Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,1
Bloom?”
I look toward the hallway.
“Ms. Valentine,” I sigh.
“Mrs. Hogue,” she corrects me with a smile as she walks toward me, two cups of coffee in hand. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I am. Just a bit banged up.”
She looks around the room. “Would you like some coffee while you wait?”
“If I could be honest with you, Bridget, I really don’t have time for waiting. My classroom needs to be boxed up before they start demolishing it. I’m already late getting things done because …” I pause, because admitting I’ve procrastinated would be further embarrassing. “Because —”
She holds up her hand. “Dr. Hogue is about ready to clock out, but I don’t think he’d mind seeing Brendan’s all-time favorite substitute teacher.”
Her son, Brendan, is one of those kids you never forget. As a student teacher, I was there when his father was killed in a car accident. I will never forget what a brave little man he was. But it wasn’t until I lost my own father that I realized the strength he truly carried.
She looks around as if she’s trying to make sure no one is looking, nods toward the hallway, and whispers, “Follow me.”
Uncomfortably lying on my belly with a cold pack on my ass, completely and totally embarrassed, I wait for Bridget, who is scheduling an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon, who I had to literally pinky promise the very handsome and hilarious British Dr. Hogue that I would see today.
The curtain moves, and I look back over my shoulder. Even in pain, I can’t help smiling.
Looking down at her tablet, she tells me, “Dr. Stewart has an opening at four.”
“Your husband is not just a beautiful man, he has a beautiful soul.”
She looks up at me, smiling with her eyes.
“I bet Brendan adores him. He obviously adores you.”
She shakes her head. “Back when Ben died, I never thought I would ever be happy again. I never truly believed a man would ever come into our lives and love us like Ben did. Turns out, Simon loves us better.”
I sense there is a story behind that statement, but I don’t pry. Opening old wounds is not something I care to do to others … just myself on occasion.
After removing the cold pack from my ass, I roll to my side. “You look so happy.”
“I really am.” She sits on the stool beside me. “But you’re in a hurry. Your very own classroom. You must be so excited.”
“I am, but I’d love to hear all about it one day.”
“When you’re healed up, I’m sure I’ll see you in yoga class again.”
I don’t tell her that yoga is no longer a luxury I can afford. I simply nod.
“Do you have anyone to help?”
“I’ll be fine. Not a big deal at all.” I start to sit up and cringe.
“Let me help you up.”
After giving me instructions and asking if I have a ride, which I lie a little and tell her yes so she doesn’t insist I leave my car behind, she gives me a copy of my instructions and the appointment information for this afternoon.
Crutching through the parking lot, it dawns on me that I have a double shift on Sunday at The Oasis. When I told Shirley, my manager, I had taken a full-time position and would still like to keep a couple weekend or evening shifts at the restaurant, but I wouldn’t be able to help do lunch shifts during the week, she advised me to keep it under my hat until the summer student staff left for college so my shifts wouldn’t get cut. Now, there is no way in hell I can carry a tray while on crutches.
Anxiety begins to build. I have two weeks until I begin work. With them holding two paychecks, I know I’m a month without a steady income. Add not only an ER visit, but an orthopedic surgeon appointment on top of that, and my credit is about to take another massive hit.
As well as your date nights with wine and booshie ice cream habit.
I exhale anxiety as I do a mental financial inventory.
I may have to forgo my own little version of luxuries, and my credit may take longer to rebuild, but in less than two months, I will have a steady paycheck and a bit of financial stability for the first time.
Freaking Noon
Looking around my classroom, camera in hand, I’m happy with the progress. Even creepy Ken can’t stop me from saving every bit of magical inspiration I can from