Secrets (5 page)

“Accidents can cause lifelong spinal problems. As a doctor, I feel better about attending to your back right away. Let’s put you on a table, and Becky can start your massage.”

“Thank you, Dr. Dane. I appreciate this very much.”

As Jessica lay flat on her stomach on a rather comfortable, padded table, Becky worked on Jessica’s back with a low-humming massage machine. Jessica felt the tension begin to drain from her muscles. She thought about Dr. Dane and wondered if such generosity was the way of life for the people in this small, friendly town.

Perhaps all her suspicions about Kyle were unfounded. Maybe he was only doing for her what any Glenbrooke firefighter would do for someone he rescued from an accident. The thought was comforting and a little disappointing at the same time. She had almost convinced herself he was interested in her. After the massage and adjustment, Jessica felt a definite improvement.

Mrs. Dane drove to a little diner called the Wallflower, so named for its decor. Planters were built into the walls both inside and outside the restaurant, and from each planter spilled bright waterfalls of late summer flowers.

“Aren’t the mums wonderful?” Ida asked as they found a corner table next to a planter of bright yellow mums. “This is my favorite little spot.”

Jessica guessed that Ida loved flowers. Her front yard was probably filled with a wide variety. The topic of flowers proved to be safe ground for conversation, as Jessica worked on her sandwich, trying diligently not to bite into her still swollen top lip. She couldn’t believe how much better she felt, not only from the food, but also from the massage and adjustment.

“Will you just listen to me,” Ida said merrily when they arrived back at Jessica’s front door. “Here I wanted to learn all about you, and instead, I yapped about myself the whole time. We’ll have to go out to lunch again real soon. When do you start school?”

“Monday, I believe.”

“Why, that’s only two days away! You arrived just in time.”

“We have teachers’ meetings for a week, and then school starts the next Tuesday, right after Labor Day.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Say, I’m planning to visit Hugh tomorrow morning at ten. Would you like to join me? He supposedly doesn’t know anyone is in the room, but I believe he’ll come
around soon. The more we parade our familiar faces and voices through his room, the more it will help him. That’s what I believe.”

“Sure. I’d love to go with you.”

The next morning at 10:15 Jessica sat in a straight-backed chair at Mr. McGregor’s bedside and shyly reached over to hold his hand and give it a little squeeze. His hairline had receded far past where she remembered it to be when she last saw him, six or seven years ago. And what little hair he did have was all gray. His round face looked ashen.

“Well, I made it here, Mr. McGregor. It’s Jessica Mor…,” She paused and was about to say, “Fenton,” but then she realized Mrs. Dane was right there, and she knew her as Jessica Morgan. “It’s me, Jessica,” she said quickly. “I arrived a few days ago. The house you found for me is perfect. I really like it.” Jessica looked over at Mrs. Dane, who gave her an approving nod and smile.

“I took her to see Dale.” Ida stepped into the one-sided conversation. “What Jessica isn’t telling you is that she had an accident on the way into town.”

Jessica cringed. The last thing she thought Mr. McGregor needed to hear about was her accident. The poor man had enough of his own troubles. “I’m really okay though,” Jessica told him. “It wasn’t bad. I did spend my first night in Glenbrooke here at the hospital. Isn’t that funny? We both were in the same building, only I was downstairs.”

It seemed for an instant that Mr. McGregor’s eyelids fluttered. Both women moved closer, hoping he would open his eyes and start to talk as if nothing had ever happened to him. That’s how it seemed it should be since he only looked as if he were taking a nap.

“So, when are you going to come home, Hugh?” Ida asked. “I sent Wendel over to mow your lawn yesterday. It was beginning
to look like a jungle over there. We didn’t want your yard to bring down the value of the rest of the neighborhood, you know. Thought we should keep up the place. I will have you know, however, that you can’t expect to be spoiled like that much longer. You need to come home now and keep up with your own chores.”

Jessica wasn’t sure that Ida’s prattling was helping any, but it did seem that Mr. McGregor’s eyes were moving under his eyelids, which was something they hadn’t been doing before. Ida had stopped talking, and the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitors, indicating electronically that life remained in Mr. McGregor, even though for the moment he was dormant.

“Well, we had better be going now,” Ida said after she had chattered for nearly forty minutes. “I’ll be back around to see you on Monday, if you’re still here, that is. Oh, say, you really should try to get out of here today, Hugh. You know how you’ve been promising to come to church with us one of these days—well, tomorrow is the first Sunday for our new pastor. He’s from California, but I think we’re going to like him anyway. Sure wish you were going to be joining us.”

Jessica gave Mr. McGregor’s hand a squeeze, Ida kissed him on the cheek, and the two women left. In the car on the way home, Ida extended the Sunday-go-to-meetin’ invitation to Jessica as well. According to Ida, her church was the best in town.

“Thanks, but I really need to settle in and try to regain my strength,” Jessica replied, hoping that being Mrs. Dane’s tenant didn’t automatically mean she would be expected to attend all of Mrs. Dane’s suggested meetings.

Church hadn’t been part of Jessica’s life since she was eight. She didn’t intend to start going now. Her mother had been the spiritual influence in the family, and when she had died in the
middle of Jessica’s second-grade year, Jessica and the rest of the family found it difficult to continue a friendly acquaintance with a God who would let a woman like Carol Morgan die. As Jessica saw it, as long as she lived a good, moral life, God wouldn’t bother her, and she saw little reason to be bothering him. After all, he had wars and starvation and global warming to worry about. He didn’t need to be bothered with her petty whims.

Ida seemed to assume Jessica had visited the grocery store since yesterday, because she said something about did Jessica enjoy cooking for herself now that she was settled and could she find everything okay in the kitchen. Jessica replied, “Yes, everything is just fine.” The truth was, Jessica was rationing her two bags of Ramen noodles. The night before she had found a Snickers bar in her purse and conservatively nibbled about a fourth of it before placing it in the refrigerator. It looked awfully sad and limp, all alone on that refrigerator shelf.

“I can understand your wanting to get yourself situated, Jessica. Once you’re settled, I do hope you’ll come to church with me.” Mrs. Dane’s tone was light and not pushy. She dropped Jessica off at her front door with another invitation for Jessica to call her if she needed anything.

The weather was so nice, and Jessica wasn’t feeling too tired from the trip to the hospital, so she meandered into her backyard after Ida left. An old chaise lounge with a dirty cushion awaited her on the deck. Jessica stretched out and closed her eyes, tilting her face to the August sun. Malibu it wasn’t, but it was still wonderfully soothing and relaxing.

As much as Jessica’s body relaxed, her mind began to tense up. She reviewed her situation for the four hundredth time.
I have twelve dollars to my name. I have half a bag of noodles and five bites of a candy bar. I won’t get paid for at least one week, maybe two. I don’t know anyone I can borrow money from, plus I’d
be too embarrassed to ever do that. Kyle said he would help me out, but then I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off here on Thursday
.

I have no car. No money to buy a car. Why didn’t I plan to bring more money with me? What was I thinking? Was I thinking? How am I going to pull all this off? At least my next rent payment isn’t due until October first. What about the phone? And the electricity? How am I going to do this? I’ve never been in debt in my life!

I can’t go back now. I have to make this work!

Jessica felt exhausted over all her troubles. She tried to sleep in the warm sun, but her brain wouldn’t stop long enough to let her. She tried to walk off some of her tension. The garden toward the back looked brown and ready to be torn out. The thought of yard work appealed to her, even though her leg was still sore. At least the physical labor would burn off her mental energy.

Jessica carefully knelt down and began to pull out the dead vines and stalks. She pulled back the leaves and found a big Italian squash that seemed edible despite the drought conditions in the garden. Another, smaller one next to it had rotted on the underside, but this granddaddy looked just fine.

Jessica felt as if she had found a rare treasure. Food! She carted the zucchini into the kitchen and washed it in the sink. It was at least a foot long, having hung on past its picking time.

She wasn’t sure how to prepare it. Cooking had never been a priority in her life. Maybe steamed would be good. After scanning the cupboards for some spices, she found a nearly empty container of cinnamon, a full box of baking soda, and a bottle of garlic salt. It didn’t take her long to steam the pan full of sliced zucchini and garnish it with the garlic salt. She deemed it a culinary success.

Proudly carrying her bowl of zesty, steaming nutrition into her dining room, Jessica sat at the table, eager for her feast. She
almost felt as if she should pray, but she didn’t know what to say. The first bite entered her salivating mouth and melted against her healing tongue. It was good. Very good. She savored each bite.

Maybe I’m going to be okay after all. If I just take each day at a time, I can do this. I don’t need anyone to help me out. I’ll be fine by myself
.

Jessica pushed herself away from the table, stretched out across the couch in the living room, and tried to reinforce all the positive messages she had just given herself. Without warning, a single salty tear dipped over the edge of her eyelid and coursed its way down her cheek. No one was there to see it. No one to guess how terrified she really was.

A
ll right, teachers, if you’ll find your seats, we need to start this meeting.” A brusque brunette wearing a red blazer and black straight skirt pounded her hand on the podium at the front of the large meeting room.

Jessica found a seat near the back. She still felt uncomfortably conscious of the stitches in her upper lip. Actually, the morning had been fairly successful so far. She had managed to shower, dress, do an adequate job on her hair and makeup, and then walk the four blocks to the high school without feeling exhausted.

The best part was the table that had greeted her at the door with fresh coffee, a basket brimming with muffins, and a tray of fresh fruit slices. Some primal urge within her whispered that she should grab five muffins and several apples and stuff them into her purse. The day before, all she had eaten was the rest of her Snickers bar and a small bowl of steamed zucchini.

However, Jessica had managed to control herself and had
taken only one blueberry muffin and several orange wedges. She had spoken to no one while busying herself at the table stirring a packet of sugar and one of powdered creamer into her Styrofoam cup of coffee.

Now, sitting by herself on the cold metal folding chair, she sipped her coffee and glanced around the room, observing her fellow teachers. Many of them were obviously old comrades; they huddled together in several groups, making small talk as if they were at a dinner party. When they found their seats, they all sat together. Jessica felt as if it were the first day of school and she was the new kid.

“Good morning, staff,” the brunette said with a smile. “I’m so glad to meet all of you. My name is Ms. Charlotte Mendelson, and I am the new principal here at Glenbrooke. As most of you know, Mr. McGregor has been hospitalized, and I have been called on to fill his position. I come to you with three years’ experience as principal of Logan High School in Salem.”

Ms. Mendelson continued to list her accomplishments and promised that the coming school year would be the best Glenbrooke had ever seen. Jessica guessed her to be in her early thirties, with a hint of a New England accent. She spoke with cool articulation and frequent hand gestures that displayed her long red fingernails. She seemed out of place in this small town.

“Any questions then?” Ms. Mendelson concluded after more than an hour of speaking authoritatively from her stack of notes. “Fine. You will find your classroom assignments listed by the back door. I know it’s going to be a wonderful year for all of us.”

Suddenly Jessica felt the cold fingers of panic creeping up her neck. How would her name be listed? If Mr. McGregor
gave her real name to Mrs. Dane, did he list her at the school as Jessica Morgan, too?

“Oh, one more thing,” Ms. Mendelson called out above the escalating noise of chairs shifting and conversations starting up. “I need to see the new English teacher.” She scanned her slip of paper, “Jessica…”