by C. L. Stone
I blushed from head to toe, though secretly I enjoyed the warmth and amusing moments after stressing out about the kids we found. “Ugh,” I said.
Luke and Victor laughed. Silas chuckled, the deep sound reverberating against my bones.
Dr. Green finally let go. I wobbled a step and then breathed in fully. Dr. Green smoothed out his shirt and then winked at me. “Are you busy? Perhaps you and I could go check out the babies again. There’s new ones now and—”
“Hey there,” Luke called out. “About time he showed up.”
Dr. Green’s face shifted from happy to confused until he turned. I realized Dr. Green was asking me to join him at the hospital. The last time we looked in on the babies, he considered it a date. Was he trying to ask for a date?
The moment vanished as a light gray, almost silver BMW rolled up to the curb.
Mr. Blackbourne stopped the car and left it running but stepped out. Gray suit, maroon tie, as elegant as ever. His soft brown hair appeared freshly cut and brushed back away from his face. His steel eyes sparked behind the black-rimmed glasses. A polished diamond that looked out of place in the broken-down district.
I ducked behind Dr. Green and the others as they approached him. My hands smoothed over the jeans and light jacket that I wore over my T-shirt. The others were dressed similarly, but next to Mr. Blackbourne, a sense of being underdressed always hovered over me.
Mr. Blackbourne focused on Luke, the steel in his gaze hardening. “Mr. Taylor, was it truly necessary to crawl through the attic work?”
Luke nodded, causing a string of dust to fall from his hair. The light smile on his face faded. He stood taller and addressed Mr. Blackbourne. “I felt it was,” he said. “There were a few options, but the attic gave me good sound cover. Plus, there were a few holes so I could get a visual.”
“You’ve been taking a few more risks lately,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “I understand your reasoning, but your safety is more important. Miss Sorenson is in need of a situational awareness class. Perhaps you’ll join her?”
My mouth dropped open hearing this. I needed situational awareness? There was a class? Where?
Luke’s head bobbed in an enthusiastic nod. “I could use a refresher, I guess. Besides, I’m hardly in any of her classes at school.” His gaze turned until he met my stare and he smiled more. “Can we take two?”
“Start with one,” Mr. Blackbourne said. He backed up a step, and his attention turned to Dr. Green. “Let’s get them out of here.”
“I was just about to,” Dr. Green said. He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me forward until I was beside him. “I thought I’d take Sang over to the hospital with us and—”
Mr. Blackbourne raised his open hand and sliced it through the air. “I understand, but I’m in need of Miss Sorenson to join me this morning. We have a few things to discuss. I’ll be taking her to breakfast.”
A silence fell among the group. My heart pumped heavily and my breath caught. It was a mix of feeling something intimate, and being called on by a teacher for being in trouble, and not knowing for sure what you’d done wrong.
I ducked my head a touch, a slight smile on my lips, more to reassure the others that I wasn’t in trouble. At least I didn’t think I was.
Mr. Blackbourne moved himself around the car, and opened the passenger door for me. Excitement ignited my insides. They all did this, and while I was getting used to it, it seemed awkward still from Mr. Blackbourne. Rather, I felt awkward because he was perfection in leather shoes.
I settled into the seat, slipping a little against the gray leather. While Mr. Blackbourne walked around to the driver’s side, I did a short finger wave to the others.
Luke and Victor waved enthusiastically. Dr. Green gave me a wink, but there was something a little off in it. I wondered if he was disappointed I couldn’t join him at the hospital.
Soon, once he was settled behind the wheel, Mr. Blackbourne took off amid the downtown streets of Charleston, and the barrier the other boys provided stripped away. I watched white strips of clouds amid morning blue sky just to avoid looking at him.
It wasn’t that I was nervous with him, but the topic I had to tell him about was difficult to start, and I wasn’t sure what else to talk about. How could someone like me convince the others to allow me to join the Academy with them? Was I even allowed to ask?
Would the Academy even want someone like me? A girl with a dead mother, a stepmother that didn’t want her, and a father who had run away to a new family? I had my own family now, though I was always uncertain of my place in it. As much as I wanted to believe, I also didn’t want to assume too much of what exactly I was supposed to do.
“From what Mr. Morgan told me,” Mr. Blackbourne said, “you did well today.”
I tried to smile, though it felt like a grimace. How much had he heard? “The boys did most of the work,” I said quietly.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “Although there wasn’t much to be done in this situation. Either they took a chance on listening to us or they ran, in which case, we could either try again or use alternate methods of reaching out to them.”
“What will happen to them?” I asked.
“More than likely, their parents will be found,” he said. “They probably don’t have jobs, so they sent their kids to the states to hopefully become part of the system.” He turned the car down a road in Charleston where there were shops on either side. While I was distracted looking at storefronts and people walking by, he continued. “In any case, we’ll find a better life for them than living on the streets or being separated into foster homes.”
I smiled now, glad to have been a small part of helping others get involved with the Academy. I trusted them to take care of the kids and find them suitable homes, no matter what had happened to them. I was curious as to where they might go and how it might work out, but I understood with the Academy, it might not always be possible to follow every step of the process. You simply had to trust.
A couple more miles and Mr. Blackbourne pulled up along the street to park. We were in a part of downtown Charleston, in front of a restaurant that sat on a corner. The other three corners were bank buildings. There weren’t many people out on a Sunday morning, but the restaurant, simply named Toast, had a couple sitting on the bench out front, gazing up and down the street, looking fresh-faced and excited about the day. Other than that, the restaurant itself appeared as if it hadn’t opened yet.
“Is this place suitable?” Mr. Blackbourne asked.
I was gazing at the windowed doors, seeking out signs of life inside. I nodded quietly. Toast. I guessed it was a place that had great toast? It was a curious little corner restaurant with green wooden wall boxes on either side of the door. Each green box had a front window, and inside each window, a menu was displayed.
So people could look at the menus before they went inside? It wasn’t something I’d heard about before, but then I hadn’t gone to many restaurants.
Mr. Blackbourne parked and opened his door to step out, walking quickly around to open my door before I’d managed to get the seatbelt off fully. He presented his hand and I took it. It was a process I was starting to get used to with the boys, and with some of them, the hand up was occasional, but Mr. Blackbourne did it every time.
Once I was standing on the sidewalk, I opened my hand to let go. Mr. Blackbourne squeezed my fingers gently, holding on while he closed the car door. His cool skin warmed itself against mine.
My heart did a nervous flip, vibrating through my chest. I wasn’t expecting it. There was a small part of me that thought to pull away, but then his hand felt cold, and the better part of me thought it was a good thing for me to help warm it.
He clasped my fingers between his and then slowly slid up to the palm to press his into mine and held it there. He turned, without looking at me, toward the doors of the restaurant and continued on.
With him holding onto me, it forced me to walk
beside him, and I scurried to keep up. Again, I felt out of place in jeans and informal clothes with him dressed up, even if it was what he wore every day.
I wondered what he wore at home when he wasn’t out in public. Could I even imagine him in pajamas? Or even wearing jeans?
I pressed the thought down.
Mr. Blackbourne walked toward the doors. The moment we were there, he released my hand, moving ahead to open the door.
I walked in, and he came up behind me and pressed a hand to my shoulder, as if to encourage me further in.
I was holding my breath, willing my heart to settle from the fury of beating. I’d been out with Mr. Blackbourne before to a golf club, and there we’d needed to look like a couple on a date.
This time, it felt like we were a couple on a date, without him saying so, and without me realizing it until this moment. It was like a date I’d read about in books, or watched on TV shows.
The inside of Toast was darker than I had expected, even with the walls lined with windows. The paint and most of the décor was maroon, the tiles a light brown, with black tablecloths. There was a small counter in the center where two old gentlemen were sitting with cups of coffee, and a young man stood at the cash register nearby, pressing buttons on the screen.
The young man looked up, gave us a smile, and nodded toward the tables. “Good morning,” he said. “Please sit anywhere you’d like.”
I didn’t see anyone else working. Was he the only one? I thought of the diner with Uncle in the back, and sometimes just Luke working out front, and wondered if it was the same situation.
Mr. Blackbourne guided me to a table by a window near the front where we could look out on the street. He stepped ahead of me to pull back one of the chairs, looking intently at me, waiting.
I swallowed, wondering how I was supposed to sit when someone held the chair for me.
I moved forward and tried to get it over with. I sat quickly, and ended up half in the seat as he hadn’t finished pushing it in.
He released it the moment I touched down, and I adjusted a little, but not too much; I didn’t want to make him think he hadn’t done it right. It was probably better, because it forced me to sit up straight.
Mr. Blackbourne sat across from me. He met my eyes.
Nerves vibrated within me. His face, the serious expression, held something more. He was waiting to speak with me. Something was bothering him. I felt it.
Dread weighed down on me like a rock in my stomach. This wasn’t just breakfast. He had something to say. I had said I wanted to talk to him, but this was beyond that. He had deep concerns troubling his mind and he was waiting to tell me. Thoughts flew through my mind as to what it could be. I had to move back into my mother’s house because it wasn’t working living with Nathan. Someone complained about something I did. The Academy wasn’t accepting any more students at this time.
The waiter at the bar came to us with a couple of menus. “Good morning,” he said. “Beating the Sunday crowd, I see. We just opened.”
I forced a smile and looked to Mr. Blackbourne nervously, my tongue gluing itself to the top of my mouth. I wanted to say something to be polite, but I couldn’t find what to say. It wasn’t like he’d asked a question.
“When the churches release, it won’t be so quiet,” Mr. Blackbourne said, taking up the menu and glancing at it. I did the same, but only holding it up, because it felt rude to read it while the waiter was hovering and talking.
“Yeah,” the waiter said. “You would have thought the two churches close to this place would release their Sunday mass at different times. Give them to us in shifts instead of all at once.”
“I believe they like releasing at the same time for a different purpose.” Mr. Blackbourne looked up from his menu, facing the waiter. “It’s more a show of numbers and identifying who attended where. Seen and be seen.”
“I’d believe that,” the waiter said. He then glanced at me and smiled. “Could I get you two anything to drink?”
Drink? How could I know when you were talking? I forced myself to glance at the menu, my eyes scanning to find something that was a drink. My eyes had a hard time adjusting since I was nervous. I couldn’t say why exactly. The waiter wasn’t unfriendly, but I didn’t know him and he was easy with his conversation; I was afraid of being sucked into it and unable to respond.
“Could we have water for the moment?” Mr. Blackbourne asked.
“Right away,” the waiter said, nodded and smiled again at me before he walked back behind a kitchen door and disappeared.
My heart eased, just a little. I studied the menu now, trying to prepare an answer for the inevitable question of what I’d like to eat. I’d already talked to enough people I didn’t know today and I was already worn out.
“Do you prefer an omelet or French toast?” Mr. Blackbourne asked.
Toast’s menu featured all day breakfast like the diner. I went through the menu quickly, checking prices along with what would be easy to eat. I was too nervous for anything heavy, though. “I think I’d like something with fruit,” I said.
“Oatmeal?” he asked.
“I was looking at the yogurt.”
He nodded. “Would you care for something besides water?”
“Juice?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I thought of orange juice and then I realized it might taste funny with the yogurt. That and lately when I drank orange juice, it wasn’t long before my throat was scratchy so I usually didn’t drink much.
Mr. Blackbourne moved the menu from his face and looked at me. “I believe Mr. Lee mentioned you like mocha coffee?”
My lips parted and my cheeks heated. How much did Kota and Mr. Blackbourne talk about me? “Nathan usually buys the Mocha Frappuccino bottles from the store and I drink those. I haven’t tried much else.”
A smooth eyebrow arched. “Would you like to try an iced mocha here?”
I slightly shrugged and nodded at the same time. It sounded interesting. Trying something new. There was so much to try in the world, and I wasn’t sure where to start.
Mr. Blackbourne glanced once more at the menu and then placed it on the table. I put mine down, too. He’d unbuttoned the front of his jacket but kept it on. Sitting up straight like he was, with his lips pressed together, and the steel in his eyes, he was striking. I’d thought Luke could be a model, but Mr. Blackbourne could, too, only for elegant clothes like suits.
“Before I start,” he said, “you’d said you wanted to talk. Is anything wrong?”
I shook my head quickly. I edged my finger along the seam of my jeans, seeking out some focus. “From what I understand, I can’t join...I can’t sign up for the Academy unless Kota and the others agree I can. Or something like that.”
“They could probably hinder your eligibility in some way, but they couldn’t stop you altogether if it was what you truly wanted,” he said. “It is true, though, that Mr. Lee doesn’t think you should. He believes you’ve been through enough and he wouldn’t like you to have a life similar to what we lead.”
“Don’t I already?” I asked.
Mr. Blackbourne touched gently at the very corner of his glasses, adjusting what was already perfect. “I don’t share his sentiment. I believe he’s more afraid for you, which is something he faces regularly, every day, with everyone on his team.” His steel eyes narrowed on me. “But fear is something we shouldn’t allow to make our choices for us.”
“How could I convince him?”
Mr. Blackbourne’s lips twitched. “Time, I think. Part of it isn’t really the danger, either, I believe.”
“What’s the other part?”
“It’s what we’ve talked about before. About family. About trying to keep us together, and making sure we all get to know you well.”
I wanted to ask questions, to figure out exactly what he meant, but I couldn’t form the words. How much did they need to get to know me? How much time would that take?
Th
e waiter returned then with two glasses of water. He looked at me. “Are we ready to order?”
“She’d like the fruit and yogurt with an iced mocha,” Mr. Blackbourne said quickly. He picked up the menus from the table and passed them over. “I’ll have the garden omelet and a regular coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?” the waiter asked.
Mr. Blackbourne nodded. The waiter took the menus and walked away. Mr. Blackbourne sipped at his water before he continued with me. “This was part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I suppose we should start there. The time is coming when we should be together on this, and it may happen sooner than I’d hoped.”
“What will happen?” I asked, suddenly more nervous.
“The Academy is asking to meet you, in a way,” he said.
I waited, hoping he’d provide more of an answer. His steel eyes fixed on me but nothing came from him.
“Is that bad?” I asked.
“It might be,” he said. “It depends on our reaction to you, and your reaction to them. They know some of the story, but not the whole of it.”
“What don’t they know?”
“They realized your parents are gone, but only a handful of people know why. They also know we’ve taken a special interest in you. They don’t know it’s because we’d like for you to join our family, or that you’d like to join us.”
I caught on to his meaning. “I’ll need to convince Kota before I meet them?”
He nodded. “We’re probably lucky the holidays are coming up. That’ll give us some time, but I have a feeling New Year will be our first meeting. Which means we’ve got about a month.”
My eyes widened and my hands balled into fists under the table. That wasn’t much time at all. “What do I do? Where do we start?”
“Again, we’re lucky the holidays are coming up. We’ll have more free time,” he said. He held up fingers and counted off. “Mr. Morgan, Mr. North Taylor and Mr. Korba, so far, I believe are in agreement. Mr. Lee needs convincing, we know. Mr. Griffin is on the fence, but if Mr. Lee agrees, I feel he’ll follow. The others I’m not sure about, although I believe if you expressed your interest, they could be persuaded.”
