Chapter 23 #2
At that, she’d sighed and tucked the phone away, then turned her attention to her manifesto, but the words had swum before her eyes.
Now, less than twenty-four hours later, she flung herself down on the chesterfield with Gallant’s letters.
She needed a distraction. A letter. If not a new one, then an old one.
Anything that might slam the door on the memories running laps in her mind, in which familiar
fingers tangled in her hair, baring her neck to gleaming white teeth. In which lush dark lashes swept low against sculpted
cheeks, and Nick made that hungry sound while her hands mapped one hard, heated muscle after another.
A ripple tore through her, and she reeled it in by focusing on the page. Her eyes scanned the same paragraph seven times,
yet failed to relay a single word to her brain.
Okay, this wasn’t working. She lowered the paper, but her gaze strayed to the wall beside the window. A mere glance at that
innocuous stretch of plaster rammed a brand-new lightning bolt down her throat.
She jumped up, scattering the letters across the cushions. In the kitchen, she brewed tea and confined herself to the breakfast
table. Human contact. That should do it. She pulled out her phone. She hadn’t seen Megan since their coffee date two weeks
ago, except in passing, and had been meaning to get in touch. Now was as good a time as any. Especially because she could
not, under any circumstances, work with Nick out at the farm again. Her budding relationship with Gallant wouldn’t survive.
Not to mention her sanity.
Hey, she tapped out. How have you been? Still glowing, I hope. I just wanted to say I’d love to get coffee again soon, and I think I need to switch
volunteer groups. Working with Nick is . . . well, not working.
She hit Send. Bubbles popped up, followed by Megan’s reply.
Why, what happened? Are you okay?
Aubrey dragged a hand down her face. What had happened? Why, nothing. She’d only done her level best to seduce the ex-boyfriend she refused to sacrifice her career for, because apparently she was still violently attracted to him, even though she was dating someone else.
Nothing to see here at all.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, stiff with indecision, when the phone pinged again. The banner at the top gave her pause.
Paige Thacker.
She frowned. Why was Nick’s daughter texting her? She exited Megan’s message and clicked on Paige’s.
Hey, Aubrey, sorry for the last-minute notice, but could you possibly come speak to my math club tomorrow? It’d be at the
end of the day, so around three.
Aubrey stared at the words. Something about the tone struck her as off. No emojis or exclamation points. Then again, maybe
Paige texted differently than she talked. The girl hadn’t sent any messages before, so Aubrey had no way to gauge.
She rubbed at her eyes. She was being paranoid, probably. And she owed Paige some kind of explanation as to why they wouldn’t
be building floats together anymore. Might as well roll that into the math club presentation. Besides, this would prevent
her from staring at that stupid, blank, smug-as-hell wall again. Which she desperately needed right now.
She crafted three separate messages before settling on something suitably neutral.
All right. I’ll be there. Looking forward to it.
On Friday afternoon, Aubrey chose a black plaid tweed skirt suit and the same skyscraper heels that had resulted in her sprained ankle, only this time, she had the foresight to stash the shoes in her purse and only swap them out once she’d made the two-and-a-half-mile walk to the high school in her ballet flats.
Mrs. Runge, a white-haired, bespectacled toothpick of a woman, welcomed her into the math room with a warm smile and a handshake
more vigorous than anyone had a right to expect from a septuagenarian.
“Thanks so much for coming. It’s wonderful to have you. Women in mathematics don’t exactly get a lot of airtime, so when Paige
suggested this, I jumped at the chance to have you speak.”
Aubrey channeled her gratitude into a smile. “Thanks. This means a lot to me, because this is where my love for math was born.
It’s an honor to share that with the next generation.”
Mrs. Runge beamed.
As Aubrey took a place at the head of the class, a sea of bright faces followed her. Paige sat up front, but Aubrey directed
her attention to the room at large, launching into an impassioned description of her work. She talked about math’s utility,
not only as a tool to challenge oneself, but as a means to better the world. The possibilities were endless, limited only
by the imaginations of those applying numbers to real-world concepts.
Twenty pairs of eyes followed her, each one vivid with the clarity of youth, and a twinge gripped her heart. This room held
so much hope. So many dreams. She prayed none of these kids would tie their lives in knots the way she had.
When she finished, a boy with buck teeth raised his hand. “Can I ask how you made the decision not to teach? Isn’t that what
most math PhDs end up doing?”
“It is,” Aubrey said. “And I’d encourage anyone who feels drawn to teaching to pursue it, because teachers are the lifeblood that sustains the future of mathematics.
But I needed something hands-on. Non-academia is definitely a less-traveled path, and a tough one to navigate, because it’s hard to find the employers that need you.
Those jobs don’t typically get posted online, and it takes a lot of networking to find them.
But for me, it was worth the effort. Knowing I was making a difference fulfilled me in ways nothing else could have.
Working at Osos was the most meaningful thing I’ve ever done. ”
Her voice warbled at the end, and she clamped her lips shut, clearing the air for another question. The last thing she needed
was to lose her cool in front of twenty strangers. Well, nineteen strangers and the daughter of the first, and possibly only,
man she’d ever loved.
A girl with tightly woven braids raised her hand. “What’s it like, being a woman in math? Have you had more challenges to
contend with than a man would have?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said frankly. “And it isn’t fair, getting held to a higher standard than your male counterparts. Having to prove
your chops over and over while your colleagues get accepted at face value. But you deal with it. You keep doing the work,
and at the end of the day, no one can argue with results. At least, that’s how I always looked at it.”
The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied.
When the kids’ curiosity had run its course, they applauded. As the students filed out, Paige gathered her things. “Can I
meet you in the parking lot?”
“Of course,” Aubrey said.
Paige slipped out the door, but Aubrey hung back, letting Mrs. Runge pump her hand with even more bone-crushing force the
second time. “That was wonderful,” the woman said.
Aubrey blushed. “Thanks. It was my pleasure.”
They chatted, and when Mrs. Runge finally released her, Aubrey made her way outside, where she breathed into her chilled hands and surveyed the parking lot. The place had changed so much in seventeen years. In her day, the lot had been dirt.
“Hey. Thanks for meeting me.”
Aubrey turned, then stilled, her stomach sinking. Bluish shadows collected beneath Paige’s eyes, stark in the jaunty sunshine.
A white knit hat with a perky pompom capped off her strawberry-blond pigtail braids, but even the cheeriness of the hat and
hairstyle couldn’t obscure the tension clouding Paige’s expression.
“Hey. Are you okay? You’re not still sick, are you?”
Paige let out a mournful chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well. Yeah. It’s kind of like someone turned your eleven down to a five.”
“Sorry. I’m just . . . yeah, not feeling great. My stomach’s been weird all week.”
Aubrey’s lips pressed together. Just like with the text, Paige’s tone was off, her voice brittle. Aubrey probed her mind for
reasons a sixteen-year-old girl might suffer from nausea for nearly a week, then came to rest on one that made her heart shrink.
She scanned Paige again, but the girl wasn’t glowing the way Megan was. Far from it.
She was probably way off base, then. At least, she hoped she was way off base.
“Do you . . . need to talk?” she ventured.
Paige chewed at the inside of her cheek. “Actually, yeah. I have a question for you. It’s going to sound totally insane, but
I have my reasons, I promise.”
Icy dread slid down Aubrey’s spine. She suddenly wanted very much not to hear whatever came next. What if this was about Nick?
Their shared past? “This isn’t . . . something you should be asking your dad instead, is it?”
Paige glanced down, guilt stamped across her features. “No. I mean, I know you and he were . . . well, you guys knew each other pretty well in high school, it turns out.”
All the blood drained from Aubrey’s face.
“But,” Paige hastened to add, “I get that that’s not a conversation you and I should be having. What I want to ask has to
do with something else. It’s just not going to make any sense to you.”
Aubrey braced. Maybe if she played dead, the earth would take pity and open a crevasse directly beneath her. “I—”
“Please, just tell me if you can do this.” Paige stuck her tongue out and rolled it into a tube.
Aubrey stared. Stared some more. “What?”
“I know.” Paige fidgeted. “I told you it wouldn’t make sense. I just . . . Please. Can you do it?”
Aubrey shook her head, which did nothing to clear her confusion. “I, uh, don’t think so?”
“You don’t think, or you know? Will you try?” Paige rolled her tongue again, then waved a you-go-next hand, her eyebrows tented upward, her eyes as wide as a hunted deer’s.
Aubrey stuck her tongue out. She curled. Twisted. Try as she might, she couldn’t replicate what she’d been shown. “No. I can’t.”
Paige plastered her hands over her face. “Oh my god,” she muttered, over and over.
Aubrey cast around for help, but the parking lot yawned wide and empty, most of the students having left for the day. After
a moment, she said, “I have no idea what’s going on, but do you need me to call someone? One of your parents, maybe?”
Paige dropped her hands. Her eyes brimmed with . . . relief? “No, no. Nothing like that. God, sorry. I know I must seem like such a mess right now.”
“Hey, we’ve all been there. I just don’t know how to help you.”
“You already did, actually. I just . . . need a minute.”
They stood in silence, until Paige’s ragged breathing smoothed out. She swiped at her too-bright eyes. “I’m okay, I swear. Anyway, thanks for coming to math club.”
“You’re . . . welcome?”
Paige bobbed her head. Miraculously, she seemed to have shed a hundred-pound weight in the past minute, even if a fifty-pounder
still remained. “And thanks for trying the tongue thing. I know this is all coming out of left field, but I’ll explain at
some point.”
“You don’t have to. Whatever’s going on, it’s none of my business.”
“Yeah,” Paige said softly. “I thought for a minute it might be, but you’re right. That doesn’t mean I won’t still tell you,
though. I’m kind of an open-book sorta person, if you hadn’t noticed. Anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow? At the floats?”
Aubrey gulped down the sourness bubbling in her throat. “Yeah, about that . . . You should know I talked to Megan about switching
jobs. But not because of you. I’ve enjoyed every minute of working together.”
“Oh.” Paige nodded. “Right. You wanna avoid my dad.”
Aubrey hesitated. But lying felt disingenuous, and Paige had gotten a step ahead of her, somehow. “I think that’d be best
for everyone.”
“Look, I get it. But you don’t have to worry. He’s not coming tomorrow. He went out to the farm last night to finish up the
welding, and he’s bundling on the chicken wire tonight. All we have to do tomorrow is attach the corn. And I’d really like
to finish up with you. If you’re okay with that.”
Something violent took place inside Aubrey’s chest. Nick was avoiding her, too, then, and now her heart was . . . what? Soaring?
Crashing?
She couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made the same decision, first. “Wouldn’t working together make you uncomfortable, though? It must be weird knowing your dad and I were . . . close, once.”
Paige tugged at her braids, a shy smile curving her mouth. Bizarrely, this subject seemed to unsettle her less than the tongue-trick
thing. “It’s really not. It’s kind of a relief, actually. Knowing he’s capable. Because I just want him to be happy. Really.
I figure it’s best if you know that now. Up front.”
Aubrey paused, utterly unsure of what to do with that statement. “Uh, I want him to be happy, too.”
“Oh, good,” Paige said, earnest. Some of her usual brightness had crept back in. “At least someone’s on the same page with me.”
When Aubrey didn’t respond, Paige said, “Get it? Same page? Same Paige? With me?”
Aubrey shook her head, her mind full of blank white fuzz.
“Okay, well, puns aren’t for everyone, I guess. That’s fine. Just don’t expect me to stop trying. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Okay,” Aubrey said, mystified. “Sure.”
“Great.” Paige walked off.
Aubrey stood in the parking lot for a long time, replaying the conversation in search of some explanation. But her head drifted
somewhere high above—distant, helium-filled, incapable of rational thought.
What in the holy hell had just happened?