Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (37 page)

“But Michael’s not with them.” His eyes wear a thick glaze of terror and he starts to shake. “What if Joseph’s right? What if he’s still inside?”

His horrified whisper catches in the wind. I can’t just stand here and do nothing. I grab his shoulders and lock eyes with him. “Matthew, do you trust me?”

He nods.

“I want you to wait right here. I’m going to find your brother.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I say with a reassuring hug. Standing, I clamp a firm hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “As for you, stop kicking that snowbank, right now.” I ignore the guilty look on his face. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. Lamont. Can I trust you to be in charge?”

“Me?” Joseph’s face beams with surprise. He stomps the muddy snow from his shoes and puffs up with pride. “Sure, Miss P, I’ll watch the kids for you.”

I head for Nick, huddled with his students near the chain link fence. I grab his arm. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” He squints at me against the high noon sun.

I haul him away so we won’t be overheard. “Where’s Michael Moore?” I level him with a cold stare. “His brother doesn’t see him and I don’t, either.”

“He’s around here somewhere.” Nick scans the playground. “I saw him a minute ago.”

But his words come a little too slow. “Did you do a head count?”

“Yes, I did.” His tone plays defense to the stony glare suddenly on his face. “Twenty-four kids, just like in the book.”

“Then where’s Michael?”

“What’s it to you?” He blows out a deep breath. Icy steam fills the space between us. “That kid isn’t one of your students.”

That kid?
“That kid might not be in my class, but he’s missing. If you won’t do something about it, then I will.”

Nick shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”

I’m tempted to knock him right off his feet. That would surely make it into the annals of playground legend… one teacher, whacking another. I stomp away before temptation gets the better of me. The hell with Nick Lamont. A little boy is missing.

Ruth stands some yards away, struggling to keep her fourth graders in order. I brush past groups of students as I head in her direction. Maybe she’s seen Michael.

“I’ll bet he’s still in the closet,” a voice sniggers, echoed by a giggling chorus.

Whirling, I spot Lauren and grab her arm. “What did you say?”

“Ouch! That hurts!” A furious scowl covers the little girl’s face.

I loosen my grip but don’t let go. “Tell me what you said.”

Her eyes glitter like black ice. “You’re not allowed to touch me.”

I tighten my hold. “If you know where Michael is, I want to know right now.”

“I said he’s probably still in the closet,” she finally mutters in a sulky tone.

“Closet?” The wind sucks away my words. “What closet?”

“The supply closet. The one near Mr. Lamont’s desk.” Lauren tosses her hair with a dismissive scoff. “Michael Moore is such a crybaby. He’s always whining about something. Sometimes when he acts up, Mr. Lamont puts him in the closet.”

“Mr. Lamont does
what
?”

“He puts him in the closet,” she suddenly shouts in my face as if I’ve gone deaf. “To teach him a lesson.”

I stagger backwards, nausea rolling in my stomach.
He left his kids alone in the classroom. He saved himself instead of them… a liar, a cheat and a coward… that’s the kind of man you’ve been dealing with all year.

Sam was right about Nick all along.

Lauren yanks away from me. “Just wait until my mother hears what you did. You’re going to get fired.”

I break rank and dart toward the principal and fire chief without answering.

Someone’s going to get fired, but it won’t be me.

# # #

Thirty minutes later, I finally rejoin my class with Michael Moore in tow. The firemen found him sobbing in a closet containing Nick’s supplies, exactly where Lauren said he would be. Thank God the little boy wasn’t hurt. Thank God the emergency wasn’t worse. When the telephone construction crew accidently cut the school’s gas line, it put us all in danger from a potential gas leak and fatal explosion. But the gas company arrived, shut off the main line, and the threat is over. Everyone is safe, including Michael Moore, rescued by two strapping fireman in full turnout gear. I blink hard as the two brothers are reunited.

“Miss P, are you crying?” Jenna whispers.

“It’s okay, Miss P,” Joseph assures me. “You don’t have to worry. Everybody’s still here. I made sure nobody moved, just like you said.”

“Thank you, Joseph.” I force a smile and finger away a few tears. “You did a good job.”

“No problem,” he says. “You can put me in charge whenever you want. I’ll take care of things.”

I laugh and clap him on the shoulder. No doubt someday Joseph will run his own company, but he’ll need a little more guidance before he takes on the world. All of them will. I glance around at my kids, shivering in the brisk March wind. Right now they’re only ten-year-olds, barely more than babies. The years will fly and soon they’ll be grown. But for now, they’re still mine. There are things I still have left to teach them. I close my eyes and make a silent vow. No matter what it takes, I’m going to do my best to encourage them to expand their minds, to never, never quit, to always reach for their dreams.

A few minutes later, Chuck Stevens comes around and whispers in my ear. I break the news to the kids. “School’s closing early today.”

Loud cheers ring out and I put a warning finger to my lips. “Listen up. We’re going back inside, but only for a few minutes. I want you to gather your coats and anything else you need.”

The decision has been made by the powers that be. With the main gas valve shut off, the school has no heat. There’ll be no school for the rest of the day. Maybe not even tomorrow.

But for Nick Lamont, the school year is definitely over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Same old school year. Same old body. Same old me.

Blue plastic floats bob on the surface of the water as I flip on my back and slowly start swimming for the other end of the pool. The lane is long and lonely, and my mind seems to be the only thing burning up calories. It races down the lane faster than I can keep up. I have to keep going.

Nothing changes if nothing changes.

I thought being back at the pool again would get me back in the swim of things. I thought doing laps and pushing my body would bring inner peace. I thought daily exercise would boost my endorphins, bring renewed energy, result in some sense of satisfaction. But I thought wrong. All I do is ache. Inside and out.

So why am I here? Why keep going? Especially since it doesn’t matter anymore what I look like. I ruined my shot at Teacher of the Year when I skipped the final interview. No way was I going to abandon my kids after all the commotion with the gas leak and the trouble it caused. But I have no regrets about the way things turned out. In my heart, I know staying behind with my kids was the right thing to do. The selection committee offered to reschedule, but I decided to pass. Funny, but somewhere along the line, I lost the heart for winning. Maybe because I lost so much of me, trying to win? Some other teacher will receive the award.

But it won’t be Nick Lamont.

A watered-down image of Nick splashes to mind as I touch the end of the lane, flip, and start for the other end. What a fool I was. He seemed so perfect and I craved his attention like a hot fudge sundae. But just like ice cream nuked in a microwave, Nick melted under pressure and ended up a puddle of empty calories. He didn’t look so perfect that morning last week with the sweat popping in shiny beads across his forehead when confronted on the playground. He looked even uglier later that afternoon when Chuck Stevens fired him.

Pretty is as pretty does
, Mama always said. What Nick did that day hadn’t been pretty.

And he even hit on Priscilla.

I nearly lost it at dinner that night when Priscilla finally shared her halting tale about what had happened between them in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. How Nick surprised her from behind, touched and teased her though she struggled to pull away. How he told her he knew she wanted it. How he made suggestions she was too embarrassed to repeat months later, even to me.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered when I finally found my voice.

“Because I didn’t think you would believe me,” Priscilla said haltingly. “Everything was fine until you and Ruth left us alone in the kitchen. And then Nick…” She shuddered and shook her head. “I was afraid you’d be mad.”

“You bet I’d have been mad,” I say through clenched teeth. “I would have killed him.” The mere thought of him trying to force himself on Priscilla makes me want to grab a gun and hunt him down.

“No, you don’t understand,” she says softly. “I thought you would be mad at me. Nick was all you talked about. I thought you were in love with him. And I thought if you found out what had happened, that you would blame me. I didn’t want you to think I encouraged him.”

My eyes round in sudden understanding. “That was the night you started acting so funny. And here all this time, I thought you were mad because I broke Mama’s turkey platter.”

“But I was mad! I was mad at Nick—and at you, too.” She hesitates. “You turned into someone different when he was around. You changed, Patty.” Her voice drops. “I thought I’d lost you.”

All that time wasted. All those Friday nights I pretended to be at Nick’s basketball games. Brought down by my stupid, selfish pride. What a fool I’ve been. “I’m sorry, Priscilla. Sorry about everything. Can you ever forgive me?”

“But I’m not mad anymore, Patty, not even about Mama’s turkey platter.” Her eyes soften. “Someone gave me a new one, remember?”

I push away the image of Sam’s face. Allowing myself to remember how I treated him leaves me with a lonely ache that might ease in time, but I doubt it will ever heal. I tried my best to put things right, but Sam never responded to my apology on his voicemail. He never acknowledged my visit to his office. I got the message, loud and clear. Sam’s no longer interested. And I don’t blame him. If someone treated me like that, I wouldn’t be interested, either.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Priscilla wraps me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad I have you back. At least we still have some time together before the wedding.”

I fight down the tears. The private little world we’ve shared all our lives is disappearing. I’ll be moving soon to a small, one-bedroom apartment I found close to school. It’s not a condo, but it will do for now. It’s time I took control of my life. Time to change what I can.

Brand new day. Brand new life. Brand new me.

Starting at the pool. And maybe this time, I’ll finally get things right. It’s taken me a while to figure it out, but Sam was right.
One lap at a time
. Maybe that’s always been my problem. Plowing through things, never asking for help, never recognizing when I’m floundering in water over my head. The only way to the finish line is straight up the middle. One lap at a time. No skipping the in-betweens.

I kick off and start down the lane for the other end of the pool. Twenty laps yesterday and twenty-two today. I’ve already lost six pounds and my clothes feel looser. And I’m determined to do whatever it takes. One month and twenty pounds to go. I’m trimming down for the big event. Priscilla deserves nothing less on her wedding day.

Four laps left. I flip in the shallow end, think about the wedding and elegant reception to follow. There’ll be dining, dancing, and hopefully someone to dance with. I might not have a date but I
am
the maid of honor.

A shrill blast from the lifeguard’s whistle stops me. I bob upright in water over my head. The whistle shrieks again but my goggles are fogged in the warm humid air and it’s hard to see. The teenage lifeguard is on his feet, pointing toward the deep end. Someone stands there, waving at me. It’s a man. A man who looks like…

Sam?

No, it can’t be. That person is fit and trim. It has to be these goggles. I swipe at the steamed lens, grab a better look at the man. Then I gulp and sink, sputtering a mouthful of water.

It
is
Sam.

Down I go, straight to the bottom of the pool. My feet graze the smooth tile as my mind swims with dread and delight. Sam, here at the pool! But why now? After all these months? I stay underwater as long as I dare, desperately trying to remember all the things I want to tell him. Finally my air gives out and I have no choice. I hit the surface with a prayer that my goggles are still fogged. The first thing Sam sees shouldn’t be my tears. He waits, crouching beside the metal steps as I splash toward him.

“Let me help you.” He offers out his hand.

I swallow hard, hesitate. How long has it been since we talked—or touched? Finally I grab hold, struggling to find my balance as I stumble up the first step, then the second. The last step is easy. Sam hauls me straight into his arms.

“No, stop!” I screech with laughter as he pulls me closer. “Are you crazy? You’re getting all wet!”

“I’m crazy, all right… crazy about you.” He yanks the goggles from my eyes and brushes dripping curls out of my face. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“But—”

Hungrily his mouth presses over mine and I melt into the heat of his kiss. I stand there in his arms and the tart taste of chlorine mingles on our lips as we share a deep kiss, then another and one more. The soft graze of his moustache brings rolling shivers of delight surging through my body. I missed his moustache, and everything about him. I missed this man.

This man I love.

“Cold?” His lips nuzzle against my ear.

“I’m not cold. I’m happy.” But happy doesn’t begin to describe how I feel being in his arms again. Finally the drought is over. I swipe some wet curls from my eyes, softly touch his face. He has new glasses and all the weight he’s lost has chiseled his features into someone I barely recognize. I hug him closer, as if that can make up for all the time we lost. Months of time and all my fault. My mistake. A stupid, fat mistake.