Running On Empty (Fleur de Lis Book 2)

by A. L. Vincent

  That was how she felt. Adrift. Like she was one big wave away from going under.

  “One morning while on a run,” Noah continued, “Glinda came out to meet me. She needed a few repairs, and with Gabriel in Austin, she wanted to know if I could help. I did a small roof repair. Next, it was a deck restore. I found myself enjoying the work. I loved working with my hands, and the solitude of working by myself was a bonus. I started renovating my boat. Finally, I had something I wanted to do. Somewhere to be. The panic attacks and nightmares came less frequently. For the first time since I came home, I felt moments of peace. Those moments became days, and later, weeks. It took time, Grace. It didn’t happen overnight. But I did find where I fit in.”

  He gestured to his empty mug of coffee. “I need a refill. You?”

  Grace nodded. “I do. Just one. Then it looks like I need to get ready for work.”

  “Yes, you do.” And with that, Noah went back into the boat for refills. Grace knew, that for now, talk time was over.

  ***

  As Grace walked through the double doors of the high school building, she pulled at her loose khaki pants. Always comfortable in jeans and concert t-shirts, she felt even more out of place than usual. When she was on stage she wore whatever fit her mood. Short black skirt and a shiny top. Or scarlet corset and leather pants when she was feeling badass.

  She was not feeling badass today.

  She felt like a fraud.

  What the hell was she going to teach these kids?

  Allison had given her some “first day” activities and an agenda. She would introduce herself. The questionnaire should keep them busy. It asked things like, What do you want to learn? What’s your favorite type of music? What are your hobbies? They could do that.

  She was off the first hour for planning. Which she loved. She hated mornings. She never felt human until around noon.

  Coffee. I need coffee, she thought.

  She nodded at the secretary and receptionist as she walked in, but didn’t speak. She headed straight for the teacher’s lounge to fill her travel mug with coffee.

  Grace had arrived early in order to avoid most people, and the lounge was still empty. She was filling up her mug when she heard the door open behind her. She turned to see who it was.

  “Are you the new English teacher?” one of two girls said as they approached.

  “Yes.”

  “Great!” the other said. “We are so excited. Are you going to teach us how to do research papers? We really need to learn how to do that. We didn’t learn it last year. And most of us are going to college.”

  Research papers? Grace hadn’t done a research paper since college.

  “Maybe so,” Grace responded. It was a good, noncommittal response.

  “Great!” one exclaimed. They proceeded to introduce themselves, and Grace promptly forgot their names. Her mind was still stuck on “research paper.”

  They flashed Grace more grins and flittered out the door. Grace took a deep breath and sipped her coffee. This was going to be a long morning.

  Grace sighed and walked to the room the principal had taken her to when she had interviewed. True to his word, the room was a clean slate. The tables gleamed, the walls were empty, and the room was almost sterile.

  She put the flash drive in the computer by the teacher’s desk. She pulled up the survey Allison had emailed her and was waiting for it to print.

  “Good morning!”

  Grace turned as someone came into the room. It was an older woman with short grey hair. The woman smiled and looked way too energetic before noon.

  “Morning,” Grace said. There was nothing good about mornings. Grace looked at the woman, not returning the smile.

  “I’m Ms. Edwards,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Mr. Comeaux said you would be here today. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Grace.”

  “Grace, do you have any questions? Mr. Comeaux says this is your first teaching experience.”

  “It is.”

  “How exciting. You need some advice?”

  No, not really, Grace thought, but said nothing.

  The woman kept talking. “You need some procedures in place. The students need to know what your expectations are. I have posters in my classroom. Sixteen classroom procedures. Everything from throwing away trash, to sharpening pencils, to handing in papers.”

  “What grade do you teach?” Grace asked.

  “I teach physical science and biology, so I have everyone from ninth to twelfth graders.”

  “So, you’re telling me that a senior needs to be told how to throw away trash?” Grace asked.

  “If you don’t tell them, they won’t know how to do it right.”

  “There’s a wrong way to throw away trash?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Grace resisted the urge to laugh. She turned to grab the sheet from the printer. “It was so kind of you to come by this morning, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to get copies made.”

  “Of course,” the short woman said. “And if you need anything, please come see me. I’m in room twelve.”

  “Will do,” Grace said. When hell froze over. Procedures. Grace shook her head as the woman walked out of the classroom.

  It was going to be a long day.

  ***

  Grace was waiting for the bell to ring and for the first group of students to come in. She straightened up the stack of papers on the desk for what must have been the tenth time. She only had to make it through today. One day at a time.

  She looked at the piles of novels in the corner. She would make a list of those and discuss them with Allison, and maybe Daniel. Maybe a novel and a movie would be a great way to ease into this job.

  The bell rang. Here we go.

  The students began filing in, all looking at her with curiosity. Their eyes seemed to be asking, Who is this new person in this classroom? She stood in front of the room as they all took their places at the u-shaped tables. Some teased each other quietly, elbowing each other.

  The bell rang again, and they all looked at her expectantly.

  Here goes nothing, Grace thought.

  “Good morning,” she said. “My name is Grace Delchamp, and it looks like I’ll be your teacher for the rest of—well, for now.”

  “Do we call you Grace or Ms. Delchamp?” one student asked.

  “Ms. Delchamp,” Grace said.

  “Is that Miss Delchamp or Mrs. Delchamp?” the same boy asked, and the few boys around him snickered.

  Grace frowned and raised an eyebrow at the boy. “That would be Miss Delchamp,” Grace said. “And you would be?”

  “Jean Wayne.” Jean, pronounced “John” in the French dialect.

  “Jean Wayne?” Grace’s eyebrow shot up again. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I’m rough and tough and don’t take no crap off nobody.”

  The whole class snickered this time, and Grace bit back a smile herself.

  “Well, Mr. Wayne,” Grace said, “we’ll just see how rough and tough you are, won’t we?”

  Grace grabbed the stack of papers off the corner of the desk. “This is your first assignment. And yes, I will read them. And yes, you will be graded. So I expect you to do it.”

  And with that, the class settled down and completed their work. Grace sighed. This was going to be a long week.

  ***

  Gabe

  Gabe was sitting on the porch, strumming his guitar. He was singing softly along, and thinking about Grace. He wondered how her first day was going. He had gotten a text earlier, a simple,

  I’m here.

  He figured he would get the whole story later.

  “Hey, Gabe!” Glinda said as she approached, covered plate in hand. “You didn’t come up for breakfast. You okay?”

  “I’m okay. Did you need something?” Gabe looked down at his phone, worried he’d missed Glinda’s text.

  “No, it’s all good for today. I woulda called if I needed you.”r />
  She sat down beside Gabe. “What’s on your mind? Or should I ask, who is on your mind?”

  He exhaled a deep breath and sat the guitar down beside him. “I wish Grace would talk to me about what’s going on. She’s talked to Ryder and Noah, but she won’t talk to me.”

  “It may be easier for her to talk to them,” Glinda said.

  “Why?”

  “They’re safe to her. Both are like brothers. They don’t want anything from her. You do. And I know you haven’t done anything about it, although I don’t know why, but she knows. And that can’t be easy. What if she opens up to you? What happens when you leave?”

  Gabe was silent for a while, considering that. Glinda was right. “What about the cook-off? She was doing better, even started to sing. Then Brent came in. I’ve never seen anything like it. She just ran out. She was terrified. It’s bad, Grandma.”

  She patted him on the leg. “I know, Gabe. But she’s tough. And so are you. I know this wasn’t what you expected when you came home for her. That’s life, Gabe. You don’t always get what you expect. And wouldn’t life be boring if you did?”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  “It’s all gonna work out, you’ll see. You’re just going to have to be patient. It’s going to take some time, yeah. She needs to see you as steady, someone she can depend on. And that, my darling grandson, you are. Just keep being you, Gabe. The rest will fall into place.”

  She gave him a final pat on the knee and stood up. “Now, eat you some breakfast and let’s go do some fishing. It’s slow, and I need some sun. You’re bringing the beer though.”

  Gabe laughed. “You got it, Grams. I’ll come pick you up in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be ready, cher! She who catches the most fish, wins!”

  Gabe smiled and shook his head as she walked off toward the Redbird.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grace

  Deepest are the wounds that have no mark at all.

  Grace wrote the first line of lyrics in her journal and set the pen down. She looked out over the water, thinking of Gabe. She hadn’t seen him all week, not since she’d started teaching, though they had text messaged back and forth. She hadn’t even been to Snapper’s. By the time she met with Noah for their morning “therapy” sessions, went to work, and took care of Furby, she ended up an exhausted lump in bed. Today was Friday, and she was looking forward to hanging out and having a drink at Snapper’s with everyone later.

  She looked out over the calm gulf that mirrored the morning’s sunrise and yawned. She’d go to Snapper’s if she squeezed in a nap after work.

  She closed the journal. She would see Gabe tonight. That thought brought a smile to her face.

  “Smiling because it’s Friday?” Noah asked, coming through the sliding glass doors, mugs in hand.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “You get some writing in?”

  “I did.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “I’m working on something myself. Not writing though. Emily wants an outdoor kitchen with a patio area added to the house. A place for everyone to hang out for cookouts, shrimp and crawfish boils, you know. I’m working on drawing up some plans. We hope to have it mostly finished by Thanksgiving so we can have dinner there. Give Glinda a break.”

  “That’s awesome. I bet she’ll love it.”

  “Hope so. She’s showed me about a hundred pictures from some app she has on her phone. Some pinning thing. It’s going to have lots of seating, a fire pit, and a huge cypress table. I don’t think I can get the table done by then, but I can get a lot of the rest done.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “It feels good to be creating something. It gives me some focus. I’ve been thinking about opening a custom furniture business. I guess Emily’s rubbing off on me.”

  She definitely was, Grace thought. He had changed so much in the last year since being with Emily.

  “I just worry about working with the public. I still get antsy in crowds, still feel closed in sometimes. Em tells me to take it one day at a time. We’ll see, I guess. I can always start small and go from there.”

  “That’s true,” Grace said, and thought how right that was. Small steps, one thing, one day at a time. That was what she was doing. It seemed to be working. For now.

  Grace glanced back down at the journal lying on her lap. “You’re right, Noah, it does feel good to create something.” Grace had no idea if she’d ever be able to perform again, but for now, she could write. She opened the journal again, grabbed the pen, and wrote out some more lyrics, humming along as she wrote. Noah was silent, sipping his coffee, watching the sun finish rising.

  ***

  Grace checked the time on her watch as she walked into the school building after securing the bike by her classroom window. She had her helmet under one arm, black hair in a ponytail that swung behind her. Joey had needed the Jeep for a supply run for the weekend, and Grace wanted to make sure the bike was running well.

  She had about five minutes before she had to meet Ms. Benoit in the home ec room for the homecoming sponsors meeting. How Grace had been selected to help with that she had no clue. Grace had only gone to her own homecoming dance because she and Gabe, and the rest of the band, had been asked to play. Grace was more inclined to sneak booze and cigarettes behind the bleachers with Carly than attend school functions. When Noah wasn’t around to fuss, of course.

  Grace stopped in her room to lock the helmet into the classroom cabinet. She then made her way down the hall to the home economics classroom.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered when she opened the door.

  Someone had decorated the room in what Grace could only call “Grandma’s Attic.” White lace spilled over the room like a ’70s style wedding dress had thrown up. It dripped down the walls and covered the windows. It was even draped on the student’s tables. Antique tea kettles with floral designs sat on each of the four stoves the students used to cook. Posters adorned the wall with phrases like Just Say NO and other slogans that promoted abstinence and good behavior.

  “You must be Grace Delchamp,” said Mrs. Benoit as she stepped out from behind the desk. She was wearing an ankle length skirt, and even more lace adorned her shirt. Her brown hair was cut into a no-nonsense page boy, and the only adornment on her face was round black eyeglasses. No makeup. No lip gloss. Nothing.

  “I am,” Grace said. And you must be repressed, Grace thought. This woman probably hadn’t been laid since that shirt was in style.

  “We are just so excited to have a young person here on staff. Such a good influence for our young people.” Ms. Benoit shook Grace’s hand and saw the dangling charm bracelet.

  “A charm bracelet! How cute! I wore one of these when I was young. Every charm meant something. May I?” She gestured to the bracelet, and Grace held up her wrist.

  “Oh, angel wings!” she exclaimed, seeing the zombie show charm. “I had a pair of angel wings on my bracelet too!”

  Grace choked on a laugh.

  “Oh my!” Ms. Benoit said as she touched the next charm. Ryder had taken a Coors Light bottle cap and fashioned it into a charm for the bracelet.

  “Is that a real beer bottle cap?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ms. Benoit dropped her hand as if the bracelet was now poisoned.

  “Well, we’d better get started,” Ms. Benoit said, glancing at the old cuckoo clock that hung above the door. She took a deep breath, clasped her hands in front of her, and exhaled as if dealing with an unruly child.

  “Ms. Delchamp. We have a rather conservative staff here.”

  No shit, Grace thought.

  “And we like to encourage the best behavior in our students.” She glanced at Grace’s wrist. “We are, after all, role models for our youth.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She wasn’t taking the bracelet off. She let Ms. Benoit keep talking. Grace wondered what the woman would do if she
knew Grace had a knife in her boot. Probably faint.

  “Especially at extracurricular activities, such as dances. We have very strict policies that we follow.”

  I bet you do.

  “Even our music is handpicked by myself and the other staff.”

  Probably music from the ’50s. Grace wondered if their themes included sock hops and cowboys and Indians. Grace would bet that the woman owned a poodle skirt and saddle shoes.

  Grace resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Seriously, how did she end up here?

  “Your job is to make sure all information gets delivered to the students. And you will also handle the selection of the theme. The students vote on what they want. With our approval, of course.”

  Of course.

  “Later, I will go over the rest of all this. I’m sure you have enough on your plate at the moment. Mr. Comeaux tells me this is your first year.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, welcome to Pointe Shade High,” Ms. Benoit said. “I’ll be checking in with you throughout the year.”

  “Lovely,” Grace said with a tight smile and fake cheer. “I so can’t wait.”

  It was Ms. Benoit’s turn to shoot up an eyebrow, but she said nothing at Grace’s sarcasm.

  Grace returned to her room.

  Thank God it’s Friday. She grabbed her cell phone, leaned back in her chair, and propped her feet on the desk. Her black boots thudded as they hit the desktop.

  Grace said in a text to Gabe, twisting the charm bracelet,

  Man, this job blows,

  His response came,

  Give it time,

  The school bell rang and soon second hour was rolling in. Those rascals. She had already pegged this class as the troublemakers. The ironic part was she didn’t think she was much different than they were. She went to stand by the door as the kids came in, even more hyper than usual. It was Friday and game day. Grace just shook her head.