Who’d have figured there was so much to learn about teaching?
Derek had arrived early at Villa Corazon on Saturday afternoon, hoping to catch Marta before she began her tutoring session, but no sooner had he signed in than Yolanda whisked him through the reception area and auditorium to an area set aside on the stage. There, she introduced him to Ginger Lindeman, a high-school teacher who trained volunteers.
Naturally, Derek had expected to review Tom’s level of mathematics. He hadn’t considered, however, that he would have to absorb information about educational strategies. Students, according to Ginger, displayed a variety of learning styles. In addition, many youngsters harbored a fear of math, which created the need to establish a constructive psychological atmosphere. Fortunately, he’d already achieved that by following his instincts, she agreed when he related his discussions with the boy.
The fun part came when Derek got to play a couple of math-oriented games on a new iPad, a gift to the center from a local corporation. Tom’s current tutor reserved such games as a reward, according to Ginger. She agreed when Derek proposed using them more extensively to help the boy understand concepts and to make the subject enjoyable.
At the end of two hours, Ginger signaled that they were done for the day. “We’ve covered the basics. Another session to review the math and go over what we studied today, and you’ll be ready for one-on-one tutoring.”
Derek would have preferred to plow ahead, even though his brain felt waterlogged. He hated to waste another week. “Are you available one evening after work? I’d like to start with Tom next Saturday.”
“I’ll be happy to arrange it.” Thoughtfully, Ginger added, “I’m pleasantly surprised that you’re doing this. Dad always described you as a playboy.” Her father, Justin Lindeman, was the traffic lieutenant.
“And I always described him as a crusty old bast…codger,” Derek returned jovially. He liked Justin, a longtime Vince loyalist who’d warmed to Will’s leadership in recent months.
“You seem sincerely drawn to teaching,” Ginger went on. “From what Yolanda told me, you have a knack for appealing to the child on his level without condescending.”
“I don’t believe in talking down to people,” Derek said.
“Igniting that spark is an art.” She closed her notebook. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Even as he thanked her, he didn’t completely believe the compliment. Hitting the right note with Tom had been more luck than talent.
After helping clear the materials away, Derek gazed over an auditorium full of students and tutors. Marta, who must have entered during his time with Ginger, flashed him a smile and settled at a desk with a student.
Her abrupt departure on Thursday still disturbed him. A sudden headache might signal serious trouble, although she looked all right today. Since the shock of discovering he had Parkinson’s, Derek had become less willing to dismiss other people’s symptoms as minor.
He’d considered calling her later to see how she was. However, he hadn’t wanted to risk waking her in case she’d dropped off to sleep. Instead, he’d stopped by the hospital yesterday at midmorning, to find her on duty but lacking her usual sparkle.
“It’s just a bug,” she’d said wearily. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but I think I’m nearly over it.”
He tried not to worry. Still, the sight of her healthy glow now was a relief.
Derek hoped she’d be able to go out with him after her teaching session, as they’d discussed last week. Thursday’s abrupt end to their meal had left him feeling shortchanged.
Sore after sitting for hours, he descended from the stage. The path to the exit took him past the table where Tom’s frustrated tutor labored to engage the squirming boy’s interest. “Hey,” Derek addressed him. “How’re you doing?”
“How do you think?” Tom snapped.
Startled by the sharp response, Derek paused. “What’s eating you?”
Anger crackled in the boy’s voice. “You were supposed to tutor me.”
Apparently no one had explained about the delay. “I am. Next Saturday. I had my first training session today and I’m coming back later this week to finish getting ready.”
Out of the boy’s line of sight, the tutor’s mouth formed the words, “Thank you.”
Tom shoved overlong bangs off his forehead. “You have to learn how to teach?”
“That’s right.” Ignoring a pang in his hip, Derek picked up a math book from where it had fallen on the floor and placed it on the desk.
“Didn’t you go to college?”
He supposed that, at Tom’s age, he, too, had assumed graduates must know everything. “Sure, but acquiring advanced skills requires further study. For instance, to become an officer, I studied police science.”
Tom brightened with interest. “What’s that?”
“How to collar crooks. When to shoot and when not to. Interviewing a suspect. High-speed driving. And a lot more.”
The boy actually smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
“I’m interrupting your session. We’ll talk more next weekend.” Derek clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got a few minutes left. Put them to good use.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, the boy returned to his worksheet.
When Derek sneaked another glance at Marta, he caught a glint of approval. Although she appeared absorbed in helping her student read, she’d obviously been observing.
A short while later, a bell marked the end of the hour. Derek angled between tables to reach her and waited until her student departed. Then he raised the subject uppermost in his mind. “How’re you feeling?”
Marta capped her pen. “Better.”
“The doctor didn’t diagnose anything serious?”
“No.” She tucked the pen and a notebook into her purse.
She didn’t normally act so reticent. “Was it a migraine?” Derek prodded.
“Not exactly.”
Something seemed amiss. “We don’t need to discuss it here. I’m taking you out, remember?”
Marta’s dubious expression dampened his spirits. “I’m not sure I’m up to socializing. Besides,” she added, “Elise and I promised Yolanda we’d sort through a pile of donated textbooks.”
If she truly felt okay, her obligation posed only a temporary impediment. “No problem. I’ll return in an hour and buy you a cup of coffee. Okay?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not coffee.”
“Herbal tea?” Hearing no objection, Derek concluded, “Done.”
“You’re irrepressible.”
“I try.”
He headed out of the auditorium. A couple of turns around the block ought to stretch his muscles and settle his mood.
Most likely, Marta’s attitude stemmed from the hesitation she’d expressed previously about him, Derek supposed. He didn’t understand why sharing refreshments and a conversation should be threatening, though.
As he passed through the office wing, the sound of hammering drew his gaze to the playroom. Ben, sweat darkening his T-shirt, was installing cubbyholes along one wall.
The cabinetry appeared well crafted. Will would be proud of his son if he knew, which he probably didn’t.
Outside, beneath an overcast sky, Derek spotted a dark blue late-model sedan wedged between a red compact and a dented van. The chief’s car. It must be on loan to Ben—who, with youthful carelessness, had left a window lowered.
Derek didn’t intend to nag the kid about respecting his father’s property. In any case, he hoped the loan marked the start of a more positive phase in the father and son’s relationship.
*
Marta tried to think of an excuse to cancel the date. She wasn’t prepared to talk to Derek.
After half an hour of sorting, she lost her focus and sat staring blankly at the books spread on the storeroom table. Elise, who’d been muttering angrily since spotting Vince a few minutes earlier, took no notice.
Yesterday’s appointment with the obstetrician, Dr. LaShandra Bennett, had confirmed Marta’s pregnancy. “You’re large for six weeks,” the physician had commented, using the date of Marta’s last menstrual cycle to mark the start of the pregnancy. “Otherwise, you’re fine. I’ll schedule an ultrasound to rule out any complications, especially considering your prior trauma.”
“You think something’s wrong?” Marta had asked anxiously.
“No. I just prefer to err on the side of caution.”
Dr. Bennett, who often bought breath mints at the gift shop, was aware of Marta’s unwed status. “Regardless of circumstances, a baby is a blessing,” the older woman had said gently. “You should feel good about this.”
“Before or after I upchuck?” Marta had joked.
“Eat lots of small meals and the nausea should pass by the second trimester.” The doctor promised to have the nurse provide a prenatal packet that included sample vitamins. “How’s the father taking this?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Are you in a serious relationship?”
Marta’s shoulders sagged. “We’re friends. And maybe not even that once he hears this news.”
“He does have legal obligations,” the doctor pointed out.
“I suppose.” Marta couldn’t think that far ahead.
She had dressed in a daze. So many details to take care of before her mid-July due date, from scheduling the ultrasound to registering for childbirth classes. Above all, the necessity of deciding what to do about the baby. And how to tell Derek.
A baby! Impossible to deny the truth any longer. How could she relinquish such a miracle? Yet even if she decided on adoption, she’d have to inform Derek. His consent was required by law.
“I can’t.” Marta didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Elise stopped thumping books around.
“Can’t what?”
“Go out with Derek again,” Marta blurted. “He asked me to have coffee after we finish.”
“Why not?” The policewoman wiped a smudge from her rose-colored blouse. She’d developed a taste for more feminine clothes now that she was dating Mike.
“Because…” Marta had decided to keep her condition secret even from her friends. Instead, she said, “Because if the gorgeous women he dates can’t hold on to Sergeant Hit-and-Run, what chance do I have?”
“He invited you, not them.” Elise eyed her sympathetically. “You’re scared, that’s all. Remember—nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
As if I haven’t gained too much already! “Maybe I’ll reschedule.”
“Mike says putting off our problems makes us obsess about them.” After examining a damaged textbook, Elise set it on the reject pile. “He’s right. We can’t control what other people do, only how we respond to them.”
Sage advice, except considering the source. “How about you?”
Elise’s forehead puckered. “What about me?”
“You’re still stewing over Chief Borrego,” Marta noted. “Did you ever confront him about the problems he caused you?”
The patrolwoman folded her arms. “I filed a grievance, testified and forced him to retire. Isn’t that enough?”
“Apparently not. You turn purple when anyone mentions his name, and you’re in a huff about his volunteering.”
“So?”
“So quit fuming and deal with the situation.” Usually Marta offered compassion rather than tough love. The change in hormones must be affecting her mood, she reflected.
“Vince hasn’t apologized,” Elise replied truculently. “He thinks I ought to forget the whole thing. Well, I shouldn’t have to.”
“Tell him,” Marta urged.
“I’m afraid I’ll punch the creep!”
“No, you won’t. Lay it on the line and he either apologizes or demonstrates that he’s still a louse.” Since that didn’t seem adequate, Marta proposed, “If he doesn’t give a reasonable response, discuss your issues with Yolanda. That might change her belief that he’s reformed.”
Elise’s mouth pursed. “Tell you what. I’ll confront Vince if you’ll meet Derek for coffee.”
Unfair! “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If I can tackle my issues, so can you.” Elise tossed another book on the reject pile. “Well? Yes or no?”
Marta really wished her friend would resolve this business with Vince. As for Derek, he had to be told the truth sooner or later.
“Yes,” she said.
Her friend returned to sorting books. As for Marta, doubts assailed her immediately.
“There he is,” Elise hissed.
Marta turned. Through the glass they could see that Vince had stopped across the otherwise empty hall, facing the playroom. His back was to them.
A scowling Elise rose and went out, nearly colliding with Vince, who’d been talking to Ben. “Hold on!” she snapped.
“What can I do for you?” His voice carried clearly to Marta. “And don’t keep telling me to volunteer elsewhere. I like working with kids. Sorry if that offends you, but I can’t please everyone.”
“Please everyone? As if you’ve tried! How about acknowledging the harm you caused?” Elise answered testily. “You have no idea of the ramifications, do you? I’m not just talking about the damage to police morale. I mean to me personally.”
Vince exhaled loudly. “I certainly am aware. My wife hit me with both barrels when she threw me out. Pressuring you to have an affair was ugly and arrogant. Anything else?”
Elise plowed ahead. “When I joined the force, a lot of guys harassed me because of my looks. Just when I started to feel like I’d won their respect, the chief, a man I trusted, treated me like some sleazy toy put there for his benefit.”
Vince lifted his chin as if about to argue. To Marta’s relief, however, he nodded instead. “When you put it that way, I…well, I never considered how my actions affected you professionally,” he conceded. “I figured the impact was on the personal level.”
“Yeah, well, you ticked me off, but the worst part was that a lot of the guys assumed I must have done something to encourage you.” Her voice shook with emotion. “After I filed my grievance, your buddies acted as if I was the one who’d betrayed my fellow officers. An opinion I’m sure you encouraged.”
Marta braced for his denial. Instead, Vince replied, “Probably, because I was full of myself and furious at having to take my medicine.” His voice rasped in the quiet space.
To her credit, Elise didn’t stop there, although Marta could tell the confrontation was painful for her. “I spent the past two years trying to regain the respect you stole from me. If not for a few people like Hale and Rachel and Joel, I’d have resigned. I’ve been so angry I’ve refused to let any guy near me. Well, I’m moving on.”
“What do you want from me?” the older man asked.
“You’ve never apologized, not sincerely. You don’t seem to have a clue why I’m angry!”
Ben, who’d obviously been listening, peered out of the playroom. “Yes, he does. He told me he acted like a jerk and that you had a right to be mad.”
That surprised Marta. Elise, too, apparently. “Is that true?” she asked.
Vince shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes. And for what it’s worth, I truly am sorry.”
Hardly a cathartic conclusion to all Elise had undergone, in Marta’s opinion, and her friend indicated as much. “You’re not that sorry. Not sorry enough to sacrifice anything.”
“Like what?”
“Like volunteering elsewhere so I don’t have to keep running into you.” When he opened his mouth, she hurried on, “Don’t hand me that garbage about how much you love kids. You like being in the middle of things. Feeling important. Hobnobbing with Yolanda and posing as a good guy in front of the world. That’s the truth.”
Vince opened and shut his mouth. What finally emerged was: “Okay.”
For a second, no one stirred. Then Ben said, “You can’t quit!”
Vince gestured him to silence. “She’s right. Saying I’m sorry is a far cry from demonstrating it. I caused Elise a lot of misery and now I’m annoying her on a weekly basis. She isn’t out of line to insist that I suffer a little too.”
“What about your students?” the young man demanded.
“The center gets plenty of volunteers.” To Elise: “I’ll tell Yolanda it’s my decision. No reason to place any blame on you. And, Ben, I’d appreciate your keeping quiet about this.”
“You shouldn’t have to quit!”
“That’s my decision,” the man responded calmly. “Please don’t repeat any of this.”
“Whatever.” Grumbling, the kid returned to the playroom and shut the door.
“You’re truly going to resign?” Elise asked.
“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’m still discovering how badly I messed up. Hope this helps. I’ll sure miss the place.”
After Vince went into the auditorium, presumably to talk to Yolanda, Elise stood staring in his wake. Then she turned and walked back into the storeroom. “Maybe he means it,” she said.
Marta hadn’t expected the ex-chief to fold, either. “He sounded sincere. How do you feel?”
“Deflated,” the patrolwoman conceded. “I won. Shouldn’t I be bouncing off the ceiling?”
“You’ll feel better when he’s gone.” Marta returned to the books. She wanted to finish sorting before Derek returned.
Elise spoke again. “I’m calling it off. He can stay.”
“Why?”
“I don’t feel angry anymore,” the officer explained. “And I appreciated his promising not to say why he’s quitting. That was decent.”
“You could sleep on this,” Marta pointed out.
“I’d rather intervene before he goes too far. He’d better not expect us to be friends. I’m not that forgiving.” Elise marched off.
Marta hoped her own tête-à-tête with Derek went equally well. She didn’t hold out a lot of hope for that, though.
A quarter of an hour later, she heard the outer door open in the reception area and recognized his footsteps. Desperately, she wished they could start over. Begin again the night of their date.
If she’d suspected she might have a chance with him, she’d have proceeded more slowly. Had she let their relationship grow naturally instead of trying to cram a lifetime into one night, she might not be in this mess.
Too late. The scent of his aftershave teased at her. With luck, she would stumble on the right words to soften the blow.
That was the best she could hope for.