full of conversations, his voice and his laugh stood out above all the others.
Nora switched off the TV. She’d been watching Pretty Liars Little, and the relationship between Aria and Ezra made her nuts. It hadn’t bothered her a few weeks ago, but recently that student/teacher love affair struck way too close to home. She was all too aware that she wasn’t the only one who was crushing on Cole.
It made her crazy to realize that her students—despite the age difference—had a more likely chance of being with Cole than she did. A student falling in love with a teacher wasn’t nearly as socially unacceptable as siblings falling for each other.
She tried to rein in her feelings, but whenever Cole was around they spun into hyper-drive. But what if Crystal had been wrong? The best one to answer that question was her dad...or maybe her mom. Where were they?
Nora glanced at her computer. The last time she’d talked to her dad, he had been in Morocco. She pulled her computer onto her lap, booted it up, and tried to message her parents.
No response.
Nora stood, grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and headed out the door. The crisp autumn evening air sliced through her sweater, but she didn’t care. She glanced at her phone. No service. With a sigh, she headed for Signal Hill.
She could feel the pebbles and rocks through the soles of her slippers. She wasn’t dressed for a nighttime stroll, and what if she did manage to get ahold of her parents? Was their conversation really something that they could talk about in a matter of minutes? The cold was already seeping into her bones. But if she went back into the cottage for a pair of shoes and a jacket, would she chicken out? Crawl back into bed? Continue to secretly yearn for a man who should be the last person she should crush on?
She pushed herself to the top of the hill before she could lose her nerve. Her rational voice asked her what time it was in the Mediterranean. There was an excellent chance her parents would be asleep. Did she really want to wake them and demand to know of her parentage? They’d be upset. And not just about being woken up in the middle of the night.
Nora glanced at the moon and pale stars. The moon, big and round, barely skimmed the tops of the trees. She still had a few hours until bedtime. The longer she waited, the more likely she’d be to interrupt her parents’ breakfast rather than their dreams. Her steps faltered when she saw she wasn’t the only one looking for cell service.
Barry waved at her. “Huh, Mom, I gotta go,” he said into his phone.
Nora turned to leave, but Barry caught up to her.
“Hey, neighbor! I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
; Nora debated. If she left, the chances were good that Barry would walk her home. If she stayed on the pretense of making a call, he’d leave her alone. She pulled out her phone.
“How’s school going?” Barry asked.
“Good,” Nora replied with a false smile. “Really good.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear it. Teaching’s not for the faint of heart. Especially not when your students are spoiled brats.” He stood close enough that Nora could smell the alcohol on his breath.
Nora bristled and recoiled. “They’re not...”
Barry stepped forward so that the toes of his shoes lined up with the fuzzy balls on Nora’s slippers. “Oh, come on. These girls are pampered princesses.”
Nora, who had also grown up as a pampered princess, knew that it was completely possible to be rich in things, but poor in love, and for the most part, the girls who were sent away to boarding school were missing what they wanted, no, craved the most—parental love and devotion. Nora curled her fingers around her phone, remembering what had brought her to the hill.
On top of the alcohol, he smelled of onions, garlic, and something she couldn’t define identify but didn’t like. She edged away. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Barry. Does Irena know?”
Barry collected himself, straightened, and pointed his finger at Nora’s chest. “These girls—” he began. But something made him press his lips together.
Nora looked over her shoulder to see Cole walking up the hill. He wore a dark blue pea coat, dark jeans, and brown leather boots. He blended into the night, like he belonged, in just the same way he fit onto his horse. He seemed comfortable and at ease in his world in a way that Nora had never truly experienced. She had thought she belonged with Blake. After all, they’d been best friends longer than they’d ever been lovers or spouses. And then he’d left. After that, she had been on quicksand—the ground constantly shifting.
“Am I interrupting?” Cole asked.
Barry’s cheeks flushed and his eyes sparked with anger. He tucked his phone into his pocket and strode away.
“What was that about?” Cole asked.
“I’m not sure,” Nora said, wondering why Barry stayed at the school if he hated the girls.
“Were you making a call?” Cole asked.
“I was going to go, but I decided against it.” She slipped her phone into the pocket of her cardigan.
“Because of Barry?”
“No, because of the international dateline.”
Cole raised his eyebrows. Nora explained that her parents would still be asleep and although she wanted to talk, she didn’t want to wake them.
“It sounds important.”
“It really is,” Nora said, acknowledging that the longer she stayed near Cole, the more urgent the matter became. She wanted to lean into him to absorb his calm and confidence. Being with him filled her with a sense of what she could only describe as homesickness, a longing, not necessarily for a place, but for somewhere she belonged.
“If you want to use the school’s landline, all you have to do is ask.”
Nora blinked. “That would be great....” As long as Cole or Irena aren’t around to overhear the conversation. “What are you doing here? Do you make your calls here, too?”
“I’m just checking on the horses. Did you hear the coyotes?”
“Should I be more afraid of Barry or the wild animals?”
Cole looked concerned. “Did Barry make you uncomfortable in any way?”
Nora felt instantly contrite. “No, not at all,” she lied. Nora didn’t like Barry, but she didn’t want to cost him his job.
Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled, making Nora shiver.
“Want me to walk you back to your cottage, just to be safe?”
“That would be great.” They fell into step together while more coyotes joined the keening.
“It sounds like they’re right next door, but did you know that you can hear a coyote for up to four miles?” Cole asked.
“Wow. A coyote wouldn’t try and to take down a horse, would it?”
“A pack might, but generally not, unless they’re starving—which they shouldn’t be. There’s are plenty of rabbits around this time of year. But you can’t tell that to a horse. Even the odor of coyotes will increase their heart rates. In spite of their size, horses are really just big scaredy-cats.”
Nora tucked her hands into her jacket. “I get that.”
“Really? Because you don’t seem lacking in confidence, especially in the classroom. My mom has mentioned it, too. You’re a natural with the girls.”
Nora blew out a happy sigh. “Thanks. I’m obviously still learning. I make mistakes.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Well, the other day I caught the girls exchanging something during a quiz. I could tell they were trying to be secretive and keep whatever it was hidden. Of course, I thought it was the answers, especially since it was Colleen Havers—do you know Colleen, smart but desperate for the louder, more popular girls to like her?—and Gina Caldwell.”
Cole paused and his expression turned serious and concerned. “Were they cheating?”
“No. It was nothing.”
He walked beside her and bumped her with his shoulder. “It had to have been something,” he pressed.
“Oh, it was...”.”
“So, what was it?”
“A tampon,” she said finally, feeling as if she’d blown the girls’ secret.
He laughed.
“Colleen was mortified.”
“And Gina?”
“She put the tampon in her pocket and asked to be excused.... I let her go.” She shrugged and came to a stop beneath her cottage’s porch light. “I know what it’s like to be a girl.”
“They love you already. Not that I blame them.”
His words warmed her. He reached out and touched her hand briefly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Later, when she lay in bed listening to the coyotes crying in the distant hills, Nora replayed her conversation with Cole in her mind and fell asleep thinking of what it would be like to be loved by Cole.
MEGAN MILLER, A TALL, take-charge sort of senior whose horsey appearance reminded Nora of Katharine Hepburn, stopped Nora in the hall after school one day. She carried a bundle of papers in her arms and a roll of tape. “Ms. Tomas, will you be a chaperone at the Harvest Moon Dance next Friday?”
Nora had heard of the dance, of course. The boys from Clinton Field, an all-boys private school in nearby Ventura, had been invited. The girls were much more excited about it than the teachers.
“Dr. Rowling told me to ask you,” Maggie continued.
“Oh.” Nora had planned on meeting with Chelsea to talk about the play, but if Cole wanted her to go to the dance, and from the look on Maggie’s face, so did Maggie... “Um, sure. I just have one question. What do I wear?”
“Just whatever teachers wear.” Maggie sighed and rolled her eyes. “But we have a dress code....”
“You do?” Nora couldn’t imagine that the girls would have to wear their uniforms.
Maggie nodded. “The girls have to wear dresses, but they can’t be strapless and they can’t be too short. The boys have it easier.”
“Because they don’t have to wear dresses?”
Maggie pointed her finger at Nora’s chest. “Exactly! If we have to wear dresses, why don’t they?”
“Because we’re not in Scotland? But they have to wear pants, right?”
“And ties—which is just dumb.” Maggie looked exasperated. “Ties are stupid. They look like bibs, and usually by the end of the night the boys have spilled something gross on them.” Maggie pulled the top paper off her pile and tacked it on the bulletin board next to a flier announcing the upcoming Parents’ Day. While Maggie adjusted her advertisement, Nora read it over Maggie’s shoulder. Harvest Moon Homecoming. All students past and present are invited to dance the night away in a Canterbury celebration.
“But that’s a good litmu
s test, right?” Nora asked.
“A what?”
“A litmus test. It’s a way to tell for sure if something is whatever it claims. For example, if a guy has a goopy tie, that means you want to avoid him because he drools or is a messy eater.”
Maggie grinned. “Can I tell that to my mom? She thinks I have to dance with any guy who asks me. I’ll have to tell her about the no- goopy- tie rule.”
“Well,” Nora backpedaled, “what if he has a legitimate reason for having drool on his tie?”
“Like what?”
“Maybe it’s not his drool. Maybe one of the horses tried to eat his tie.”
“This is exactly why the boys shouldn’t be expected to wear ties.”
“Because horses might try to eat them?”
“It’s a health hazard!” Maggie said before flouncing away.
“I don’t think the horses are carnivorous,” Nora said to Maggie’s retreating back. But then she caught sight of Cole. The jolt of pleasure his smile sent through her reminded her that she had much more to worry about than imaginary carnivorous horses.
THE MID-AUTUMN SUN was already settling on the horizon by the time Nora pulled into town. She glanced at her phone, knowing her parents would probably be in bed, but with her schedule, the only time she could call them was after school, and the more she thought about it, the more she knew that she couldn’t have this conversation somewhere where she could be overheard. Maybe she could try calling them in the morning before school, but she didn’t know how it was going to go. She hated the thought of being late for class, or having to go to school teary-eyed, or distraught—so here she was sitting in her car in the municipal parking lot where she finally found cell service and was ensured privacy. So...
Why was she hesitating? Because her parents hated drama? Because how many emotional conversations had she tried to initiate with her mom or her dad, only to have them shut her down? If she ever just hinted at tears or anger, she’d always been sent to her room until “she could behave like a rational adult.” But her parents had begun using that “rational adult” phrase long before Nora had reached her twenty-first birthday. Even as a child she’d been shamed for sadness, fright, even exuberance. Passions were just something her parents didn’t do—at least not in public. Or even at home. She didn’t know what happened behind their closed bedroom doors, but it was hard to imagine. How could she ask these emotionally charged questions?
