Teaching Abby (Lone Star Family Values)

by Goldie Ledbury

  She bit her lip. She couldn’t very well accuse Mr. Franks of something she wasn’t sure that he’d done. But she could take precautions, she thought. From now on, she’d wear trousers to work, just in case.

  She left the restroom feeling calmer. Surely, she had been mistaken and was upset about nothing. Mr. Franks smiled at her as she approached the desk.

  “Finally, it’s quieted down,” he said jovially.

  “Yes.” She looked at the clock and frowned. There was only half an hour before closing time. “I’d hoped to get some preparation done for the children’s club tomorrow,” she said, “but there’s not much time to get it done now.”

  “What did you want to do?”

  “Well, I wanted to put up a display about the Gruffalo. I’m reading it to the little ones tomorrow.”

  “I’ll give you a hand. Between us we should get it done,” he said.

  Abby walked to the children’s corner, feeling uncomfortable alone with him in the quiet library. “There are some posters to put up. And I wanted to hang these speech bubbles from the ceiling – they’ve got little quotes in them,” she said.

  She stared down at the pack of quotes. She certainly didn’t want to get back on a ladder in his presence, in a situation where she’d have to stretch up to reach the ceiling. She was nobody’s peep show!

  But Mr. Franks said, “I’m taller than you; if you do the wall posters I’ll do the quotes.”

  Abby breathed an inward sigh of relief as he went to get the ladder. She really must have been mistaken about him looking. She pulled the posters out of the tube and got on with hanging them up.

  Ten minutes later, Mr. Franks had hung the first quote. “Abby, have a look at this. Is it straight?”

  She stepped back to check it. “Yes, that’s great.”

  “Good. Where do you want the next one?”

  She pointed to the corner.

  “Righto.”

  By five, the display was finished, and the two of them stepped back to admire their handiwork.

  “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

  Abby nodded. “It certainly does, Mr. Franks. Thank you for your help.”

  “Oh, call me Duncan,” he said. “After all, we’ll be working more closely together from now on, with Holly on the other shift.”

  Abby nodded, feeling awkward. “Duncan. Right. Well, if that’s everything, I’ll say goodnight.”

  He looked down at her teasingly. “Keen to get back to that husband of yours?”

  She shrugged. “He’s away at the moment. But there’s still lots to do on the ranch.”

  His eyes narrowed, then he nodded sagely. “Always a lot to do when you’re working with animals. Never a day off, eh?”

  Smiling, she said, “That’s true,” and went to get her bag and coat.

  She drove home feeling distinctly uneasy. She wasn’t sure she liked working in such close proximity with Mr. Franks; there was something about him that made her uncomfortable. There was no way she wanted to call him Duncan, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. But maybe she was being too sensitive, too prickly. Maybe her experiences with her father when he was ill were influencing her outlook.

  She swerved a little as, in her mind’s eye, she had a sudden flashback of her father trying to assault her. Her stomach clenched and she slewed the car to a halt. Taking deep breaths, she tried to quell the nausea the memory had caused.

  She rested her head on the steering wheel. She hadn’t thought about her father’s actions for months, not since before she got married. Somehow, Mac’s loving had overlaid those dark memories with beautiful ones.

  But now, Mr. Franks had resurrected all of the feelings of uncleanness and revulsion.

  Swearing under her breath, Abby started up the car again. She was being ridiculous. Nothing had happened with Mr. Franks. Nothing. She thrust the memories of her father firmly to the back of her mind and concentrated on getting home.

  When she got back, Calla was in the kitchen, baking scones. Usually, Abby joined her for a cup of coffee when she returned from work but today, for some reason, she was dying for a shower.

  She called a hello to let Calla know she was in, and then ran swiftly upstairs to her room. An hour later, well scrubbed and dressed in comfortable, loose clothing, she went downstairs feeling better.

  Later that evening, Mac called. “Hi honey,” he said, when she picked up the phone.

  Warmth flooded through her at the sound of his beloved voice, even though he sounded tired. Somehow, he had the power to banish all the shadows in her mind.

  “Hi yourself,” she said softly. “How’s your day been?”

  His sigh was heavy. “Not good. I think this investigation might take longer than I thought. I suspect that people might have got a bit lax with some of the safety rules.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh, dear. What will you do?”

  “I’ve called in an independent safety consultancy to audit all of the procedures. In the meantime, I’m sitting in with the Health and Safety Executive whilst they interview everyone.”

  “That sounds tough.”

  “It is. Anyway, enough about me. How are you, honey?”

  She hesitated. There was no way she was going to add to Mac’s worries at the moment, especially when she wasn’t sure that Mr. Franks had done anything wrong. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “The library was really busy today, but at least I managed to get the Gruffalo display up for tomorrow.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  She heard someone speak behind him, and then he came back on the line. “Listen sweetheart, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  She felt tears prickle and forced them back. “Sure. Sleep tight, Mac.”

  “You too, darling. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  That night, she was plagued by bad dreams, and she woke up the next day feeling tired and irritable. She was due in the library at ten, and for the first time ever, she didn’t want to go. She dug a pair of trousers and a loose blouse out of her closet, and pulled them on. They weren’t her usual style of work clothes – she normally wore a skirt and jacket – but they’d do.

  Calla’s eyebrows went up when she walked into the kitchen for breakfast, but she didn’t say anything. Rejecting her usual toast, Abby drank a cup of coffee and then said, with a deep sigh, “Right, I’m off to the library now.”

  Frowning, Calla asked, “Abby, is everything okay?”

  Abby looked at her, warily. She didn’t want Calla, or anyone else, thinking there was anything wrong. “Of course. Why?”

  “You don’t sound very happy to be going to work.”

  Abby shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  Calla’s face softened. “You’re missing Mac?”

  “Yes. He said he might have to be away a bit longer than we expected.”

  “Oh, Abby, I’m sorry.” Calla came round the table, and gave her a swift hug. Abby suppressed the urge to burst into tears, and hugged her back.

  “Right. Got to go. See you tonight, Calla.”

  “Sure. Have a good day.”

  Abby was tense by the time she reached the library, but when she went in Mr. Franks was on the telephone in his office. Abby waved hello, then busied herself switching on the computers and putting out the day’s newspapers before unlocking the doors and opening the library to the public.

  As usual, there were a few early risers waiting to come in, and Abby was kept busy as they returned books, collected orders and borrowed new selections. Mr. Franks didn’t emerge from behind his desk until nearly eleven, when the younger children’s group was due to start.

  “Morning, my dear,” he said, walking round to the main desk.

  “Morning, Mr. Franks.”

  He smiled, reaching over to pat her hand. She moved it quickly, resisting the urge to rub the feel of his clammy fingers from her skin. “Duncan, please. Mr. Franks makes me feel old enough to be your father.”

  He was
old enough to be her father, but she thought she’d better not point that out. Instead, she moved quickly over to the children’s corner to prepare for her reading of The Gruffalo whilst he stayed at the main desk to look after the rest of the library.

  Her spirits rose as she saw how many new children had come in. Accompanied by their parents and caregivers, there was quite a crowd. Settling down, she held them spellbound as she read the story to them, putting on the voices of the characters and stopping every now and again to discuss the brightly colored illustrations.

  Afterwards, she chatted to the children and the parents as she served juice and tea and coffee.

  Mrs. Evans, a friend of Calla’s who’d brought her little granddaughter Eve in for the story, stopped for a chat. “I must say, you’re doing a wonderful job with the children’s club,” she said to Abby. “You’ve really inspired Eve to read more.”

  “Really?” Abby smiled, delighted. “That’s wonderful.”

  Suddenly, Mr. Franks was beside her. He draped a casual arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly as he said, “Yes it is. I’m delighted at how well Abby’s doing.”

  Abby stiffened, but he removed his arm before she had time to object, and moved away to talk to someone else. Mrs. Evans clearly didn’t notice anything amiss and continued to chat about what Eve might read next.

  Abby shrugged off the incident. Mr. Franks obviously hadn’t meant anything by it. But she really didn’t like any other man but Mac touching her. The episode put Abby on edge, and by the end of the day she was glad to leave. She felt as if she’d been waiting for something bad to happen all afternoon.

  That evening she took herself off to feed the calves. She felt as if she needed to be quiet, alone. She didn’t dare sit and chat with Calla; she was afraid that she would spill out her worries about Mr. Franks. That would undoubtedly lead to Mac being told, and what could he do? It wasn’t as if Mr. Franks had actually done anything wrong.

  She stroked the soft little head of the calf and felt her eyes fill with tears. She knew she was overreacting to it all. It was just that she felt so uncomfortable in the library with Mr. Franks.

  With a sigh, she stood up. She would just have to get on with it. She walked slowly back up to the ranch, enjoying the evening sunshine. As she stepped into the ranch, she heard Calla on the phone.

  “Oh, she’s back now. Hold on.”

  Calla stuck her head round the door. “Abby, Holly’s on the phone.”

  “Oh, right.” She didn’t want to speak to Holly; didn’t really want to speak to anyone. She felt as if she wanted to close out the world, to hide her worries from every one. At the back of her mind, she knew she was reacting to this situation in the same way that she’d reacted to the problems with her father, by concealing her feelings and just carrying on. But what choice did she have?

  Pasting a smile on her face, she took the phone from Calla. “Hi, Holly.”

  The sound of her friend’s voice made her insides twist. How she wished Holly were still working with her. She would be safe with Holly there.

  “Hi Abby. Oh, I’ve missed you so much! I can’t believe we’ve been put on opposite shifts.”

  The two women chatted for a while, but when Holly suggested meeting up for a meal, Abby made her excuses. “It’s really busy here,” she said. “With Mac away, there is a lot to do.”

  Agreeing to meet up at some point in the future, Abby hung up. Sighing, she turned and jumped when she saw Calla in the doorway. It was obvious from the troubled expression on the older woman’s face that she’d overheard at least some of the conversation.

  Flushing, Abby said, “I’m not really in the mood for company.”

  Calla nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” she said. But the worry remained in her eyes as she turned away.

  The following day, Abby woke up in a more positive frame of mind. Surely she was getting too wound up about Mr. Franks, probably because she already felt low with Mac being away. Maybe his casual touching was a paternal thing – after all, he was from a different generation and maybe he just felt solicitous towards his female staff. Nonetheless, she decided, if he touched her again she would politely explain that it made her uncomfortable, and ask him to stop. It would be embarrassing to have such a conversation, but it would be preferable to feeling so awkward all the time.

  She walked into the library with a newfound confidence, and greeted Mr. Franks pleasantly. He was concentrating on logging into the library system, but he acknowledged her casually, and soon they were working busily, serving a steady flow of customers. The day flew over, and by the time Mr. Franks waved goodbye to the last customer and closed the doors she was exhausted.

  She finished processing the last returns, and turned to tell Mr. Franks that she was done. She had no idea that he was stood right behind her and all but cannoned into him. “Whoa, sorry!” she said awkwardly.

  He caught hold of her arms, holding her uncomfortably close. “Careful, my dear,” he said. “You’ll do yourself an injury.” He slid his hands down her arms, and then moved one hand to rest on the small of her back. “You really should look where you’re going,” he said, and to her horror, she felt his hand slide down towards her bottom.

  “Don’t!” She tensed, pulling away, and moved quickly past him.

  His eyebrows rose. “Something wrong?”

  “I... I don’t like it when you touch me.”

  “Touch you? What on earth are you talking about? You just bumped into me.”

  “Yes, I know. But you put your hand on my back.”

  Mr. Franks’ expression turned frosty. “Well, of course I did. I thought you’d lost your balance. Or was I wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Then what exactly are you implying?”

  “I... nothing. I was just saying—”

  “Well, Abby, I suggest you be very careful about ‘just saying’ anything. If I hear any suggestion of impropriety coming from your lips, I’ll have you out of here in a moment. I won’t tolerate slander from my staff.”

  “Slander! I didn’t—”

  “Oh yes, you did.” He paused, and then reached out to pat her arm. She flinched. “However, I’ll let it pass, just this once. I know your husband’s away and you’re probably hungry for a man’s touch. And of course, you young girls always look to the older man. It’s quite understandable. Your own husband’s a bit older than you, I hear.”

  “What!”

  “Now, go on, dear, get away home and we’ll say nothing more about this silliness.”

  Abby felt her temper ignite. “Silliness! It’s not silliness to not want to be touched inappropriately at work.”

  He looked at her with a polite expression that wholly failed to hide his callous, complacent attitude. “Abby, if anyone touched inappropriately, it was you. You turned and tried to press your body right against me. And let’s face it, you’ve been flirting with me for weeks. All those little coy glances and shy looks.”

  “I have not!“

  “Oh yes, you have. You probably can’t even help yourself, probably don’t even know you’re doing it. It comes naturally to girls like you.”

  She looked into his dark eyes and saw that beneath the civility was a very frightening man indeed. She took a step backwards.

  “That’s it, Abby. Run away home now. Enough of your nonsense; I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  The need to escape was too great to ignore. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library. She was shaking so badly, it took her two tries just to unlock her car door. She got inside, and took off as if the hounds of hell were after her.

  Once she was out of sight of the library she pulled over. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, she tried to calm down. He was deranged. And dangerous? She wondered.

  Whatever the case, he had certainly scared her. She felt as if she’d seen the monster inside the man. The look in his dark eyes had been frankly terrifying.

  The way he had twisted everything round to
make it her fault worried her too. He’d said she’d flirted with him, had cast him shy, coy glances without even knowing it. Was that possible? Had she somehow led him on, caused him to think somehow that she wanted to be touched?

  Surely not. She racked her brains, remembering all of the times she’d spoken to him, looked at him, worked with him. What could she possibly have done that would give him the impression that she was flirting with him?

  And what was she going to do now? Should she give up her job? She really loved running the children’s clubs. Why should she have to give it up just because Mr. Franks couldn’t keep his hands to himself? If she was honest with herself, she also did not want to give Mr. Franks the satisfaction of believing that he’d frightened her away. He was arrogant and complacent, and she didn’t like the thought of submitting to his bullying tactics.

  Not only that, if she gave up her job, Mac would want to know why, and she really didn’t want to tell him what had been going on. The whole thing was just too embarrassing, too sordid. In truth, she felt deeply, instinctively ashamed, though she wasn’t sure why.

  She drove home slowly, trying to decide whether to hand in her notice. Surely after today’s confrontation, Mr. Franks wouldn’t want to risk any more trouble? After all, he must have got the message after that particular conversation that she didn’t want him to touch her. Perhaps he would just leave her alone from now on.

  Still undecided, she went into the ranch, feeling relieved to be home. Calla was busy in the kitchen, and Jeb was discussing business with Nick in the office. Calla stuck her head round the door with a smile and said, “Holly rang again.”

  Abby nodded. “Okay. I’ll call her back in a while.”

  But she didn’t, unable to face talking to her friend as if nothing was wrong. It was bad enough having to talk to Mac. He rang, as usual, after dinner. Abby adopted a bright tone and tried to sound happy. But Mac must have had an inkling because he said slowly, “Abby, are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know. I just have a feeling…”