Tell on You Page 3

  “Thank you,” he murmured, reaching for the book. She took a step toward him, then another, passed him the book and rested her head against Jeremy’s chest. Did she hear his heartbeat? He stepped away and saw a ripple of disappointment cross her face.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Why did Mr. Donnelly want to see you? Why did you leave school like that?”

  Jeremy hesitated. He ought not to burden her with this. Nikki had enough on her shoulders at home. Being the protector was his job, not hers.

  “Tell me,” she urged. “You looked so upset when you came out of his office.” She touched his shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with this alone, you know.”

  “Nikki.” Jeremy pulled back and cupped her chin with his hand. “I don’t want you worrying about me.” He looked into her light blue eyes, certain they were the color of glaciers—even though he’d never seen one firsthand. Yet glaciers were frozen and Nikki’s eyes warm, radiating devotion. Those eyes made him want to write poetry again.

  “It has something to do with Heather, doesn’t it?”

  Jeremy drew a swift breath. So bright, so perceptive. An old soul inside an elfin teenaged body. He smiled. “Now, how did you figure that out?”

  She gave him back a hint of a smile. “I have my ways.” Her expression turned somber. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Mr. B?”

  “Nothing serious,” he assured her, striving for an easy, confident tone. “Heather got some crazy ideas in her head.”

  “But—why did you leave the school all of a sudden?”

  “I—I’ll need to take some time off. Only for a little while,” he added. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out fine.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Will I still be able to talk to you?”

  He gazed at her hair, so dark that it shone blue-black in the midday sunlight. “Of course you will. I’ll be in touch.” He fought the urge to kiss her once, gently, on those soft, pink lips. “You’d better get back now.” He held up his copy of Gatsby. “Thanks for rescuing my book.”

  She nodded. “Bye, Mr. B. Be careful.”

  He watched her make her way between two bare trees, nimble as a fawn. Watched until she left his sight.

  A gust of cold wind roused Jeremy, sent him walking briskly toward his car.

  What kind of shit would pour down on him if people knew? The line had blurred so gradually that the point of no return had come and gone before he realized it. One day he’d been Nikki’s teacher; the next, her confidante. And then…

  No one else listens…

  Sixteen might be the legal age of consent, but teachers occupied a position of trust. Intimacy with a student? Illegal. But how illegal, in his case? He knew she had a crush on him. And knew he shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he did. Intoxicating to have a beautiful young girl look up to him. Still, he’d exercised restraint, hadn’t he? Only some hugs, first supportive and sympathetic, then, admittedly, more ardent. Always with Nikki the one to initiate them, as if that made it all okay. At first they’d met in his office or an empty classroom, then progressed to the park—or, on a couple of really cold days, his car. Imagine seeing that on page one of the newspaper. But he’d wanted to be alone with her, to drink in the sight of her.

  No one else…

  Shivering, Jeremy pulled his keys from his coat pocket.

  Yeah, guilty enough. Jeremy had drawn Heather’s attention and brought on her bogus complaint, as surely as if he’d groped that pathetic girl. Heather sat next to Nikki in his second period English class, and he’d let his gaze wander off in that direction one too many times. Heather’s dumb love note had shattered his denial, the flood of his own shame catching him all unprepared. So Jeremy had overreacted and turned on Heather.

  Now he only hoped to survive the coming storm.

  SEVEN

  WITH NO CONSCIOUS PLAN to pretend things were—routine, Jeremy loitered at the local library and arrived home at his regular time. Mounting the stairs to their garden apartment, he still had no clue how to break the news of his suspension to Melissa.

  When he opened the door, she stood there grinning at him.

  “Guess what?”

  Whatever, he could top it. “Mel, I’m not much in the mood for guessing games.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Oh, shit no.

  Melissa beamed. The smile, a bit—forced? She scanned his face for a reaction. He closed the door behind him—slowly, buying time. Pregnant. Now? “What happened?”

  Melissa rolled her eyes, like he’d said something funny, which Jeremy didn’t think he had. “A wild guess? I’d say one of your little guys was a champion swimmer.”

  Not amused. “You know what I mean. I thought you were on the pill.”

  Melissa’s smile withered. “They don’t always work.”

  Jeremy searched for a response. “Well! That certainly is news.”

  Her eyes remained glued on him. “You don’t sound very happy.”

  Here was the moment to tell her about the suspension, he knew. “No! I’m—surprised, is all. Uh, congratulations.”

  She flung her arms around his waist. He felt her exhale. “You, too.”

  “When are you—uh, we due?” Jeremy drew back to face her.

  “Around Thanksgiving? I see my gynecologist tomorrow. My obstetrician, I mean.” She giggled. Melissa was not a giggler. “He gets a promotion, I guess.”

  Jeremy nodded mutely, thinking: Wake me up. Shit, beam me up. He took in the living room of their rented garden apartment. The same room he’d left that morning—taupe pleather sofa with Melissa’s jacket laying on it, brown and beige striped fabric-covered chairs—her sneakers on the floor between them—the wood and glass coffee table piled with her books and handbag. The right apartment. Except in some parallel universe, where a Supreme Being with a sick sense of humor had played a cosmic joke on him. Twice, yet, in one day. If he walked out the door and came back in again, would everything return to normal? A reboot?

  “Jeremy?” Melissa stared.

  “Yeah!” He smiled, having no idea what else to do. “Wonderful, honey. Really. But—uh—what about grad school?”

  Melissa raked her fingers through her dark mane of hair. “I don’t know. I’ve hardly had a chance to think about it.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’ll still apply. If they accept me, there’s always the option of starting in January, instead of September. Right?”

  “Sure, makes sense.” He trailed off, imagining three Barretts to feed, instead of two. Technically, two Barretts and a Milton-Barrett, a bit of nomenclature Jeremy had come to resent. To Melissa, the hyphen conveyed feminism; to Jeremy, it meant her parents were part of the marriage. Still. “Uh, Mel, there’s something…”

  “Hey!” She eyed the khakis and sweater he’d worn to school. “Go change, babe. My parents are taking us out to dinner, to celebrate! The Moreland Inn.”

  Celebrate? Her parents?

  Melissa tugged at the neck of her sweatshirt and laughed. “Guess I’ll put on something sexy, while I still can.”

  Jeremy frowned. “You told them already?”

  Melissa looked away. “Mom was with me yesterday when I bought the home pregnancy test. She called this morning to find out the result.” Her brown eyes were wide, innocent. “I had to tell her, didn’t I?”

  Jeremy stood in the shower. Maybe he’d stay there all night. A celebratory dinner with the fucking Miltons. How could he rain on everyone’s parade?

  Melissa, pregnant. Not that pregnancy was unheard of, or even unexpected, after four years of marriage. God knows, his mother and in-laws had dropped enough hints about grandchildren. In their first couple of years together, he and Melissa had visited the topic in a vaguely positive way. Sure, they wanted a child—eventually. The way you wanted life insurance—a good idea, and one day you’d get around to it.

  But—now? Their financial situation was beyond dismal since Melissa was laid off from her job at the publishing company. A “job” job, not a career
job, one she’d fallen into through a girlfriend’s connections. Lately, Melissa had been talking about moving in a new direction, maybe graduate school. She’d debated between law and social work. Not the corporate kind of law, where people actually made money, or used to. Something more activist, pro-social. Maybe environmental or feminist law. Nothing that promised to put a dent in their credit card debt, which only Jeremy seemed worried about. Now neither of them would be bringing home a paycheck.

  “You gonna let me have a turn in there?” Melissa called out.

  “In a minute.” He turned off the water and reached for a towel. Pulling back the shower curtain, he stepped from the tub, to see his nude wife twisting her hair up into a clip in front of the mirror. He observed her toned, almost boyish body while he dried off. She didn’t look pregnant.

  “How accurate are those home pregnancy tests, anyway?” he asked.

  Melissa sidled past him, swatting him on the butt as she stepped into the shower. “Over 99 per cent.”

  “Huh.” A sinking sensation in his stomach. “That’s really amazing,” he said.

  EIGHT

  BY THE TIME THE entrees came, Jeremy had downed a martini and two glasses of Cabernet, already over his limit. Caught up in the festivities, his in-laws scarcely noticed, but Melissa shot him sidelong warning glances.

  “Have you told your mother yet, Jeremy?” Howard Milton refilled his own glass and held the bottle above his son-in-law’s. “More Cabernet?”

  Jeremy nodded, chewing roasted pork loin.

  Howard poured. “Bet she was over the moon.”

  “No, Dad.” Melissa corrected. “We haven’t told her.”

  Jeremy swallowed. “I meant, yes about the wine.” His third glass. Better slow down. “We tried calling her before we left, but she didn’t pick up.”

  “Not the kind of message you leave on voicemail,” Melissa said.

  “I’m sure Gail will be as thrilled as we are.” Beth Milton grasped Jeremy’s hand before he could pull it away. “If only your father were alive to share this with us.”

  Jeremy nodded and extricated his hand. He glanced around the room, taking in the gleaming hardwood and crystal décor of the Moreland Inn. Imagine his old man in a place like this. Mike Barrett, a humble, hardworking insurance salesman, would have been more at home at the local diner.

  Jeremy gulped the pricey Cabernet, trying to wash away the familiar taste of guilt and resentment his father’s memory evoked. A jab to his ribs commanded his attention.

  “Try some of this red snapper. It’s awesome.” Melissa offered a forkful of her entrée.

  Jeremy took a taste. “Terrific. A Chardonnay would go great with that.” He flashed her an evil wink. “But Mommy isn’t drinking now, right?”

  Her lips pursed. “Thanks a lot. I didn’t think about it until you said that.” Melissa sipped her water. “A small enough price to pay.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jeremy said, topping off his wine glass. “I’ll drink for both of us.”

  “See what a good mother she’ll make?” Beth Milton chimed in. “Have you thought about names? Oh!” Her eyes widened. “If it’s a boy, how about Milton? The family name!”

  “Or Melatonin, if it’s a girl,” Jeremy deadpanned, drawing a black look from Melissa. Time was, she’d have laughed at that line. They’d be co-conspirators against her parents. If a conspiracy existed nowadays, he was the outsider.

  “Mom,” Melissa said, “I haven’t even seen my gynecologist—uh, obstetrician, yet. It’s too soon to be thinking of names.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what it’s not too soon to be thinking about.” Howard leaned back in his chair and looked around the table, ensuring he had their attention.

  Tempted to tap a spoon against his water goblet, like people did when the best man rose to speak at a wedding, Jeremy swallowed more wine instead.

  “It’s time the two of you bought a house,” Howard announced.

  “Oh, yes!” Beth agreed. “You can’t raise a baby in that tiny apartment.”

  Jeremy caught Melissa’s warning glance, but spoke up anyway. “We’re not ready to buy. We might not even stay in New Jersey. Besides, an apartment is probably the most convenient place to take care of a newborn.”

  “Son,” Howard began.

  Jeremy loathed it when his father-in-law called him that.

  “You have to think long term,” Howard said. “Now is the time to buy, before the real estate market rebounds. The recovery has already started.” A successful real estate developer, Howard spoke with authority. “You and Melissa can’t afford to wait.” He smiled. “Besides, you think we’d let our first grandchild grow up in a rented garden apartment?”

  “Dad!” Melissa leaned across the table to catch her father’s eye, preempting Jeremy’s response. “You know I’ve been thinking about grad school. We can’t possibly afford a house now. Besides—”

  “But surely you’re not going to start graduate school with a baby on the way!” Beth stared, aghast, as if her daughter had proposed taking up skydiving.

  “Why not?” Melissa shot back. “Just because you were happy as a stay-at-home mom doesn’t mean I have to—”

  “Oh! So you’re going back to work, after all!” Jeremy raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Jeremy,” Melissa said through gritted teeth.

  “The point is.” Howard spoke over both of them. “It will be our pleasure—our privilege—to take care of the down payment on your new house.” He raised his own glass in a salute and drained the last of his wine. “And that’s settled.”

  Furious, Jeremy lurched forward, nearly capsizing his half-full wine glass. “Wait a minute!”

  “Jeremy!” Melissa hissed.

  “No, hey! Don’t I get a vote?”

  “Son.” Howard pulled Jeremy’s wine glass out of reach. “That’s enough.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jeremy wanted to grab back the wine and fling it in his father-in-law’s face. “Well, I vote the three of us move in with you guys. You all can change little Milton’s diapers while Melissa sleeps in and I look for a job. Won’t that be fun?”

  In the awkward silence, three sets of eyes glared back at him. Jeremy yanked the napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. “Come on, Mel.” He stood too quickly, swaying. “Maybe you better drive, huh?”

  NINE

  HALFWAY BACK TO THE apartment, Jeremy broke their seething silence. “So—what? I’m the bad guy here? Is that it?” He waited. “Mel?”

  “Not while I’m driving,” she growled.

  “Fine.” He turned and cracked his window, letting the cold night air finish the job of sobering him up.

  “Will you fucking close that?” Melissa snapped. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” he muttered.

  “I said, can it while I’m driving, okay?”

  Jeremy shut his mouth and his window. He stewed through the remaining minutes of the ride home, stealing sidelong glances at Melissa’s tight-lipped face. Already he regretted his outburst at the restaurant. Yet, resentment of his father-in-law still burned, a slow, steady flame. How dare he play the CEO of their lives?

  Pulling into a space by their apartment building, Melissa hopped out of the car, slammed the door behind her and headed upstairs. Jeremy took his time following her, bracing for the showdown.

  Melissa stood in the living room, arms crossed over her chest, ready for battle. “How could you?” she demanded when he walked in.

  “How could I? What, we’re supposed to hand over our future to Howard the Great in exchange for buying us dinner?”

  “They were being generous,” Melissa said. “It was a celebration. Which you turned into a—a drunken brawl!” Her dark brows nearly met in a chevron of anger.

  “I wasn’t drunk!” Jeremy protested. “Especially with your father snatching away my wine glass.”

  “Every time my parents try to do something nice for us you get threatened. W
hat the hell is your problem, Jeremy?”

  “My problem? My problem?” Nearly sputtering. “Let’s see, besides your father trying to run my life? Besides you springing a baby on me? How about the fact that I got suspended from my goddamn job today?”

  Melissa stared. “What?”

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to break the news that way. “Well, temporarily,” he said, backpedaling.

  “Jeremy! What happened?” Her fury gave way to a look of alarm.

  “There was—a student, her mother, really—made a bogus accusation that I, uh, harassed her.”

  “Sexually harassed her? A student?” Melissa stared at him in horror. “Jeremy, my god!”

  “Look,” he said, desperate now to reassure her. “It’ll be okay. The girl had a crush on me and wrote a love note on her paper. I gave—I graded her work accordingly. Next thing I know, Donnelly hands me an email from the kid’s mother claiming I molested her. It’s bullshit, Mel. There’ll be an investigation, and—”

  “Investigation?” Melissa blanched. “Jeremy, you need a lawyer, right away.”

  She might have a point. “Well…”

  “Are you still getting paid?”

  He could tell the question had only now occurred to her. “Uh, not while I’m on, uh, leave,” he said. “But retroactively, yeah, when it’s settled.”

  Melissa shook her head, shell-shocked. “Jeremy, I should call my father right away about a lawyer.”

  His back burner pot of resentment boiled over. “Christ, Mel, can we keep your fucking father out of this, please!”

  “But—we need help.” Her eyes filled with fear. “Of all the times for this to happen. With a baby on the way.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe now you get that this might not be the time for us to have a kid.” He knew that for a low blow as soon as he’d said it.

  She looked stricken. “Don’t you want this baby?”

  He struggled for the words. “It’s just—so sudden. It’s not like we planned it, or talked. I mean, aren’t you even a little bit—ambivalent?”

  “How can you say that?”

  She had to ask? What the hell was birth control for? “I don’t get it,” Jeremy said. “Yesterday you were hell bent on grad school. Today you’re all gung ho on motherhood. I thought we agreed you’d start bringing in a paycheck again.”