Sleeping Roses

by RaShelle Workman

  "He can have it all. It's all his anyway. I don't want any of it." Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her legs certainly. She didn’t want anything more to do with him.

  "You say that now but perhaps in a day or two you’ll change your mind. If something happens, feel free to call me.” He placed his copies back in the folder his secretary had brought in before he continued.

  “Now, concerning the money, the fee to process and file your divorce papers is three hundred dollars.”

  Sophie nodded she understood.

  He continued, “If, for some reason, we have to go to court to divide assets or contest a dispute, the fees will increase.”

  “Sure, Mr. Wodden. Makes sense.” She hoped David never found out about the inheritance money her aunt left her. It might get ridiculous-ugly then, she thought.

  As if reading her mind, he sat back down. “I’m going to ask this bluntly, Mrs. Berkeley. Is there anything of yours he might want? It goes both ways, you know." His deep baritone voice seemed to shake her core.

  Perhaps it wasn’t smart, leaving out that she didn’t need his money, because she had plenty of her own. How could she explain everything to him, though, without going into immense detail? To her, it made perfect sense. She didn’t want to tell anyone else about the money. Her life with David had taught her to share as little as possible. This money was her secret treasure. Something of hers he couldn’t touch, squander or use for his own selfish means. And, if it came to it, the money was her way of escaping David. Nervously, she uttered, “Besides me, no.” She glanced at her pants, hoping he wouldn't notice her voice had changed a little.

  Mr. Wodden didn’t seem convinced. “Care to elaborate?"

  She laughed uncomfortably, "No, not now anyway. He owns his own restaurant. He's part owner of a contracting company. He’s well off, which is all I’m going to say." She tried to sound firm.

  "Fine. Get back to me in a week, week and a half and let me know what's going on." He stood and stuck out his hand again. "Good-bye for now, Mrs. Berkeley."

  She took his hand, saying, "Good-bye Mr. Wodden, and thank you for your time."

  She gave the old receptionist a check from her personal account before she left.

  Out in the fresh air, she happily repeated her ‘be strong’ mantra.

  Maybe I can do this, she thought.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie nervously glanced into her rearview mirror again, and saw the same white car from the hotel was still there. She decided to lose it by quickly changing lanes, and speeding up. She looked back, breathing a sigh of relief. The white car hadn't changed lanes and was quite a ways back. We must have been heading in the same direction.

  Seeing the sign for her exit, she crossed three lanes of traffic just barely making it to the exit ramp. Checking her rearview mirror, she became terrified to see the white car behind her again.

  “It may be a coincidence. Stay calm,” she said out loud.

  At the light she took a right then a left heading for the school at the end of the street. She drove quickly through the residential neighborhood avoiding students when necessary.

  The car still followed her.

  Okay, she thought, now is the time to panic.

  She turned left into her reserved parking space reaching for her cell phone with the other hand. Twisting around, she faced the man in the white car as he drove by. She stared at him, trying to see clearly what he looked like. His hair was brown and he had a dark colored jacket on.

  He glared back, grinning wickedly, and then he looked away, increasing his speed as he continued down the street. He took a left and was gone.

  Definitely no coincidence. He followed me. The big question though is why? It wasn't David, so who was it, she wondered.

  "Is everything all right?"

  Sophie jumped, letting out a loud scream. She turned around and saw a man's face at her window.

  "Don't,” he yelled.

  "Phillip, is that you?" She hit the end button on her cell phone and rolled down her window.

  "Sorry. I didn't recognize you for a second."

  Phillip, clearly embarrassed, grinned sheepishly. “Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I'm fine," she replied anxiously, getting out of her car.

  Phillip stepped onto the sidewalk. He stood there waiting for her.

  Oh this is great, she thought, mortified. He's going to think I'm nuts. She locked her car and stepped onto the sidewalk next to him. Casually looking around, trying to calm her nerves, she noticed the car next to hers. It was white.

  "Is this your car? Did you just get here," she questioned, incredulously. Was he the one who followed her?

  "Yes, it's my car and no, I didn't just get here. I've been here a while. I saw you pull in."

  "If you've been here a while, what were you doing? Why didn't you go inside?"

  Phillip smirked a little. "Well, if you must know, I was listening to a book on CD. Didn't you see me?" He had a bewildered look on his face.

  "No, I . . ." she trailed off, because she noticed his jacket. It was dark—dark blue to be exact. Still surveying him, she also realized his hair was the same color as the man in the car who had been following her. Frightened anger welled up inside of her.

  "How dare you follow me," she yelled.

  Perturbed, he responded, "I didn't follow you. I've been right here a while, probably thirty minutes or more." He started to walk away but must have thought better of it, because he turned back around. "Why would you think I followed you?"

  Scared and confused, she knew she sounded irrational. "A white car followed me here. The man inside had the same color hair as you, the same color jacket, only maybe not as . . . oh, I don't know," she cried, to upset to care what he thought. Finding a semblance of control although her voice shaking, she muttered, “Sorry. When I saw your car I got upset. I’m sure you can tell I’m still upset. I shouldn’t have accused you, though. Again, I apologize."

  Phillip walked back over to her. His eyes softened and he seemed like he wanted to comfort her. Instead he kindly stated, “Sophie, I'm telling you, it wasn't me. You pulled in next to me. I noticed you sitting there, clutching your cell phone, and thought you might need some help." Dejectedly, he walked backward, toward the school entrance. "I'll see you inside." Turning on his heels, he quickly walked away.

  #

  Sophie ate lunch in the teacher's lounge, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. She was sure Phillip told everyone what a nut she was and couldn’t blame him, but no one seemed to be acting strange toward her.

  Two teachers had come in, said hello to her and then sat at another table. The room had four round tables spaced randomly throughout. Two moderately sized windows, a refrigerator, a microwave and several countertops, to be used for getting a meal ready. There was a large rectangular table under the windows with a paper cutter sitting studiously atop it as well as several different colors of construction paper.

  Trying to act normal, she mournfully put another bite of salad in her mouth as Rina walked in.

  Catching her attention, Rina sat next to her and asked, "Salad again. Do you have more bad news for me?"

  Sophie swallowed. "Well, I accused Phillip of following me to school this morning. Is that bad news?"

  Slumping a little, Rina questioned, “Why would you accuse him of following you?"

  Blandly, she told her what happened.

  "Do you think David is having you followed?"

  "It's possible," she answered wearily.

  "Did you use a credit card to pay for your room?"

  "You know I did. You were with me." Then it occurred to her where Rina headed with her questions.

  "Do you think he found me through my credit card?"

  "Of course. With all the technology out there, definitely."

  Alarmed, Sophie asked, "What should I do?"

  "I think you should switch hotels, or come and stay with me."

  "I'm not staying with you, Rina. I don't wa
nt him to hurt you."

  "Come on, hon, he's not going to hurt me. I’d beat his cheating, ah, butt to a pulp."

  She let out a slight giggle at Rina’s clever blustering. Shaking her head determinedly, she went on, "Maybe I should call the police."

  "A good idea, dear. For now, though, let's change the subject and talk shop. How are your classes going this morning?"

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to talk about David anymore and knew Rina wanted to help take her mind off her problems.

  "They're good. A little rocky, but better than yesterday, and the day before. I'm getting the hang of it. I like teaching,” she said, while thinking to herself, if my first few days are any indication of the way teaching is going to be, I’ve found my niche. I’ve enjoyed myself more in the past three days than I have in the past two years!

  "Hello? You there?"

  "Yeah. I was thinking," she responded sheepishly.

  "Well, don't hurt yourself, hon,” Rina laughed jokingly before continuing, “I've got to run. We'll talk more later. Okay?"

  "Sure. See you."

  #

  It was the end of the day. Contentedly, Sophie relaxed at her desk. She wasn't ready to go back out into the world yet. She was at peace here, as though in a bubble, protected from her problems.

  Since high school, she’d wanted to be a teacher. Now she was one, the reality was far better than she expected. She enjoyed planning the lessons and thinking of ways to inspire her students to love art the way she did.

  She had to admire her classroom. It was large. On one side were desks for the students and on the other side were twenty-five easels, all regally awaiting the next masterpiece to be painted. Her desk was in the middle of the two sections, with a large chalkboard covering the entire wall behind it and a plethora of paints, brushes, chalk, pencils and all manner of art supplies bulging out of honey-glazed oak cupboards on the opposite wall. Windows covered the other two walls, allowing natural light to illuminate the room.

  Putting away some paperwork, she prepared to leave. She picked up her purse and walked over to the door, realizing sadly, she had to pop her own bubble. She knew she couldn’t stay in dreamland forever. Turning out the light, she closed the door.

  She’d already determined she wanted to find another way to get to her car. The school was huge and confusing. Most of the walls were covered with lockers, although above them they were painted off-white. There were lights spaced intermittently throughout where the walls met the ceiling.

  The floor was a white glazed marble with flecks of black, gold and red. Only the white signs with a listing of classroom numbers and department information helped a person know where they were. It wasn’t that the school couldn’t afford more but they chose to spend their money on the students and their needs. This made it difficult to find her way around hence, her need to take a different route to her car.

  Turning to her left, she walked to the end of the hall, and took a right. Near the end, she was surprised to discover the theater. In no rush to get back to her hotel room, she decided to have a look inside.

  She was impressed.

  No expense had been spared in here. It was magnificent, probably seating five hundred or more. The chairs were thick and covered in a dark burgundy material. Wood railing deliberately placed in large rectangles covered all of the walls. The wood was ornately carved and stained in dark-mahogany, as was the ceiling.

  She was shocked to see hanging from the center of the ceiling was a large glass chandelier. She drew in a breath at the beauty of it all. It was without question, breathtaking.

  Along the front three rows of seats were students watching several other students on stage. They were trying to learn a song. Intrigued, she sat down to listen. Surprised at how comfortable the chairs were, she leaned back, allowing herself to take in the whole scene better. One of the students suddenly jumped up to make a comment. She recognized the voice, but couldn’t place which student he was. An instant later, she realized he wasn't a student at all.

  It was Phillip, Theater Director and snubbed rescuer.

  Admittedly, she had a physical attraction for him. Her life might be in a wreck right now, but she wasn’t blind. He was ruggedly handsome with thick, brown hair, and hazel eyes, lined with long, dark lashes. His nose was slightly crooked, which looked perfect on his face. He had full lips surrounded by dark facial stubble.

  Over six feet tall, he was about the same height as David. The similarities, however, ended there. Where David was thin, Phillip was muscular. He wasn’t big like a bodybuilder, she reasoned. He looked more like he led an active lifestyle.

  At the moment, he wasn't wearing the jacket he'd had on earlier today. Instead he had on a long-sleeve button up shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his thick biceps and his shirt had been untucked.

  Amused, she watched him run his fingers through his hair. He’s beautiful, she admired.

  Scooting down in her seat, she let her headrest against the back of it. Comfortable, she enjoyed watching him as well as his students. She wondered what it would be like to spend time with him. Scolding herself, she tried to think of something else. The last man she’d been this drawn to turned out to be a lunatic.

  I’ve got to be careful. Plainly, I can’t trust myself.

  Wallowing in her self-pity, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  “You look peaceful, lying there. You must not have a care in the world.”

  Sophie heard him talking, but his face was shrouded in darkness.

  “Don’t worry, Sophie darling, I’m going to make you pay! I’m going to make you suffer, like she suffered!”

  Alarmed, she opened her eyes and sat up. Looking around, she tried to find him. She knew the voice had sounded like David. She didn’t see him, though. Everything seemed normal.

  I must’ve been dreaming. Relax, she told herself.

  Placing her bag over her shoulder, she stood to go. Two students remained on stage. She heard what they said, and laughed inwardly. It sounds like they’re doing a romantic scene, she thought, mortified. Some of the students in the seats below laughed.

  Smiling, she picked up her books. Stepping into the aisle, she smacked hard into something.

  “Ouch,” she cried, her books tumbling to the floor.

  “What in the . . .” she demanded, looking up.

  Startled by the realization she’d smacked into someone instead of something, she whispered, "Oh, it's you.” Embarrassed by thoughts of her encounter with him earlier, and what she’d been thinking about him before she fell asleep, a blush started to color her face.

  Grateful for the darkness, she quickly bent down to pick up her books.

  "Damn. Sorry," Philip said seriously, bending down with her to help with her books. He was so close she felt his breath on her cheek.

  Trying to keep her voice from quivering, she returned, "It's no problem. I should’ve been watching where I was going." Standing, she tried to squeeze past him, but he stood as well, blocking her escape.

  "Well, I've got to go," she said, trying once again to get past him. He had a mischievous look on his face and a gigantic grin. He made her nervous.

  “Would you mind helping me with something first,” he asked, putting a hand on one of her arms.

  “Uh, help you with what?” she returned nervously.

  “I need you to help me show these students how to do this scene.”

  "No way, I can’t. Trust me, you don't want my help," she rushed, laughing uncomfortably, trying to get past him again.

  Walking past her, Phillip purposefully headed down toward the stage. For a split second, she thought she would make her getaway.

  She was wrong.

  Phillip turned back toward her and hollered loudly, "Come on, Mrs. Berkeley. I need your help, but more importantly, these students need your help. Don't let them down."

  All of the students heard him, and turned in the direction of his voice. When they noticed he looked towa
rd the back of the theater, they followed his gaze. All eyes were on her.

  "What do you all think? Should Mrs. Berkeley help me show you all how to do this scene?” Phillip continued, hopping up onto the stage. He stuck one hand out, as if reaching toward her and put his other hand over his heart.

  "Please, Mrs. Berkeley. I need you," he chortled dramatically.

  Oh, he's good, she thought. But not good enough.

  "No thanks, Dr. Hansen. I'm sure you can find someone else to help you."

  "Mrs. Berkeley, you'd be doing us all a big favor, and,” he paused before saying the last sentence slowly, deliberately, “I believe you owe me one.”

  She turned around and looked at him, trying to read into his words. She knew he referred to what she'd done that morning, but didn't know if he sought revenge or if he only wanted her help and needed an innocent favor. Her decision was made for her though, because the students all started chanting, "Berkeley! Berkeley! Berkeley!"

  "Fine," she whispered fiercely, as she walked toward the stage.

  Phillip joined in with the students, clapping heartily, then strutted over to a set of stairs leading up to the stage and stuck out his hand.

  She ignored it, walking coldly past him, toward the middle of the stage. He's definitely getting me back for earlier today, she thought angrily. Turning toward him, she smiled sweetly. "Where do you want me?"

  Phillip walked over to her, all business now, and said, "You'll need to get rid of these." Prying the books out of her hands, he slipped the bag off her shoulder, setting them on a sofa situated on the stage. He walked back over to her, taking her by the shoulders and moving her over a little, the all too familiar smirk on his face the whole time.

  Turning his back to her, he faced the students that were still on stage, talking to them.

  "This is a romantic moment. Jesse and Josephine have proclaimed their feelings for each other. They can't deny them anymore. They don't want to." He started walking back toward her while he continued, "They’re done talking. This is about how they're feeling." Phillip’s words were full of emotion, passion.