One Small Chance: a novella (a Love Story from Portugal) (3 page)

A perspective which was not his own, of course. How many times had he read Amélie’s letters and her account of day trips and favorite places in Lisbon? How many times had he thought of coming over and spending the day with her at those same places?

Maybe he was crazy, looking for a girl whose real name he didn’t even know. But the idea of finding out who she was had been gnawing at him for over a year, growing a little more with each letter, until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

At first, he’d brushed it off, reasoning it was his approaching birthday, the big 3-0, that had him sentimental and considering something so insane. But his birthday came and went and the feeling persisted until he prayed about it. The prayers brought peaceful answers he hadn’t expected.

So he’d tried to discover the name of the school she attended when they first started exchanging letters, but his ninth-grade teacher had since passed away. Simon had looked through the stacks of envelopes searching for an address that wasn’t a post office box and somehow those were missing as well. Dad had been quiet at first, as he brought over the boxes Simon had left behind when he left for his mission and then university. But it wasn’t too hard to guess what he was doing, was it?

How could he not try to find her? How could he pretend she wasn’t his best friend?

After this afternoon’s events, he couldn’t shake the growing conviction that he had indeed met Amélie, if only for a few minutes. Why else would the girl have the letter he had written as Elliot?

Once back at the apartment, Simon pulled the small metal table into the middle of the balcony and gave it a quick wipe down. He transferred half the food to a plate and stuck the container into the refrigerator for tomorrow.

His cell phone rang, and he pushed the button. “Hey, Dad, how are you?”

“Hello, Simon. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The familiar voice and formality brought a smile to Simon’s lips. Even after living in England for so many years, Simon had never developed a full British accent, despite his native father. People always thought it was funny how they sounded so different.

“Nope, I was just sitting down to eat something out on the balcony.” Simon pushed the food around with his fork.

“I take it the weather is nice, then.”

Simon looked to the city, the red tiled roofs and the light clinging to the surface of the river visible through the buildings in the waning day. Toward the center, historic landmarks and the occasional modern building shared the skyline unequally. The locals called the area the Baixa and Simon recognized its familiar pattern from pictures he’d seen before coming. “Yes, very nice. It still feels like summer. I have a good view toward the estuary and people were still out enjoying their last days of vacation earlier today.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Did you go by the school yet? What do they call it?”

“The British Academy in Lisbon. I start on Monday. I went by the building today. It’s not very large, but it looks nice.”

“And church? Did you find a ward yet?”

Simon suppressed a chuckle. “Yes, I did. There’s a nice family ward not too far from here, and there’s also a singles ward, though I don’t think I’ll bother with it.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, Dad. I’m sure it’s the same as in London. Besides, I’m over thirty.”

“You still have a few months left.”

“I’m practically thirty-one and too old for that kind of thing.”

Dad paused. “All right. You do what you think is best.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

“Anything else you’ve been doing?” Dad asked with a slight hesitation.

“Just trying to settle in and getting to know the city.”

“Are you still looking for that girl?”

Simon closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He couldn’t tell him that he’d found her and then he’d lost her again. He wasn’t ready to share that when he himself was still struggling with what had happened.

“Dad, I don’t want to argue with you about this again.”

“I’m not arguing, Simon. I’m just interested in knowing if you’ve had any progress.” Dad cleared his throat. “If your mother were still alive, she’d be sleuthing right along with you.”

Simon chuckled. “She would, wouldn’t she?” Mom had been a romantic, and this was the kind of story she would have liked. The thought comforted him.

After another pause, Simon replied. “I just have to do this, Dad. Even if nothing comes of it.”

One school term. Simon gave himself three and a half months to find her again.

What were the chances in a city of almost two million people?

CHAPTER FOUR

Isabel put the tablet down on her desk and sat back. The thought pulled at her again. The letter from Elliot—she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

Well, that was nothing new. After so many years writing to each other, something had shifted between them in the past twelve months. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment, or even remember how it happened, but one day she’d read his letter and the feelings inside her were different. At first, the realization had caught her by surprise, but when she let herself really think about it, she was more amazed it had taken so long to admit.

His feelings were different too. The signs were there, in the carefully chosen words and the way his handwriting stressed in certain parts. Sometimes, it was between the lines, in what he left unsaid.

Or maybe it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, the heart taking over the mind and squashing reason with dreams. Of course he didn’t think about her the same way she did about him. He wouldn’t, would he?

She squared her shoulders and shook her head, as if the movement would knock good sense into her. Better she made her way to the chairman’s office than dwell on the impossible.

Was it a good sign that the academy’s chairman wanted to talk to her before the regular Monday morning staff meeting? Classes had started last week, and things seemed to be faring well despite all the last-minute problems.

The door was slightly ajar when she knocked.

“Enter.”

She walked through.

“Please close the door behind you, Isabel,” Dr. Varela said from behind his desk. He motioned to one of the chairs, and she sat down.

He shuffled the papers on the desk for a moment, not meeting her eyes.

Isabel had been working at the academy for almost eight years now. Dr. Varela was the director who’d hired her, and she’d come to appreciate his calm demeanor and effective leadership. Managing an English-only private school required a specific set of skills that most people couldn’t begin to comprehend, as she had discovered since taking the position. He’d recommended her for it, and had expressed his satisfaction numerous times, but several members of the parents’ council didn’t share the same opinion. Some had even tried to have her replaced.

He raised his head and stopped. “What happened to you?”

The bandages and bruises. She’d forgotten about those. “I was involved in a minor accident on Friday.”

He cleared his throat. “Isabel, I brought you here before the staff meeting to give you a heads up about a new hire.”

Isabel frowned. “A new teacher? Is someone leaving?” Maybe she had missed something last week.

He paused and folded his hands. “Not exactly.” He cleared his throat again. “We have hired an independent consultant to overhaul the digital system at the academy.”

Isabel blinked. “Overhaul the digital system? We did that four years ago when the new online portal was introduced.”

Dr. Varela hesitated. “Well, yes, that’s right. But many parents have expressed their displeasure with it.”

She suppressed an eye roll. “The parents’ council, you mean.”

He waved a hand. “Among others. But yes, the parents’ council, as well as some members of the academy board. After some meetings, it was decided to hire an independent consultant to—” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “Analyze the current system, identify the weaknesses, and introduce the new system over a period of time.”

Isabel watched him for a moment. It still didn’t make sense. “Why was I not made aware of this?”

“Well, it was right at the beginning of summer vacation.”

She nodded. When Avó Marta had passed away and Isabel had taken a week off. The first time she’d been away from the academy in her years here, and apparently they didn’t need her input for important decisions. “Have there been any other concerns?”

“No, no, of course not.” Dr. Varela’s tone was flustered. “This will be a collaboration. You will assist him with everything he needs and he will do the same for the academy.” He cast a glance at the side door. “You’ll see. It’ll be good for everyone.”

“How long is he staying?”

“One term, to start.” Again, he looked down at the desk. “It should be enough for what needs to be done, but the board will re-evaluate and take into consideration what’s best for the academy. Which is all everyone wants,” he added.

Isabel gave him a tight smile. “Of course.”

Dr. Varela rose and walked to the side door, the one that opened to the council meeting room. “Please, come,” he said to someone.

Isabel stood from her chair, and flexed her hands. Her shoulders ached, tense and taut, and she rolled them back before he returned with the other person.

A man walked in with a smile on his face. He was clearly not Portuguese, taller than most but not so tall as to draw attention. The same couldn’t be said for his hair, full and red, and artfully combed as to appear he hadn’t done much to it.

When she met his eyes, she gasped. “It’s you.”

His eyes widened in recognition. “You,” he returned, watching her as if taking stock of her condition. “Are you all right? I’m so so—”

“I’m well enough, thank you,” she cut in.

Dr. Varela cleared his throat. “I see you two have met already.”

Isabel narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her. “I don’t know his name.”

“We haven’t been introduced,” the man said.

Dr. Varela took a step forward. “Isabel Antunes is the academy’s director.” He turned to the man. “This is Simon Ackerley, our new specialist.” He looked between them again. “Did this encounter have anything to do with your accident?”

“Mr. Ackerley tried to run me over.” It was beginning to make sense, now. As if stealing her job wasn’t enough, he was trying to get her out of the picture altogether. With her out of the way, it would be easier to take over. Only it hadn’t quite worked out as he’d planned, and she didn’t intend to go without a fight.

“It was an accident,” he replied. “And I really am sorry for what happened on Friday.”

For a long, awkward moment, the three of them stood in silence. Simon Ackerley eyed her, his expression full of something she couldn’t begin to guess, almost as if he’d heard her ridiculous thoughts. It had been an accident. She didn’t know where the paranoia came from.

He held out his hand to her. “Please, call me Simon.”

Dr. Varela cleared his throat. “While in the building, and especially in front of the students, we address our faculty and staff as mister and miss.”

Isabel shook his hand but quickly pulled her fingers away from his long ones. “Mr. Ackerley.”

He smiled. “Miss Antunes. So pleased to meet you.”

His accent dragged the last syllable of her name into an exaggerated sibilant. “You are not British,” she said.

He shook his head, and his eyes almost twinkled. “No, I’m not.”

Dr. Varela interrupted. “Mr. Ackerley is American but he’s been living in England for a long time.” He looked between Isabel and the man. “Well, let’s not keep the others waiting. You’ll have time to talk afterwards.” He turned to Isabel. “I’m trusting you to give Mr. Ackerley a tour of the academy.”

Isabel nodded. Of course Dr. Varela was asking her to do it. She was the one who kept abreast of everything going on at the small campus. Not as much as she thought, apparently, since this man had been a complete surprise.

When they entered the assembly room, all the teachers and other staff stopped talking and turned to them. Dr. Varela strode to the podium and gestured for Mr. Ackerley to sit in the chair behind him. Isabel followed to her usual place at the right of the podium. Cristina sat in the front row. Her mouth dropped when they entered. She lowered her hand to her side and pointed to the new guy. Isabel shook her head and mouthed “later”. Cristina nodded.

Dr. Varela covered the usual topics then finally introduced Mr.Ackerley. “And I am very pleased to introduce to you Mr. Simon Ackerley, our new specialist and Miss Antunes’ assistant.” He motioned with his hand. “Would you like to say a few words, Mr.Ackerley?”

Ackerley stood and approached Dr. Varela.

The blood rushed from Isabel, and her heart dropped. Mr. Simon Ackerley was her new assistant. Funny how Dr. Varela had failed to mention that. She should go back and ask Dr. Varela to explain Mr. Ackerley’s position again, but that wouldn’t solve anything. She clapped politely and smiled, following the lead of those in the room.