Waiting for a Miracle

by Jennifer Wilck

  What made it worse was he was the father of a student. What if he told other parents? They were such gossips. All she needed was one mother or father who didn’t want his or her child to get “stuck” with a long-term substitute to go to her principal before she was ready. Or the school board. Many teachers took time off for having a baby, but her principal was often annoyed about having to find coverage. They couldn’t endanger her job for this, but they could make her life difficult, especially since deciding to become a foster parent was something she could technically postpone, unlike a teacher who became pregnant. She was probably being paranoid, but there were too many unknowns.

  “Foster a child? That’s…hey, are you okay?” Benjamin asked.

  She swayed, and he grabbed her arm. “Rachel. What’s wrong?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The pungent aroma of garlic, oil, and roasted meat filled her nostrils. She opened her eyes. Jessie’s worried brown ones gazed at her.

  “Ms. Schaecter, are you sick?”

  With one hand, Rachel gripped Benjamin’s upper arm. It was hard beneath his coat jacket, alerting her to the muscles in there, muscles she shouldn’t consider right now. With her other hand, she stroked Jessie’s hair. She loved the feel of those soft curls. “I’m fine, baby doll, Benjamin. Really. I got dizzy for a minute.” She needed to change the subject—something unrelated to her or her desire to foster a child.

  Benjamin’s expression tightened, and he looked around. “Here, let’s find you a seat. Excuse me,” he said to a young man sitting at a table, “she’s not feeling well. Would you mind if she sat here?”

  “Sure, no problem.” The guy rose and walked away.

  “Benjamin, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. Sit here. I’ll get you a drink. Don’t move.”

  “Yes, sir.” She tried to lighten his mood, but it didn’t work.

  “Jessie, stay with her, okay?”

  Jessie nodded, her eyes big. The little girl walked over, climbed onto her lap, and held her hand. “It’s okay, Ms. Schaecter. When I don’t feel well, daddy rubs my back. Do you want me to rub yours?”

  “Thank you, Jessie. That’s so nice. I feel much better with you sitting with me.”

  Jessie’s smile filled her whole face. Rebecca squeezed her as Benjamin returned with a fresh bottle of water.

  “Drink.”

  Oh joy, he was back to his demands.

  “It’s not necessary,” she said. “I was surprised when I said—” The look of worry on his face tugged at her and instead of completing her sentence, she sipped.

  “Daddy, don’t worry about Ms. Schaecter. She said my sitting with her makes her feel better, just like Mommy used to say.”

  Benjamin paled, and Rachel’s heart squeezed. Now she understood his reaction. His chest heaved.

  “Benjamin.”

  He staggered.

  Giving him a moment, she turned to the little girl. “Jessie, thank you. Between you and the water, I feel much better.”

  She maneuvered Jessie off her lap and rose.

  “Sit,” Benjamin said, rubbing his hands on his pants.

  She walked toward him. “I’m fine.”

  His nostrils flared, and his gaze bounced around. “No, you’re not. Sit.”

  “Benjamin.” She closed the gap between them until they stood toe to toe and lowered her voice. “I’m really fine,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect to say anything about…it was a surprise. I was worried, and I stumbled. I’m not sick. I’m not like your wife. You don’t need to worry—”

  He reared back as if she’d slapped him, staggered, and righted himself. “Don’t tell me what to do!” His voice rose, and people stared as they walked by. “And believe me, I know you’re not my wife.”

  Rachel gasped at the heat and anger his tone.

  Benjamin’s chest heaved, and his fists clenched at his sides.

  Anger bubbled beneath the surface. She’d had a wonderful time, until now. His reactions were uncalled for, and she wanted to tell him so, but a public park, in front of Jessie, was not the place to have this conversation. Still, she couldn’t remain silent. She marched forward, putting some distance between her and Jessie and keeping her back to the little girl.

  “I thought we could have a nice day together, but I was wrong. I know I’m not your wife, and I have never indicated a desire to be. Coming here today was a mistake.”

  There was so much more she wanted to say, but he was the father of her student, and she’d still have to deal with him for the rest of the school year. Instead, she turned to Jessie and knelt in front of her.

  “I have to go now, baby doll. Thank you for a great time today.” She hugged the girl and forced a smile. “I had fun with you, and I’m going home now to rest, okay? You and your daddy have fun without me.”

  At the sight of the girl’s crestfallen face, she gave her another hug. “I’ll see you soon, and when I do, I want to hear all about the rest of your afternoon.”

  Jessie nodded, and Rachel left, ignoring the stubborn man who filled her with anger.

  ****

  Benjamin’s phone rang as he and Jessie returned to their apartment a couple of hours later.

  “Hello?”

  “Benny, what did you do?”

  His mother. He should have looked at caller ID before answering, although he would have answered it anyway. But a deep breath before “hello” would have been nice.

  “Hi, Mom. What do you mean?”

  “Rachel slammed her door so hard, my apartment shook. One of my menorahs fell over. Luckily, it was a metal one and didn’t break. It’s the one from…oh, never mind. The point is, she’s angry, and I want to know what you did.”

  He thought she might have been angry. He planned to apologize to her later. Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth. He put his packages on the floor in the hall and nodded to Jessie when she pointed to the TV. In the kitchen, he checked the time. Two in the afternoon. It wasn’t her normal TV time, but he needed to focus on the conversation and figure out a way to fix his screw up.

  “Why do you think I did something?” He held out a slim hope Rachel was angry about something else. With any luck, the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach was from the shish kebab. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “Didn’t she go out with you today?”

  How did his mother know these things? Was she some kind of cruise director for the building? Did tenants report their activities, like to a house mom?

  “The three of us went to the Winter Village in Bryant Park.”

  “And how long did you stay?”

  “We just got home.”

  “Rachel left early, which means you did something to make her angry. Angry enough to slam her door so hard—”

  “—I know, Mom, hard enough to knock over your menorah.” He paced the kitchen. He didn’t mean to make Rachel angry. It just…happened.

  “What did you do?”

  “Do? I didn’t do anything.” In his defense, he’d tried to help her. But his emotions got the better of him and, well, yeah, he said things he shouldn’t have. But there was no need to tell his mother.

  “She left early, and she slammed the door.”

  “She didn’t feel well, and I tried to take care of her and—”

  “Wait a minute,” his mother interrupted. “Rachel is sick, and you let her come home alone?” His mother’s voice rose with each word until by the end of her sentence, Jessie looked up.

  “Why is Grandma shouting?”

  Benjamin peeked into the living room. “Don’t worry, Jess, it’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing, Benjamin. You need to—”

  “Before you go any further, Mom, I’m already on my way over.” This was getting to be a habit. All he ever did with Rachel was apologize.

  “Good, you’re learning. Drop Jessie at my apartment.”

  His mother hung up before he could respond. “Dammit.”

&
nbsp; “Daddy, don’t swear! You have to put money in the jar.” Jessie ran into the kitchen and pointed to the jar in the corner. Whenever he swore, he put in a quarter. Whenever she did something wrong, she put a penny in. He took a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she deposited it into the Mason jar.

  “Sorry, Jess. Hey, how about we go over to Grandma’s for a little bit?”

  Jessie frowned. “We never go on a weekday afternoon.”

  She knew his schedule well, and a twinge of guilt slithered through him. “Well, sometimes it’s good to be spontaneous.”

  Her face brightened. “Yay!”

  A half-hour later, they arrived at his mother’s apartment building. Electric menorahs sat in three of the windows, the rest held Christmas candles. Halfway up the stairs, her door opened.

  “It’s about time,” she said, disapproval creating lines between her eyebrows. “Jessie! My favorite person! Come inside.” She held open the door for the child but blocked it as he approached. “You. There.” She pointed her birdlike fingers at him and then at Rachel’s door.

  He resisted the urge to salute. “Yes, Mom. See you in a few minutes, Jessie!”

  “Don’t rush,” his mother advised, shutting the door before he could respond.

  He took a deep breath and knocked on Rachel’s door. Movement inside alerted him to her approach. A scratching sound made him look at the peephole. The pause was endless. Would she refuse to answer? As angry as she’d been when she left, she just might. Finally, the chain scraped in its latch, the deadbolt clicked, and the door brushed open.

  She stood there, and his breath hitched. Every time he saw her, he noticed something new. This time it was the line of her neck, her skin pale against her dark red hair. She swallowed, and his fingers itched to touch beneath her chin, slide down to her clavicle, and…with a mental shake, he met her gaze.

  “Hi, may I come in?”

  “Why?”

  Oh boy. “We need to talk.”

  Her jaw twitched. “I have nothing to say.”

  He looked down at his feet. The toes of her fuzzy blue socks were inches away from his rubber winter boots. With this conversation, those inches might have well been miles. “I do. Would you hear me out?”

  She blinked in silence, and he waited. Finally, with a sigh, she swung the door wider and motioned him inside, gripping the door handle.

  Her color was improved, with rosy patches on her cheekbones. Her eyes were bright but angry.

  “You look better than before,” he said. His voice echoed in the quiet apartment.

  “Thank you.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I am.”

  She’d never been this difficult to talk to, even when they were just parent and teacher.

  “Harriet yelled at me for making you angry.”

  Rachel lifted her chin. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

  Her hearing was sharper than most, and she didn’t like her menorah falling over, but he didn’t think it was the right time to correct her. He folded his arms across his chest.

  “Care to elaborate?” He handed her an opportunity to yell at him.

  “No.”

  Somehow, that one word added to his disappointment. He looked at her, brown eyes hard, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry for earlier today. Most people would relish the chance to tell someone what they did wrong.”

  “I’m not most people.” She spun on her heel and walked further into her apartment. He followed. The layout was similar to his mother’s, but the décor was different. Her living room was cheery, with multicolored pillows on a blue leather sofa. Books piled on the floor surrounded a red overstuffed chair in the corner. Unlike his mother’s apartment, Rachel didn’t display a lot of Hanukkah decorations, just her menorah and a few multi-colored ceramic dreidels surrounding it near the window. Maybe she preferred understated in her home since her classroom was always a riot of color and sound. The ottoman he’d seen from the hallway was covered with paper, but now he could see they were legal documents and brochures with smiling children on them. She was serious about her desire for a child.

  Would she quit teaching to take care of her child? Disappointment flowed through him. Jessie would hate not having her for a teacher. She was so attached to the woman. Separating her from someone important filled him with sorrow. He squeezed his hand into a fist. He couldn’t let his daughter’s world be destroyed again.

  She swooped the papers up in her arms and carried them out of the room, a look of discomfort on her flushed face.

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked out the window to the street below. Cars were parked end to end, and a few crawled by, looking for parking. Good luck.

  Rachel cleared her throat and when he turned, pointed to the sofa. He sat, and she paced.

  “Do you want to sit?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes. “No, I want to get this conversation over with.”

  Was it awful to be in his presence? His stomach dropped. “I thought you liked our conversations before.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything. “You know what? Forget it. This was stupid. I don’t know what you were going to say, but let’s just forget it. This was a mistake. Thank you for including me today, but I think it’s best we go back to being parent and teacher. I’ll see you at conferences in the spring.”

  Benjamin frowned. Just when he understood her, she changed, and the world tilted, scattering his plans and thoughts, and making him wonder what the heck happened.

  “What? No, we can’t,” he said, remaining seated though she wanted him to leave.

  “We have to. Otherwise, our conversations just turn into an argument.”

  “Who says we have to argue this time?” Benjamin crossed his ankle over his knee. “Maybe I came here to say ‘you’re right,’ and to apologize.”

  She raised an eyebrow and amusement replaced his annoyance. She confused the hell out of him, but he enjoyed it. His lips twitched, and he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed.

  “Would you like a glass of water?” she asked.

  “No, I’d like you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I said let’s drop it. You apologized. It’s done.”

  “Why?”

  She stayed silent so long he thought she’d refuse to answer. He thought of the creative ways he coaxed Jessie to talk. She was a stubborn child when she wanted to be, and it took all his creativity to get her to talk when she didn’t want to. He could only imagine what she’d be like as a teenager. God help him.

  “You’re the parent of a student,” she said, turning away from him. “I shouldn’t get involved.”

  “With Jessie?”

  “And with you.”

  He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She was beautiful.

  “What do you mean, with me?”

  “I shouldn’t get involved with you, and discussing my feelings gets me involved.”

  Not only was she angry, but she was wary, too, and his heart squeezed. He didn’t want her to be worried about him or her job.

  “How about we start over,” he said, taking a seat on the sofa. “I’m sorry about what I said in the park today. I shouldn’t have made you feel like I compare you to my wife, or I find you lacking. It was wrong of me, and I’m truly sorry. And for the record, even though you didn’t ask, I was planning to apologize before my mother called me.”

  “She called you?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Oh yeah.”

  That elicited a smile. She nodded.

  “Now, tell me your thoughts,” he said.

  Her nostrils flared. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  She groaned and sat down. “Bossing me around! Demanding I do what you want. Although your apology was good.” Her voice softened at the end.

  “How do I boss you around?”

  She threw
her hands up in the air. “Oh my gosh, you don’t even realize you do it. ‘Tell me your thoughts,’ ‘drink this,’ ‘sit.’ Sound familiar?”

  He replayed his actions from earlier in the day and now. He sounded like his mother. “I’m used to being in charge and dealing with Jessie. Hell, I’m used to telling computers what to do as well.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not Jessie. Or a computer.”

  He looked her up and down, enjoying the chance to study her body. “Clearly.”

  “I’ll bet she doesn’t like it either.”

  It? Oh, being bossed around. His neck heated. Her beauty distracted him. “She’s a child. She doesn’t have to like it.”

  “My experience is kids listen better when they think you respect them. Ordering them about doesn’t teach respect.”

  He clenched his fists as his blood pressure rose. “I’m her father. Her discipline is my problem, not yours. And the only way we—I—can function is with order.”

  “You’re doing it again. I’m not trying to interfere with…,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m sorry for the unsolicited advice. But I’m not a child, and I don’t function well with being treated like one.”

  His anger dissolved, and his lips twitched at her teacher pose. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t know how sick you were or what would happen, and I was caught off guard.”

  He looked away, images of Lauren after her diagnosis and during her illness flashing through his mind. Rachel wasn’t Lauren, but he still couldn’t shake the helplessness, fear, and rage that assaulted him. A hand on his arm calmed his pounding heart. He looked at her and compassion and understanding greeted him. Releasing a deep breath, he closed his eyes. She squeezed, and he opened them again.

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said. “I do. I was nervous about what I said to you and overheated, and I got a little dizzy. It wasn’t serious. Not everything is.”