Miss Spelled (23 page)

My Grade Two class is driving me nuts today. It’s a high north wind and a warmer-than-usual day for spring, the perfect weather combination to turn gorgeous little munchkins into utter trolls. On the positive side, their parents are due to pick them up in a few minutes, and then I will be free for the weekend!

Except for the twilight fun run around Albert Park Lake. One of my kids has a little brother, Andreas, who is battling congenital heart disease. Our entire teaching staff is joining in the fun run to raise money for the charity that helps out families in their time of need. Even Mel, who is eight months pregnant, is doing it! Hers will be more of a waddle than a run, though.

In the last year I’ve saved every cent possible and have been doing tutoring out of hours for some extra cash. Now I have enough for a deposit on a house. My weekends are spent driving around the suburbs that appeal to me in search of the perfect house. It’s been narrowed down to three houses, but one in particular really inspires me. It’s run-down and in desperate need of work, but Dad says he’s bored with retirement and would love to spend his days renovating it with me. It’s in the leafy suburb of Briar Hill and is the house in the street that is most in need of love. I think we make a perfect match. There’s something so familiar about it, that it’s a bit spooky. A bit of déjà vu!

‘Are you ready?’ Mel asks as she enters my classroom.

‘Ready to run five kilometres you mean? No!’ I laugh.

‘That’s right, I forgot about you running like a duck.’

‘Three words for you, my favourite sister in-law—pot, kettle, black.’

Mel laughs. ‘At least I have a legitimate reason for waddling! MelBen Junior is nearly ready to come out and meet everyone. Jeez, I know my bladder is sure as Hell ready for this baby to be ejected from my uterus. I won’t miss peeing 30 times a day, that’s for sure!’

‘No, I’m sure cracked nipples, engorged breasts and sleepless nights will be much better than regular peeing!’

She slaps my upper arm, smiles and them links her arm in mine. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

* * *

The fun run is huge. Hundreds of people have turned out in support of the charity and lots of other schools in our area have joined us in dressing as fairies. Mel has had to stop due to overheating and is currently sitting under a tree, drinking a cold lemonade and being fussed over by every mother from our school.

I am only 500 metres from the finishing line. It’s tough, and an infinite struggle, seeing as running isn’t a natural movement to me, but it’s for a good cause. Most of the participants have finished, except me and a few others.

The crowd is cheering those of us on the last lap when suddenly, from nowhere, this gorgeous guy runs up beside me. I mean seriously gorgeous, movie-star-crossed-with-the-boy-next-door kind of gorgeous. He’s tall and lean, and looks as though he does a lot of running because his legs are chiselled muscle.

I do my best not to drool, but it’s kinda hard.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Mind if I cross the finishing line with you?’

Mister, you could cross any line with me
. My loins are quivering.

He looks at me, clearly awaiting an answer, which I will give, as soon as my brain and mouth are reconnected. Speak, Lou, speak!

‘Ah, no. Sure, that would be great.’ I smile, probably a scary, goofy kind of smile like Forrest Gump.

‘Good,’ he says.

‘Can I ask why though?’

His honey-coloured eyes smile just as much as his adorable mouth.

‘I can’t resist a woman in silver glitter fairy wings, with matching hair and a large red clown nose who runs like a duck.’

Did he say I run like a duck? It seems to be the general consensus, but come on!

‘It looks like I need help, is that what you’re saying? Think carefully before you answer though, I have a black belt in macramé, you know.’

He laughs.

‘You know what macramé is?’ I ask. He is a man, after all.

‘I’m a teacher, of course I know what macramé is!’

‘Oh! What year do you teach?’

‘Six, although I’ve only just graduated, this is my first term teaching, so I’m still on my L-plates.’

Before I know it, we’ve crossed the line and my fun run is over. But all that interests me is this sexy creature who has appeared out of nowhere and taken an interest in me. Must be my lucky day! We stop at the drinks table and he gets one for both of us.

Mel comes waddling over. ‘Well done!’ she says.

‘Thanks, not too bad for a duck,’ I say. ‘Although I did have my new friend helping me,’ I motion to Mr Sexy next to me.

He turns around, hands me a drink and Mel nearly chokes. Her eyeballs literally bulge out of their sockets and her mouth falls open.

‘Mel? Are you alright?’ I ask. ‘You’re not going into labour are you?’

‘I…ahh…umm…’

‘Mel?’

She continues to stare at my new friend, her expression looks exactly how I feel. He is H.O.T., although hopefully I am more discreet at showing my admiration of his genetic blessings.

‘Are you alright? Speak to me. Are you having the baby?’ I ask, louder.

‘No…no…not right now. I’m just…sure I’ve seen you somewhere before,’ she says to him.

He looks at the ground, his skin flushing slightly.

‘Yeah, I was in the papers about a year ago,’ he says.

‘No kidding, why was that?’ says Mel, who seems to have composed herself again to the point she is able to ask quite probing questions.

I look between the two of them, Mel Hell-bent on getting her answer and my new friend cringing at having to provide it.

‘You don’t have to answer Mel’s questions,’ I say. ‘She’s pregnant, you know, a bit hormonal. She’s not normally this pushy.’

I give Mel the look that says, ‘ruin this for me and I’ll kill you’, but she pays no attention.

‘That’s alright,’ he says. ‘I was known as “the disposable groom” in the gossip columns. My then-fiancée decided to dump me on the eve of our wedding and replace me with another man.’

Was she insane? Who, on God’s earth, would trade this magnificent specimen in for another man?

Mel is nodding, wisely. Smiling, in fact. What is wrong with her?

‘Oh! That’s awful!’ I say.

‘It was at the time. I caught them together the night before, in his hospital room. That’s when they revealed their plans and suddenly, I was dumped.’

‘Oh, how awful!’ It’s like something out of a bad soap opera.’

He laughs a little.

‘So, what happened then?’ Mel asks.

‘Mel! I’m sure he doesn’t want to relive it all over again,’ I say to her. ‘Don’t answer her questions, really.’

‘It’s okay. They got married the next day, but I found out she only wanted to marry me in order to get back into her grandfather’s will. He’d told her that unless she settled down, he would cut her out of his will,’ he says.

A gasp escapes me, as my hand flies up to my mouth. ‘No!’

‘So, what happened?’ Mel presses.

‘Funny thing is, she was intending to marry to get back in the will, and then get divorced as soon as the old fella died of cancer.’

‘Why is that funny?’ I ask.

‘Because they found out that what they thought was cancer was actually a benign tumour that has since been removed. He’s probably going to live for another 20 years!’ he laughs.

Mel bursts out laughing.

‘So, they’re stuck together then?’ I ask, clarifying the situation.

He nods. ‘Yep, made for each other. Both cheating, lying, arrogant snobs. Perfectly suited. Apparently they’re already driving each other insane, but if they divorce, she’s out of the will, which means he’ll lose his share of it as well.’

‘Sounds like it was a lucky escape for you, then?’ Mel asks.

‘It sure was,’ he says.

‘What made you go to the hospital room the night before?’ Mel probes. ‘I mean, did you know this other man? Was he your friend?’

Why would she ask so many questions?

‘Strangely, no, he wasn’t a friend. Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve thought about it so many times and still don’t know why I went in to see him,’ he says.

‘Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be,’ I say.

‘Definitely not. It would have been the biggest mistake of my life.’

‘And then you…?’ Mel continues. Jeez, is she working undercover for
Sixty Minutes
or something?

‘I took a redundancy package from work, went back to Uni to study teaching and, well, here I am.’

‘Yes, here you are,’ I say, smiling. ‘Every handsome bit of you.’

Shit! Please tell me that was internal monologue only?
Mel bursts out laughing again, and he looks mildly uncomfortable, but holds my gaze.

‘Did I just say that out loud?’ I ask, feeling my skin burn up in embarrassment.

‘Well, Lou, I’m going to head home. My feet are killing me,’ Mel says, thankfully interrupting my humiliation. ‘It was nice to meet you, Aiden.’

‘How did you know his name?’ I ask. ‘You’ve only just met.’

‘It was…umm…from the paper. Yeah, that’s it,’ Mel says.

‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘Aiden St. James.’

‘This is Lou and I’m…leaving you two alone,’ Mel says as she fades into the background.

He extends his hand to shake mine and when our fingers touch… fireworks! Every colour of the rainbow shoots through my fingertips and into my body. He smiles at me in a way that tells me he feels it too. He doesn’t remove his hand.

I shake my head and laugh.

‘What are you laughing at?’ he asks.

‘I just had the weirdest feeling - like déjà vu.’

‘You know what? I was just about to say the same thing!’ he says. ‘That’s crazy!’

We laugh and gaze at each other, like magnets unable to stop the attraction drawing us together, closer and closer, into each other’s personal space.

We are still holding hands when he asks, ‘So, Lou, do you like ice cream?’

‘I love ice cream.’

He smiles, a gorgeous, warm, honey-eyed smile that is replicated on my own face. It is on the inside, anyway. I’ve been sceptical about love at first sight, but will consider opening myself up to persuasion.

‘Let’s go and get some. I know a place that does amazing ice cream,’ he says.

‘Do they have Rocky Road? It’s my favourite!’ I say.

‘No way! Mine too,’ he says, as we reluctantly let go of each other’s hands.

We turn and walk in the direction of the setting sun, the city coming to life like a wonderland of magical lights, guiding us home.

‘You know what goes perfectly with Rocky Road ice cream?’ I ask. ‘Fire engines made with lemonade and raspberry cordial.’

‘It has to be real raspberry cordial though, the good stuff.’

‘Absolutely, life’s too short for bad cordial,’ I say.

We walk together, and chat and laugh, and within minutes, I am convinced of two things — love at first sight, and happily ever after.

The End

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Juliette’s career is on fire, her marriage and family are in melt-down, and a red-hot goddess wants her husband. But those are the least of her worries when she wakes up on her lounge room floor in the year 1961.

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