Page 83 of Almost Home
I smiled, but it didn’t quite fit. “I know. It feels like a perfect scenario. Though the whole me working for him thing is a little weird, but we’ll figure it out.”
She tilted her head to eye me. “What is it?”
The knot of feelings tightened. “I’m just a jumble. And at the same time, all I want to do is sink into the chemistry and good feelings and just live there and not worry about the other stuff.”
She mulled that over as she took the last drink of her wine. “I get that. But I also see why you’re hesitant to do that. I’m just wondering if you’ve told him that?”
I made a face. “No. Because if I do that, then he’ll ask what I’m worried about, and then I’ll have to tell him, and then I have to deal with the reality.”
She chuckled softly. “Well, it seems like you might need to do that since it’s also keeping you from enjoying the fantasy parts, too.” She winked.
I sighed dramatically. “Fair point.”
“Sarah James! I’m glad I’m seeing you here. Please forgive my interruption.”
Dr. Brown, the principal of Silverton Elementary, smiled down at us, and I fumbled to stand in front of my former-kind-of-sort-of boss. “Dr. Brown, it’s great to see you. Do you know Dahlia Price?”
“Please to meet you. You’re the owner of Bloom, right?”
Dahlia beamed. “My pride and joy.”
“It’s just lovely. I can’t wait to see what you and Wallace do for Night in Bloom this year.”
“Thank you so much,” Dahlia said.
Dr. Brown nodded, then turned her focus on me. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I wanted to give you a little nudge that Carmela Ballantine is retiring this summer. There’ll be an option in fourth grade and I know you were eager to find something in primary.”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. “Oh, yes. Great. I’ll get my resume ready.”
The principal smiled approvingly. “Excellent. All right, ladies, I’m out of your hair. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You, too!” I slumped back into the seat as soon as she’d exited the wintergarden.
“Why do you look like you were just told you were fired? Haven’t you been waiting for an opening like this?” Dahlia rifled through her purse and pulled out cash to set in the little black folder the waiter had slipped onto the table at some point.
It was a valid question. Why did I have a steady base beat of dread running through me instead of pure excitement? Why wasn’t this triumph and hope and possibility thrumming in my chest instead of a sharp sense I’d run smack into a brick wall?
“I don’t think I can explain it.” Not to her. Not to myself.
Maybe I didn’t really need to explain it. I’d been barreling toward this reality that I didn’t want to teach. I might not have a clear alternative since my current position was temporary and so new, but it wasn’t all that complex. I didn’t have the heart for teaching anymore.
I’d admitted as much to myself and even Wilder. Still, I expected to feel good about this. Especially now that staying here seemed more and more like the right thing, a full-time teaching job would be perfect. Or, would’ve been, for another version of me.
Coming face to face with Dr. Brown made me sad, because in some ways, I’d always love the atmosphere of working at a school, and I loved the kids. But the sadness wasn’t devastation. It was more a kind of mourning—maybe an acceptance.
Dahlia busied herself with tucking her part of the check into the folder and waited patiently while I did the same. We gave each other thelet’s do thisnod, and I followed her out. On the sidewalk, she turned and pulled me into a hug.
Tears welled despite my best efforts, but I swallowed them down when she released me.
“I know we’re new friends, but I want you to know that you’re amazing. And if Wilder makes you happy and you want to be with him, I believe you can figure it out. Whatever’s going on in there to make you doubt orwhateverthis is, don’t let it psych you out.”
I gave her a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Thanks.”
“And same goes for the teaching gig. If you’re excited about it, then go for it, balls to the wall.”
I laughed freely at that and mercifully felt the tears recede completely.
“But if you don’t? For any reason, if you decide you don’t want to teach fourth grade at Silverton Elementary, then don’t.”
