Wish Me Tomorrow. Karen Rock
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watched her withdraw a tissue. She blew her nose and straightened her narrow shoulders. When he hung up, she turned, eyes dry, lips curving upward once more.
Only now he wasn’t fooled. That smile covered deep pain. He’d been determined to keep her at arm’s length for his children’s sake. But now he understood that he needed to stay away for her sake, too. She’d suffered too much loss to spend her days with a guy who might be living on borrowed time. Too bad knowing that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.
“The driver will be here in five minutes.” He recalled her claustrophobia and the unreliable elevator door. “May I see you downstairs?”
Christie nodded and preceded him. “Tell the children I said goodbye.”
He pushed the elevator button. “I will. Thanks again for watching them. Oh. And I almost forgot to tell you. The doctor told me John’s brain tumor has shrunk.”
Her green eyes widened. Was there any color more beautiful? “That’s wonderful news. He’s had a tough time, but he’s a fighter.”
When the elevator dinged, he caught the flash of the rabbit’s foot disappearing into her hand. What a superstitious little soul. He definitely liked Christie Bates.
They rode the elevator in silence. He glanced her way a few times, wondering at her silently moving lips.
A black car idled by the curb when they stepped into the foyer. So soon. If only they had a few more minutes.
“Goodbye, Eli.” Her wistful voice produced an almost-physical ache in his heart. They’d been through a lot tonight. Having it end after her painful admission felt wrong.
Worse, he’d let her share that without ever admitting anything about his condition. Maybe it would be better if she knew. At least then she’d understand why this really needed to be goodbye.
“I have cancer,” he blurted. “Had, I mean.”
She touched his arm, the gentle sensation lingering long after she dropped her hand. “I’m so glad you’re in remission. Tommy told me about your illness, but only because he knows I work with cancer patients. The children respect your wish not to talk about it.”
Now, that he had not expected. Did she understand his reason for telling her? That he needed the reminder of why he shouldn’t see her again?
The town-car driver honked and she opened the foyer door and walked out. He followed, pulling the car door wide for her.
“Goodbye, Christie.” He would remember this night—remember her—for a long time. “Thanks again.”
“Take care, Eli.” Her voice sounded quiet. Tired.
He nodded, unable to say more as he watched her duck into the car. His feet stayed rooted to the stone stoop long after the taillights disappeared into the rain. If only he was the kind of man who could see her again. A man whose future didn’t blur into a question mark.
But now, as he trudged back inside the building, he told himself to focus on his kids and what they needed. If they were confiding in her that he’d put a lockdown on all cancer discussion, maybe his health issues bothered them more than he realized.
And while he might not ever subscribe to the touchy-feely brand of positive thinking that Christie did, he would make sure his kids had someone to talk to. Someone a whole lot better versed in this stuff than him.
Even though an energetic, beautiful nurse and counselor came to mind, he vowed to find someone else.
For both their sakes.
CHAPTER FOUR
“MR. ROBERTS?”
Eli noted the time on his phone then glanced up at the Little Red School House’s cardigan-clad secretary. Had forty-five minutes passed already? The emails and pictures he’d been viewing for his graphic-design business had been a welcome distraction from this unexpected meeting with Becca’s principal. He powered down his device and stood. “Ready for me?” he asked, not feeling ready at all.
His cell vibrated. But after a quick check to make sure it wasn’t a call about John, he shoved the phone back into his pocket. His kids were here at school, so they wouldn’t need him. Anyone else would have to wait.
Although, he couldn’t say with full certainty what he would have done if Christie Bates’s number had come up on his phone.
Her expressive face came to mind along with her lilting voice. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? It’d been a week since they’d seen each other. Time enough for him to forget a near stranger. But something about her felt familiar. Right.
“This way, sir,” the school secretary prompted, jolting him from his thoughts. She peered at him over rimless eyeglasses then gestured into the suite behind her. A telephone shrilled on a chest-high counter.
He stopped behind her when she grabbed the old-fashioned receiver. “Little Red School House,” she intoned and dragged the cord to her seat, her round eyes on him. “How may I help you?”
While he waited, he glanced around the bustling space. A copy machine whirred in the background, spitting out collated sheets of paper at regular intervals. File cabinets banged open and shut as a clerk filed paper work in overcrowded drawers. He inhaled the fresh smell of percolating coffee. Too bad he couldn’t help himself to a cup. He could use the caffeine boost after pulling an all-nighter putting the finishing touches on the cover design for a novel.
What had Becca done to warrant the school’s cryptic summons? Especially so close to the end of the school year? She’d acted normally at breakfast, relatively speaking. He still hadn’t reconciled the quiet teen downing her Cheerios with the exuberant daughter he’d raised. That girl would have made Tommy a banana-skin hat and drummed on their heads with her spoon.
Before he could think further along that line, the secretary cleared her throat and pointed down the hallway. He rolled his tense shoulders and started down the short, dim hall. Which room was the principal’s? After all these years, it was his first visit to the private office. Becca had never gotten in trouble and was a straight-A student. His eyes narrowed. At least he assumed so. When had he last seen her report card? Keeping up with Becca’s and Tommy’s lives was his priority. But somewhere, he’d let things slip.
“Welcome, Mr. Roberts,” said a diminutive woman when he reached an open door. He recognized her cropped black curls and red, square-framed glasses from last fall’s open house. Since he’d been too tired to wait out the eager parents surrounding the new principal, he’d left without saying hello. Now he wished they’d spoken, met under better circumstances. She strode around an imposing wooden desk and extended a hand. “I’m Principal Luce. It’s very nice to meet you.”
He suppressed a sneeze at her cloying perfume, shook her hand and nodded. “Likewise.”
“Please have a seat.” She was all business in her navy suit and heels.
He sat on the edge of an upholstered chair, his fingers forming a steeple. He couldn’t take his eyes off the open folder in the middle of her green blotter. Did the top sheet say “Becca Roberts. Disciplinary Referral”? Impossible. This must be a mistake. Leather squeaked and he glanced up to meet Mrs. Luce’s steady brown eyes. He ignored the cell phone buzzing on his hip.
“Mr. Roberts, please accept my apologies for calling you in without notice.” She inclined her head. “But the seriousness of the situation called for our immediate attention.”
He shot to his feet. “Where’s Becca? Is she okay?” So help him if anything had happened to his little girl—
“She’s eating her lunch in the study room.” The principal stood and paced to a water cooler beside her bank of windows. “How about something cool to drink?”
“Sounds good.” Relief filled his head like helium. Maybe Becca had forgotten an assignment. It didn’t sound critical