Headmistress: A Greenbridge Academy Romance by Knox Abby

Author:Knox, Abby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Abby Knox, LLC
Published: 2019-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

10

Miles

I arrive in the middle of a thunderstorm, thankful that it’s dark enough and stormy enough that nosy neighbors most likely won’t be watching.

Martha looks at me through the glass on the side of the front door, the small overhang on the porch keeping me from getting any more soaked than I already am. Her arms are crossed in front of her, and she looks apprehensive. Finally she opens the door and looks at me hard.

“Are you going to let me in?”

She bites her lip. “This is probably not okay, you visiting me like this.”

“No, it’s not. But that makes it even harder to stay away.”

She doesn’t say anything and for a few seconds I think this is it. I should just go home.

But then, she holds the door open and I step inside.

“Talk to me,” I tell her when I see the worry lines in her forehead.

She helps me remove my overcoat and hangs it on a coatrack by the door. Something about this gives me a tight feeling in my chest. This simple, domestic gesture—removing coats and shoes by the front door, asking about her day—is the sort of everyday homey ritual that I never witnessed between my parents growing up. That I never realized I wanted until I met Martha. I want all of these simple things with her, and these simple things seem more urgent now, given that our age difference matters not at all now.

“Let me grab the wine and we’ll talk in there,” she replies, gesturing with her chin into the living room. Instead, I insist she sit down and let me serve her.

I retrieve a bottle and two glasses from the kitchen and bring all of it to the living room. I sit close to her on the sofa and pour the wine, handing her a glass. “Tell me everything.”

She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes, exhaling a heavy sigh. “The Chamberlains are trolling the PTA and getting to my staff. They’re trying to make my job even harder.”

Martha tells me about her staff meeting, and about the puzzling discussion at PTA, and all about the school board meeting.

“At least the board of trustees has some common sense,” I say when she tells me about her attorney.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Miles. I have an answer for everything but not this. I don’t know how to simply let things play out without trying to fix it.”

Her feet are moving back and forth across the floor, and that’s when I notice she’s using a cylindrical foot massager.

I tell her, “You don't have to fix everything.”

She shakes her head, my stubborn girl. “But that’s my job. It’s my whole life. I don’t know what I’ll do without it.”

“You won’t do without it,” I tell her. “And you have me.”

Martha slouches down into the sofa and sips her wine, turning her face to me. Not saying anything, just looking.

“May I?” My hand hovers above her free hand, and she nods, perhaps too tired to object.

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