Chapter Four

“You’re sure you don’t want to take a chance with Benjamin?” Kate asked her at the gym the next day.

They cycled next to each other, facing the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Fifth Avenue. Sweat poured down Rachel’s face as she increased her speed and incline on the stationary bike.

“As much as I want to, I can’t risk it. Too many things could go wrong.”

Kate shook her head. “What a shame. What about your foster parent plan?”

“I signed up last night for an orientation session in January, and I’ve put together some of the legal documents I need.”

“Do you get to choose the age or background of the kids?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out more at the orientation.”

“What about adoption? Would that interest you?”

“Possibly. I know I usually live by the seat of my pants and rarely plan ahead, but I’ve wanted a child for a long time, and I want to get it right. This time, I’m taking it slow.”

Kate reached across and squeezed Rachel’s arm. “You’ll be a great mom. Your students adore you. You’re perfect.”

“I don’t know about perfect, but I know I can’t afford to do anything to mess it up.”

Including dating a student’s father.

She climbed off the bike, legs like jelly, showered, waved goodbye to Kate outside of the gym, and walked the few blocks to her apartment. A large envelope was taped to her door. With a frown, she pulled it off, unlocked her door and walked inside. Opening the envelope, she gasped.

It was another picture from Jessie. There was a large menorah with nine lit multi-colored candles. Pink dreidels surrounded the menorah. And in the background were three people—a man, a woman, and a child. From the hair color, Rachel could identify the people—Benjamin, Rachel, and Jessie. Across the top of the page, Jessie wrote Happy Hanukkah. Along the bottom, she’d written, “Love Jessie.”

She stared at the “and Benjamin” written beneath Jessie’s signature in a firm, masculine hand.

****

The next day, Benjamin checked his phone and frowned. Rachel still hadn’t called. He wasn’t sure what he expected. After all, Jessie drew the three of them all the time. His daughter loved her teacher, so it wasn’t unusual. But this was the first time he’d put his name on it, too.

When Jessie wanted to make Rachel a Hanukkah card, he’d thought it was a great idea.

“Daddy, you need to sign it, too.”

He’d paused. She’d written “love.” Maybe it was time to let her know he was interested if Rachel hadn’t gotten the hint from his kiss. But a kiss could be accidental. Was his an accident? He hadn’t thought about kissing her ahead of time. If anything, his thoughts were occupied with Rachel’s plans to foster a child, how her plans would change her life, and how those changes would affect his daughter. But desire overtook him, the kiss necessary and natural as breathing, at least to him. So what did it mean?

It meant he wanted to venture outside of the box he’d built for him and Jessie. He wanted to get to know Rachel better and see if she shared the same feelings. She loved kids. She was a great teacher and loved his daughter. Did she want to have children of her own someday? There were so many questions he needed to have answered. So he’d strategized how to get Rachel to fall for him. Throwing caution to the wind, for once in this new life of his, he’d gone ahead and signed his name.

He’d assumed she’d call, if only because his name was on it. Was he stupid? Presumptuous? He had no idea. But he wanted to convince Rachel she was wrong, that they could get to know each other outside of school, without worrying about consequences. He planned for the card to be an opening. She’d made it clear they couldn’t cross the line. He wanted her to see the line was negotiable.

He needed to make his message a little clearer.

“Jessie, come on. We’re going out.”

She walked out of her room. “Where?”

“To the donut shop.”

Her face flushed with glee. “Yay!” Jumping up and down, she made it difficult to get her coat on and the two of them out the door, but finally, they were outside. They walked the three blocks to the family-owned donut shop located on a side street, Jessie chattering about her favorite flavors and which one she should order.

Inside, the smell of fried dough and sugar assaulted his senses, and he took a deep breath. As usual, the place was packed, and while he waited, he considered his options. Hanukkah was traditionally a sufganiyah, or jelly-donuts, holiday. And Rachel had mentioned her love of donuts at The Winter Village.

“Jess, do you know what you want?”

She pressed her nose against the glass. “I want the pink one with sprinkles.”

Should he ask her? What did he have to lose?

“What do you think about getting donuts for Grandma and Ms. Schaecter?”

“I think it’s a great idea!”

“What flavors should we get?”

“Grandma likes jelly, right?”

“Raspberry jelly. What about Ms. Schaecter?”

“She likes chocolate.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she always has chocolate cookies for her snack in school.”

Thank goodness his daughter was observant. When they reached the counter, he placed his order. “I’ll take two raspberry jelly, one strawberry sprinkle, one chocolate glazed, and one Nutella donut, please.” He wasn’t sure which she’d like, so he’d give her options. “Can I have the chocolate ones in a separate box? Oh and one of the jelly donuts in its own box as well.”

The salesperson rolled his eyes, but Benjamin left the store with his donuts packaged the way he wanted. Now all he had to do was make his delivery.

****

Rachel yawned and glanced at the clock. Ten thirty in the morning? She jumped out of bed, unable to remember the last time she’d slept late. On weekends, she woke by eight at the latest. But this was winter break, and she’d left her days free. If her foster parenting plans worked, this might be her last break on her own, and she wanted to make the most of it. And she’d spent most of the night thinking about how Benjamin signed Jessie’s card. Why?

He was her student’s father. Lots of her students gave her holiday gifts and cards. Their parents even signed those cards. But never with “love.” He’d made it pretty clear he had reservations about her foster plans. Every time they were together, they got into an argument.

But then there was their kiss. And now the card. Did he care for her? And how exactly was a relationship between them supposed to work without jeopardizing her job? Did she even want one with him?

She needed to clear her head. Turning on her computer, she scanned her favorite New York City happenings website. An exhibit at the New York Historical Society interested her and would enable her to get out of her apartment, and her head, for a while. She’d stop at a coffee shop on her way. Once dressed in jeans and a cream sweater with her favorite pair of boots, she opened her door and paused in the doorway. A small shopping bag hung from her doorknob, a blue bow fastened to the bag’s handle. Did Harriet leave her something? Retreating into her apartment, she opened the bag. Inside was a note.

Jessie said you like chocolate. Maybe we’ll share sometime? ~Benjamin

She lifted out two chocolate donuts. Her stomach rumbled and her plan to stop at a coffee shop—or clear her head—changed. She took a bite of the chocolate glazed donut and closed her eyes in sheer bliss. Yum! In no time at all, she finished her treat. Benjamin had stepped up his game. Whether or not she was ready, she needed to call him and thank him.

Calling up her class list, she found the number listed and dialed. No answer. When his voice mail beeped, she left a message.

“Thanks for the donuts. And the drawing.”

She hung up and frowned. Her message was kind of abrupt. And she didn’t leave her name. Although he’d know who it was from. She called back.

“Hi, it’s Rachel. Again. I left you the last voice mail, too.” She clenched her fist at her awkwardness. “Anyway, my last message was kind of abrupt. I loved the donuts. Well, the chocolate glazed. I haven’t eaten the other one. But I will! And the picture was beautiful. Thanks, Jessie!”

She hung up and cringed. This message was ridiculous. And she only thanked Jessie! Should she risk one more phone call? She’d already made a fool of herself. What was one more time?

“Hi, it’s Rachel, again. Thank you, Benjamin. Really.”

This time, she hung up and hid her phone under a sofa cushion. She did not want to talk to him after he got those three messages. Was there a way to erase a voicemail you left for someone? There should be. Seriously. Out of all the technological advances made daily, someone invented a robotic vacuum, but no one could invent a way to delete a voicemail after you left it? Oy.

With a mental shake, she put the other donut away so it wouldn’t spoil and left for the Historical Society. After wandering through the Tiffany lamp exhibit, she checked out the gift shop before making her way outside. A cold breeze blew down Central Park West, but she was bundled well. The ritzy apartments facing the Park were festooned with wreaths and red ribbons, and every lobby window held an electric menorah. Holly hung from the street lamps. She took a brief walk along the winding paths in Central Park before returning home. She stopped at a hot dog vendor on the outskirts—dirty water dogs were her weakness. As she returned home, the bag of souvenirs she’d purchased banged against her leg. She loved the vibrant colors of the Tiffany lamps and bought notecards depicting some of her favorite ones. She could frame a few and hang them on the wall above her desk. As she exited the subway, she checked her phone to see if Benjamin had called. She missed his voice—gruff, deep, and bossy. What would it be like to be able to hear it all the time? Maybe she’d get used to his bossiness. And those electric charges each time they touched. Was it static electricity or something more? Ugh, it didn’t matter. No matter how much she liked him, she couldn’t pursue a relationship with him. There were too many strikes against them. Even if she wished she could.

As she heated a plate of leftovers for dinner, her phone rang.

“Hello, Rachel.” Benjamin’s deep voice sent shivers down her spine. Dammit, she needed to raise the heat in her apartment. “I got your message. Or should I say, messages.”

The amusement in his voice rippled through her, and her face flushed in mortification.

“You had to say it, didn’t you?”

This time, he chuckled. The soft rumble made her insides tumble. The hot dog must not have agreed with her.

“I can’t help myself,” he said.

She sighed. “All right. Get it over with.”

“Get what over with?”

“Whatever teasing you’re going to do. Just do it and be done, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“You’ve already accused me of being bossy. I’ll pass. Besides, it takes a certain amount of bravery to keep calling.”

“Bravery, huh? Okay, we’ll stick with that,” she said. “It’s a lot more positive than any description I could come up with.”

He laughed again, and she repeated her mantra to herself: he’s my student’s father.

“I’m glad you liked the donut and the card,” he said. “What did you do today?”

This was new. Their conversations usually had more of a purpose. She curled up on the sofa, dragged the afghan knitted with dreidel shapes her mother knitted onto her lap, and stared at the souvenirs she’d left on the ottoman.

“Well, after I ate your yummy donut, and made a fool of myself, I spent some time at the Historical Society.” She described the exhibit, and he expressed his interest in the history of the period. They talked for an hour—about fun things to do in New York City, his job, and her favorite books. They both enjoyed mysteries.

“Did you do any work on your foster application?” he asked.

Her stomach tightened. “Not today.”

“Can I ask what made you want to foster a child? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not.”

She stared out the window, her thoughts jumbling in her mind. Could she trust him with her dream? It was time to leap. “I’ve always loved children. It’s why I became a teacher. There are so many children who need homes, and I want to be able to provide a loving home for a child.”

“It’s a wonderful desire, but it’s a lot of work and potential heartache,” he said.

His wary tone made Rachel’s heart sink.

“What if the child you foster has problems?” he asked. “Or what if you want to have a child of your own and there’s an issue between the two? Won’t your plan add undue stress?”

Irritation flared. “Why are you so concerned about my plans?” Rachel asked. “You don’t think I haven’t thought this through? It’s not like I can have children of my own, and if I want to do this, I don’t understand why you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Every time it comes up, you point out ‘problems.’ There are always going to be ‘what ifs.’ It doesn’t mean I should deprive myself of loving a child.”

He heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Really. I didn’t know you couldn’t have kids.”

She shook her head. “Look, I have to go.”

“Please don’t hang up angry, Rachel. Let’s talk about this.”

“Goodbye, Benjamin.”

“Rachel!”

She hung up before her anger turned to tears.

There was no way to make this work, and if Benjamin intended to boss his way over her desires, he was crazy.