Take a Chance on Me (13 page)

He turned to look at Jessica and decided to revise his opinion. Her face had paled, and a fine trembling was evident in her hands. The adrenaline of the confrontation had obviously disappeared.

“Here, sit down,” he said, pulling the rolling chair forward.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and lowered herself into the chair. “My brilliant plan seems to be winning friends and influencing people already.”

“She’s one kid.”

“And apparently the prima donna of the drama program. God, why didn’t someone tell me about her?” Her eyes squeezed shut and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “The next two months are going to be peachy.”

“You handled this situation nicely, despite being ambushed by the whole thing,” he said. “And now that you know there’s some discontent out there, you can prepare for the next incident.”

“
Some
discontent? She would have ripped my toenails out if given the chance.”

“So don’t wear open-toed shoes.”

Jessica laughed shakily. She reached a hand to the back of her neck, kneading the stiff muscles there. “Thanks for helping me out, Tom.”

“My pleasure.” They were both silent for a moment.

Jessica glanced at the opened door. “Do you mind if I hang out in here for a minute or two? I’d rather not face the lynch mob right now.”

“Of course,” he said. “In fact, I should go make sure they’ve dispersed. Make yourself at home.” With a crooked smile, he walked out of the office and closed the door.

Jessica leaned forward and rested her head in the palms of her hands. A small part of her wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and cry. But that wasn’t an option.

She wasn’t normally the type to cry. She’d learned early on that tears were a sign of weakness, to be stifled as quickly as possible. A Martin did not dissolve in the face of stress—a Martin thrived on it.

Of course, as far as her parents were concerned, as soon as she announced her intention to become a teacher, all bets were off. You couldn’t get much weaker than a low-paying job in a helping profession.

But even their obvious and vocal disapproval of her choice hadn’t been enough to reduce her to tears. In fact, she had been relentlessly optimistic about becoming a teacher. Projects that reduced classmates to tears of frustration left her with a smile on her face and a can-do attitude. More than one acquaintance had referred to her as Pollyanna.

So what was it about her dream becoming a reality that turned on the waterworks?

The confrontation had caught her completely off-guard. She’d been so proud of her solution to the casting problem that she hadn’t considered any possible ramifications.

And now she had an angry, bitter teen in one of the most important roles.

Boy, this just kept getting better and better.

She’d thought her own high school drama performance had been the worst experience possible on stage. The spring play now seemed to be well on its way to surpassing that milestone.

She should have found a way to turn it down.

She didn’t need the job that badly, did she?

Jessica sighed, shaking her head. Yes, she did. Not just for the steady paycheck or the security. She needed to prove—to herself, as well as her family—that she could do it. She could be a good teacher, one who challenged and inspired and encouraged. She could make a difference.

First, however, she had to make sure Amber’s hostility didn’t infect the entire cast.

A soft knock on the door pulled her attention away from the whirl of depressing thoughts. “Come in,” she called.

“Jessica. Are you waiting for Tom specifically, or was there something I could help you with?”

Jessica closed her eyes briefly. Oh, today was just a peach of a day. “Hello, Celeste. No, everything’s fine. A student was unhappy with the casting of the spring play, so Tom gave us a quiet location to work it out. I’m just regrouping.”

Celeste entered the room and sat down. She leaned forward, both hands propped on her knees. “So the situation was resolved?”

“Absolutely.” Behind Tom’s desk Jessica crossed her fingers and hoped she wasn’t really fibbing. “Rehearsals start on Wednesday.”

“Excellent.” Celeste flashed a quick, distracted smile and stood up. “Stop by my office afterwards and let me know how it went. Oh, and I’ll be starting evaluations next week. Don’t be surprised to see me pop in during a class or two.”

Jessica nodded, gritting her teeth against the sudden tension headache gripping her.

“Well, I’ll see you Wednesday.” Celeste smiled once more and walked briskly out of the office, pulling the door shut behind her.

The sounds of the main office diminished, leaving a soft hum of background noise through the thick door. Jessica sighed, toying with a lone paperclip on the top of Tom’s desk. He was so organized he couldn’t even clutter effectively.

She needed some of that organization in her life. Since she’d started this job, her life seemed to be getting more and more stressful, what with the classes and the students and the play…

And Tom. When she was around him, her pulse raced, her breathing accelerated, her hormones rampaged. All her senses twirled and danced. Yes, Tom definitely left her feeling out of control.

A slight cough from the hall outside caught her attention. Tom pushed the door open, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Feeling better?” At her nod, he walked in and closed the door behind him.

The blinds on the picture window were half-shut, leaving strips of light to fall across the wide desk. Shadows of passing co-workers filtered through. The room was warm, cozy, intimate. Jessica swallowed.

“Everything okay out there?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded thin, strained.

He was watching her, his eyes dark and intent. He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Come on,” he said, extending his hand.

“Where?” There went her pulse again, beating a staccato rhythm against her ribs. Any more contact with Tom and she wouldn’t need a gym membership to increase her heart rate.

He just smiled, reaching out to pull her to a stand. In the dim light of the enclosed room she stumbled, bumping against Tom for the briefest of moments. The contact arced through her, leaving a trail of sensation from chest to knees.

Jessica stepped back, sucking in a deep breath. He held on to her hand as she retrieved her bag and purse, giving it a quick squeeze before dropping it as he opened the door. She watched him leave the office, casual expression giving no hint of the personal contact between them just moments before. She trailed in his wake, hoping her face wouldn’t give anything away.

They exited the building by the back hallway and stepped out into the waning light of a gray winter afternoon. Tom led her to his forest green Explorer, parked in the far corner of the small staff parking lot behind the old brick school. He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

“Where are we going?” Jessica clutched her jacket tightly against the chill in the air. “I think I should probably drive myself.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, urging her inside. “Your car will be fine here.” He circled the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. With a twist of his wrist, the SUV rumbled to life.

Jessica snapped on her seat belt and settled back against the seat. He hadn’t really answered her question, but Jessica realized she didn’t exactly mind. After the conflict this afternoon, it felt wonderful to let someone else be in charge, if only for a little while.

She turned to look at Tom, reveling in the strong lines of his profile. He tilted his head in her direction, a question lurking in his eyes.

Jessica nodded. “Drive on, my good man.”

With an answering grin, he backed out of the parking spot and headed for the main road.

A chill wind teased the edges of Jessica’s collar, prompting her to tuck her scarf more tightly around her neck. Tom’s hand rested casually on her shoulder, his thumb idly circling patterns on her coat as they walked down the almost-empty sidewalk. That warmed her up almost as much as the thick wool scarf.

“Seattle is beautiful at night,” she commented, glancing up at Tom. The glow of a streetlight cast a pattern of light and shadows on his face as they passed underneath.

He smiled. “I thought you needed a change of scenery.”

“I did.” They walked in silence for a while, peering in shop windows. Most of the stores on the waterfront were closed up tight. There was little foot traffic in the chilly twilight. Cars sped by on the street beside them, hurrying to the ferry or continuing uphill to the heart of the city.

“Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe,” Jessica read, squinting at the sign above the window. “One of my favorites.”

“We’ll have to come back when it’s open,” Tom replied.

The silence wrapped around them as they continued to walk. Jessica slid a glance at Tom. “Will we?”

He turned his head sideways, his expression unreadable. A muscle worked in his jaw. Then he nodded at a building down the block. “Let’s get some chowder and watch the gulls,” he said, walking more briskly as they approached the dockside restaurant.

Jessica stepped up her pace, increasing her stride to keep up with Tom. As usual, he was avoiding the issue by changing the subject. But it was past seven and food did sound enticing.

Tom steered her into the covered seating area and stepped up to the counter to place their orders. She picked a table overlooking the water. Black waves churned against the pilings below. A heat lamp glowed orange above her seat and she shivered in the contrast of electric warmth and winter chill.

“I hope you like chowder,” Tom said, appearing at her elbow with a tray. “When they say large, they mean large.”

Jessica lifted her bowl off the tray and sniffed appreciatively. “Looks great.”

Tom quickly distributed utensils, napkins, crackers and colas, depositing a big plate of fish and chips in the middle of the table. “Just in case the chowder isn’t filling enough,” he explained.

“Of course,” Jessica said, digging in to the thick, creamy chowder. She groaned, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the flavor hit her tongue. “Amazing,” she sighed.

Tom cleared his throat and busied himself with unwrapping a straw.

Jessica was scraping the last of her chowder from the bowl when Tom spoke again. “You should know that you handled that situation today beautifully.”

“It sure didn’t feel like it,” she said.

Tom nodded, deep blue eyes fixed on her face. “Absolutely. Calm, confident, but willing to let the student save face. Believe me, you would be amazed at how many teachers are so intent on winning that they end up making it worse.”

“I hope Amber decides to be in the play. It might be harder for me, but I really want her to participate. It’s obvious that drama is important to her.”

“And what about you?” Tom paused as Jessica let silence fill the space between them. When it became evident that she wasn’t going to answer, he persisted. “It was pretty obvious that first day you would have rather gone in for a root canal than direct this show. Have you changed your mind yet?”

“I don’t know.” Jessica unwrapped a packet of saltines and began snapping off bits, tossing them to the gulls that hovered just at the edge of the seating area. “I once promised myself I would never set foot in a theater again. Now that I have though, it’s not as bad as I expected.”

Tom crossed his arms and sat back, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like an interesting story.”

“Believe me, it’s not.” At his disbelieving snort, she sighed. “Okay, I might as well tell you. But this goes no further, understand?”

Tom lifted three fingers in the traditional Boy Scout salute and motioned for her to continue.

“Sophomore year.” Horrified, she heard her own voice crack, and cleared her throat before she continued. “Against my better judgment, I auditioned for the school play.”

“Better judgment?” Tom echoed, a crinkle between his eyes. The yellow glow of the heat lamp illuminated his confusion.

Jessica sighed. “My parents always wanted me to be tops in everything—class valedictorian, most popular, most talented. Never mind that I wasn’t really interested in those things. I had some great friends, a solid GPA, and I loved reading and writing, but none of those things were enough for them.”

“So why did you audition?”

“I guess I wanted to make them proud of me. Heaven knows that wasn’t a frequent occurrence. Amazingly, I got a part—just an extra, but you would have thought I was the star, the way Mother carried on. She practically took out an ad in the local paper.”

She fell silent, picking at a loose string on the scarf around her neck.

“What show was it?” Tom prodded.

Jessica laughed. “
Romeo and Juliet
, if you can believe it. I was one of the dancing women in the party scene. Anyway, opening night rolled around, and my parents had bought out the entire front row. All the relatives, all their friends. I’d finally done something to make them proud.”

She glanced at the hovering seagulls, dancing on the brisk wind. “Mom wanted to get a picture of me in the balcony. You know, pretend I was Juliet. Just being in the show wasn’t quite good enough. So I sneaked onstage and climbed up. I was standing there, in my fancy dress, flashbulbs going off like I was royalty, and the director saw me and yelled. I was so startled that I…”

“What?” Tom prompted.

She shrugged. “I fell. Right off the balcony, in front of a standing room only crowd. Broke my ankle, destroyed the set, and got kicked out of the show.”

“Wow. You were one busy extra.”

Jessica giggled at that. “I think it’s called upstaging.”

“I can see it now. ‘Romeo, Romeo, aaaaaah—boom!’”

Jessica smacked him on the arm. “At the time, I didn’t see any humor in the situation. Neither did my mother. The rest of the school did though.” She fell silent, remembering the embarrassment, the merciless teasing and the familiar ache of her mother’s disappointment.

“So that would explain your reaction when I told you that you’d be directing the spring play.”

“I hadn’t been in a theater for over ten years.”

“Your mom must be pleased. She finally has a daughter in show biz.”