The Teacher (9 page)

Chapter
Twelve

Emma wore her only pair of black yoga
pants and a pink tank top under a sweatshirt. She pulled her hair into a
ponytail and Seth met her at the door with a water bottle.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

The gym was bright and open, with floor
to ceiling windows on two sides. Despite the gray gloom that hovered outside
the interior lights kept the inside sunny. The second floor was open, like a
balcony, and lined with exercise machines. Emma followed Seth beyond the lines
of rowing machines on the first floor and into the group exercise room. A panel
of etched glass windows separated the room from the rest of the facility.

Seth promised to meet her outside the
room in one hour and then took off up the stairs to start his circuit training.
Emma set her water bottle and sweatshirt near the door and heard someone call
her name.

“Ms. Hewitt.” It was Naomi’s mother,
Terry.

“Oh, hi,” Emma said with a little wave.

“I didn’t know you belonged to this gym
too,” she said.

“I don’t, actually, my roommate brought
me along as his free guest today.”

“That was your roommate?” asked the
woman who’d been chatting with Terry. “I wish I had a roommate like that at my
house.”

“Oh come on, Kitty, doesn’t Bob excite
you anymore?” Terry teased her friend.

“The only thing Bob does that’s exciting
is pick up his dirty socks before I ask him to and that hasn’t happened in over
a decade.”

Emma smiled.

“Good morning,” a cheerful voice boomed
from the speakers around the room and Latin music started to thump. Everyone
scattered, claiming a spot on the floor. Emma was pushed to the back, near the
door and began to follow the thin, perky instructor at the front of the room whose
spandex shorts and sports bra barely covered her muscular body. Emma picked up
the beat and joined in the warm up.

The music’s tempo increased and Emma
tried to keep up, changing her movements every time the instructor yelled, “Do
this.” Everyone else in the class must have been regulars, because they seemed
to anticipate the changes whereas Emma found herself a step behind or going the
wrong way, but she had to admit she was hip shaking and shoulder shimmying as
good as anyone else. They started moving faster again and Emma wondered how bad
she was going to hurt in the morning.

*     *     *

Marcus’s persistence finally paid off.
The nanny agency called yesterday with a new nanny. He couldn’t help but wonder,
when he left this morning, just how long this girl would last. Trying to push
the thought from his mind, he popped his earbuds in as his feet treaded slowly along
the belt. He took a deep cleansing breath as he tried to relieve the stress
layering like bricks inside him. It had been months since he last escaped to
the gym.

His feet moved steadily as he eased into
his run. From his perch on the balcony, he watched the people below coming and
going from one machine to the next. There was an aerobics class going on in the
room below and he noticed one poor participant in a bright pink shirt trying to
keep up with the rest of the group. He smiled to himself, amused. She stood
out, because she was always a step behind or going in the wrong direction.

Newbie
, he thought to
himself and tried to look away, but couldn’t. The class was shaking their hips
and Marcus’s attention was drawn to this woman’s backside. He couldn’t help it.
It had been a long time, a very long time, since he let himself look at a woman
and he figured just this once wouldn’t hurt.

The class moved to the right and now to
the left, but Miss Pink Shirt missed the cue and almost smacked into the person
next to her. Marcus smiled and watched everyone else switch back to the right.
Miss Pink Shirt caught the cue this time and moved with the class. Everyone
started kicking and two beats later Miss Pink Shirt joined them, but that
didn’t last long because the class changed to a swivel step and she was still
kicking. Again, Marcus smiled feeling a little guilty about being entertained
at this poor woman’s expense. He could at least give her credit she was sticking
with it.

Marcus, into a full run on the treadmill,
watched the class below as they did some cowboy roping move, with their arm and
pivoted in a circle. Miss Pink Shirt missed the first one but joined in on the
next one. When she turned around Marcus saw her red and flush face. He stumbled
on his machine and was nearly thrown from the belt. He grabbed the railing and
recovered as the guy on the next machine turned to look at him. Regaining his
composure Marcus, picked up his pace and returned to his run. He looked down at
the class and watched the woman in the pink shirt do another cowboy turn.

It was exactly whom he’d thought it was.
Ms. Hewitt, Brayden’s teacher.

Now he tried more than ever to look
away, but still couldn’t resist a glance every now and again. The class slowed
down and looked like they were stretching. Marcus’s program on the treadmill
ended and he grabbed his towel wiping the sweat from his brow. He took a drink
of water before he headed downstairs to the basketball court.

The aerobics class was breaking up and
Marcus saw Ms. Hewitt looking around, right in his path to the courts. Before
he could backtrack her eyes found his and they locked for a moment.

“Hello, Ms. Hewitt,” he said, sounding
more abrupt than he intended.

“Hello, Mr. Lewis,” she said, matching
his tone.

“I didn’t…” he began, but then her eyes
looked past him and she smiled. Turning he saw a man walking toward them. The
roommate, he should have known.

“Hey Emma, how was your class?” the
roommate asked, joining them.

“A little intense, but good,” she answered
and then turned to Marcus. “Seth you remember Mr. Lewis.”

“Sure,” he said, extending his hand and
Marcus shook it firmly, “Nice to see you again, Mr. Lewis.”

“Marcus,” he replied.

“Marcus,” Seth repeated and then turned
to Emma. “What do you say we get home and shower before heading out to lunch?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ms. Hewitt said
eagerly and Marcus stepped aside, barely shaking his head as the startling
image of the two of them showering together popped into his head.
Where did
that come from,
Marcus wanted to know.

“Nice seeing you again,” Ms. Hewitt said
as she stepped past him and left the gym.

Chapter
Thirteen

Emma stood back and watched her group of
kindergartners check themselves into the afterschool program without any
assistance or reminders from her. That was the joy of January, coming back from
the two-week break, everyone refreshed and ready to jump back in, right where
they left off. They had almost reached the halfway mark of the year. From here
on out it would go fast. The second half of the year always seemed to fly by.

She went back down the hall, making a
stop at the Special Education classroom. The teacher, Alec Martin, was in his
office in the back. He was on the telephone and Emma mouthed, “Sorry,” ready to
turn and leave.

“No worries,” Alec said as he waved her
in. “I’m just checking my voicemail.” He motioned for her to take a chair and
she did, catching a whiff of his masculine cologne as she crossed in front of
him.

The office was a small windowless box
with a desk and chair, two filing cabinets, the plastic molded chair she was
sitting in and Alec’s bike tucked in the corner. The four white walls were bare
except for the solitary calendar still stuck on September.

Today Alec wore a pair of light colored
corduroy pants and an oversized sweater with white sneakers. For such a
challenging job, Alec always looked so relaxed. Emma watched him scratch a note
down on a piece of paper before he hung up.

“So what’s up?” he asked as he swiveled
around in his chair, momentarily revealing a single framed photograph on his
desk of him and a golden haired woman standing with a group of children in
front of a building. He smiled and tossed his head to the side, trying to push
his long blond hair from his eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about some of
my kiddos,” Emma said.

“Shoot,” Alec replied and leaned back in
his chair. He pulled one ankle over his other knee and twisted his ballpoint
pen in his hands. No ring on his left hand, she noticed.

“Well, first of all,” Emma said. “I’m
happy to report that Mariah is performing at grade level. She recognizes all
her letters, letter sounds, and numbers one through thirty.”

“Great,” Alec replied. “We’ll talk about
testing her out at our next meeting.” He jotted a note in his notebook. “Who
else?”

“Donald,” Emma continued and couldn’t
help smiling. Donald’s ever-present happy-go-lucky attitude always brought a
smile to her face.

“What about our little guy?” Alec asked,
jotting Donald’s name down.

“He’s showing regression,” she said, her
demeanor changing with the words. “I tested him today and he’s forgotten at
least half of the letters he knew before the break.”

“Yeah.” Alec frowned and scribbled
another note. “Sandy mentioned she was noticing some regression too. We’ll need
to bring this up at our next meeting with his parents. We’ll keep watching him,
but if he doesn’t make any vast improvements we may need to think about
offering summer services for him and I’ve been wondering if we shouldn’t do
more cognitive testing.”

Emma nodded in agreement.

“Anyone else?” Alec smiled again. And
what a nice smile it was.

“Yeah, Brayden Lewis.”

“Who?”

“Brayden, we discussed him briefly at
the beginning of the year. I’m just growing more and more concerned about him”

“Remind me about him,” Alec said as he rolled
his pen in his fingers.

“He spends a lot of time sitting alone
in the back of the classroom. If it wasn’t for Donald coaxing him out this
week, he’d probably never have joined us for anything.”

“God, I love that kid. Donald’s all
heart isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.” Emma smiled, sharing the
same sentiments. “Anyway, I tested Brayden this week and he’s showing
regression too. Before the break, it felt like we were making progress. He was
participating more and didn’t blow up as easily, but now it feels like we’re
back at square one.”

“Do the parents report the same kind of
problems at home? Have there been any changes in his life?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, shaking her
head. “I can’t get his dad to take any of my phone calls and he missed the
conference in the fall. Somebody new dropped Brayden off this week. Brayden
just called her Stephanie, but I don’t know who she is.”

“What about his mom?”

Emma shrugged. “I have no idea. I have
no information about her at all and Brayden’s never mentioned his mom.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Alec replied and
a crease appeared across his forehead.

“Do you think it could be ODD,
Oppositional Defiant Disorder?” he finally asked, rocking back in his chair.

“I…I don’t know?” Emma said with a shrug,
disorders and diagnoses weren’t her specialty. She only knew that what she was
seeing wasn’t right.

“Do you think Dad would be on board with
some testing?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Emma turned her
hands upward and then smiled. “But I could talk to his secretary about it.”

“I take it you talk to her a lot,” Alec
said smiling back at her. Deep dimples appeared on both cheeks and Emma felt
herself flush at the sight of them. She wondered if he knew the effect, those
things could have on a girl.

“Yeah, we’re practically on a first name
basis,” she replied, a little sass in her voice. “I’m afraid I’ve made his
not-worth-my-time
list and she screens me out every time. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“I find that hard to believe, who
couldn’t like you, Emma?” Alec asked, cocking his head to the side, his dimples
deepened with his grin.

Emma felt her cheeks flush again, was he
flirting with her?

“What does Brayden’s dad do?” Alec
asked.

“He’s a lawyer.”

“Oooh,” Alec replied with raised
eyebrows. “Well, see if he’s up for a meeting and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay,” Emma agreed before going back to
her classroom and dialing the law office. She would see if by some miracle Mr.
Lewis would take her call. Then, she could ask about this new Stephanie person
and why she brought Brayden to school late every day this week.

The phone was answered on the second
ring.

*     *     *

A pink message slip sat on Marcus’s desk
when he returned to his office. He picked it up and reached for the shredder.
Ms. Hewitt’s name was at the top. The word,
tardiness
caught his eye and
he halted his action.

Quickly he scanned the note. Ms. Hewitt
wanted to schedule a meeting. Why, did that not surprise him? She was stepping up
her requests from a return phone call to an actual face-to-face exchange.
Well,
that didn’t need to happen
, Marcus thought dropping the message on his
desk. If Brayden was showing up late to school, he could take care of that. It
could all be handled without him having to scratch out time in his schedule to
talk to her.

He buzzed the intercom through to
Gretta.

“Yes, Mr. Lewis,” she answered.

“Hi, Gretta. This message from Brayden’s
teacher says he was tardy this week.”

“That’s correct.”

“Did Ms. Hewitt say which day?”

“Every day.”

“Every day! Are you sure?”

“Yes, she said he got to school later
and later each day. Today he was over an hour late.”

An hour,
Marcus clenched his jaw. “Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth and disconnected
the intercom. He dropped into his chair and rubbed his hand over his upper lip.
Pulling out his cell phone, he searched for the new nanny’s number. How could
it be every nanny from this damn agency was incompetent? My God, he’d been able
to get Brayden to school on time every day this year. This girl’s one job, her
one measly task in the morning was to get Brayden to school.

He held the phone away from his ear
after an automated voice said, “Please enjoy the music while your party is
reached,” and then some god-awful rock song began to play that he couldn’t make
out the words to, and he probably didn’t want to.

“Hello,” Stephanie answered in a high-pitched
little voice.

“Stephanie, this is Marcus Lewis,” he
said into the phone.

“Who?” Her perky voice grated on his
nerves.

“Marcus Lewis. Brayden’s father.”

“Oh hey, Marcus,” she replied and he
bristled at her casualness. He tried to ignore it and continued. “Stephanie,
was there a problem getting Brayden to school this week?”

“No,” she said. “He made it to school
every day.”

“I understand he was late
every
day this week, is that true?”

“Well…he… um, yeah I guess we were
running a little behind a couple of days, but he was just being so difficult
and I tried, but…”

“Thank you Stephanie,” he said, raising
his voice to cut her off. “That was all I needed to know. You can consider
today your last day and you won’t have to worry about getting my difficult son
off to school anymore.”

“Wait, but I…” he heard her try to call
out as he ended the call with a push of a button.

There went the ounce of freedom he had
experienced over the last week. His early arrivals into the office and evenings
at the gym were once again a thing of the past. Marcus scrolled through his
phone numbers, looking for the nanny agency. He was about to push the green
call button when he changed his mind. What was the point? They only seemed to
employ amateur babysitters. He’d have to figure something else out.

Marcus dropped his head into his hands.

The deep well of emotions inside him
began to surge and he tried to push them back down, but this latest glitch with
the nanny was about to push him over the edge. Why was everything with his son
so hard? When were things going to change? When Brayden was ten, fifteen, or
twenty? How much worse were things going to get?

A bolt of fear struck him deep in the
heart. He couldn’t think about that now, not when he had a client meeting in
ten minutes. He needed to clear his head.

“I’ll be back,” he grumbled at Gretta as
he marched out of the office, ignoring the curious stares from his colleagues
gathered in the reception area. Three people waited for the elevator. Marcus didn’t
want to be trapped inside with anyone so he headed for the stairwell.

The concrete corridor was satisfyingly
cool. He propelled himself down the stairs and his heart began to beat to the same
rhythmic clap of his shoes. Reaching the ground floor, he went outside into the
gray mist of the day. He shivered from the damp coolness and walked to the end
of the block.

It was the middle of winter, the darkest
grayest time of the year. This was when people really started to grumble about
the dreariness and gloomy weather, but not Marcus. He preferred the melancholy
of the overcast days
and the way he could hide
his feelings of pain and despair in the dark clouds. A streetcar rumbled past
as he turned the corner.

After one lap around the block, Marcus felt
the latch on his emotional box close inside of him. He turned the key locking
his anger, guilt, and despair back up before heading into the building.

Opting for the elevator this time he
pressed the button and was quickly rewarded with an empty car. He stepped
inside, but before the doors could close two people slipped inside with him. The
woman, he quickly recognized as Ms. Hewitt’s cackling friend, but the man he’d
never seen before.

“Are you sure she won’t back out this
time?” the man asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve squared it with
Emma. We’re going out tomorrow night. You’re bringing Peter, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” the guy answered. “I’m
just still waiting for your friend to drum up some excuse.”

“Well, she won’t. Trust me,” the woman
said, staring into the compact she’d pulled from her leopard-print purse and
pressed her lips together. “Her roommate’s out of town for the weekend and she
doesn’t want to sit around all alone.” She snapped her compact shut. “So, I was
thinking we’d try out that new place, Alejandro’s, in the Pearl District.”

“Yeah sure,” the guy agreed, leaning one
shoulder against the back wall. “But seriously what is the deal with her and
her roommate? Are you sure they aren’t an item, because they seemed awful
chummy that day I met them.”

“Oh my God,” she shrieked. It was an
ear-piercing sound and Marcus winced. “Emma and Seth. Are you kidding? Trust me
that would never happen.” The elevator pinged and the woman stepped out, her
head thrown back in laughter while her companion trailed behind her.

Marcus pressed the eighteenth floor
button again trying to hurry the elevator upward. He shook his head when the
doors closed trying to get the conversation he’d just heard out of his mind.
His curiosity had been triggered when he heard mention of Ms. Hewitt’s name.
Why was her friend so sure something wasn’t blossoming between the two? Marcus
had eyes too and he had to agree with the other man there was something
chummy
about her relationship with her roommate. It didn’t sit right with him
either.