Then There Was You (Twist of Fate) Read online

  Grumbling curses under my breath, I stumble out of bed and wipe the sleep from my eyes while grabbing a zip-up sweater to throw on over the sheer tank top. I zip it up when there’s another knock on the door.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, moving across the living room to pull open the door.

  “This a bad time?”

  I gape at the man standing in front of me in worn jeans and a t-shirt. The same uniform he was wearing yesterday.

  “Um, no. No, this is fine,” I say, managing to push the words out of my dry throat.

  Nate just stares at me, his eyes darting down to the front of my sweater and back up again. He clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. I cock my head to the side and study him when his gaze darts back down but he’s quick to look away again, running his hand over his head. Confused, I look down and gasp when I see what has him so uncomfortable. The sweater I absently grabbed in my haste to answer the door is white. Almost sheer white. Which means I just flashed him my nipples. Frigging awesome.

  “I, um… I,” I stumble over my words, quickly folding my arms over my chest to hide my boobs. “I’m going to go get dressed and make coffee. Lots of coffee, and then lunch. You can start on the guest room if you’d like.” I leave the door open and back away farther into the living room.

  Nathan hooks a thumb over his shoulder, still not making eye contact with me and says, “I’m just going to grab my things from the truck. Mind if I set up shop under the carport?”

  “No, that sounds great. I’ll be right out.”

  I turn and dart back as fast as I can without running to my bedroom. After pulling on a pair of jeans from yesterday and an old t-shirt over a bra, I open the door again and check to see if Nathan is in the guest room. He’s not. But I hear a saw start up outside. When I enter the kitchen, I see him bent over a wooden workbench in a black wife-beater undershirt. His shoulder and back muscles are impressive, the way they contract and release with every movement.

  I groan, turning away from the window and going about making us lunch. This is bad. I haven’t been interested in a guy since Jack. Some might think eighteen months is a long time to go without having sex or being interested in anyone, but when your husband was your whole life, those months can seem like no time at all.

  I wait for the saw to stop before I go out and place two plates filled with sandwiches and fruit on a nearby table I keep out here for days like today.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” I say, gesturing to the plates I brought out.

  “Ja. Thanks.” He wipes away the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You mind if I wash my hands really quick?”

  I laugh. “No need to ask.”

  Nathan takes off for the bathroom halfway down the hall and I take that time to get us a couple drinks. Foregoing the coffee once I notice that it’s after noon.

  “Beer or cooldrink?” I ask when he comes back down towards the kitchen.

  “Beer. Thanks.” He takes the one I offer him and sits at the table in front of one of the plates.

  “Howzit going out here?” I ask, picking up half my sandwich and tipping my head to indicate the workbench.

  “I started cutting a couple of pieces for the empty room. But I’d like to break down the built-in in the other room and clear it out so I can get an accurate measurement of the walls.”

  I nod, taking a couple bites of the ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomato between the triangle slices of bread. “Can I help?”

  Nathan pauses with the beer bottle halfway to his lips then shrugs. “If you want. I have a couple of extra gloves and goggles in the truck.”

  I sit up straighter in my seat and can’t fight the big-ass grin that spreads across my face. Nathan doesn’t know but he’s just given me a big gift. I use to love helping my dad repair cars in this very carport, and that love of repairing things bled into my life at school when I was finally able to take woodwork class. That love hasn’t been fed in so long. Too long for me to remember when the last time was that I picked up a piece of wood.

  Nathan and I finish our lunch, and I wash up the dishes while he runs out to his truck to grab the protective gear for me. When he comes back, I suit up and follow him into my old bedroom.

  “Do you want to take a couple of swings or drag the pieces out to the carport?” he asks, but when I eye the sledgehammer excitedly, feeling the adrenaline already start to take hold, he laughs and hands it over to me. “Alright then. Just let me take the doors off, then you can go crazy.”

  Nathan and I spend the rest of the weekend removing the existing built-ins and replacing them with new ones. On a whim, I decide to paint the guest room. Before Nathan brings in the new wardrobe he built, he helps me prime the walls and paint it a light sky blue.

  By the end of the weekend, the guest room is completely done. The double bed has a brand new, custom made headboard that matches the new wardrobe and side tables. A three-piece painted canvas of Clifton Beach sits on the far floor ready to be hung. The colour of the ocean waves matching seamlessly with the paint on the walls. We got my old room clear of all the wood pieces and Nathan’s already mostly done cutting the pieces for some new floating shelves, a custom bookshelf, and a desk. The man’s a machine and by Sunday night I’m disappointed to see him leave without asking for my number. The disappointment doesn’t last long before it turns to guilt.

  Jack’s hand wraps my upper arm, stopping me in my tracks. When he spins me, I turn right into his chest. Hands splay out on his pecs to keep me from headbutting him. He curls a piece of hair behind my ear and his thumb tips up my chin until I’m forced to look him in the eye.

  “You can look,” he rasps, his voice deepening. “But I will always be the only one taking you home at night. The one you fall asleep next to and wake up beside. The only one who’ll get to see this gorgeous body naked.”

  I shiver. Fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

  “After graduation,” I whisper.

  “After graduation,” Jack repeats with a soft kiss to my lips.

  Chapter 5

  “I’m so happy to have you start here as a teacher. It’s not every day that alumni come back to teach,” Pam Morton, the principal of Pinelands North Primary School says as she leads the way to the room that will become my home away from home, at least during the school year.

  “I’m happy to be here. This place holds so many memories,” I say, glancing around at the various pictures that still decorate the hallways of the school. Then my eyes land on the class pictures of previous years and search until I see a familiar group of faces. “Oh, my goodness, we were so tiny.”

  Pam laughs beside me. “You know Mrs. Casserley just retired last year.”

  “Really?”

  Mrs. Casserley was my grade five teacher and probably one of my favourites, only beat out by Mr. Andersen and that’s only because I may have had a little crush on him. Truth be told, I think all the girls had a crush on Mr. Andersen. He was cute, but he was also an easy teacher. He could be serious when the subject required it, but he was mostly trying to get you to laugh during class, and when the sun came out and the temperature rose again, he didn’t make us spend the day inside. He would have us grab our notebooks and pencils and we’d have class outside in the courtyard or on the field if there wasn’t already a gym class out there. We’d spend the class time in the sun and enjoy the fresh air. I remember a few geography and history classes where we spent the time outside. I think I remember more from those few classes than I did from the ones spent inside the classroom.

  “This will be your class while you’re here.”

  I follow Pam into the familiar class and look around. Not very much has changed about the room since the last time I was in here as a six-year-old. The carpet in the front of the chalkboard looks new though. The wooden floors towards the back of the classroom look like the originals. The round tables and chairs also look like they’ve seen an upgrade in the last several years. But the student cubbies agai
nst the outside walls look the same and the layout is definitely the same, with the teacher’s desk in the front right corner.

  “This feel all so surreal,” I tell Pam, taking in the rest of the classroom and the books on the two mini-shelves. “I remember sitting here,” I say walking to the middle of the carpet, “for reading time. We each had our own books we used to follow along while Mrs. Ansty played the tape.”

  “Believe it or not, I think we still have those around here somewhere. Gale might have them in the library.” I look up at Pam, my eyes wide in surprise and she laughs. “Some of the kids, especially the younger ones, still love listening to them from time to time. And it helps those who aren’t as quick to pick up reading the words.”

  I walk to the windows overlooking the courtyard and watch the kids play as they prepare to start the day. Their uniforms still clean with zero wrinkles. I always loved this classroom, even as a kid. It’s one of the few that open up into its own little courtyard that leads to the bigger courtyard. There’s a door the kids can enter through rather than having to walk all the way down the hallway to get to their class.

  “I’ve left the gym and pool schedule on your desk so you can have a look at it and see which works for your class for PE. I think Mr. Walker is planning on having his kids play cricket on the field today so the pool would be open for your class,” Pam says coming to stand beside me.

  “The older grades still have PE after lunch?”

  She nods. “Nothing much has changed in terms of schedule since you’ve left.” She smiles over at me, a slight blush to her cheeks like she’s embarrassed by that fact, but I don’t care. If it works, it works.

  We both turn back to watching the kids out the window and it’s quiet for a few beats before she speaks again. “So, what do you think? Can you be happy here?”

  I grin. I can’t believe I have my own Sub-A class now. I guess it’s called grade one now. Sub-A was used when I was still in school here and then it changed to grade one the year after. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I will be, yes.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” She turns and heads back towards the door that leads into the hallway. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to come see me. Mr. Walker’s class is on the same schedule as yours so I’m sure he’d be happy to help you with anything as well.”

  “Thank you so much, Pam.”

  She lifts her hand in a small wave then disappears through the door just as the bell rings to signal the kids to begin lining up.

  * * *

  “Well, this is a surprise,” I hear a familiar voice say as soon as I’ve sent my class into their respective changing rooms to get into their PE uniforms.

  I turn and gape at the man walking towards me in basketball shorts and a tight t-shirt, a whistle hanging around his neck, and clipboard in hand.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he says, grinning playfully when he comes to stand beside me as we wait.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you were a carpenter?”

  He shrugs. “Primary school teacher by day, carpenter by night… and on the weekends. It’s like my superpower.”

  Right. I vaguely remember one of my parents mentioning that. I snort. “Your superpower? And what’s your superhero name? Captain Fix-it?”

  He laughs and I can’t help but stare. He’s gorgeous. His black hair shines in the mid-morning sun. I can see a couple of freckles dotting his face around the bridge of his nose that I hadn’t noticed over the weekend when he came to my house, and he towers over me by at least five inches. “Bob the Builder was taken.”

  “Bob the Builder isn’t a superhero.”

  He gasps, clutching his hands to his chest over his heart. “You wound me.”

  I roll my eyes and try to fight the smile threatening to pull at the corners of my mouth.

  Nathan laughs, bumping his shoulder playfully into mine. “You guys heading out to the field too?”

  I nod. “Yeah, still seems a little cold to make them get into the pool.”

  “Want to make things interesting?”

  Now he has my curiosity piqued. I turn to him with an eyebrow raised. “I’m listening.”

  “Class against class? You pick the sport; soccer, field hockey, netball, tennis…”

  “And what’s the wager?” I ask.

  “No wager. Just the knowledge that my class kicks ass.”

  I laugh, “You really think your class has what it takes to beat mine?”

  By this time, the majority of both classes have begun filtering back outside from the changing rooms and are standing around in a half circle watching us, some with eager smiles on their faces and some who look like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Eh, I can relate to that. I use to hate PE except when it was field hockey day. Our teachers did this all the time when I was a student here so why shouldn’t I get to have the same sort of fun.

  I turn a look on those from my class who are already standing there and ready to play. They all nod an enthusiastic yes. “Fine. Soccer it is.”

  Nathan’s grin grows wider. He calls out two boys from the group, one from his class and one from mine, to help him get the balls from the sports locker. “We’ll meet you out there,” he calls as he walks towards the gym, the two boys trailing behind him.

  When they’re out of sight, I look at the group of kids standing watching me and realize he left me here to lead both classes to the sports fields… on the other side of the school. Asshole.

  “Alright guys, line up in two lines, please, and no shoving. If I see it, you’ll be sitting this one out in Mrs. Morton’s office.”

  One by one I see backs straightening as the threat of sitting in the principal’s office begins to settle. I nod at the two girls in the front and let them take the lead up the mini-ramp and through the doors, down the hall, and out the doors on the other side into the bigger, middle courtyard that separates the lower grade classes from the higher grades. I walk beside the two rows of kids down the pathway, pass the buildings to the big, open sports field. As soon as I get everyone split up into their respective classes again, I look up and notice Nathan walking towards us with one netted bag of soccer balls while the two boys are each using two hands to carry the other bag.

  “Exactly how many balls do you need?” I ask him when he gets closer and then immediately feel my face flame red with what I just said.

  Nathan laughs, but thankfully none of the kids are in earshot of us. “Just two,” he says with a mischievous grin. Then motions to the bags. “The rest are for warm up drills.”

  I duck my head, my face still hot at the innuendo I stupidly made, and then turn to do a headcount of both classes while Nathan calls out instructions.

  “Alright, listen up. We’re going to have a bit of a competition going on. My class versus Ms. Carter’s class…”

  My heart seizes at the sound of my surname. When I introduced myself to my class this morning, I told them to call me Mrs. C. But hearing that name fall from Nathan’s mouth again, it just… I blink back the tears that threaten to spill. I thought I was moving on from wanting to cry every time someone said Jack’s name, but I guess I’m not, at least not as much as I thought.

  I don’t hear the rest of what Nathan says then the two classes break off to do running drills.

  “You okay?” Nathan asks, once he’s made sure everyone is doing what they’re supposed to be doing.

  I nod. “Mhm, it’s just still a little weird to think of myself as a teacher.” I slide my hands in the pockets of my dress pants, making a mental note to keep a pair of track pants or shorts at work, and survey the groups of kids.

  “What did you do back home?”

  It’s an innocent question but I think somehow, being the wife of Navy SEAL, isn’t the right thing to say right now. “Website design mostly. I mean, I had my teaching license but… things happened, and it was just easier to do something that didn’t require me to go into school every day. Easier to travel and still work, I guess.�
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  I don’t mention the fact that after Jack died, I couldn’t leave the house. I had somehow built up such anxiety about stepping foot outside the condo we shared that it would sometimes take me a full day to psych myself up enough to go out and get groceries, or hell, even to get into the cab to go to the airport and catch a flight to Cape Town. So yeah, a few months after Jack died, I quit my job at the elementary school and made website designing my full-time job. I was pretty good at it before, so it wasn’t all that hard to find more clients to help fill the financial gap.

  I didn’t want to do that here though, especially not after my mom went through all that to get me an interview with Pam Morton. Well, interview wasn’t the right term. It was more like a sit-down tea where we discussed what I had been up to since leaving P.N.P.S. after grade six. We still talked about my teaching qualifications and experience, but it was almost like an afterthought. Like Pam knew she was going to hire me before I even stepped foot inside her office.

  After a few minutes, Nate instructs them to get into smaller teams of three or four, with one person from each group running up to grab a ball. When each group has their own soccer ball, they begin practicing kicking the ball back and forth, using the inside of their feet like they’ve been taught, and not their toes.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “What?” I ask, not sure if I’ve heard him correctly.

  “If my class wins, have dinner with me tonight.”

  “And what if my class wins?”

  He grins, and it’s boyish and youthful and it makes me want to say yes. Yes, to dinner. Yes, to anything. “Then we’ll have drinks to celebrate the win.”

  I laugh. “So, I’m either having dinner with you or drinks with you tonight.”

  “Awesome. I’ll pick you up at seven. School night and all,” he says then walks away to divide the kids up again so they can start playing.

  It’s not until we’re halfway through the game, with my kids kicking ass by the way, do I realize that he tricked me into seeing him tonight. I never did agree one way or another, and he never stuck around long enough to hear my answer, and whenever I would get close to him during the game, he’d run off again. The bugger. I’m not really torn up about it though. Nervous, maybe. I haven’t been on a first date since I was sixteen. Wait, was this even a first date?