Lessons From a Younger Lover (10 page)

A kaleidoscope of five- and six-year-old sights and sounds swirled around Gwen's rambunctious first-grade classroom.

“Okay, class, I need your attention for a moment.”

The cacophony continued. Gwen walked from behind her desk and rested her hip against the front of it. “I have another really big surprise for you, but until everybody is quiet, no one will hear what it is.”

That's all she needed to say. The leaders of the class were promptly shushing those who dared speak, and one particularly saucy six-year-old seemed to have all of them, boy and girl, eating out of her hand.

“Brandon, put that game down and listen. Tianna, stop it. Don't you guys want to know the surprise?”

As one, the classroom nodded at their pint-sized teacher, who, once it was quiet, turned her doe-eyed gaze to Gwen. “Okay, Miss Gwen, we're ready for you.”

“Thank you, Isis.”

Gwen smiled as Isis preened in the light of leadership. Now, whenever Gwen looked at her, she thought of Ransom. She couldn't help it. In retrospect, Isis looked just like him. And while Gwen prided herself on not having classroom favorites, little Isis was making impartiality difficult.

A brown-haired troublemaker across the room threw a balled up piece of paper at the girl sitting next to him.

“Joshua!” Isis yelled, rising from her desk and marching over to the boy. “Pick that up, now!”

“Okay, Isis,” Gwen said as she walked over to get between the students before a fight broke out. “I appreciate your help but remember, I'm the teacher.”

“But, Miss Gwen”—Isis pouted and crossed her arms—“the kids listen to me.”

“Yes, and you as well as the other students in the room need to listen to
me
. Now, please take your seat.”

Isis stood before her with a frown that mirrored the one that had crossed her father's face when Gwen had spewed her venomous accusations the previous week. The same stubbornness was there too, as it took a few seconds for the teacher's order to be obeyed.

Gwen sighed silently as she walked to the front of the classroom. She wondered how long it would take Ransom to get over what she'd said to him. He hadn't returned her phone calls and after leaving several messages, she hadn't tried again. It was probably for the best, she realized. Apologizing again in person for her presumptive behavior would be better than voice mail. Today, she'd get that chance.

As for Adam, Chantay had been absolutely right. Gwen had arrived at school the day after their conversation and approached Adam in the cafeteria.

“Adam, could I have a word?” The request came with a brief touch on his arm and a bright smile.

“Sure,” he said cordially, as if the threat of the day before had never happened. They walked a couple steps away from the first graders sitting at the long, white table. A pair of narrowed eyes followed their movement.

“I had no right to speak the way I did yesterday. After all, you are my superior. So I apologize.”

Adam's cocky smile was almost enough to make Gwen regurgitate her macaroni and cheese, but she kept a cheerful smile firmly in place. “Sure, Gwen. Insuring a friendly and productive work environment is my number-one goal, especially with the teachers on staff. I probably said a few out of line things myself—”

“Probably?”

“Okay, absolutely. Sometimes it's hard drawing the line between friend and colleague, especially a friendship that goes back as far as ours.”

“We weren't exactly friends growing up, Adam.”

“True, but when there's only five thousand people in town…”

“Okay, point taken. So can we turn the page on our differences and get along?”

Adam turned so that his back was to the crowded lunchroom. “I absolutely want to get along,” he said as he performed his habitual lip lick.

“As friends and colleagues, Adam. That's all I can offer,” Gwen tempered her stern answer with another smile. “At least right now. You know how it is going through a divorce, the damage it does to feelings, esteem, and all the rest. So let's just start with being cordial…okay?”

“Sure, baby,” Adam's voice was low, silky. “Friends.”
With benefits
, he thought as she walked away.
Yeah, man. You still got it. You're still “the Johnson.”

Gwen snapped out of her daydreaming and returned her thoughts to the once again restless classroom.

“All right, all right, settle down. Now, who can tell me what's happening this afternoon?”

“The Back to School Blast!” various voices shouted.

“And who wants to tell me exactly what that is?”

Several students raised their hands.

“Kari?”

“It's a party with our parents.”

“You're right, Kari. We've invited all of your moms and dads so they can see where you study, look at the work you've done so far, and celebrate the new school year. Because you've been obedient, and very good so far this year, I have a special project for you—individual gift bags you'll make for your parents, and a large sign to welcome them.”

“How large?” one of the students asked.

“Very large,” Gwen answered, underscoring her answer with outstretched arms. “It's going to be a lot of fun. You get to play with paint and get your hands dirty. Are we ready to study hard so we can have fun later?”

Various affirmative answers were hurled in her direction. With that, the second Friday since school started began in earnest.

The next three hours were filled with reading, writing, math, and music. After lunch and recess, the children returned to the classroom to prepare for the party set for four o'clock.

“Okay class, today we have a room mother who's here to help us with the party and the special project. Everyone say hello to Kari's mother, Carol Connors.”

The children greeted Kari's mother and after instructions, they became happily immersed in the painting assignment. The welcome sign Gwen planned would hang across the back wall in the gym, where the party was set to be held. The word
welcome
was painted in several languages and, the best part, the entire sign was adorned with student hands that had been dipped in water-based paint and pressed onto the paper.

Once finished, it was fan dried and taken to the gym to be hung by the janitor. By the time she and Carol helped the children wash up, the student assistant informed them that the parents were arriving.

Gwen excused herself and went to the bathroom. The day's activities had kept her busy but now that the moment of truth had arrived, her stomach was in knots. Today she'd see Ransom and apologize. It would be a serious, somber moment. So why was her heart fluttering? Like…
butterflies
. The memory of his voice warmed her, even as the memories of her last words to him, the last time she saw him in person, sent a chill up her spine. She washed her hands, reached for a towel, and held the cold damp paper against her forehead. Then she stood up straight, squared her shoulders, and prepared to face “the accused.”

The sound of children's laughter spilled out of the gymnasium, the location for the back to school bash. This day in mid-September had burst forth with radiant sunshine, and Gwen had dressed both for the weather and hopefully success in a sleeveless tunic in bold primary colors and a pair of slim-cut pants. She skimmed a nervous and suddenly clammy hand over the cool cotton cloth, turned the corner, and stepped inside the gym.

She was determined to not look for him. Alas, she didn't have to. His presence was the strongest one in the room: commanding, magnetic. He stood in his usual stance of power: legs spread, arms crossed, talking to his brother.
Best to get it over with
, she thought, and proceeded directly to where they were standing. But several of the students and their parents had other plans. She was stopped a number of times before finally making her way across the room. Two sets of eyes followed her, but she was acutely aware of only one of them.

“Hello, Ransom,” she said with hand outstretched, when she reached his side. “Thanks for coming to our bash. Isis is so excited about school, and about the special gift she made for you.”

“Gwen,” Ransom replied, casually reaching out to envelop her small hand in his much larger one. His touch was placid, as were his unreadable eyes. His face masked his emotions. If he were playing poker, one wouldn't know if he had a no pair or five of a kind. He shook her hand in a perfunctory fashion and then quickly released it.

Adam promptly put his arm around Gwen's shoulders. She felt the action improper, and wanted to squirm her way out of his grasp. But the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene…again. So she turned her head toward Adam and tried to sound casual.

“Hey, Adam.”

“You know Gwen and I go way back,” Adam said to Ransom.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, baby girl had the hots for me back in the day!”

“I did not,” Gwen protested, even as a chorus of
oh, oh, oh
tuned up in her mind.

Adam winked and gripped her tighter. “She was
hot
for your boy.”

“Stop lying,” Gwen said, playfully wiggling away from Adam, or so she hoped it appeared. She wanted nothing more than to get Ransom to herself for a moment, so she could do what she needed to do, and then focus on her other students' parents.

“Ransom, could I—”

“So you
are
here! I called your house before I came, but I see Isis was right. You needed no reminder of today's event.” Carol came up, hugged Ransom, and remained as close to him as wet on water. Gwen immediately copped a 'tude.

“Hey, Adam,” Carol said, while placing her arm through Ransom's. She looked up at Ransom with adoring eyes. “C'mon, let me show you Kari and Isis's classroom. We made a special gift for you.”

We made? Let “me” show you?
Gwen saw the necessity to immediately set a few things straight. One, that she was the teacher, not Carol. Two, that
we
hadn't made anything, but that Gwen, along with her students' work and Carol's mere presence, had put together the gift bag that Ransom would enjoy. Three, that this was her moment to right a wrong. And four…Gwen realized she didn't have time to mentally list the myriad of reasons she suddenly disliked the room mother she'd formerly praised. Let alone dissect the reason for said sudden dislike.

“Actually,” she began before Carol could drag him away, as if he, still and strong as an oak tree, was going anywhere. “I was just getting ready to lead that tour myself. I'd like to discuss Isis's work with her father. Ransom, do you mind?”

When he didn't say no, she took a step toward the gym doors.

“I'd like to discuss Kari too,” Carol said, preparing to go along.

“Yes,” Gwen answered, stopping as she did so. “I look forward to discussing your daughter. She's very bright. But my job is to speak with each parent one-on-one. That's why I gave out a schedule, with the meeting times outlined. Did you not bring yours?”

“I did but, really, there's nothing you'll tell Ransom that I don't—”

The look Ransom gave Carol extinguished further argument. “Fine, I'll just…uh…wait here.” She barely concealed the pouted mouth and narrowed eyes that watched the man of her desire leave the room. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that was the parent/teacher “quick conference” schedule, designed so that Gwen could spend a brief solitary moment with each student's parents. Carol's pout turned to an all out frown when she saw that Ransom's scheduled appointment was still thirty minutes away.

She interrupted me on purpose. She wants him!
Carol immediately began plotting. She'd worked on Ransom for years, longer than he'd had full custody of Isis. Nobody was going to waltz into town and disrupt all the groundwork she'd laid on the path to his bedroom. She looked across the room and immediately spotted an ally. Her frown turned to a smile as she hurried toward her goal.

Gwen and Ransom crossed the shiny wooden court and exited the gym. A mixture of parents, students, and teachers were in the hallway, walking from various classrooms and then outdoors to the ultracon-temporary playground.
The playground Ransom's company built,
Gwen thought with further embarrassment. Adam had told her this during a recent recess, when they'd had a cordial, barely flirty conversation the week before. When he had tried to pry out her true feelings for his sibling. And failed.

They entered the classroom. A couple parents were inside, walking around the room as their children pointed out various posters, charts, and drawings. Gwen headed in the opposite direction of where they stood, toward her desk.

When she was as far away from them as she could get in the medium-sized room, she stopped and began talking softly. “Ransom, I'm terribly sorry for what I said the other week.”

“What?” Ransom sat on the desk, which put him at about eye level with Gwen and made it easier to hear her whispering.

“I said I'm—”

“Daddy!” Isis and Kari burst into the room. “I don't feel good.”

Carol came in behind the girls. “She's a bit hot, Ransom. I think she might have a fever.” She didn't look at Gwen but the satisfied smirk on her face said it all. “I know you're in a meeting. Do you want me to take her home with me? You can stop by and get her later.”

Ransom eyed Gwen a moment before getting up off the desk and stooping to eye level with his daughter.

“You don't feel good, Princess?”

Isis shook her head no.

Ransom placed his hand on her forehead and then her neck. She felt a little warm, but then again it was the time of the Santa Ana winds. It was one hundred degrees outside.

“Maybe we'd better go,” he said to Gwen.