Chapter Twenty-Four Grant
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grant
Half the chairs were empty, but that was to be expected for a beautiful Saturday. Mike, who always sat in the front row, raised his hand.
“Mr. Baker?”
He tapped his pencil along the edge of his notebook. “How much do you need to make in order to have one of those accounts . . . the uh, IRS?”
I smiled. “IRA. There’s no minimum income, but we want to make sure you’ve accomplished the first steps on our list. We’ve already given you a budget, and you’re well on your way to having six months of expenses in a savings account, correct?”
He nodded, his thinning reddish-blond hair flopping over his forehead. “Haven’t had one of those since my wife died.” His eyes were sad. “She was always good at that stuff. I let everything slide once she was gone.”
Mike’s wife, Patricia, had died sixteen years ago. I knew a lot about her by this point, given he brought her up at least once a week. He missed his best friend terribly, and when one of the younger girls in class had brought banana bread, he cried because that had been her favorite.
I pushed off my desk and set my hand on his shoulder.
“You’re getting it back under control now, and that’s what matters.
Once we get the savings account into a healthy place, that’s when we want to start thinking about diversifying.
Shelter your money in a way that works for you until you’re ready to retire. ”
Katya, a single mother with bright-blue eyes and freckles over the bridge of her nose, stood at the back of the classroom, rocking her baby, Daisy, in her arms. “My new job is giving me a 401(k). That’s the same thing, isn’t it? I’ve never had one before.”
“Similar, yes. The main difference is in how the money is taxed. We don’t usually cover that until later, but I can show you this now.
” I moved around to the back of my desk and tapped a few buttons on my laptop to change the slide showing on the projection screen.
“You’ll want to maximize your employer’s match—which means they’ll give you a certain amount based on how much you put in—but we can meet after class if you’d like to show me the particulars, Katya. ”
She nodded, her shoulders dropping in relief. “I brought my first pay stub.”
“Excellent.”
Amara stood from her seat and reached out to take the baby, immediately rocking back and forth to keep the little girl asleep.
Katya tucked the blanket around her daughter’s arm.
It was a pale pink with little white ribbons, a gift from the class when we’d thrown a shower for her after the baby was born.
“You start that new job already, honey?” Amara asked, eyes on little Daisy. Her kids were all grown, and while she and her husband were waiting for grandchildren, she’d stepped in happily to help the young mother, who didn’t have any family around.
Katya nodded. “Mr. Hastings helped me with what to say. I negotiated for an extra five dollars an hour.”
Amara smiled, wide and happy. “That’s my girl.”
This group was the best kind of distraction. Or it was, until the door to the classroom opened to reveal my wife, her arms crossed and fire in her eyes.
My heart lurched to a halt, stuttering back to life when her gaze widened fractionally at the sight of my denims and the black Henley I’d changed into before teaching.
It only narrowed when she reached the glasses perched on my face.
The flare of hope behind my sternum was ungodly bright. Harsh in its intensity.
The whole class went quiet, because of course they knew who she was.
Mike perked up in his seat. “It’s Mrs. Hastings. How you doing, honey?”
Mercy blinked. “Oh. I’m, uh, I’m just fine. Thank you . . .”
“I know you don’t remember me.” Mike waved a hand dismissively, like this was nothing of concern. “But I’m your favorite of your husband’s students.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “That a fact?”
She might be angry I’d told them, but Mercy was a fixture at the community center, their concern after her accident was intense, and I needed them to know why she might not be around.
Amara snorted. “You are dreamin’. Clearly, I’m her favorite.” She winked at Mercy. “It’ll come back to you, sweetheart.”
Though her chest and neck flushed the slightest shade of pink, Mercy recovered almost immediately. “See, that’s the secret of a teacher. Make every student think they’re the favorite, and they all stay in line.”
The class laughed. Her face softened into a mischievous smile, and I almost dropped to my bloody knees. She looked so much like her old self that I had to brace my hands on my desk to keep me upright.
I love you, I thought. I love you. Come back to me.
One would have thought such overwrought sentiments were impossible for any member of the Hastings family, but the words threatened to burst forth regardless. I wondered how much she could see in my face.
For weeks, it had taken all my energy to keep them hidden. But the veil was too thin now, ripped to shreds from the increased intimacy.
I cleared my throat, snapping my resolve safely back in place. “Class, let’s end there today. If you need to meet with me individually, send me an email and I’ll find a time that works with your schedule.”
Mercy waited at the back of the class while the group picked up the workbooks from their desks, watching their polite, friendly chatter with a thoughtful crease in her brow.
Me? I wanted to fall into a hole, preferably one that was a solid ten feet deep, because the fact that she’d found me here without a single explanation made me feel like I needed to beg her forgiveness. Like I needed to explain this monumental change in a way that wasn’t too much.
But it was. It would be. It was why I hadn’t told her in the first place.
Mike was the last one to leave, and he gave me an obnoxious waggle of his brow. Mercy saw, dropping her gaze to the floor with her lips rolled together. I sighed, pressing my hand to the bridge of my nose.
With a quiet click of the classroom door, we were alone.
“Did you quit your other job?” she asked. “The money-management thing?”
“No. I, uh, do a bit less these days. I can afford to be picky. I have fewer than twenty clients. I had a job offer from a rather large firm in Detroit after your brother . . .” My eyes searched her face. “But that wasn’t the direction I wanted to go.”
She processed this for a few moments. “You teach now,” she said quietly. “You teach here. At my community center.”
I raised my chin and met her confused stare. “I do.”
“And you’re wearing jeans.”
I exhaled a soft laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yes. I came in a three-piece suit the first day, and my students gave me an extraordinary amount of shit. I’ve found I’m more approachable this way.”
She absorbed this with a shocked nod. “What do you teach?”
“The basics of money management. Once they finish that class, I created a second and third course, if they’re interested in learning about investments.
I have five students who’ve made it through all three.
” I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose.
“They’ve all started saving for retirement for the first time in their life.
Investing. No one in their families has ever done that. ”
For God’s sake, I sounded nervous.
Mercy’s eyes were round, her mouth hanging open. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back against my desk. On the corner sat two framed pictures of her. One that she’d sent me on a random weekday. Another that I’d snapped during one of her school assemblies while she watched her students perform a Christmas skit.
It was my favorite picture of her.
“I always admired you,” I said quietly. “Long before this ever happened.” I tapped my ring finger, our eyes meeting briefly.
Mercy was watching me with a wary expression.
“You’re quite inspiring, you know. Watching the way you interact with your students.
How you fight for them. There’s a large portion of the world who feels like if they can’t fix every problem, then it’s not worth the battle.
But the way you talk to them, teach them, respect them, meet them where they’re at .
. . you change their world, Mercy. It’s why they love you so much, and they’ll remember that love for the rest of their life.
When you consider the impact that they’ll have someday, it’s quite remarkable. ”
Her eyes reddened, her gaze dropping from mine like she couldn’t bear the eye contact any longer.
Look at me.
Look at me.
I love you.
I closed my eyes. “You don’t remember it, but you changed my world as well.
I found myself making decisions about where I could make a change for the better instead of making the most money, as I’d been raised.
Asking myself what you might do if you were in my position.
” I opened my eyes, and she was watching me.
Wary. Unsure. But the curiosity was there.
“I found myself wanting to be more like my brilliant wife. Help where I can. Do the most good, even if it feels small.”
Her throat worked on a swallow, and this time, she didn’t look away. My chest constricted with a sudden, sharp awareness that this was the most honest we’d been, the most unguarded. No alcohol. No anger.
Just the truth.
I lowered my voice. “Why did you come?”
She took a few steps into the classroom, her fingers trailing over the beat-up metal desks.
“The house was so quiet. It’s hard to be alone with your thoughts when you’re missing this big piece of the puzzle.
” Her shirt was the color of mossy pine trees, and it made her eyes shockingly bright.
“I went for a drive, and I’m not even sure why. Or what I was looking for.”
I smiled. Just a little.
“What?”
“I thought you might,” I admitted, fondness creeping into my tone despite my best efforts.
“Because you know me so well.”
It wasn’t phrased like a question. A statement of fact.
In answer, I lifted my chin and held her unwavering stare long enough that my pulse kicked hard in my ears.
“Talk to me,” I said, voice soft and low. Soothing. Coaxing.
“Is this what you want?”
My head reared back. “What?”
“This.” She spread her arms out. “The hotel and the packed bag and the quiet house. Is that what you want?”
A terrifying chill spread through my veins, the furious punch of brutal honesty trying to burst into the space between us. I gave her a warning look, standing up from my desk and stepping closer. “It’s the decision I made. Isn’t that enough of an answer?”
“No.”
“You bloody stubborn woman.” I clenched my jaw. “I swear, you were put on this earth to torment me.”
Her eyes flashed. “Maybe I was. That’s your cross to bear, Hastings, because you fucking married me. You married me. How is you leaving going to fix what’s happening right now?”
“I’m trying to make things easier. Can’t you understand that?”
“What do you want, Grant?” The color was high in her cheeks, a few stray curls falling down the side of her neck.
“What do you want? I kept thinking about that when I was driving around. I wasn’t thinking about my past or what I remember or whether I could find an answer there.
But I can’t because there’s no answer for this. ”
Her breath was coming in sharp pants, her body reacting like this was a sprint, a race where the finish line was just out of reach. Mine was doing the same, the insistent thundering of my heart threatening to crack all the bones that were keeping it caged.
“No, I don’t want this,” I said, voice low and charged.
“I want to shake every memory loose. I want to rewind time and take a different route home, so that that fucking deer isn’t anywhere near us.
Tell you to sit in your fucking seat with your seat belt on because the phone ringing in your purse in the back seat could wait.
” I sounded like a madman, voice ragged, sanity frayed at the edges, and she knew it.
“I don’t ever want space from you, or time apart from you, Mercy, because you are my favorite person in the entire world, and I don’t know how to be around you now that you know. ”
Her eyes glossed over, tears threatening to spill. “Oh, Grant . . .”
The sound of my name on her lips was almost my undoing.
“No, this isn’t what I want. But I don’t want to stifle you either.
I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave.
But if you don’t, I am terrified that I might make you feel trapped by this infernal feeling that has nowhere to go,” I rasped.
“Because every time I’m near you, I want to touch you.
Kiss you. Hold you, because I’ve missed the feeling of you in my arms to the point where I don’t know how I’ve survived it after thinking I’d lose you.
” I took another step closer, and she raised her chin, unwilling to back away.
“I am in torment, darling. After watching you still and lifeless and pale in that hospital bed, praying to any god that would listen, begging for your life even if it meant I asked for nothing else for the rest of mine. And I will never forgive myself if I crush you under the weight of those expectations.”
Allowing those words to be said, all those feelings to be spoken aloud, was an astounding relief. My entire body sagged from the release of tension.
“We can’t do this here,” I managed, speaking through a raw, painful throat, wrecked from all the things I’d kept in for so long. “I can’t do this here.”
Mercy stared at me, too stunned to argue as I shoved my belongings into my messenger bag. It was only when I slung the leather strap over my shoulder and walked past her that she moved.
In the lobby, the curious gazes of my students followed us, Mercy at my heels as I strode out of the community center. Amara caught my eyes and gave me an encouraging smile.
I couldn’t smile back.
It wasn’t until our cars were in view that I slowed. Mercy wasn’t following. She’d stopped the moment she turned the corner of the redbrick building.
“Mercy,” I said wearily. “Please.”
Instead of conceding, because I was quite sure she didn’t know how, she leveled me with a piercing stare. And the moment she opened her mouth, the moment she spoke, I knew there was no going back.
“I loved you, too, didn’t I?”