Chapter 4
Ipull at the neck of my button-down shirt as we walk up to the school”s steps. I can’t believe I’m at Tessa’s school twice in one goddamned week. Every fiber of my being wants to turn around and take Tessa home, but it’s obvious how excited she is to come to this. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Tessa’s teacher again.
Before we walk through the doors to the school, she puts her hand on my arm and stops me.
“What is it, Tessa?”
Her eyes glisten as she looks up at me. “Thanks, Dad. I know you don’t want to be here and think I shouldn’t, but it means a lot that you agreed to this.”
“Well…I…”
“You don’t have to say anything, Dad.” Tessa smiles and puts her arm through mine.
I open and close my mouth a few times to say something, but this is one of those moments you never understand until you have a kid. No matter how rough it feels to have a teenage daughter who wants to do everything you say she shouldn’t, there are moments when I see her heart, and it shakes me to my core. She’s a good kid, even if she does have crazy ideas about being a writer.
As we enter the auditorium, she greets a friend with a high-pitched squeal, and I nod as she looks to me for permission to go with her friend to visit all the information booths.
I glance around the auditorium, trying to convince myself I’m not looking for Miss Andrews. She’s been stuck in my mind since we met. It’s not often a woman has stood up to me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. She may be filling Tessa’s head with unrealistic expectations, but it’s obvious she’s smart.
“You look a bit lost over here.” My body stiffens as I feel a hand on my arm, and I turn to see Tessa’s English teacher.
“Miss Andrews,” I say, my heart suddenly pounding.
“Please,” she smiles, “call me Marsha.”
Fuck. She’s every bit as gorgeous and alluring as I remember. I suck in my stomach, regretting all those beers at the Roadhouse Bar with the guys after work and on the weekends. I resist the urge to tug at my shirt to hide my belly. Marsha is the first woman in a long time I’ve felt a burning need to impress.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” I say, surprising myself at the formality. “This is quite the event. When you said Writing Open House…this isn’t what I expected.”
Marsha”s pink lips curve into a smile, and she chuckles. “Did you think it would be hippies reciting incomprehensible poetry?”
I look at her, shocked. It’s like she understands my fears for Tessa if she pursues writing.
“Are you making fun of me?” I ask, pretty sure she’s joking, but I’m so out of my element here that I’m second-guessing everything.
“Only a little.” She chuckles. “Let me show you around. I was hoping you would come with Tessa because I also wanted you to see the opportunities.”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
By the timeMarsha finishes showing me around, my head is pounding. She knows all the professional writers talking to the students and is obviously well-regarded. It’s also become apparent that she’s downplayed her experience and achievements.
“Is it true that you’ve written books?” I ask, grateful for a moment of quiet to process everything.
“Indeed it is,” she smiles, her eyes filling with pride. “It’s mostly under pen names. I love writing, and I’ve written many different types of things. The pen names are for a bit of privacy.”
“What’s this technical writing that woman was talking about?” Of all the writers we met, this type of writing seemed the most practical.
“Well, it’s exciting. I’ve done some of that, too.”
“How is it you’ve done all these things? You’re young.”
Marsha smiles and glances away, waving at a student. “I’m passionate about writing and had a lot of support.” When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a challenge in them. “I was encouraged to explore writing, and my parents helped me discover the possibilities. The agreement was that I could study creative writing if I double majored in technical writing. My parents were like you,” she pauses, making sure I’m paying attention. “They knew how much I loved writing, so they made sure I learned what they called practical writing.”
“I have to admit,” I say, rubbing my hand roughly over my face and through my beard, “this isn’t what I expected. I’ve heard of some of these types of writing, but I didn’t realize there were options like,” I gesture at all the booths, “this.”
“It’s true. You’ll also be happy to hear that technical writing, for instance, pays quite well. She can make a six-figure income with a little experience and the right niche. She can do the same thing if she’s serious about writing fiction.” She pauses, clearly knowing she’s dropped an enticing little information nugget at my feet.
I stare at Marsha, my mind working on wrapping itself around this information. “The fuck?” I can’t help muttering. Tessa would be making more than I ever have.
Marsha laughs, and when she raises her hand in a wave, I see she’s motioning to Tessa. Tessa looks amped up and more excited than I’ve seen her in a long time. Maybe I do need to loosen up and let her pursue this.
Before she makes it to where Marsha and I are standing, a boy stops her. The blood drains from my face when I see her light up in an entirely different way. Tessa plays with her hair, and it’s obvious she’s flirting with the boy.
Without realizing it, a growl escapes my mouth, but when I move to take a step to break up Tessa and this boy, Marsha puts her hand firmly on my arm and stops me.
“Leave her be.”
“We have an agreement. No dating until she’s eighteen. She knows the rules,” I say, my voice tight. “She’s always been a good kid. I don’t know why she’s become so headstrong lately.”
Marsha shakes her head but smiles warmly. “She’s a teenager, Roman. That’s what teens do. You can’t lock her away in a box. I’m not trying to tell you how to parent, but kids need encouragement. Constantly holding them back or saying no to them? Believe me, I’ve been teaching long enough to know that it rarely works out well. She’ll just rebel even more once she gets to college.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Yeah, that’s what one of the guys at work said, that I should give her space and be there to catch her if or when things don’t go well.”
“You should listen to your friend because that’s exactly what she needs. Not everything she wants to do is going to make you happy, but your job is to support her. If she never has a chance to explore her passions and make mistakes, she runs the risk of becoming resentful, which could put a wedge between you two. I see how you are with her, and I’ve heard how she talks about you – I don’t think either of you wants something to jeopardize your relationship.”
When Marsha finishes, I turn to face her. She says all this in a matter-of-fact way, but she’s not mocking me.
“Do you have kids?”
She laughs. “I have about one hundred of them every day. But no, I don’t have kids of my own yet. All of my wisdom comes from watching my students and helping them. I’ve only been teaching for a few years, but I volunteered at different schools for after-school programs before that. I’ve seen a lot of students Tessa’s age.”
I look at Marsha, impressed. Every time we talk, I’m unexpectedly drawn to her and left with a feeling of wanting…no, needing, to spend more time with her. It’s obvious she cares about Tessa and her other students and is deeply invested in their success. As much as it scares me to consider encouraging Tessa to pursue writing, maybe it’s time I listened to Mack and Tessa.
“Dad! Dad!” Tessa bounds over to me.
“What is it, pumpkin?”
“Can I go to the dance on Friday? Please?” She draws out the word please into more syllables than I can count.
“Tessa…” I start, but Marsha catches my eye and gives me a firm stare. “You know, I’ll allow it.”
“Really?” Tessa’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“I am. But,” I add before she runs away. “I need to know who you’ll be with. I saw you with that boy over there.”
“That’s Jason. He’s in my algebra class.”
“I know him. He’s a good kid,” Marsha says.
I’m both reassured and frustrated that she’s interjecting like this and clearly taking Tessa’s side. “Okay. Now, you need to be home by eleven. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Dad. I promise I won’t be late. Thank you so much!”
I push down the emotion I feel from Tessa jumping in my arms and giving me a bear hug. I love this girl so much that my heart hurts. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for her and for her to have a better start in life than I did, but maybe it’s time to let her spread her wings a little.
“I’m proud of you.”
Marsha’s voice breaks me from my thoughts of wondering what the hell I just agreed to with Tessa. Maybe Tessa does need more freedom, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to give it to her.
“Thanks.” I look at Marsha, and it dawns on me that if I’m letting Tessa break the rules, then I sure as damn well can do the same.
Marsha is magnetic and reminds me how much I miss the company of an intelligent, sexy woman. Not to mention I want to see her with her hair down and away from a bunch of unruly teenagers.
“Marsha, would you like to have dinner with me on Friday?”