The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (18 page)

Patty stepped over a circle of toddlers sitting on the floor playing with a pile of wooden blocks. She looked among them but didn’t recognize any of the chubby faces. She scanned the room and tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she looked for her little girl. Why were there so many people there? It was supposed to be a small gathering with cake and ice cream. Did Whitney even know all these kids? And how on earth did her mother know them? Patty was about to give up, when she saw a familiar blond head sitting in the corner of the room, next to her mother’s potted ficus tree and her breath caught in her chest.

She was beautiful. It had been way too long since Patty had seen her, but no matter how much time went by, she’d never forget that perfect face.

Patty crossed the room, being extra careful not to step on anyone, and put the large pink box down on the floor in front of her daughter. “Hey, Whit.” Patty was always tentative when she saw the little girl after a few weeks. That was the problem with two-year-olds; you never knew how they’d respond. Whitney looked at her with big eyes and blinked a few times.
 

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” Patty slid the box closer to Whitney and crossed her legs. “I got you a present. Do you want to open it?”

Whitney nodded and dropped the Cabbage Patch doll she’d been playing with.

“Go ahead.”

The box was large and clumsy, and Patty had paid extra to have the pimply faced kid at the toy store wrap it, but Whitney had the wrapping off within seconds, revealing a brand new Barbie camper van. She clapped her chubby hands and cheered.
 

“Do you like it?” Patty smiled, sure of the answer as Whitney nodded frantically and tried to get into the box. “Can I have a hug?”

A rush of warmth filled her as Whitney crawled over to her and settled into her arms. Patty inhaled her little girl scent. She always smelled like the baby shampoo her mother used on her fine hair. Patty held her until Whitney wiggled out of her embrace and twisted into her lap. “Open, Patty,” she demanded.

It still stung that her baby didn’t call her Mom, but it wasn’t a battle Patty was willing to fight. There would be time enough for her daughter to know her and to call her Mom. But first she would have to convince her own mother of it. And that’s exactly what she was going to do. Impatient, Whitney tugged on her sleeve. Patty laughed and slid the toy and all of its pieces out of the box. The talk with her mother would have to wait, at least until the toy was assembled.
 

Ignoring the rest of the party going on around them, Patty quickly snapped together the pieces of the camper van and started filling it with the tiny plates, glasses and hairbrushes it came with. Whitney was happily chewing on the leg of one of the lounge chairs when Patty finished.
 

“There we go,” she said. “Do you have any Barbies to put in there and go for a ride?”

“Of course she doesn’t.” Her mother swooped down and grabbed the plastic chair out of Whitney’s hand. “She’s two years old. This is a totally inappropriate toy, Patricia. What were you thinking?”

Whitney’s eyes filled with tears that quickly overflowed down her cheeks when her grandmother tried to pick up the camper. “No,” the little girl wailed. “Mine!”

“At the store they said it was the most popular toy this year,” Patty said. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the camper away from her mother, putting it back on the floor.
 

“For an eight-year-old, maybe.” Her mother gave up on the camper and started gathering up the tiny accessories. “It’s full of chokable pieces, and she’s still a toddler, Patricia.”

“It was expensive.”

Her mother straightened, tossed the plastic pieces on a nearby table and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flared with anger. Whitney’s cries escalated into a full-blown tantrum, but her mother focused her attention on Patty. “And that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? As long as it costs a lot of money, then it’s okay? Well, it’s not okay, Patricia. Money isn’t everything. Especially your dirty money.” She hissed the words under her breath.

Patty faltered backwards as if her mother had actually slapped her. “Dirty money?” she repeated quietly, and quickly looked around at the room full of faces to see if anyone was watching. She kept her voice low. “That’s what you think?”
 

Her mother reached down, picked up the camper and placed it on the table behind her before turning around and facing Patty again. “What else would you call it?” She kept her voice low but she couldn’t disguise the disgust Patty heard, and something else Patty couldn’t place. “You take your clothes off for men. It’s dirty money and I don’t want it in this house. No more, Patricia. I don’t want another cent of your…your
sex
money in this house.”

Fury boiled through Patty. Her skin tingled and it felt strangely like she was floating, just a little, outside her body, enough that she couldn’t feel the sting of her mother’s words. But she stayed grounded enough to respond. “My money isn’t for you. It’s for Whitney. I do it for her.”
 

“No.” Her mother leaned in, her voice a whispered hiss over Whitney’s cries. “You choose the money over your daughter.”

On the floor, Whitney’s tantrum had settled to the sobbing of an overtired child who’d had too much cake and ice cream, but neither woman picked her up. Patty shook her head, trying in vain to clear her mother’s words from her head.
 

“No,” Patty said. “That’s not true. I need to provide for her. To give her the things she needs. You said so yourself. You told me to get a job.” Her anger melted. There was something in her mother’s voice that frightened her. Patty shook her head again and closed her eyes against her mother’s stare so she didn’t see the flash of pity when she looked at her.

Patty opened her eyes and watched as her mother bent and gathered Whitney into her arms. Her face was streaked with tears, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth and her teary eyes looked accusingly at Patty, like it was she who’d taken away her new toy. “I asked you once before to choose your lifestyle,” Patty’s mother said.

“I did as you asked,” Patty said weakly. “I don’t live here anymore.” She blinked back tears of her own; a knot of fear tightened in the pit of her stomach.
 

“That wasn’t the choice I asked you to make,” her mother said. “I told you then, and I’ll tell you again. You need to choose.” She spoke softly, but there was steel in her voice. “If you insist on keeping up with this…this lifestyle, I’m going to have to ask you not to come around. Whitney doesn’t need that type of example in her life.”

The knot in her stomach burst and the pain radiated through her body, stealing her breath. Patty put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. “No. You can’t,” she gasped, but even as she formed the words, she knew her mother could. And would. And as she looked around the living room through a veil of tears and saw all of the people who cared about her daughter, cared enough to come to her party on time and bring her age-appropriate toys, Patty also knew her mother was right. Whitney didn’t need her in her life.
 

Chapter 9

“I know, Miss Monroe. I know.” The little boy in the front row was practically jumping out of his chair trying to get my attention. I smiled and finished writing the simple math problem on the board before I turned around. “Miss Monroe,” the boy said. The name tags I had them make said his name was Stevie. “I know the answer.”
 

“Stevie,” I said, trying to keep my voice very serious despite the fact his enthusiasm was one of the cutest things I’d seen in a while. “You have to raise your hand and it’s important not to shout out.” His smile fell and he sat back in his seat.
 

“But I’d love to hear your answer,” I added and his face lit up again as he told me the solution. I’ve always enjoyed teaching elementary. There was something about the younger kids and their excitement to learn that was contagious. Once they got to junior high, a lot of the pure joy of learning began to wane and I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen to any of the kids I had the opportunity to teach.
 

I wasn’t sure how my morning would go after pouring everything out to Kat on the phone, and it took me a few minutes to pull myself together before facing the classroom full of kids. But once I got settled in, the energy pouring off the kids quickly changed my mood and it wasn’t long before I’d forgotten about my mini breakdown in the car. I purposely avoided the staff room that morning, and I told myself it was because I didn’t need any more bitter, stale coffee and not that I was trying to avoid William or Principal Brantford. As it turned out, one of them found me anyway. The principal had been sitting in the back of the classroom all morning, observing me, which I assumed was part of the interview process.

It was always stressful being observed but somehow I managed to forget he was there and I totally lost myself in teaching. The morning flew by, and by the time the kids filed out to go to the lunchroom, I was more than ready to sit down.

“Miss Monroe?” I jerked my head up, startling at Principal Brantford’s voice. I’d assumed he would have slipped out when the kids left.
 

“Oh, Principal Brantford,” I stumbled over my words and jumped to my feet. “I was just—”

“It’s okay, Miss Monroe.” He smiled and I relaxed a little. “Twenty-five seven-year-olds would be enough to exhaust anyone.”
 

I smiled, because just thinking of their eager little faces made me genuinely happy.
 

“Actually,” he continued, “I think you handled it extremely well. I really enjoyed watching you in action today, Miss Monroe, and I think the board will be very impressed as well.”

My smile widened, my exhaustion forgotten. “Thank you, Principal Brantford. Teaching here full-time, with such great children, would be a dream come true.”
 

The principal nodded and extended his hand, which I took in a handshake. “There’s still the matter of the rest of your application process. It’s a slightly different process for a full-time hire than with a substitute,” he said and I froze for a second before quickly recovering. “But I’m sure if it goes half as smoothly as everything else in your evaluation, we’ll have you on staff for the next semester. And I’m certainly looking forward to that.”

“Me too, Principal Brantford. Me too.”
 

“Me as well.” A voice from the door caught our attention. And we both turned in his direction.

“William,” I said. My heart lurched at the sight of him and I wish I knew if it was because he looked especially handsome leaning up against the doorjamb or if it was the guilt I increasingly felt just by being with him.
 

“Mr. Brantford.” The principal joined William in the doorway and shook his hand before slapping him on the back in a familiar greeting. “It’s good to see you. Are you keeping those grade nine students in line?”

“Absolutely,” William said with complete seriousness. Apparently it wasn’t just my humor he didn’t understand. “It looks like we’ll have a few contenders for this year’s science festival. I’ve been working with a few of the more promising students after school to produce some high-quality projects.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing them, Mr. Smith. I assume you’re here to see Miss Monroe?”

“I am,” William said. He turned to me. “Are you ready for lunch?” And then added, “As long as you can spare her for a little bit.”

“Of course. You two have a nice lunch break.” Before the principal left the room, he turned and said to me, “Ms. Monroe, good work today.”

When he was gone, William glanced around, likely checking to be sure the coast was clear, before leaning over and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. I knew he meant it to be affectionate, but it felt cold and the touch of his lips sent an icy shiver through me. Before I could stop myself I jerked back.
 

“Whitney? What’s wrong?”

I turned away and took a moment to pull myself together. It wasn’t William’s fault I was confused. Besides that, I was probably just tired and needed a good night’s sleep. I took a deep breath and faced him. “I’m fine, William. Sorry about that. I think I just need something to eat. I’m not really feeling myself today.”

William’s face transformed, and the smile was back. “Well, that’s something I can help with,” he said. He took my hand. “It’s good to have friends in the office.”

“What are you talking about?”
 

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were working today.” He shook his finger at me and looked at me with a look that immediately made me feel like a child. He probably meant it to be cute, but it pissed me off.

“I didn’t realize you needed to be kept informed of my schedule.”

He missed the edge in my voice and continued talking. “When I came in this morning, Noreen told me you were working today so I went out on my spare period and took care of a few things.” His grin was so genuine, I tried to let my annoyance slip away. “It’s a beautiful day,” he said. “Come with me.”

Before I could protest, William led me down the hallway and pushed through the doors out into the school grounds. The air was crisp, but William was right, it was a beautiful day. The rare type of late October day where Mother Nature wasn’t sure yet if she was ready for winter, and the sun shone warm and bright. William walked close, but not touching my hand. I knew it was because of the school rules that he didn’t touch me, but it still felt awkward. What was more awkward was the fact that I didn’t miss his touch the way I probably should have.
 

We walked across the field toward a large maple tree that blazed various shades of orange with the leaves just starting to fall.
 

Next to the tree was a picnic basket and a woolen blanket. I watched, hugging myself as he spread out the blanket and laid out the picnic.
 

“I thought I’d surprise you with lunch,” he said. “As friends and co-workers, of course. Just in case anyone should come along.”