The Teacher (22 page)

“C’mon, I’ll give you ten bucks,” Luke
said.

Brayden just shook his head.

“Twenty?”

This time Brayden crossed his arms over
his chest and turned his head as far as he could away from Luke, suggesting he
was about to say “no”, but still waiting just to see if Luke would raise his
offer.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Marcus said with
authority and the game ended. “You know Uncle Luke wouldn’t pay up even if he
had the money. Let’s go help your Uncle take his bags upstairs.”

“Ugh,” Luke groaned. “It’s off to
solitary confinement up there with those two. I hope you know what an oasis you
have down below. That room has hosted some of the hottest, most mind-blowing…”

“Ahem,” Marcus cut in, stopping his
brother from finishing his sentence.

“What?” Luke asked, throwing his hands
up. “That room has expectations, a reputation. Ms. Hewitt needs to be aware of
the gift she holds. You understand, don’t you?” he asked, looking at Emma.

“I think so,” Emma played along. “You’re
saying today isn’t the first time the earth has moved in that room, is that
right?”

“That’s it. You got it.” He said,
pointing at her and then winked before he stood up. “So, don’t disappoint,
okay?”

Emma nodded, using her years of
experience with Stacy to know that it was better to agree than argue with
someone who thought the world revolved around mind-blowing sex.

“Well, we should get Luke moved in
upstairs,” Marcus said, pushing his chair back as Maricella swooped in to pull
their bowls. Walking behind Emma, Marcus placed his hand on her shoulder. She
knew she should respond, smile at him to reassure him she was okay, set her own
hand on his, but instead she sat paralyzed. The seismic tremor his touch
brought to her heart was terrifying.

Chapter
Twenty-seven

The earthquake caused the energetic
motion of Seattle to come to a crawl. Streets and buildings shut down for days
as crews inspected and assessed the damage. Once the high rise in downtown
Seattle, which housed the Lewis and Sons Firm, was cleared, Marcus dragged Luke
with him back to the office.

The delays put the Barclay deal behind
schedule and Marcus was working overtime to catch up. He sent Luke home at the
end of the day to give Emma her reprieve in the evenings. Marcus watched from a
distance as Luke entertained Emma and she laughed at all his jokes. Their
growing friendship made Marcus want to stay away. He couldn’t compete with his
brother for Emma’s attention. He used his lone wolf status as an excuse to bury
himself in work. On the Fourth of July Luke, Brayden and Emma spent the day at a
street fair and watched the fireworks from downtown, while he single-handedly
drew together the details for the Barclay deal.

Marcus dropped his pen, leaned back in
his office chair, and covered his face with his hands. His mood had been
terrible lately. When he wasn’t imagining Luke and Emma together he was leaving
more unanswered messages for his former father-in-law. He was snapping at
Brayden again and felt his son pulling away. At least, Brayden had the
sanctuary of Luke and Emma to run to, but that was no excuse for the way he’d
been acting the last two weeks.

Picking up his pen, he turned back to
the papers on his desk when his intercom buzzed.

“Mr. Lewis?” the nasally secretary
asked.

“Yes?”

“A Mr. Edward Grimes is on the phone for
you.” She was new to the firm and didn’t realize the weight of her words. Any
of the other secretaries would have called him with a great deal more
trepidation.

“Okay,” Marcus said and before he could
change his mind, the phone rang.

“Edward. Hello,” Marcus said.

“Hello to you too, Marcus.” The greeting
lacked the old camaraderie they once shared.

“I wanted to check on you and your
family after the quake. Is everyone alright?” Marcus tried to be all-inclusive
with his inquiry and hoped Edward understood his question.

“Deidre and I are fine,” he answered
tersely.

“Good,” Marcus replied wondering if he
had more to add, but he didn’t.

“How are you and Brayden?” Edward asked.
“I hear you’re in town for a while.”

“Yes,” Marcus responded. “I’m helping
out this summer and then we’ll head back home.”

“Can we see him?” Edward whispered.

Marcus didn’t answer.

“Jesus Christ, Marcus. Don’t punish us
like this. He’s our grandson,” Edward’s voice boomed. “It breaks Deidre’s heart
not knowing him. Haven’t you hurt this family enough?”

“I’ve never done anything to hurt you or
Deidre,” Marcus said, feeling the defensive edge in his voice. “I have to
protect Brayden and as long as Vanessa…”

“Don’t you even breathe her name,” he
hissed, his words drowning in anger. “You have no right. Not after what you did
to her. She is dead, because of you.” There was a break in the man’s voice as
he choked up with tears.

“What did you say?” Marcus asked,
sinking into his chair. He’d always wondered what it would feel like to hear
those words,
she is dead.
Now that he had, he couldn’t describe what he
felt. Shocked, sad, relieved, anyone of them or all of them at once?

“We buried her last week,” Edward said through
ragged sobs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What
happened?” Marcus asked ashamed of the flatness in his voice.

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You turned
your back on her years ago. She was found in an abandoned house, not far from
where you lived. We think she might have been trying to go home, to find you
and Brayden, but she never made it. Her heart collapsed. She died of a heart
attack at thirty-three, Marcus. Why didn’t you help her? Why did you leave her
alone like that to die? You took everything away from her.”

Marcus ignored the guilt he was being
served and covered his mouth with his hand. He reined in his urge to scream
into the phone about how Vanessa was the one who didn’t choose her family. She
made her choice and he made his.

“Where is she?” Marcus asked when he
knew he could control his voice.

“What do you mean, where is she? I just
told you.”

“Where is she buried?”

“She’s at the cemetery next to the
church, right next to her Granddaddy and Grandmother. They’ll watch over her
now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Marcus said.
“Good-bye Edward.”

The words kept replaying in Marcus’s
mind—
she is dead. She is dead. We buried her last week.

Vanessa had only been a memory to him
these last few years, he’d buried her in his heart the day she nearly killed
their son, but now to hear it as a reality only reminded him of the pain and
grief he’d suffered. Anger welled up inside of him again and he needed to get
out of the office. He stood up, moving so quickly his desk chair spun. Grabbing
his jacket, he left his office, slamming the door so hard behind him everyone
in the hall froze. Marching out the door, he muttered to one of the terrified
looking receptionists that he would be gone for the rest of the day.

Somehow, he navigated through the city
and parked on the street near the cemetery. He got out of his car, leaving his jacket
behind. The sun was high in the sky, making it one of the warmest summer days
in Seattle. He stopped at the wrought iron arch and remembered the last time he
had been here. It was a little over six years ago, at Vanessa’s grandfather’s
burial. She’d been six months pregnant, wearing a new black dress and
wide-brimmed black hat, her lips painted a fiery red.

Marcus met her at the gravesite, leaving
the office just long enough to stand by her side, and then returned to work.
Looking back Marcus couldn’t remember if she’d grieved or not. The next day
with her black dress in the closet, she had trotted off to her prenatal yoga
class.

Had they ever talked about her
grandfather’s death, was it significant to her? Marcus couldn’t remember. He
and Vanessa had never been close emotionally. Vanessa’s concerns were always
about what was right in front of her. One day she was wiping away tears at her
grandfather’s funeral, the next she was pampering herself with manicures,
pedicures and going to yoga class.

The sun beat down on him. He pulled at
the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. Forcing himself
forward he followed the path cutting through the sea of manicured green grass
until he saw the fresh patch of overturned dirt with the slightest hint of baby
green grass peeking up through the soil.

A temporary placard was at the head and
Marcus stood motionless at the foot of the grave. Feeling stifled by the heat
and his rage he loosened his tie. He felt his face contort with emotion and
clenched his fists.

“Damn you, Vanessa,” he said and reached
down for a handful of dirt. He threw it at the placard. It hit with an
unsatisfying shower of dust. “Damn you,” he said again and squatted down,
covering his face with his hands. Dirt mixed with the trails of sweat falling
down his cheeks, leaving behind streaks of mud. “Why did you do this, why did
you do this to us?” He sat back on the ground, pressed his head into his knees,
and sobbed.

The anger seeped out of him as he sat
there and cried. This was the first time he had cried about losing Vanessa.
When he rushed home that awful day to find his house engulfed in flames, he
stood watching, waiting helplessly, next to his son’s ambulance for her to be
rescued. He was stunned by the sight of her limp body being carried out by one
bulky firefighter, followed by another. The relief that set in was enormous,
but when he walked toward her, it was the second firefighter that caught his
eye, a syringe in his hand. A police officer approached him with an evidence bag
and the firefighter dropped it in. When Marcus questioned the man about it, he
got no answers.

“What was that?” he demanded as the firefighter
pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat-plastered hair from his forehead.

“I can’t say for sure,” the guy said. “You’ll
have to talk to the police about it. I just found it next to her in the
bathroom.”

Marcus rushed to Vanessa’s stretcher
then and overheard the words, “possible overdose,” as a paramedic put an oxygen
mask over her face. She left in one ambulance and Marcus rode in the other with
Brayden. He tended to his son and filled out paperwork for Vanessa. The whole
time he wondered why a syringe had been anywhere near her.

His parents came to the hospital and
stayed with Brayden while he sat in the waiting room, anticipating an update on
Vanessa. When the doctor finally arrived, he explained that illegal drugs were
found in her blood. Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The doctor
said she was awake and he could see her.

He knew a better husband would be
relieved that she was still alive, but he was enraged. It only got worse when
he walked in and immediately asked her if she was using drugs.

“Was that your syringe they found?” he
yelled.

She turned away from him and he knew the
answer was yes.

“What kind of shit are you doing
Vanessa?”

Again, she didn’t answer.

“You do realize that fire nearly killed
our son today and you. If Rosa hadn’t come back when she did, who knows what
would have happened.”

Her eyes were distant and unseeing.

“When you get out of here, you’re going
straight to rehab.” His voice was firm and commanding, but then he softened and
walked to her bedside reaching for her thin hand. “We’ll work through this
problem. We’ll get you better,” he said.

“There isn’t a problem,” she replied.

He dropped her hand and backed away.
“The doctor found drugs in your blood. There is a problem and you’re going to
stop it. I’m not letting you near our son again until I know you are clean.”

She turned her head away from him and
Marcus knew her addiction had won. She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She didn’t
make promises she couldn’t keep, she succumbed, letting him and Brayden go. When
he left her room, he called Edward and told him to call when Vanessa had
checked in to rehab. That call never came.

Two weeks later Marcus filed for
divorce. The last time he saw her was at the custody hearing where she was
obviously high, her pupils were dilated and her body twitched nervously. It
wasn’t hard for the judge to declare her unfit and award full custody to Marcus.
The only wail of misery came from Deidre and not Vanessa. Marcus wasn’t sure if
it was because her daughter was losing custody of her only grandson or if it
was because her daughter was no longer a competent, responsible adult. Either
way, Marcus marched out of that courtroom and never looked back.

From that day on, he stuffed his grief
away, pushing it down farther and farther as it layered up inside of him. Look
at what it had done. It made him harsh and bitter. Then, he thought of what it
had done to Brayden. Marcus had been angry with Vanessa far too long, blaming
her when he too ignored Brayden’s needs. He had moved to Portland to erase his
grief instead of facing it.

Marcus sat there in the grass until the
sky turned a dusty yellow and the sun dipped toward the horizon. Marcus pulled
himself to his feet and stared at the grave of the woman he’d pledged to love
until death.

“Good-bye, Vanessa,” he whispered before
turning back down the path to his car.