Gift of Fortune (15 page)

"To see if it has that much-kissed look."

"What?"

Quint placed his hand under her chin and lifted it. He
looked intently at her mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she managed to
ask in a voice that rose barely above a whisper.

"Nope, your mouth has that innocent, virginal look."

Aileen almost jumped out of her gardening clogs. Had
he guessed that she was still a virgin? Her glance flew to
his face. Relieved, she saw that he was still preoccupied
with her mouth. He hadn't noticed her startled reaction.
Maybe her mouth having that virginal look didn't mean
what she feared it might mean.

"Your colleagues aren't nearly as smart and observant as
the think they are. Trust me on that and ignore them."

"That's easier said than done."

"You didn't let them get to you?"

"No. I kept my cool, but just. That's why it was necessary for me to demolish a bunch of clumps."

"You feel better now?"

"Yes," she said, a little surprised. "I do."

"Then let's go inside. It's getting dark. You must have
worked up an appetite," Quint said. "And whatever is in
the crock pot in the kitchen smells great."

"Oh no! I completely forgot to turn the crock pot off."

Aileen rushed into the house while Quint picked up the
tools and set them on the back porch.

"Just as I thought," Aileen said the moment he entered
the kitchen. "The meat's falling apart."

She looked defeated, as if this were the last straw. Quint
stood next to her and casually draped his arm around her
shoulders. He looked into the pot. "Still looks and smells
delicious. We could put the meat between pieces of bread.
I bet it would taste good," he said encouragingly.

Aileen perked up. "I know what we can do: I'll shred
the meat and heat it in some barbecue sauce. You like barbecue sandwiches?"

"Love 'em," Quint said.

"Oh, good. Why don't you get the buns?"

Quint squeezed her shoulder before he did as she asked.

Aileen started to wash her hands and let out a cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, rushing to her side.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. Let me see your hands." He turned her
hands over and winced. "Weren't you wearing gloves?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you feel the pain? The skin on your palms is
rubbed raw."

"I guess I was so upset that I didn't notice the pain."

"We better get your hands cleaned up. Do you prefer
soap and water or iodine?" Quint asked.

"Soap and water is fine."

Quint watched her bite her lower lip while he cleaned
the raw areas, and although she tried hard not to cry, a
couple of tears escaped her eyes. "Hold up your hands to dry," he said. When she did, he placed his arms around her
waist. "You've had a hard day, haven't you, darlin'," he
murmured. He kissed the tears from her face and drew her
closer.

Aileen resisted for a moment before she melted into his
arms. It felt so good to be held and fussed over. She sighed
and kept her eyes closed.

"I'm tempted to give your dirty-mouthed colleagues a
piece of my mind, but it would only make it worse for you.
I wish I could do something. I wish-"

Aileen wrenched herself out of his arms and took three
steps back.

"Aileen, what's the matter?" he asked, bewildered.

"You can't touch me! Don't you see? If anyone saw us,"
she said, her panicked glance darting to the window. "The
blinds aren't even drawn!" She rushed to the window and
tugged on the blind impatiently.

"For heaven's sake! I was only comforting you, not making passionate love to you."

"You know that and I know that, but to anyone else it
would not have looked like comforting. We can't give anybody any ammunition against us. No touching of any kind.
Agreed?"

"You're overreacting. Nobody is skulking past our
kitchen window to spy on us. Okay, okay. I agree," he
added quickly, seeing her anxious expression. "But I'm going to have to touch you long enough to put Band-Aids on
your hands. All right?"

Mutely she nodded.

Quint mumbled under his breath while he went to fetch
the first-aid kit.

The week passed slowly. Aileen kept a low profile,
avoiding contact with her colleagues. She steered clear of the teachers' lounge, as if the place smelled to high heaven.
She brought her lunch, which she ate at her desk. She left
school as soon as she could in the afternoon. Aileen even
stopped going to aerobics, choosing to exercise at home.
Though she admitted to herself that this was a little cowardly, she just wasn't up to more innuendo-filled encounters.

When she was summoned to the principal's office on
Friday after school, she was puzzled. Mr. Russell rarely
detained any of the staff on a Friday.

The meeting didn't take long, yet Aileen felt as if she'd
received blows to every part of her body. She made her
way to her car, barely aware of her actions. Trying to unlock the door, she fumbled. She felt a hand on her shoulder
and gasped.

"Quint, you scared me half to death. What are you doing
here?"

"Dora phoned. She asked that I meet you here and take
you to her place. Come on."

"My car-"

"We'll pick it up on the way home."

Seeing that several people lingered at their cars to watch
them, Quint didn't offer her his arm, but he walked close
enough that if she needed to, she could lean on him.

She sat still and quiet in the truck, her hands clasped so
hard that her knuckles turned white.

Dora must have been watching for them, for she opened
the door before Quint had a chance to ring the doorbell.

"Come into the kitchen," Dora said, after taking one look
at Aileen's distraught face. "I've got tea brewing."

They followed her into the kitchen.

Aileen sat down at the kitchen table, her back straight,
staring at the wall. Quint sat on her right side, Dora on her
left.

Quint finally broke the silence. "Will somebody tell me
what happened?" He watched Aileen take a deep breath,
trying to get control.

"Mr. Russell sent for me."

"The principal," Dora added, for Quint's benefit.

"And what did Mr. Russell say to you?" he asked.

Aileen bit her lower lip. Finally, her voice thick with
tears, she said, "The school board is considering the moral
turpitude clause."

Quint frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that they think I'm a morally reprehensible
person. Vile. Base. Shameful and not fit to teach kids. I
may lose my job." Aileen burst into tears. She buried her
face in her hands and sobbed.

Speechless, Quint laid his hand on her shoulder.

Dora got up and brought a box of tissues, which she set
in front of Aileen.

"Can they do that?" Quint asked Dora.

"They might. We never removed that darn clause from
the contract," Dora said. "I've served on the negotiation
team several times, but we never even talked about that
clause. I guess we all thought it was so archaic, so outmoded and ridiculous that it would never be invoked. It
was almost a joke." She shook her head, her expression
grim.

"I assume this is because we live in the same house?"

Dora nodded.

"Well, I'll pitch a tent and move out."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Dora said.

"Then what can we do?" Quint asked.

"Nothing," Aileen wailed. "There's nothing we can do."

"I wouldn't say that," Dora said, handing Aileen a tissue.
"We can take them to court. A court battle will be messy
and it'll drag on, but it's our best bet. I called my lawyer as soon as I heard, but he'd already left on a fishing trip.
Won't be back until next Friday."

"How did you hear?" Aileen asked. "This just happened."

"Joanne called to warn me." Looking at Quint, she
added, "Joanne is the assistant principal and a longtime
friend." Dora poured the tea and placed a cup in front of
Aileen. "Drink this. It'll make you feel better."

"Nothing will ever make me feel better!"

"Nonsense. Blow your nose and drink your tea." Dora's
voice rang with authority, the same authority that had
forced hundreds of disinterested students to plunge into the
annals of American history.

"Why? Why is the school board doing this?" Aileen
asked. "It's not as if I were the only one who ever transgressed. What am I saying? I haven't even done any transgressing!" Aileen pressed her hands against her temples.

Quint moved behind her chair. "Here, let me, before you
come down with a migraine." He nudged her hands out of
the way and gently massaged her temple.

"I would like to know the answer to Aileen's question,
too. Why is she being singled out?" he asked.

"I've been wondering about that myself." Dora sipped
some tea. "I can come up with several answers. Envy. Jealousy. Resentment. Revenge."

"Are you serious?" Aileen asked, her voice incredulous.
"What do I have that anyone could envy? Or what could I
have done that anyone would want revenge for?" Aileen
asked, her eyes never wavering from her mentor.

Dora sighed. "I could be wrong."

"But you're fairly sure you're not," Quint said. "Is this
a hunch, or do you have some evidence for your suspicions?"

"The push to make use of that antiquated clause in the contract came from one source," Dora said. "Sam Jensen.
Or, more accurately, from his wife."

"Myrtle Jensen?" Aileen asked. "I know she's a gossip,
but I didn't think there was any real harm in her."

"All gossip isn't necessarily silly or innocent. If you repeat things that are hurtful to people, you can inflict a good
deal of pain," Dora said. "And Myrtle doesn't differentiate
between frivolous and damaging gossip."

"And she can push her husband into doing things for
her? I wouldn't have thought she had that much clout. How
does she do it?" Aileen asked.

"Enough whining and nagging can drive most men to do
anything," Quint said. "And Myrtle struck me as a whiner
and a nagger."

"Good observation," Dora said, with a trace of admiration. "That's exactly how she does it."

Aileen shivered. "But why? I've never done anything to
her."

"You haven't, but your mother did, by always being a
little smarter, a little prettier, a little more popular. All
through high school Myrtle tried to compete with your
mother. She always came in second best. Myrtle pretended
that she didn't mind, but she did. The final straw was Jack
Bolton. He took Myrtle out a few times. Then he met your
mother, and three months later he married her."

"But that happened thirty years ago! Nobody can hold a
grudge that long," Aileen protested.

"It appears some people can," Dora said.

"I don't believe this is happening!" Aileen whispered.

"Nothing's going to happen this weekend. I want you to
go home and put this out of your mind."

"How can I? For all I know, I'll get fired on Monday."

"I don't think so. There has to be at least one school
board meeting first. My lawyer, who's an expert on con tracts, will be back next Friday. He'll advise us on what to
do."

They said their good-byes. Aileen was silent on the drive
back to the school parking lot. Quint walked her to her car.

"How's your headache? Are you up to driving home?"

"Yes. Quint, I'm fine," she added, seeing him hesitate.

"Okay. You go on. I'll be right behind you."

Aileen drove slowly, carefully, trying not to think of the
enormity of her problem. She didn't quite succeed, but at
least she didn't burst into tears and drive off the road.

She waited for Quint on the porch. He walked like a man
on a mission. Surprised, she noted that his expression was
almost cheerful.

"Let's have a root beer," he said. Quint took her hand
and pulled her toward the kitchen.

"Quint, have you already forgotten about the no touching
rule?" Aileen tugged, but he refused to let go of her hand.

"Forget about that rule. I have the solution to our problem."

"What? Putting Myrtle Jensen on the next unmanned
space flight?"

"Forget about her. What I have in mind will shut up her
gossiping mouth once and for all."

"And what's that?"

"Us getting married."

Aileen stopped so abruptly she forced Quint to stop as
well. Blood rushed to her head and sang in her ears. She
couldn't have heard him right.

"What...what did you just say?" she asked, her mouth
dry, her voice whispery.

"It seems to me there's just one thing to do to solve our
present problem: get married."

Her heart hammered so wildly its beat echoed in her
temples. "That's what I thought you said," she murmured.
He tugged at her hand. Aileen followed him into the
kitchen. She had no choice, for surprise and confusion were
crushing her ability to think.

"Sit down, please." Quint pulled out a chair and held it
for her.