Chapter 13

The following Monday, Sarah sat in her classroom. She pulled her makeup from her desk drawer and applied a coat of mascara and a warm peach-colored lip gloss. With hardly a minute to spare between the children’s departure and Eduardo’s expected arrival, she settled on pulling her bangs into a clip. Why hadn’t she thought to schedule their date for later in the day? Then she could have slipped into something more flattering than her frumpy work clothes. Not that the timing mattered much—she’d spent most of Saturday in search of a new outfit, but without Anna’s help, finding a viable one was impossible. Did every boutique have to cater to five-foot-four-inch women who wore a size four, or whatever number that size translated to here?

She smoothed her skirt. At least she hadn’t borrowed Sister Angelica’s iron for nothing. Her work clothes would have to do.

A knock sounded on the classroom door.

“Come in!” Sarah shoved her makeup inside the desk.

Grinning, Eduardo entered. “Just making sure I don’t plow into you again.”

“How considerate,” she teased, returning his smile.

He hesitated for a split-second as his gaze flitted from her eyes to lips then back. “You look different…”

Sarah held her breath. Was the makeup too much?

“…nice.”

A smile curved Sarah’s lips. “Thanks.”

Eduardo took a step toward her. “Did you want to work here or somewhere else?”

“Oh, anywhere is fine.” Anywhere with some privacy.

“It’s a nice day. How about the park?”

What could be more perfect for a first date than a quiet bench secluded from passersby? “Sure.” She forced any excitement from her voice. She walked a few blocks by Eduardo’s side to one of the parks flanking Balduina. The lush green trees were a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of Rome. The scent of fresh grass and newly blossomed flowers filled the air.

Eduardo took a seat on a wooden bench shaded by evergreens. “So”—he crossed his long legs—“I haven’t actually taught Italian to anyone before.”

As Sarah joined him on the bench, she considered her response. “Why don’t we talk about something else instead,” or “Let’s skip the lesson and move on to necking”—okay, maybe that idea was a little much. But the thought of making a move made her breath shake. “I appreciate your offer to help.” She took care to make sure her voice came out steady.

“I thought maybe we could start with greetings then move on to typical phrases, questions.”

“Sounds good.” Sarah scooted a little closer.

He stared through his glasses then he cleared his throat, stiffened his posture, and delved into a lecture on formal and informal greetings: ciao, buongiorno, and addio.

His enthusiasm was cute, but Sarah inwardly swooned. Why couldn’t they pick up that conversation they’d started in her classroom a few weeks ago? The Barber of Seville was much more interesting than Italian greetings. Sarah suppressed a yawn, leaned on one elbow, and feigned as much interest as she could, but her gaze wandered to the sun dancing off the gray streaks in his hair.

Ten minutes into his lesson, Eduardo peered at her with a steady gaze. “Now,” he said, “let’s practice.”

Sarah nodded. Was this a test? And more importantly, would he find her more attractive if she played the dumb blonde or the goody two-shoes student? Given her terrible Italian skills, hopefully he preferred the dumb blonde. Speaking only in Italian, she stumbled through a brutally slow exchange of vital information: names, where they lived, and jobs.

“Insegnante, teacher, has the same form for masculine and feminine,” Eduardo explained. “The only difference is in the article. A man would say io sono un insegnante. A woman, io sono un’insegnante.”

Uh…he said something different? She furrowed her brows. Yep, dumb blonde it would have to be.

“You try.” Eduardo stared with raised eyebrows.

“Uh…” Sarah repeated what he’d said, but she sounded like a stuttering parakeet.

Eduardo laughed. “Well, that’s a start.” He scooted closer.

Yes! Hurray for dumb blondes.

“How old are you? Quanti anni hai?”

Sarah replied with what she thought was thirty-three.

He signaled the numbers three and three on his hands.

Sarah nodded. “Quanti anni hai?”

“Trentasei.”

After taking a moment to translate, Sarah held up her fingers—first three then six.

“Brava.” He smiled then looked away. “Are you married? Sei sposata?”

“Si.” The response spilled out before Sarah could stop it.

Eduardo jerked back, and his eyes shot wide.

“I mean,” Sarah added in English, “I’m getting divorced. I just received the papers last week. That’s why…why I’ve been a bit distracted.”

“I understand,” he responded in English. “I remember going through that process with Roberta. The negotiations, the custody battle.” His eyes darkened. “Probably the hardest few months of my life.”

“I can only imagine the difficulty when children are involved. Fortunately, Philip and I—” She stopped abruptly, shifted in her seat then started again. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the other day at school.”

Eduardo waved a hand. “Eh, I chalked it up to unruly children.” He inched a little closer. “So, hai un ragazzo?”

“A boyfriend?” Sarah raised an eyebrow playfully. “Is this part of the lesson or for your own interest?”

Laughing, Eduardo spread his left arm over the back of the bench. “Both.”

Shaking her head, Sarah smiled—no, she beamed. Her smile lifted her cheeks so high, she swore they obscured her sight. “I want to jump.”

“Hai un…” Should she begin with una or un? Ragazzo or ragazza? She hmphed. The words didn’t matter. His answer would. She opened her mouth again, but his phone interrupted her sluggish response.

Eduardo sat back and pulled the phone from his breast pocket. His face soured. “Sorry. Work.”

Sarah forced a smile, but the longer he talked, the more it slipped from her face.

When Eduardo clicked off the phone, he stood. “I have to get going.” A sinking feeling seized her gut. She hadn’t even found out if he had a girlfriend. She sighed, stood, and reluctantly followed him to his car.

“I’m sorry to cut our lesson short.”

“It’s no problem, really. You’re busy.”

Eduardo sighed. “Running a firm is hard. I have a secretary and an associate now, but work always creeps into my personal time.”

Sarah lifted her chin. At least he categorized their meeting as “personal time.”

“Perhaps we could continue later this week? Friday?”

“I’d love to.” She smiled. “Same time?”

His phone rang again, and he groaned as he picked it up. “See you Friday,” he whispered before hopping into his car.

Eduardo’s car pulled away, and Juan’s red sports car zoomed in.

Sarah waited by the curb. Anna would never believe her luck—not just one meeting, but a second one planned? Now they really had a reason to celebrate.

Juan strolled to the passenger side and opened the door, but Anna didn’t get out. He leaned in, picked up a pair of bare legs by the knees, and twisted them out of the car.

Anna’s clunky shoes hit the pavement with a thud, and her jelly-like body spilled out of the car.

“Anna, my God.” Sarah brushed aside Juan and supported Anna. “Are you sick?”

Anna waved her off. “I’m fine.”

Juan leaned into Sarah. “She refused to sleep, and…” He tipped back his head and mimicked drinking from an imaginary cup.

“I heard that.” Anna shot a glare from dark-circled eyes. “I slept on the train.”

“Six hours over three days isn’t enough. Get some rest.” Juan smacked Anna’s ass. “Doctor’s orders.”

Sarah couldn’t help but cringe. Was he really a doctor, or just some rich man with a fetish for roleplaying? Good looks and expensive car aside, if Sarah ever met him in a doctor’s office, she’d declare herself healthy in a hurry. She grabbed Anna’s elbow. “I’ll take her inside.”

He shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and slipped into his car.

Anna’s knees gave out, and she started to fall. “Sorry.”

Sarah clutched her waist, holding her upright. She slung Anna’s duffel bag over her shoulder and started toward the dorm. “I figured the vampire lifestyle would catch up with you sooner or later. I thought you were the bunny who never stops.”

Barely standing, Anna cocked an eyebrow.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Advertising gimmick, my dear.” With Anna attached, Sarah trudged into the dorm and up the stairs. For the first time since arriving, she wished for an elevator—Anna’s bag weighed at least sixty pounds. Hell, carrying Anna might have been lighter.

Reaching Anna’s room, Sarah flopped Anna into her desk chair. She bent down to yank off Anna’s boots. Only Anna could pull off green combat boots with a mini-skirt. “You heard your boyfriend.” She hoisted Anna’s arm over her shoulder. “Off to bed with you.”

“Not yet.” Anna’s rag-doll body perked to life, and she pulled free her arm. “I’ve got to finish something first.”

“Finish what?”

Anna flipped open her laptop.

A website was already up on the screen. Oxford Graduate School Application.

“It’s due today.”

“Anna, how could you have left it until the last minute? You’re applying to Oxford, not a country club.”

“I know, I know.” Anna’s hand fumbled with the mouse. “It’s almost done. I…just need…” Her head sank into her elbow then plopped onto the desk. “…a little…” A steady whistle of breaths replaced her voice.

“Anna.” Sarah planted her hands on her hips. “Anna!”

Anna didn’t move; she didn’t open her eyes.

“Well, if I ever,” Sarah grumbled under her breath. She wheeled Anna’s chair to the bed, tipped it, and dumped Anna in. Uncurling Anna’s limbs, she covered her with a blanket. Sarah stepped to the desk. What was the harm in seeing how much she’d completed? If all Anna needed to do was click a couple bubbles, Sarah could do it for her.

She scrolled through the application: graduation with honors, scholarships, and publications. Anna hadn’t fibbed—the application was nearly complete. Even the transcripts were uploaded. Only one question remained unanswered. Why do you want to study at Oxford? Anna typed in three words: Enigma, cryptography, encryption.

Enigma? Cryptography? Encryption?

Sarah nudged Anna’s elbow. “Anna, what’s the difference between cryptography and encryption?”

Anna muttered gibberish and raised an eyebrow but didn’t open her eyes. She wriggled her nose, snorted, and then rolled to her side.

Great. Maybe if Sarah dated a computer engineer way back when, she’d have some idea what the hell Anna intended to write. What did codes have to do with Oxford? Sarah scowled in Anna’s direction. But she owed Anna big time for the divorce settlement. She had to help her out, and if Sleeping Beauty wouldn’t tell her, she’d have to figure it out herself—or at least, the Internet would.

Two hours, a slew of websites, and half a jar of Choctella later—thank goodness Anna had some food stashed in her desk—Sarah solved the puzzle. The Germans created the Enigma machine during World War I to encrypt messages; a British team later broke the code, greatly aiding the Allies in World War II. Oxford housed one of the world’s most renowned cryptography research teams. Anna’s motivation for studying at Oxford made perfect sense.

Sarah eased back in her seat and dipped her spoon into the Choctella. She licked off the sweet, gooey glob. And now, to concoct a response Anna might write. Sarah typed.

I was ten years old when I learned about the Enigma machine.

She stopped and highlighted the word “ten.” Giving her best true-to-Anna mischievous grin, she changed the “ten” to a “six.” Anna wouldn’t mind the embellishment…would she?

****

The following afternoon, Anna hadn’t emerged from her room. Sarah covered for her by telling Sister Maria that Anna “wasn’t feeling well.” She didn’t elaborate, and Sister Maria didn’t probe, but her pursed lips and arched brow evidenced she wasn’t buying the excuse.

Sarah planned on checking in on Anna after school, but an email from Judy changed her plans. The divorce papers were ready to be signed. So now she sat at her desk, and the electronic document displayed on her laptop. Philip’s ornate signature decorated the top line. The second line, reserved for Sarah, was blank.

First, Sarah filled in the date—October thirteenth. They’d been married five years, six months, and eleven days—longer if she counted the two years they dated. And this electronic form was how it would end? No hug goodbye. No “we’ll stay friends.” No arrangements for their child.

Sarah lifted her hands from the keyboard and brushed away tears. The one thing she hoped to take from her marriage was a child. That precious miracle of life that she would have gladly given any percentage of the house for.

She reached for the touchscreen, to input her electronic signature, but stalled her hand midair. A shiver, emanating from her clenched gut, ran down her arms. Why? Shouldn’t she be elated? Shouldn’t she be glad to move on? To finally be done with Philip Flynn? She could have screamed “I’m free!” at the top of her lungs and at the same time also wanted to crawl into bed. She could have twirled, laughter seizing her gut but also could have cried.

She leaned back, and Philip’s words echoed in her mind—the words he said the day they first met. Sarah in 3B. How about that dinner? He repeated those words, over and over. The exchange happened in the mail room of their apartment complex. As Sarah’s first time living on her own after college, she’d been leery of talking to unfamiliar men. Even men as attractive as Philip. But he was persistent. Like a relentless melody, he wouldn’t go away. Nearly every day she met him in the mail room.

“So, how about that date, Sarah in 3B?”

He asked the same question each time she ran into him. Eventually, Sarah succumbed. As an ache seeped into her chest, Sarah blinked away the memory. She wavered her hand and dropped it. How long would the memories of their marriage last? How long would Philip’s song play in her mind?

Upstairs, the loose floorboard squeaked. Anna was up, and Whiz-kid wouldn’t take long to figure out what Sarah did. Would she be upset? Grateful? Hopefully, she understood. A genius like Anna didn’t belong at St. Theresa—at least, not in the long term. Anna needed to plan for her future. She needed a change. Oxford would be a change for the better.

Future. Sarah raised her hand again.

Change. She signed her name.

For the better. The cursor hovered over the Save button. Sarah closed her eyes and clicked. Her chest collapsed with a whoosh of breath. She’d done it. Her marriage was over. She’d freed herself from Philip. Forever.

Upstairs, Anna’s feet thumped lightly.

Before long, Anna would appear, and she’d demand answers. Sarah picked up her phone, which shook in her quivering hand. Taking a deep breath, she settled herself and sent a quick text to Mom and Meredith.

—It’s official. The papers are signed—

Not a minute passed before her phone dinged. Meredith.

“I take it you got my message.” No point bothering with hello.

“I hope you’re pulling out the champagne.”

“Not just yet.”

“Well, that’s not really why I’m calling. I want details, juicy description, on Eduarrrrdo?”

Sarah’s heart fluttered, but…she refocused on the screen. Philip Flynn made her blush. Philip Flynn made her knees wobble. Philip Flynn stole her heart.

“Come on,” Meredith urged. “You saw him, right? What happened?”

“I saw him. We had a nice time, but…” Sarah sighed. “But isn’t a date too soon? I mean, I literally signed the papers five seconds ago.”

“Pish. You’re supposed to be having fun. You’re not looking for a relationship.”

Sarah chewed her lip. Flirting with Eduardo was fun. If they went out to dinner, or took in an opera, or toured an art exhibit, she’d have even more fun. “I guess so.”

“And sex. When’s the last time you had any? At least that you remember?”

“Meredith!” Heat burned Sarah’s cheeks.

“Well? Am I right, or am I right?”

“I…” For a second, she lost herself in the possibility of waking up in Eduardo’s strong arms, burying her head in his broad chest, and feeling the heat of his body pressed against hers. Warmth blossomed inside her, sending a rush to her chest and belly.

“Well?”

Sarah snapped back to the present. “Even if you’re right, I wouldn’t classify our meeting as a date but a lesson.”

“Come on, Sarah! He’s a man. He won’t teach you Italian without an ulterior motive.”

She grinned. “He did tell me I looked nice.”

“See?”

“And we’re going out—” Sarah bit her lip. “I mean, we’re meeting again Friday.”

“Like I said, he’s into you.”

“We’ll see.” But a smile planted itself firmly on Sarah’s face.

“Be assertive, make sure you…”

A knock sounded on the door.

Anna entered. “You finished my application?”

Sarah froze. “Meredith,” she spoke into the phone, “let me call you back.”

Clicking off the call, Sarah stared at Anna. Her eyes, no longer shrouded in circles, were wide. Sarah took a deep, low breath. Future. Change. For the better. She only hoped Anna thought applying to Oxford was for the better.