“You think Malcolm needs some silky lingerie?”
“I think he wouldn’t mind if you had some. Girl, when I packed for you for Florida, I noted that your supply was seriously lacking.”
“Because I have so much opportunity...”
“That one silk nightgown was all I could find.”
As we gather our bags, I look at Sally and grin. “Oh, was there a nightgown packed? I guess I didn’t notice.”
“Yes, the nun has left the building.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amanda
Snow is beginning to fall as I pull my car into the elementary school's parking lot. Though I should be thinking about the condition of the roads, my thoughts are consumed with the letter in my purse, the one telling me to be here for a meeting with Jase's new teacher. The sense of dread that I’ve had since I first read the note intensifies with each passing second. It bubbles through me with that paralyzing type of fear that makes moving difficult. It takes all my concentration to reach for the key and turn off the engine of my car.
For not the first time, I wish I weren't alone. I could have asked my mother. She would have come, but that's not the same.
I long for Jackson...and now, Malcolm.
That’s happening more and more, and while I’m doing what Mom and Sally wanted—I’m living—a part of me feels guilty that I think of Malcolm in that way. I would never try to replace Jackson, but as Sally and Mom have been telling me, life goes on.
I know I should have shared with Malcolm more about Jase and his issues at school; after all, he’s a teacher and a coach. He’s familiar with kids, but I’d assume he’s used to older ones. Now that he talks about his hockey days, he’s told me how he used to volunteer with a U12 hockey league in Florida.
Five-year-old boys are not the same as ten- and eleven-year-old boys. The honest truth is that the more attracted I become to Malcolm, the more afraid I am of letting Jase get close. There’s nothing holding Malcolm to me. What if he doesn’t want the drama of a kindergarten boy?
He could leave.
That’s what could happen.
And what if Jase becomes as attached to Malcolm as I have? Malcolm’s leaving would be devastating to both of us. I can’t be the cause of any more disappointment for Jase.
I say it’s because of Jase, but I know it’s also because of me. As I contemplate the possibility of a future, it all frightens me. I’m scared to be happy. I’m scared to bring all the separate parts of my life together because if I do, it could all implode. Or worse, it could be perfect and then it could disappear.
For some reason, I remember what Alec said to me at his softball game, and I decide that it’s not a lack of faith. It’s fear. I’m afraid to have faith.
A tear falls down my cheek as I push those thoughts away. I don’t have time for this. At this moment, I need to concentrate on the reason I’m at Jase’s school. I need to focus on this upcoming meeting.
Mr. P. wants to talk with me. What if he tells me that Jase isn’t a good fit for his class, that this isn't working? This kind of teaching that he’s doing is a pilot program. I’m sure they don’t want any failures. Yet from my perspective, I didn’t think things were failing. I thought things had improved. I know that without a doubt Jase’s attitude has. Even as recently as this morning, he was excited to go to school.
I look through the foggy windows at the snow. Soon it will be Christmas break. I’m afraid Mr. P. is going to recommend a private school or something else. I’m afraid I’ll be spending Jase’s break shopping for a new school or worse, making a doctor’s appointment for him. I don’t even know for sure what I’m afraid of, but I know I am.
For not the first time, I'm scared and alone.
With my car parked and a million thoughts running through my mind, I come to the realization that I’m tired of being scared. Of all the things I have to fear, faith in Malcolm shouldn’t be one of them. From the moment we met, I sensed something sincere about Malcolm. Never in over three months has he given me any reason to doubt him.
Maybe I can’t guarantee that Malcolm will be in Jase’s life forever. I know I can’t. I’ve learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed. What I can do is what Alec mentioned. I can have faith in my judgment that Malcolm is a good man. Faith that the time Jase has Malcolm in his life will be positive.
Taking a ragged breath, I begin to type Malcolm a text. I know he’s at work and won’t get it until later, but I need to write it.
I want to write it.
Sorry to bother you at work. I should have told you, but I was afraid. I’m at my son’s school for a meeting with his new teacher. I’m scared, and I wish you were here. My hand trembles as I write the part my heart tells me to write. He’s a great kid. You’re an amazing man. If you’d… I backspace to man. Can I introduce the two of you? I would love for you two to meet.
My heart is beating a million miles a minute. It’s telling me that this is something I should have done a while ago, but still it feels a little like jumping off a cliff.
I don’t expect Malcolm to take on the responsibility of Jase. I guess I just hope he’ll be willing to support me as I shoulder the responsibility.
Taking a deep breath, I bend my knees and jump.
In a more literal sense, I hit send.
As I do, the alarm on my phone rings, and I read my screen.
School meeting with Jase’s teacher.
I take another breath, wipe the tears from my cheeks, and do my best to pull myself together. Step by step, I keep going until I’ve entered the school.
“Mrs. Harrison?” the receptionist asks as she pushes the button that opens the door, allowing me to enter the school.
I shake my head. “Ms. Wells. I’m Jason Harrison’s mother. I’m here for a meeting.” Why is that so damn hard? I’m not the first mother in the history of time to have a different last name.
A moment later, I'm in the main office. “Yes, Ms. Wells," the older receptionist says. "Mr. P. is waiting for you in the conference room.”
I follow closely behind as she leads the way to the back of the office and beyond to a hallway of conference rooms. As we approach, the ring of Jase’s laughter reaches me. Suddenly, my dread and fear bubble to the surface. With my stomach in knots, I reach for the receptionist’s arm. There’s panic in my tone. “Is my son in there?”
“Yes,” she says with a smile. “I believe he is.”
“Why? If there’s a problem, he’s too young—”
“Ma’am, I don’t think there’s a problem. Mr. P.—”
We turn the corner and two sets of blue eyes turn our direction. The ones I love and have since the day he was born and laid in my arms, and the other, the sexiest, most stunning blue eyes I know. That second pair renders me mute, staring at me with obvious shock. My feet forget to move as his gaze holds me captive.
“Ms. Wells is here,” the receptionist says.
Malcolm stands, confusion evident on his face. “Wells? Harrison?”
“Yes, I'm sorry," the older woman says. "I had it wrong. Ms. Wells is Jason Harrison’s mother.”