Lakota Flower (35 page)

And then he felt his wedding ring being slipped onto his ring finger.
Good,
he thought.
And thanks, since Laurie always bitches like crazy when I come home with it in my pocket.
His excuse that beer made his fingers swell didn’t always appease her.

The warmth was spreading through his entire body. He felt lighter and lighter. And as another and another plunge of the knife split open his back, he finally could make out what the person behind him was whispering:
“Cheaters never prosper.”

One week later

Please don’t ask me out on a date,
Mia Anderson prayed as she spied Norman Newman, belly jiggling, plodding toward her classroom with a wilted bouquet of lilacs.
Please, please, please have gotten the hint after all these months!

Mia ducked back inside the room, staring longingly at the water fountain just across the hall. It was unseasonably hot for late June—eighty-six degrees and equal humidity—and of course, the air conditioner in her classroom had broken that morning. But a cool drink of water meant a hallway of students and faculty saying their goodbyes to each other, and another school year would witness Norman’s final attempt at asking her out.

And what was he doing here, anyway? It was three-fifteen on a Friday, the final day of school, so perhaps he’d come back to say his goodbyes, too. Norman had been given special permission to cram all his unused vacation time into the past two weeks in order to care for his mother, who’d had a terrible stroke and was all alone, save Norman. The staff had
banded together and taken care of his finals, grading, and all the administrative duties that had to be performed in the final days of school.

The smell of the fragrant purple flowers was getting closer. Why had she ever told that traitorous bunch of students that lilacs were her favorite flowers! The entire school knew that Mr. Newman—voted Most Absent-Minded Teacher per the unofficial school poll (quickly confiscated by the vice principal during lunch period)—had a long-time crush on Ms. Anderson, who’d been voted Favorite Teacher and, to Mia’s embarrassment, Prettiest.

Prettiest.
Mia shook her head. If everyone, including Norman, had seen what Mia had looked like before she began teaching at Baywater five years ago, they would have voted her Most in Need of a Makeover. Most Mousiest Brown Hair. Most Blah Brown Eyes. Most Blah Schoolmarm clothes. Most
Blah.

After all, she’d been awarded that title by her own husband before she’d changed to please him. Before she’d turned into someone else. Before she’d become someone who could win “prettiest teacher” four years in a row.

Yes,
she thought, catching her reflection in the pane of glass on the classroom door.
The long blond hair. The pale brown doe eyes enhanced by a light dusting of makeup. The fitted dress and stylish sandals. The hoop earrings and large sterling silver ring. It all adds up to pretty.

A pretty lie.

But tonight, after the makeup came off for good and the Miss Clairol Ash Blonde hair dye was rinsed clean from her hair, Mia would once again be a fresh-scrubbed pony-tailed brunette. Add the clothes she preferred—long, comfortable cotton skirts and pretty blouses, the pearls she’d inherited from her mother her only adornment—and she’d once again be the Mia she used to be. The Mia she was before David Anderson had come into her life.

You don’t see your sister wearing pearls, do you, Mia?
her ex-husband had asked every time Mia even
looked
at her pearls.
They’re a little matronly, don’t you think?

Five years ago, she hadn’t had the self-esteem to tell David that no, she most certainly
didn’t
think pearls were matronly, that in fact the pearls were her most precious possession, that they were all she had left of her mother besides wonderful memories. She’d simply stopped wearing them. She also hadn’t had the self-esteem to tell David that if wanted her to dress like her twin sister, Margot, maybe he should have
married
Margot.

Five years ago—heck,
one
year ago—she hadn’t had the confidence to tell David Anderson to go to hell, and it had cost her dearly.

“Afternoon, Mia! Hot enough for you out there?”

Norman Newman. He was hovering in the doorway of her classroom, the wilted lilacs in one hand, a sweating can of iced tea in the other.

At least he was a respite from her thoughts. The last thing she wanted on her mind was her ex-husband.

Problem was, Mia didn’t want Norman on her mind, either. She wished she could feel more kindly about Norman, but the man
wasn’t
a sweet, “absent-minded” chemistry and physics teacher. Mia hated to think it, to say it, but Norman Newman was a real pain in the butt. Six months ago, when word had spread that Mia’s divorce was final, Norman had begun asking her out immediately—and upon being turned down had continued to ask her out every Monday morning for the following Saturday night. She’d nicely told him she was flattered, but that is would take her a long while to get over her divorce and that she had no interest in dating, now or in the near future, which was every bit the truth. So Norman had asked about the
distant
future. She’d let him know that, too, was out. And yet every Monday morning, in the faculty dining room, in the office, in the hallway, at the
water fountain, in the parking lot, anywhere, Norman Newman would ask her if she would like to have dinner and perhaps see a movie that upcoming Saturday night.

Norman had begun to make her feel the way her ex-husband had. As though her wishes, her thoughts, her
words,
had absolutely no bearing, no impact. And instead of finding his “crush” sweet, she began to find it unbearable. What a relief his absence had been these past two weeks.

Norman smiled, revealing a mouthful of clear braces. “I was hoping to speak with you alone about—”

“Sorry we’re late, Ms. Anderson! We had so many kids to say goodbye to.”

Relief.
The Farley twins, Amy and Anne, came barreling into the classroom behind Norman and rushed for seats in the front row. Only the Farley twins would manage to get detention on the last day of school.

Mia glanced at her watch. “Afternoon, girls—I’ll be with you in a moment.” She turned her attention back to Norman. “Afternoon, Mr. Newman. Yes, it certainly is warm out there. Well, I’d better get these two students’ detention started,” she told him. “I don’t want to stay later on the last day of school, especially in this heat wave, than I have to.” She tidied a stack of very tidy papers on her desk. “How’s your mother?” she added out of politeness.

Norman frowned. He glanced uncomfortably at the girls, then slid his beady-eyed gaze back to Mia. “Mother is recuperating slowly but surely, thank you.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I was hoping you might want to go out for a cup of coffee to celebrate the last day. There was something I wanted to ask you.”

Mia had no doubt what he wanted to ask her: out for Saturday night!

“Well, thanks, Mr. Newman, but I’ve got my hands full for the next hour, and then I’ve got quite a busy few weeks ahead, so …”

Norman’s face fell. “In that case, I’d better ask part of what I intended now.”

Amy Farley was stifling a giggle.

“I was wondering,” Norman began, clearing his throat again, “if, uh, you were free this Saturday night, if you’d like to have dinner. There really is something I’d like to discuss with you—off school property.”

Amy burst into laughter. Mia gave the girl a sharp glance, then turned to Norman, whose cheeks were tinged with pink.

Mia hated to reject him in front of the girls, but he’d given her no choice. He had put himself in this position. “Mr. Newman, I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid the answer is no I have a very busy summer ahead of me and doubt I’ll have any free time.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his expression darkening for just a moment. “Very well, Ms. Anderson,” he said, running a hand through his wiry brown hair. “Perhaps I’ll call you over the summer. I’m not coming back to Baywater in the fall. Mother needs me.” He awkwardly handed her the lilacs and plodded back out the door with the can of iced tea.

He wasn’t coming back in the fall! Mia tried to suppress her joy, given his terrible circumstances, but she couldn’t help the
hallelujah!
that echoed through her mind.

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but Mia beat her to it. “Not a word, Miss Farley. Your detention began five minutes ago. Am I making myself clear?”

Amy smiled and made a show of clamping her mouth shut. Anne darted a glance at Mia, then stared back down at her folded hands.

Mia let out a deep breath. “Okay, girls. Your detention assignment is to write a five page essay on the importance of paying attention in class—even on the last day.”

Amy groaned; Anne immediately opened her loose-leaf binder and began writing.

The angelic-faced, white-blond twins reminded her so much of herself and Margot, her own identical twin. Amy
Farley was mischievous, an instigator, and so charming that she often got herself out of trouble. Anne Farley was cautious and unable to tell a lie, which meant she got herself into the trouble Amy started. Mia’s heart went out to Anne, who sat straight up in her seat, diligently writing her essay, pink tongue sticking out in concentration. And there was Amy, staring at the basketball players. She was probably writing her essay on the importance of paying attention to which boys were the cutest.

When Mia was twelve, she’d been too shy to sneak peeks at the boys who did funny things to her stomach. And despite the fact that she and Margot looked exactly alike, well, save for their use of cosmetics, their hairstyles, and clothes, Mia hadn’t been a hit with the boys the way Margot had been her entire life.

I just don’t get Mia,
she’d heard girls say all during her school years, while she was behind bathroom stalls or just around the corner from or a table away in the cafeteria.
Why would she choose to look like that when she could look like her identical twin? All she had to do is buy the clothes Margot buys and style her hair like Margot’s and put on some makeup, and she’d be one of the most popular girls in school. Why would Mia purposely want to look so plain and dowdy?

Mia’s ex-husband had the same question for Mia when he’d met Margot for the first time.

“Hel-lo,
Miss Anderson. Earth to Miss Anderson.”

Mia blinked and suddenly realized that two sets of bright blue eyes were staring at her. “Yes, Amy?”

“How do you spell
gorgeous?”
Amy asked, staring out the window at the boys, a dreamy expression on her face.

Mia sighed. “Amy. Amy, face forward, please.” The girl dragged her attention to Mia. “What are students supposed to do when they want to know how to spell a word?”

“Um, look it up?” Amy responded, her gaze once again out the window.

“Exactly. You know where the class dictionary is—if you can stop looking at the boys long enough to actually get up and get it.”

Mia wondered if Amy and Anne would soon start to look different, so different that their classmates would forget they were twins, the way Mia and Margot’s classmates had forgotten. If when puberty set in with all its demands, Amy would dress like the teen pop stars on MTV the way Margot had and Anne would hide her personality behind baggy jeans and baggy sweaters and ponytails the way Mia had. If the boys would notice Amy and ignore Anne. If the girls would envy Amy and be disdainful of Anne for giving up what she could so easily have, the very thing they all wanted.

What the
boys
wanted. And continued to want for as long as Mia could remember. She was ignored in junior high and high school, except by one or two Norman-like guys in her extracurricular activities. She’d had a few boyfriends in college, but when she refused to sleep with them, they drifted away. And so five years ago, when Mia had been a twentyfour-year-old virgin who truly wondered if she’d
die
a virgin, she’d been an easy target for a manipulative man. A handsome, charming, intelligent man whose manipulations were at first so subtle, Mia wasn’t sure if
she
or
he
had had the critical thought of her.

She’d been easily seduced, easily changed into the flashy, stylish woman he wanted her to be. The woman he wanted her to look like. And so within a few months of his constant criticism, she’d gone from mousy brown to blond, from chinlength to shoulder-length, to a new wardrobe he bought in stores she’d never think to enter, to perfecting the makeup application tips she’d learned from the saleswomen at the cosmetics counter at the mall.

Sometimes, when Mia looked at her wedding album, she was sure it was
Margot
who stood smiling next to David.

Their marriage had lasted as long as David thought he could also change her personality. Oh, he’d tried, but no matter
how he berated her from shyly glancing down every time she was introduced to someone new, a client or friend of his, no matter how he criticized her for how dull her small talk was at parties, she remained the same old Mia. The same old boring Mia.

He’d finally considered her a lost cause, told her she’d never be the woman of his dreams. Margot, essentially. On the surface, anyway. Of course, David had nothing but criticism for her sister, who ran too wild for his taste, intimidated him with her reckless ways.
The two of you combined would make the perfect woman,
David used to say.
But alone, you’re both off. She’s a reckless whore and you’re a schoolmarm bore.

She had never been enough for David. But what hurt, what really hurt, was that she hadn’t been enough for
herself.
At twenty-nine, Mia was just starting to believe that she was enough. More than enough. Just the way she was.

She glanced at sweet, quiet Anne Farley, in her baggy jeans and baggy T-shirt, her blond hair in a neat ponytail, and Mia wished on every star in the galaxy that the girl would have more self-esteem than Mia had had. That it wouldn’t take Anne into adulthood to realize how very
right
she was
as
she was.