Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Renthrow
I’m an idiot.
The fact that I was wiping Cordelia Davenport’s slender hand as if she’s a baby will live rent-free in my mind for the rest of eternity.
It’ll have a special place in the “Hall of Shame” section of my memories, one I revisit when I’m about to sleep and suddenly remember something stupid I said or did decades ago.
Why did I do that?
I blow out a deep breath as I stride to the front door with a hand sanitizer locked in my grip.
Why?
Not having the answer to that question drives me absolutely bonkers.
Since when did I get so comfortable and familiar with the woman? I distinctly remember finding Cordelia troublesome and annoying.
And now…
The guttural sound of an engine fills the air.
“What the…”
Just then, my phone pings.
I open the front door instead of checking the device and watch Cordelia zoom down the street on her bike. My gaze sweeps to where she was working on my car. Her toolbox is gone, and all the wires and tape pieces are neatly cleared away.
Two tall glasses of lemonade melt on the driveway next to my truck. They look sad and abandoned in the afternoon sunshine.
I’m not just an idiot. I’m a raging idiot.
Of course, she ran. I’d run away from me too, if someone creepily started wiping my fingers without permission.
Gritting my teeth, I check my phone.
There’s a new message.
Cordelia: Sorry. Something came up. Your car should be good to go. Rain check on the lemonade?
The pressure in my chest loosens, and I let out a relieved exhale.
Rain check.
Rain check is good. It’s an invitation for more. At least it’s not a “never come near me again, you bumbling buffoon.”
She could be bluffing, trying to spare my feelings, but I don’t think she’s the type to lie for the sake of politeness.
Feeling like I can breathe again, I decide I’d rather wait for Gordie outside of her elementary school than wait around at home. The house feels empty now that Cordelia’s gone, Mom’s at her friend’s and Gordie’s at her after-school club.
After driving to the elementary school, I watch some hockey videos in the car while I wait.
Mrs. Nelson, the teaching assistant, notices me as she’s leaving.
She waves. “Hey, Mr. Renthrow.”
“Mrs. Nelson, how are you?” We exchange pleasantries.
“Oh, did you get the message?”
“What message?”
“Miss Potts said she wanted to see you.”
My shoulders stiffen on impact. “Is it about Gordie?”
“No, no.” Mrs. Nelson makes a calm-down gesture. “Gordie’s been great. The guidance counselor gave us lots of information about Gordie’s condition. Miss Potts took a special interest.”
Mrs. Nelson finishes her statement with a knowing smile. It’s not my first time hearing the people around Miss Potts leave hints at her intentions toward me.
I artfully steer the conversation away from that direction. “Thanks for letting me know. Is Miss Potts free now?”
“Yes, she’s free. She’s very free.” Mrs. Nelson winks. “You better hurry up before that changes.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile and climb out of my car.
Inside, the elementary school is decorated with bright walls, colorful lockers, and doors all along the hallway that lead to spacious classrooms.
The school day has been over for a while, so there aren’t many children running around in the corridor. Almost everyone is tucked into a classroom or the gym, practicing their extracurriculars.
I make the familiar trek to Gordie’s classroom, battling flashbacks from the last time I set out on this journey. The fear that wrecked my chest and flew through my veins still lingers now, a dormant monster, ready to awaken.
“Viking,” Miss Potts chirps when I slide open the door and step into the cheerful, decorated classroom.
I cringe at the sound of my name on her lips, but then I remember Cordelia teasing me about “pillaging villages,” and I break out into a smile.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile at me like that. What’s going on?” Miss Potts asks, walking over to me.
I clear my expression in case she gets the wrong idea and thinks I’m smiling because of her. “Mrs. Nelson said you wanted to see me.”
“Oh right.” She spins around, and her long, floral dress shifts with her. “I know a lot’s been going on with Gordie losing her nanny and her…mental issues that came from that.”
I frown at the phrase “mental issues,” but I don’t correct her because I don’t think she means it maliciously.
“However, she’s the only one who hasn’t done her career booklet yet.”
I mentally face-palm. “It’s my fault. She’s been asking me about it for weeks, but I’ve been so distracted…”
“It’s okay, Viking.” Miss Potts sets her hand on top of mine. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot. I’m not saying that Gordie’s in trouble.”
I pull my hand away from hers and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll be sure to get that booklet to you.”
“Don’t rush.” Miss Potts doesn’t seem offended by me pulling my hand away. “I just wanted to see if this was something Gordie could handle or if I should lighten her load a bit.”
“There’s no need to ‘lighten her load.’ My daughter is capable of handling her schoolwork.”
“Okay. Understood. When do you think Gordie can hand it in? I haven’t started grading yet.”
“I’ll work on it ASAP.”
“Great.” She grins tightly.
“Great. If that’s all…” I turn to the door.
“Viking.”
I stop and glance over my shoulder at her.
The smile is a little more dim, and she’s fidgeting with one of the strings dangling over the collar of her dress.
I wait for a beat and then ask, “Is there something else?”
She opens her mouth and closes it. Taking a deep breath, she says, “I know this isn’t my place, but I wanted to caution you about bringing outsiders into Gordie’s life during this difficult time.”
“Outsiders?”
“I mean…Gordie’s very impressionable right now, given all she’s going through. And we don’t want to introduce her to people we don’t know—newcomers to town and such who haven’t been vetted.”
She’s talking about Cordelia.
A scowl fights to break through, but this is my daughter’s teacher. Miss Potts has always treated Gordie well, and my daughter has thrived academically in her class.
I choose my words carefully. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Potts. I have always and will always protect my daughter, and so far, all the people I’ve brought around Gordie have proven they hold her best interests at heart.”
Her eyes flicker up as if she read me loud and clear. “Of course. I was just showing my concern, but I know you have everything under control.”
I wouldn’t say I have everything under control, not by a long shot, but I do have some important facts.
Fact one: my daughter is hurting.
Fact two: she doesn’t let me in when she’s going through that pain.
Fact three: Cordelia is the only one whom Gordie trusts to meet her there.
Whether or not Miss Potts approves of Cordelia Davenport is not my concern.
“Gordie must be finished with chess by now. Have a good evening, Miss Potts.”
Her lips roll up in a limp smile. “You too, Viking.”
I leave the classroom.