I pull my focus away from him and look down at
Izzie who is twiddling her thumbs. “Izzie, is everything okay?”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Clay is sad. I don’t like it when he’s sad.”
I sit down beside her and hold her hand. “Can you tell me why your brother is sad, sweetie?”
Her gaze lifts to Clayton before it moves back to me. “He’s sad about Daddy not seeing our painting on gally night, and he’s sad that he isn’t here,” she explains.
“Oh, really?”
She nods. “Nana took us because Daddy shouted about art class.”
I swallow the big ball in my throat, I had a feeling this would happen, but I won’t let him do this to these kids. “Maybe I could give him a call and see if he wants to come down and see your painting?” The words are out of my mouth before I even think about what I’m saying, it’s what I’d do for any other student, just because their dad happens to be my college sweetheart shouldn’t make a difference.
“You will?” She smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth.
I nod. “I can’t guarantee he’ll be able to come and see it while you’re still here, but if he comes and sees it on his own, do you think it’ll make you and your brother happy?”
She nods enthusiastically and runs toward Clayton, telling him her good news. The discomfort I’m feeling is stomped down and forgotten about as a small smile pulls at his lips.
I check how everyone is getting on before making my way to my office and pulling out my cellphone and the permission slips, looking for Tristan’s number. As that thought runs through my head, my stomach flips and I have to try and remember why I’m doing this. Be professional, Harm, this isn’t about you.
My finger hesitates over the call button for a split second. What will he think of my call? Will he think I’m interfering, or will he simply see me as the caring art teacher that I’m trying to be? Either way, he needs to stop being so selfish.
I press call, my heart racing in my chest as I hear the ringing sound.
After a few more seconds, the ringing cuts out and his voice oozes over the line and wraps itself around my body, the gravelly edge sending shivers down my spine.
“This is Tristan Carter, I can’t take your call right now. If it’s urgent, please call my assistant, Catiya, at…” He reels off a number. “If not, then please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
It beeps and I’m not prepared to leave a message so I stammer at first. “Erm, hi. It’s, Har—Miss Jameson, from Willow Arts. Nothing to worry about, but Clayton and Izzie are upset that they couldn’t show you their project from gallery night, and I… wanted to ask if you’d like to come down sometime so you can see it? They worked really hard on it and… well, now I’m rambling but you’re welcome to come down and see it for yourself if you wanted to. Okay, bye.” I go to hang up but remember I didn’t give him any timings. “Oh, and I’m open until five tonight.”
I hang up, feeling like an idiot for not being ready or having a firmer message for him. Rolling my eyes at myself, I place my cellphone back into my purse and walk out to help Mom with the kids.
I manage to avoid another awkward run-in with Charlotte. As soon as I saw her walking down the cobblestone path, I made a beeline for my office, feeling like a child for doing so. But I’m not ready for more of her… niceness?
Strange thing to think, I know, but we weren’t exactly the best of friends ten years ago, so I don’t see why she’s acting like we are now. Civil? Sure, but how she was this morning? That was weird.
“Why were you hiding from that woman earlier?” Mom asks as we wipe down the wooden benches.
“I erm…” I sigh. “It was Tristan’s mom. I know I’m bound to see her or him, or even the kids’ mom and I know it’s been ten years, I just… it feels like I’m that same nineteen-year-old girl again and with trying to get my life back on track, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”
Mom chuckles. “You moved back here and chose an art studio on his side of the tracks. You can’t act shocked that he’s here.”
“Yes, I can. I wasn’t expecting him to turn up with his two kids in tow, so excuse me for needing a little time to wrap my head around things,” I retort flippantly.
She holds up her hand. “I won’t say anymore on the matter after this, but I have to say my piece.” She looks into my eyes. “Don’t let any of this rule your life, or your job for that matter. You can’t hide away from all of the parents and kids, this is your studio. You should be there to greet them when they come in, not hiding away in your office like a child.”
I know what she’s saying is right, but my mind isn’t feeling all that rational right now. “It won’t happen again. I’ll pull on my big girl panties.”
“Now that’s more like it.” She stretches her arms above her head and yawns. “Are you ready to go home?”
I look at my watch, seeing it’s only four thirty; I said I would be open until five. “You take my car, I’ll get a cab home. I think I’m going to get some of this emotion out onto a canvas, I’ll feel better then.” I smile at her but she doesn’t look convinced so I say, “I’m tired and confused, so please let me deal with it the only way I know how. I’m okay despite these feelings, I promise.”
She puckers her lips and blows out a breath before pulling off her apron. “Fine, but you know where I am if you need to talk. Bye, Harmonica.”
I kiss her on her cheek and watch her walk out.