For Love of Emily Page 12

  Silver’s return to class did cause a few awkward moments. First thing the following Monday morning, Silver had looked up from a stack of papers left by the substitute to see Emily standing by her days. Her pixy face still had a few dried spots left from her recent bout with the chicken pox, but it was the gravity of her expression that worried Silver more.

  “Good morning, kiddo.” Silver greeted her with a smile.

  Emily smiled back, but the smile quickly faded. “You didn’t say goodbye,” she said quietly.

  Silver forced herself to speak lightly. “I didn’t think it was necessary. I knew we’d see each other at school.” The statement was a lie, but she couldn’t tell her the reason for leaving so abruptly.

  The trickle of students in the hall had begun to change to a flood. Silver knew she and Emily needed to talk, but now was not the time. “You’d better go on, or you’ll be late for homeroom, sweetie,” Silver suggested, regretting the lack of time to truly talk to the child.

  But Emily still lingered. “Why did you leave my house in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to me?”

  Silver cleared her throat. “Didn’t your dad explain why I left?” Silver asked gently, hoping to discover what the child knew about the incident.

  “He didn’t say much of anything. He just said that he was well enough to get by on his own and that you had to get back to work.” The child’s eyes brimmed with tears and her voice quavered as she added, “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Of course, it’s true. What else could it be?”

  “I thought you might have been mad at me.” A tear slid down Emily’s cheek and dropped onto her copy of Adventures in Reading.

  “Oh, sweetie. I wasn’t mad. I could never be mad at you. I just wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed, and I did have to get back to school. I didn’t think that you’d misunderstand.” Silver found herself up and out of her seat, scooping Emily into her arms.

  Emily managed a feeble smile and wiped her teary eyes with her balled up hand. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

  “Absolutely. I thought your dad wanted to have you all to himself. I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings,” Silver added.

  “Okay.”

  “You’d better go before somebody thinks you’re in trouble or something.” Silver patted Emily’s hand affectionately.

  Emily giggled. “It might improve my reputation.” She grinned and turned to leave. “I’ll see you in class,” she tossed back to Silver over her shoulder.

  ****

  Thad stared at the words he had scribbled on the paper, trying to make sense of what he’d written. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put what he was thinking into words. He knew that he had been unreasonably hard on Miss Burdette — Silver — and he knew that he owed her an apology. He had been as much at fault as she had. But try as he might, he couldn’t make the words come out right. He crumpled the sheet with his hand and swiveled his olive drab chair around to face his olive drab trash can and threw the twentieth draft into the trash can with the rest of his failed attempts at conciliation.

  He wished it would be as easy to assuage her feelings and his conscience this time as it had when he’d sent her the flowers. He was a man of action, not a man of words, and his army life had prepared him to handle every sort of military crisis he might encounter.

  It hadn’t prepared him for this.

  “Why is it so blasted hard?” he muttered.

  “Did you say something, Major?” The corporal who served as his assistant stuck her head into his office.

  Startled that he had voiced his frustration aloud, he brushed her off. “I was thinking aloud. Please close the door.”

  He had to get this done; there was no way he could keep his mind on his real job until he’d settled this, once and for all. Maybe, it was better if he just cut his losses and got it over with. But he couldn’t forget the way they had fit together. Both times, it had seemed so right until she had pushed him away. He had been the one who had pushed too hard, not she.

  He scribbled a check to pay for the days she had missed work and penned a brief note of explanation. Then he typed an envelope with her name and the address of the school. Hoping he wouldn’t regret it later, he put the note and check inside and sealed it.

  ****

  After dealing successfully with Emily, Silver felt as if a heavy burden had been removed from her shoulders. Her attitude changed, and for the first time since she had been expelled from the Thibodeaux home, she walked with a bounce and a sparkle that people had not seen since before her stay there.

  It was with that cheer that Silver stepped into the teachers’ lounge on Friday afternoon on the way out. She liked to make certain that all was in order before she left for the weekend.

  “You look a million times better than you did this time Wednesday,” remarked Myra Baumann, as she passed through on her way out. “I didn’t realize you’d been sick.”

  “Thanks,” murmured Silver without bothering to correct Myra’s assumption as she reached for an envelope in her box, high overhead.

  The envelope was a plain white business one, with no return address. Her name and school address were typed neatly so there was no identifying handwriting. Since official correspondence was clearly marked, Silver shrugged it off as an advertisement. She dropped it into her book bag to look at when she got home.

  As usual, Carole had a date with David and was rushing around in a dither when Silver arrived. It must be nice to teach Physical Education and not have to grade papers almost every night. She forgot about the letter in her bag as she was called into service to help Carole get ready.

  “Do you think this dress is too plain for the Officers’ Club?” Carole asked as she changed clothes for the third time in ten minutes.

  “Carole you look perfect,” Silver replied firmly. “If you change many more times you’ll work up a very unladylike sweat. I don’t think David will appreciate that.”

  “But I’ve never been to an official unit function before. What if I embarrass David? What do I say to all those officers’ wives?”

  Was this the same Carole who had dragged her to the pool party — the one that had started this mess with Thad — and demanded that she mingle? “Carole, you will be fine. You get along with your students’ parents don’t you? This can’t be much different. They’re only people.

  “Now, calm down and finish dressing.”

  “Okay. All I need is to find my shoes.”

  “Here they are. Sit down and put them on,” Silver told her.

  Carole smoothed her dress and finger-combed her hair. “Okay, Mother. I’m ready.”

  “Good.” Silver rocked back on her heels and looked at the finished product. “You look just right.”

  “Silver, when are you going to let David introduce you to some of his single friends? I feel very guilty leaving you at home alone all the time.”

  Silver grimaced. “I think that I’ve enjoyed all the military men I can stand for a while,” she replied caustically.

  The doorbell rang.

  “That’s David. I’ve got to go,” Carole said as she hopped up and headed for the door.

  “Hold it.” Silver blocked her friend’s escape. “I’ll get it for you,” she added calmly. “You don’t want to appear overanxious, do you?”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  David entered, looking as handsome as ever, though this was the first time that Silver had seen him wearing a suit and tie. He usually came for her roommate in casual civilian attire or on a few rare occasions his uniform. He announced that they were still early and even convinced Carole to sit long enough for drink and conversation, though she had tried to insist that she wanted to get the night over with.

  When the couple finally left, Carole looking more like she was going to an execution than a party, Silver was relieved to have the apartment to herself. After thirty minutes of trying to make light conversation when she really didn’t want to, she had t
he makings of a headache.

  She switched the television set on in time for the end of one of her favorite programs then rummaged through the freezer to find a microwave dinner while she listened. The one she found was not to her liking, but she didn’t feel like waiting to thaw something else. She took it out of the box and popped it into the microwave. After failing to locate any aspirin in the kitchen, she dug into the bottom of her book bag for the spare bottle she kept there.

  Along with the aspirin came the envelope she forgotten earlier in the afternoon. It fluttered to the floor. Silver picked it up and placed it on the dinette table and went back to the kitchen for her water. As she returned with the glass, the buzzer on the microwave signaled that her meal was done. She popped the tablets into her mouth and washed them down and went to get her supper.

  The dinner was too hot to eat so Silver picked up the letter to read while it cooled.

  Inside the innocent, white envelope was a check and a short handwritten note. The check equaled a week’s pay, and the note was from Thad.

  Was that the going rate for hurt feelings or a broken heart these days?

  Silver stared at the letter and then the check until her vision blurred. The tears she had so carefully held in check for the last week burst free and ran unimpeded down her face. She crumpled both the letter and the check into tight little balls and dropped them to the floor. Mechanically, she walked into the living room and switched off the television and the lamp.

  Waves of unadulterated misery washed over her as she experienced a repeat performance of all the pain she thought she’d forgotten. How could he relegate those few days into money? And to throw in what amounted to a tip for the rest of the week! He had made his opinion of her patently clear. To him, she had been nothing more than the hired help.

  To Silver, those days had been priceless. No amount of money could repay the warmth and sense of purpose that she’d felt when she was caring for Thad and his daughter. She didn’t want pay. She didn’t want thanks. She didn’t want anything.

  Except to spend the rest of her life loving and caring for Thad and Emily.

  Now would she spend a lifetime remembering and regretting?

  Chapter Twelve

  October faded rapidly into November and November waned as quickly as October had. Silver settled into a routine of school and home and little else. Though she threw every shred of energy she had into her work, it was satisfactory but uninspired.

  The only bright spot in each day was her time with Emily. Emily, who showed so little of her father in appearance, was Silver’s only link with Thad, and she savored every moment with the child.

  One evening in early December, as Silver read through a pile of her students’ Christmas stories, the phone rang. Preoccupied with her grading, she very nearly didn’t answer it; it was never for her anyway. But Carole called from the next room that she’d just done her nails and would Silver please tell David that she’d call back in a few minutes.

  “She’ll call you back, David,” Silver said brusquely into the receiver and prepared to hang up.

  “Wait, Silver! I want to talk to you,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Excuse me? Who is this?” asked Silver, trying to place the familiar-sounding voice.

  “It’s Marianne Harbeson. How are you, Silver?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize your voice. I’m fine,” Silver replied perfunctorily. Marianne was a rather painful reminder of her brief Camelot with Thad Thibodeaux.

  “John and I are having our annual Christmas open house next Saturday. We’d both like you to come.”

  A handful of questions flashed through Silver’s mind as she considered Marianne’s invitation. Would Thad be there? Would it be worth the pain just to see him again? Would it be enough to be in the same room with him? “I don’t know, Marianne. Can I let you know later?” Silver asked, desperately trying to decide what to do. Maybe there would be a school party she could use as an excuse.

  “Sure. It’s Saturday night at seven o’clock. I’ll give you the directions if you decide to come.”

  “Thanks, Marianne. I’ll call you,” Silver replied and hung up.

  Carole entered the room, holding her hands aloft like a doctor entering a surgical suite. “Was that David?”

  “No,” Silver replied pensively. “It was Marianne Harbeson inviting me to her Christmas open house.” She looked at Carole. “Do you think I should go?”

  “Oh. Please go. David wants me to go with him, and after that stuffy Hail and Farewell at the O Club, I’d like to see one friendly face,” Carole cajoled.

  “Silly, you know David,” Silver reminded her.

  “You know what I mean. David always winds up talking shop, and I get abandoned to mingle. I don’t think those people approve of me.” Carole lowered her hands and blew on her nails to hasten the drying process.

  “Isn’t that what you and David did to me the night I met Thad? It would serve you right if the entire group of officers’ wives thought you were a fallen woman,” Silver replied shortly.

  “Touché,” Carole answered, her voice contrite. But the pleading expression still covered her face. “I promise I won’t pick your clothes if you’ll go.”

  “What if Thad is there?”

  “What if? Maybe you can get back together. You know, you’ll lock eyes across the crowded room until you’re drawn inexorably together,” Carole suggested.

  “That’s hardly likely.” Silver straightened the stack of papers she’d been marking. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to get back with him after the things he said to me.” Of course, that denial didn’t stop her from imagining that “Some Enchanted Evening” scenario.

  “So what have you got to lose? Your heart’s already broken. What else can he do to it? He can hardly murder you in a room full of witnesses.”

  The statement was so absurd that Silver had to laugh. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “In the meantime, I have about nine zillion stories to check.”

  Silver pulled her robe more snugly about her to ward off the December chill, tucked her red-stockinged toes under her, and prepared to read. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for all her little authors, she found it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Though she forced herself to finish the job, she knew that the grades would be as vague as her recollections of what she’d read.

  Rather than go back and re-read the entire pile, Silver gave each a plus for doing the assignment and recorded them as As in her grade book. When she had recorded the last A — a Christmas gift from her — Silver turned to Carole and announced, “Okay, I’ll go. But only to keep you company.”

  “Yay,” cheered Carole in an imitation of a pom-pom girl. “You won’t regret it.”

  Yes, I will, Silver told herself. But that rash statement didn’t keep her from hoping.

  ****

  As usual, Silver had more things planned than her fifty minute planning period allowed, and she sped through her list at fast forward, hoping to get everything done. She had just made her third and final trip to the media center and was overloaded with a stack of paper-backed thesauruses. The stack was heavy and a little higher than practical, but Silver would avoid a fourth trip to the library by taking them all.

  Why hadn’t she thought of bringing a cart to pile them on? She had just passed the office area when the door flew open. The door missed Silver, but the sudden movement startled her, causing the precariously stacked pile of books to teeter. She tried vainly to contain the tottering stack, but failed.

  As the blue and gold books tumbled to the tile, Silver grabbed at them to no avail. When the last book came to rest in front of the 0-200 bank of lockers, Silver had custody of only two of the original twenty. The rest were scattered between 50 and 100.

  Silver stooped quickly to begin gathering the wayward books when a black-tipped, wooden walking cane appeared in her peripheral vision. At the same time, a familiar, childish voice rang out.

 
“I’ll get them, Miss Burdette. It was my fault. I opened the door too fast.” Emily Thibodeaux squatted next to her and began gathering the books.

  With the recovery detail underway, Silver slowly straightened and found herself face to face with Major Thaddeus E. Thibodeaux. She stared for a moment, but as her eyes drank in the handsome sight of him, her heart began the familiar tap dance it did whenever he was around. Thad was not dressed in the usual camouflage battle dress uniform, but the dark green, service dress. The absence of a cast showed that he was healing, but the cane indicated that he was still not one hundred percent.

  “Miss Burdette.” The major carried his beret in his hand or he might have tipped it.

  “Major. I’m glad to see that you’re getting around,” Silver murmured.

  Emily interrupted any pretense of conversation by thrusting the jumble of books into Silver’s hands. “I’m sorry I can’t help you carry these to your room, but I have to go to the dentist.” She grimaced and spun around and addressed her father. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get this over with.”

  Thad seemed ready to follow his child, already hurrying toward the front door, but then stopped. He turned to Silver and closed his strong hand over hers and said, “I’m sorry.”

  The words were simple enough and, to any bystander who had witnessed the entire exchange, would have looked like a polite apology for the accident. The expression in the man’s eyes told Silver much more.

  It was more than a polite apology that Silver read. The way the indigo blue of his eyes seemed to peer into her own, asking them to look back, said more.

  In an instant the flash of understanding was over, and he turned and followed his daughter outside. The straight back showed that he was still a man in charge, but the eyes had delivered their message loud and clear. Silver watched him go, noticing the slight limp and the way he used the cane. She hated to see him leave, but now she held a little hope that he wasn’t as angry as he’d appeared to be that last evening.