Authors: Rochelle Alers
School psychologists, social workers, and grief counselors were available for the six hundred students at Weir Memorial High School once classes resumed January second. Summer felt the pain and loss of Omar Knight as acutely as she had when she lost her younger brother. The scene of the students at Charles’s school had become an instant replay when tears flowed down the faces of both boys and girls who’d wept openly, unashamedly at the loss of one of their own.
Patricia Cookman had canceled classes for the day as the students gathered in the auditorium and gymnasium for impromptu memorial services.
The Knights had opted for a private funeral, which left many students feeling deprived because they had wanted to see their friend for the last time. The elder Knights’ decision had left many feeling angry and alienated.
Summer had sat in the back of the auditorium, staring at Dumas Gellis. Something silent, unknown, communicated to her that he had something to do with Omar’s death.
Without warning, he turned and stared at her. A hint of a smile touched his mobile mouth, and her gaze narrowed. The SOB was playing a cat and mouse game
with her! He knew she knew and he was sitting there like a pompous Cheshire cat cheesing at her.
Anger radiated from her.
I’m going to get you, Dumas. One of these days it’s going to be just you and me
.
Dumas Gellis had become all of the other men she had taken down and
out!
Names, places, and faces merged into one as she closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes the seat where Dumas had sat was empty.
Early February, Summer began setting up rehearsal schedules for her spring concert, rescheduled for mid-April and a week before the beginning of spring recess. She had divided the students who would participate in each skit by centuries, then, once she reached the twentieth century, by decades.
Meanwhile, Gabriel had begun introducing the musical selections to his students, while Desiree had designed various set decorations with her art students. However, she was reminded of Omar Knight every day whenever she saw his smiling photograph behind a case in the main floor hall, along with the two other students who had died, and the one still comatose from their drug overdoses.
There were a total of nine photographs of students who had lost their lives in traffic fatalities, swimming accidents, and a house fire. The banner in the case announced:
GONE, BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN
.
The elderly were living longer, and the young were dying at an alarming faster rate. Whether it was drive-bys, or drunk driving, raves, or binge drinking, it
appeared that today’s young adults were on a fast track to an early grave.
Dumas Gellis walked into the auditorium, taking a seat in the last row. His penetrating gaze was fixed on Summer as she demonstrated the samba for a group of students sitting on the stage floor. Her voice, though soft, carried easily to the back. His gaze narrowed when he saw Gabriel Cole sitting on a chair off to the side, a conga wedged between his knees.
“It’s a quick shuffle with African roots,” she said, her bare feet skimming the smooth wood floor as her hips swayed sensuously. “And when a woman is being exceptionally flirtatious, she can lift her skirt and snap it back and forth in a fanning motion.” The students giggled as she peered at them seductively over her shoulder. “The samba and the tango are dances of desire.”
“Are we going to do the tango, Miss Monty?” asked a girl who was a serious dance student.
“Yes.”
“Show us the steps.”
Summer smiled. “I need a partner. Can I get a volunteer?” None of the eight students stood up. “Come on, don’t be shy.”
“Why don’t you dance with Mr. Cole? You two dance good together,” said another girl.
Summer affected what she hoped was an intimidating stare. “Don’t even go there, Ivette.” What she had tried to do was live down her less than dignified dance exhibition at the Halloween Ball, but the students refused to let her forget it.
Slapping their palms on the floor, they chanted in unison, “Mr. Cole. Mr. Cole.”
Gabriel put aside the conga, and rose to his feet to their unrestrained cheering and applauding, while Summer put on a pair of ballet slippers. “I’ve danced this once, so don’t snap on me if I make a mistake.” He walked over to Summer and held out his arms. She moved into his embrace.
She smiled sweetly up at him. “You’re going to pay for that maneuver, Mr. Cole.” She had threatened through clenched teeth.
“How?” he whispered against her ear.
“Concentrate, Mr. Cole,” she chastised loud enough for everyone to hear her.
Gabriel executed a smooth step, Summer easily following his strong lead. He spun her around, she keeping her balance as she danced on her toes. They moved across the stage as one. The quick spins and his lifting her leg as they leaned into one another had every eye watching the moves that had become a tangible dance of desire.
Dumas did not move, not even to blink, as the woman on stage held his rapt attention. It wasn’t Summer Montgomery dancing with Gabriel Cole, but his Beverly, his beautiful Beverly who had deserved more than he had given her. She was his angel—his queen—and queens lived in castles not prefab split-levels.
He had saved enough money to give Beverly what she wanted, but she’d called him last night to inform him that she had gotten engaged. It was Valentine’s Day and she had accepted another man’s proposal to marry.
Everything he had worked for, risked, had fallen apart with her,
I’m getting married, Gellis
. Beverly had refused to call him Dumas.
He had planned to wait until the end of June, and then he would leave Weir Memorial High School and
everything it represented. Besides, it was time for Patricia Cookman to run her own school. At first he had been flattered by the extra responsibility, but after his first year as assistant principal he’d recognized that Patricia wasn’t a hands-on administrator. That’s when he decided to make Weir
his
school.
It was under his helm that test scores improved, school-based violence was almost non-existent, and he had gotten the full support of parents when he sought to institute a school uniform policy. He’d run his school in a modified boot camp fashion with degrees of detention meted out accordingly.
The basketball team was third best in the state last year, and had continued their winning tradition with the new school year. They were currently 6-0. Yes, he was very good for Weir, but after eight years, two as an administrator, it didn’t mean spit because he had lost his wife for the second time. Lost her to another man.
He’d congratulated her, wishing her much happiness, then hung up and cursed her. He’d used words he did not even know he knew. There was no way he was going to permit another man to play “daddy” to his sons. They already had a daddy—Dumas Gellis!
He stood up and walked out of the auditorium. He had seen enough!
Summer had not known Dumas was sitting in the back of the auditorium until she saw him leave. It was then that she decided if the mountain did not come to her, then she would have to go to the mountain.
It was late, after five, but she knew Dumas was still at the school because his car was in its assigned parking space. She went through the outer office where his
secretary usually sat and stared at the door bearing his nameplate. The light was on.
Peering into the office, she saw him sitting at his desk, his back to the door. “Dumas.” He swiveled at the sound of her voice. To say he was surprised to see her was putting it mildly. He popped up like a jack-in-the box.
“Summer, please come in.”
She moved slowly, feigning reticence. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Of course not.” He rounded his desk, pulling out a chair for her at the round table. “Please sit down.”
She sat, forcing a smile she did not feel. She wanted this over so she could get on with her life. She wanted to take Dumas down, because it meant saving other young lives. And she intended to do it by seducing the assistant principal.
Lowering her head, she stared at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Sighing heavily, she glanced up, her eyes filled with tears. Hard pressed not to laugh, Summer continued in the role which she had chosen to play—a spurned lover.
Dumas saw the tears shimmering in her dark eyes, and he half-rose from his chair before he could restrain himself. “What’s the matter?”
Covering her mouth with her hand, Summer let the tears flow. “I … I came to you, because I needed someone to talk to.” Her hands were trembling.
Dumas got up and pulled tissues from a box on his desk, handing several to her and resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. “It’s okay, Summer.”
She made a big show of blotting her eyes and blowing her nose. Blinking back more tears, she covered her face with her hands. That’s when he finalized registered
what she had wanted him to see: her bare left hand.
Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, Dumas bit down hard enough to draw blood. The brilliant glitter of diamonds that always reminded him that Summer Montgomery was promised to another man was missing. Could he hope that she had broken her engagement?
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps we can go somewhere and talk.”
Summer sniffled again, shaking her head. “It’s all right, Dumas. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“Nonsense. You’d never be a bother. Now, you know I’ve always made myself available for my teachers.”
Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she rose to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. I… I…can’t talk about it now.”
“It’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”
Her eyes widened as she gave him a genuine look of surprise. “How did you know?”
He smiled. “That headlight you usually wear on your left hand is missing.”
Spreading her fingers, she stared at her hand as if it didn’t belong to the rest of her body. “I gave it back.”
“What!” The word exploded from Dumas.
She stood up straighter. “I gave it back to him. We were supposed to go down to St. Thomas next week for February recess, and out of the blue he told me he couldn’t get off from his job. We argued, because he’d put in for vacation time and was approved months ago. But when I pressured him, he finally told me that he wanted to take another woman with him.
“That dirty, low-down, stinking bastard told me he wanted to take her so that he could have one last fling before we tie the knot.” Bitterness had spilled over into
her voice. “Never had I wanted to murder anyone as I did at that moment. Imagine him telling me that crap on Valentine’s Day.”
Dumas couldn’t believe his luck. Was it a coincidence that he had lost his wife on the same day that Summer had lost her boyfriend? He did not have time to analyze the events in his life when he curved an arm around her waist.
“Look, why don’t we go somewhere and have something to eat? I’m sure you’re going to feel better even if you have a cup of coffee?”
Summer smiled up at him through spiked lashes. “Maybe you’re right, Dumas.”
“I know I’m right. Let me get my coat and I’ll be with you directly.”
She waited for him to get the trench coat from the hook on the back of the door, then walked out of the school with him to the parking lot.
He stood next to her car. “Where do you want to go?”
“I know a diner where the food is quite good.” She gave him the name of the diner where she occasionally met Lucas.
“Okay. You pull out first, and I’ll follow you.”
Dumas waited until she had gotten into her car, and started it up before he returned to his at the far end of the parking lot. He followed her as she drove slowly through the side streets.
He had to admire Summer, because she was a strong woman and most of all a professional. When he had observed her with her students in the auditorium there was nothing in her voice or body language that communicated the emotion she had exhibited in his office. They would make a wonderful couple.
She was waiting for him when he maneuvered into the diner’s parking lot. He held her hand as he escorted her into the restaurant. He continued to hold her hand until they were shown to their booths.
Summer removed her coat, noting the direction of Dumas’s gaze as it settled on the middle of her chest. It was the tightest sweater in her entire wardrobe. The jacket she had worn over it was still hanging on the coat tree in her office.
She stared directly at him. “I think I need more than a cup of coffee right about now.”
Dumas reached over and covered one of her hands with his. “Why don’t you order a cocktail?”
She shook her head, and her ponytail fell over her right shoulder. “I can’t.”
“If you’re afraid of being carded, I’ll buy it for you.”
Summer leaned back against her seat and smiled. “Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t look
that
young.”
He tightened his hold on her fingers. “Yes, you do. In fact, you look as young as some of our students.”
Her smile faded. “Please let go of my hand, Dumas.” The moment the command had left her lips she remembered another time when she’d told him the same thing. “Right now I can’t stand for
any
man to touch me,” she apologized softly. “I feel so used, so deceived.”
He withdrew his hand, nodding. “I understand.”
The waitress came and placed menus on the table. As she turned to walk away, Summer saw Lucas Shelby coming toward her. He didn’t notice her until he was several feet away. Then, he walked past as if she did not exist, and sat down at a booth behind her. She saw the flicker of recognition in his gaze, but she also saw something she had never seen before: fear.
A sixth sense told her that he knew the man with whom she was sharing a booth. She lowered her head, then stared up at Dumas through her lashes.
“Look, Dumas, I’m sorry I’m being flaky tonight, but I really don’t have much of an appetite.” Reaching for her coat, she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “I’m going home.”
She slid out of the booth, and Dumas was right behind her. She quickened her pace and he caught up with her in the parking lot. His hand stopped her when she pressed the remote device to her car.