A Sister's Promise (Promises) (24 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“I’ve made a list of all the things I want to do before I die,” Joely announced as she rubbed coconut-scented SPF 45 on her arms. She put the lotion back in her SUV. “You want to see it?”

Within months Joely had gone from being depressed about her diagnosis to embracing it. Kate struggled to accept either extreme.

Joely placed a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head, looking more ready for a day at the beach than at the local putt-putt.

Kate remembered that the rays could trigger flares. “Should you be out here in the sun?”

“I’ll be alright,” Joely said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Kate ignored her jibe. They walked to the little window and paid their fees.

A few minutes later they stood on the green, Kate holding a silver club and a cherry red golf ball. Joely reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. She handed it to Kate who read:
 
paint a masterpiece, learn to swim, hear a private Billy Joel performance.

Kate stopped reading. “I don’t think the thing with Billy Joel is very likely.”

“I know,” Joely said, sounding disappointed. “Maybe I could contact that organization that grants final requests for kids. . .what’s it called? The Make-a-Wish Foundation? After all, am I not a big kid?” She smiled mischievously.

Kate’s hand clenched. How can Joely joke about this?

Joely played first. “Take your shot, sis. You’re holding up the line.”

Behind her, she saw a girl about twelve and a boy around nine having a duel with their golf clubs. Kate tucked the list in her back pocket and put down her ball. She swung again and again, losing count of her strokes.

Joely wrote on the scorecard with a miniature pencil. “We’ll just say that was five.”

At the next hole Kate placed her golf ball next to the rut where many people had obviously started. The trick on that hole was to go underneath a windmill avoiding the long rotating blades.

Even though Joely downplayed her symptoms, Kate noticed she walked stiffly like an elderly woman. Rather than turning her neck, she turned her whole body to look at the target.

“If you’re in pain, we don’t have to play mini-golf,” Kate said.

“No, it’s OK. I want to.” She held a smile on her lips.

Kate pulled out Joely’s list and saw “visit Europe” written on it. “Can I go with you?”

“Where?” Joely sunk the ball with her second shot—still better than Kate even with sore joints.

“Anywhere.”

“Sure. If you can get off work. I used my inheritance to buy myself a ticket to France. I plan to visit the art museums in every city until my money runs out.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?” Of course Kate knew why. Because Joely hadn’t been telling her much of anything since her confession at the diner. How mad would she be when she heard Kate’s next confession?

Joely shrugged. “I’m telling you now.”

“Did you check with your doctor?”

“I don’t care what the doctor says. It’s time to live my life. I’m not going to sit around and ask ‘why me?’ anymore.”

“What about your boss?”

“Now that I’ve been diagnosed with a potentially fatal disease, she doesn’t have the heart to say ‘no’.”

Kate cringed. The words “fatal disease” and “Joely” didn’t belong together. Upbeat, outgoing, optimistic—those words described her sister.

The girl behind her twirled her golf club like a baton and the boy stomped his feet. Sensing the impatience of the boy-girl duo, Kate sighed. “Why don’t you play through?”

They agreed and the boy ran up to the green and dropped his yellow ball. He swung wildly as if he were trying to drive it on a real golf course. The ball smacked into the brick wall surrounding the turf and bounced out onto the sidewalk with a rapid click-click-click.

Kate and Joely took a seat on a wooden bench with flaked black paint.

Wait a minute. Joely never went on vacation alone. Even in San Diego she had been with someone. “And what about Jake?”

“He was supposed to go with me.” Joely frowned, looking at her Birkenstock’s. “But at the last minute he cancelled. Said he just couldn’t leave his wife yet.”

“Oh, Joely. . . .” Kate patted her hand, suppressing the urge to say “I told you so.” She watched the boy recover his ball and waited for the rest of the family to take their turns. She studied Joely’s injured expression. “I’m sorry.”

Joely shrugged, her lips tightened. “I don’t want to talk about Jake.”

“Just tell me you’re through with him for good.”

“But I love him.” She crossed her legs and bounced her foot. “Don’t I deserve to be happy?”

“Of course you do.” How could Joely be so gullible? And why couldn’t she accept that Kate was just trying to protect her? “But he—”

Joely cut her off. “I
said
I don’t want to talk about him.”

Hurt, Kate looked down at the paper crumpled in her hand. “I don’t understand why you made this list.”

“People make lists like this all of the time, only they put them in a drawer somewhere and forget about them. Fortunately, I’ve got a little more motivation.” Grinning, Joely took the list and tucked it into her back pocket as if it were a treasure map.

Kate just couldn’t joke about this. She shook her head, staring at the weeds poking through the cracked sidewalk. “I worry about you.”

“Well, don’t.” Joely put her arm around Kate’s shoulder as if to try and cheer her up.

Good ‘ole Joely, comforting her, when
she
was the one who should need comforting. “I’m glad you’re not feeling so upset any more. But I’m not sure you should exert yourself by going to Europe. Especially by yourself.”

“Hey, I’ve put my life on hold long enough. Sure, I’d rather have a husband to go with, but I don’t. There are people in my support group who are much worse off than I am. I’m lucky I can do this.”

Joely—lucky? Kate tried to wrap her mind around that idea. She so envied her sister’s outlook on life. Then a crazy thought flashed. Could that be the real reason she sabotaged Joely’s engagement? She’d hated to see her younger sister, naïve and optimistic, running toward the altar before her. Wow. She’d always felt so justified because she’d been right about Jake, but here it was. A hint of jealousy.
Shame on me.
“I’m sorry about Jake. I really am.”

“That’s life.” Joely squeezed Kate’s shoulders even tighter.

# # #

After they finished the course, they went out for burgers. In an act of overindulgence, Joely only ordered fries and a banana split.

Joely placed her straw hat on the seat next to her. “So, do you have anything to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Am I going to be an aunt soon? Or an uncle?” She smirked. “Now that Mitch has finally come around and you have a clean bill of health, there’s nothing standing in your way.”

If only it were that simple. “The doctor said I’m not sick now, but I could still get lupus, you know. Pregnancy is one of the triggers.”

“You could get hit by a bus tomorrow, too. God—you’re such a worrier.”

Yes, and it’s exhausting
. Kate took a drink of water. “To be honest, Joely, it isn’t a good time.”

Joely’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your excuse now?”

“It’s not an excuse. Mitch and I can’t agree on childcare. And there’s this stuff going on at work that has me pretty upset.”

Joely slapped her hand on the tabletop. “I knew it.”

Kate jumped a little in her seat.

“Tell the truth. You never intended to follow-through.”

“Yes, I did. I mean . . . I’ve given it a lot of thought. But I’m very distracted by work right now.”

Joely shook her head, scowling. She pointed her finger at Kate. “You hide behind your job, Kate, to avoid real life.”

“No I don’t.” She leaned back as the waitress brought their plates. She unfolded her napkin and put it in her lap.

After the waitress left, Joely ignored her food. “Sure you do. You get your emotional fix by talking to other people’s kids. If you had any sense, you’d see that you’re just suppressing the need to have your own child.”

“Don’t analyze me. I’m the counselor, remember? And I’m very aware of my own feelings. And right now I’m torn up by what’s going on at school.”

Joely rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Then tell me what’s going on.”

Kate took a deep breath, knowing she wasn’t supposed to talk about it with anyone. She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “A teacher did something. . . and even though it was a long time ago. . .it’s eating me up.”

“You’re being awfully vague, Sis. Just tell me.”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Who am I going to tell? No one around here has even heard of Foxworth anyway.”

Kate brought her finger to her lips. “Shh. OK. There’s this teacher and we just found out she fooled around with a student back in 1993.”

Joely leaned forward. “Really? Did she have his baby like Mary Letourneau?”

“Actually, she messed around with a female student.”

“Wow. You should call Jerry Springer or something.”

Kate knew it sounded unbelievable. “I can’t. That’s the thing. The superintendent decided that it’s better to just pretend it never happened. But I can’t stand working in the same building with someone who would do such a thing.”

“Then do something about it.” Joely reached for the ketchup and poured some onto her plate.

“Like what? They can’t fire her because it happened so long ago. Plus she denies it and there isn’t any real proof.”

Joely picked up a thick fry and held it in mid-air. “I’m guessing the community doesn’t know?”

“Definitely not.” Kate shook her head out of frustration. “If they did, maybe they could force the school to take action.”

“Sounds like you need to make sure the right people hear about it.”

“The problem is I would be fired if I told anyone.”

“That’s dumb.” Joely dipped a fry into ketchup and took a bite.

Looking at her hamburger, Kate realized she wouldn’t be able to eat it. “I haven’t been tenured. Besides, part of my job as a counselor involves confidentiality. I’m required to keep secrets.”

“Not potentially dangerous ones, though, right? Isn’t there some exception to the rule?”

“If I know a student may harm themselves or others, I am required to report it. But this isn’t the same thing.” Kate chewed on her lip.

Joely shook her head. “If it were me, I would call the newspapers or something.”

“I don’t want to destroy Foxworth High School’s reputation. Most of the teachers are well-qualified, caring people. And I don’t want to lose my job.”

“See, that’s another example of how I’ve got it made. Knowing it could all end tomorrow is really quite freeing. It gives me the courage to do things.”

Was that her problem? She didn’t have the nerve to do what she knew was right?

CHAPTER FORTY

In her college ethics class Kate learned that whistle-blowers, though revered for their character and bravery, ended up blacklisted.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs, unable to get comfortable in the metal folding chair onstage. She flipped open the program, but didn’t read it.

Mr. Mohr adjusted the microphone, causing it to release a piercing sound. If he hadn’t made up his mind about Kate’s tenure, he would after tonight.

Parents dressed in their Sunday best filled the auditorium. Only the front two rows remained vacant, roped off for the seniors.

“Welcome,” Mr. Mohr said from the podium. “Welcome to our annual Senior Awards Night.”

The audience quieted down and the school band started to play “Pomp and Circumstance” as a preview of the graduation ceremony a few weeks away. Some of the moms dabbed at their eyes with tissues while the seniors, dressed in their caps and gowns—girls in white and boys in royal blue—filed in.

Kate studied the young faces of the seniors as they adjusted their mortarboards. She would miss them. She would miss everyone.

Mr. Warren, the truancy officer, took the microphone from Mr. Mohr as the principal found his seat onstage alongside the other presenters. “First we will recognize the courageous seniors who resisted the urge to participate in Senior Skip Day. . .” he paused for audience laughter, “in order to receive the most coveted of all awards. . .the perfect attendance certificate.” The seniors nudged each other with their elbows and snickered.

He read the list, “Sarah Alba. . . Marcus Andrews. . .John Brouwer. . . .”

As each student crossed the stage, Kate witnessed a parade of worn-out tennis shoes, hiking boots, house slippers and flip-flops. It was a Foxworth tradition for students to wear ridiculous shoes that contrasted with their formal robes.

Rhonda had told her that Mr. Mohr wanted to threaten the seniors with Saturday School if they wore anything “less than appropriate”, but she’d convinced him it was better to let them have their fun tonight rather than during the actual graduation ceremony. Unlike some graduations, Foxworth’s continued to be a dignified event where the audience refrained from yelling “Way to go!” or “Hallelujah!” as students received their diplomas.

A shoeless girl wearing socks the color of a neon rainbow reached for her certificate. When she turned back toward her seat, she slipped on the wooden planks of the stage and fell. Mr. Warren rushed forward to help her.

She stood up giggling. “I’m OK. I’m OK” She plodded like a dinosaur the rest of the way and the audience laughed out of relief.

“Now I will turn things over to Mr. Ewing, the head of the art department,” Mr. Warren said. After art came business and so on until each department named their most valuable student. The prizes were only tokens—Cross pens, French-English dictionaries and the like.

What everyone really cared about came next. . .the scholarship winners. The principal returned to the podium. He read each winner and the audience applauded.

“Receiving the Purdue Alumni Club Scholarship in the amount of $1,000,” Mr. Mohr announced, “is Todd Wannamaker.”

The tall blond jumped up from his seat looking more like a star basketball player than a golfer. He strode toward the stage with his blue robe flowing behind him like a tail. In the seat next to him remained his smiling twin, Thad, whose name he and Kate both knew would not be uttered even once that evening.

Mr. Mohr shook Todd’s hand and gave him an envelope containing the check. When Todd turned to dismount the stage, he caught Kate’s eye. He raised the envelope in the air and waved it toward her in acknowledgement of their earlier discussion regarding the pitfalls of senioritis. He nodded and so did Kate. She lived for moments like that.

She’d had an even more touching moment with Michelle that morning. Kate had sent for her, wanting to review details about the SAT and financial aid with her one more time. Michelle had assured her that her classes were going well and that she and Frank were back together for good. Drawn in by Michelle’s emerald eyes, Kate longed to tell her that this might be their last meeting, but she couldn’t. Instead Kate gave her a gift bag, the tag addressed to Graciella, containing the pink toile baby dress she’d bought in Denver. Michelle had almost cried, saying Graciella had never worn anything but thrift store clothes. Kate’s eyes had brimmed with tears, too. Michelle might only be fifteen with a shaky financial situation, but she was as determined and devoted as any mother could be. She and Graciella were going to make it. Kate felt it all the way to her bones.

Now Mr. Mohr handed the appropriate plaques to the valedictorian, one of Rhonda’s students, and salutatorian, one of Kate’s. Every year Kate and Rhonda had a silly competition over who had the most students in the top ten of the class. Whoever lost had to buy the other a coffee cake from Connie’s Diner. Kate crossed her fingers as the principal called the other eight names. Kate had four and Rhonda, six. Kate would owe her.

“We are fortunate to have one of the best social studies teachers in the state working at Foxworth High,” Mr. Mohr stated. Even though hiding personal feelings was a job requirement for administrators, he wasn’t fooling Kate. His voice sounded hollow.

Mrs. B rose from her chair. Kate’s throat constricted and her tongue felt sticky inside her mouth. She caressed the folded piece of paper hidden under her program. The one with Jennifer-1993’s original e-mail printed on it.

“Her students scored exceptionally well on the state US History exam—“

Kate tasted sour acid in the back of her throat. She swallowed then coughed twice, hearing it echo throughout the room.

“—and we would like to recognize Mrs. Linda Cochran—“

Kate coughed so loud that Mr. Mohr paused. She kept going. Her eyes started to water. Rhonda put her arm around her and asked if she was OK.

Kate shook her head, but managed to stop coughing.

“—as an outstanding teacher,” Mr. Mohr finished.

A male reporter and female photographer stood in the aisles. They shifted their weight from side to side, anxious to get some posed shots for tomorrow’s
Foxworth Times
so they could go home and eat dinner/see their families/watch TV.

Did Kate really have the nerve to go up and tell them the truth about award-winning Linda Cochran?

Mrs. B replaced Mr. Mohr in front of the podium and lowered the microphone. Like a virus, the gray streak in her hair had spread.

Kate bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

Yesterday Kate had gone to Mrs. B’s classroom. Kate could barely speak the words that Joely had given her the courage to say:
 
“Either quit or I go public.”

Mrs. B had released a brittle laugh and stared down at her. “Absolutely not. You’ve got nothing on me.”

Kate remembered the black and white image of Lily snuggling with someone in a hooded coat. She couldn’t tell for sure who it was, but she had to do something. She had to stand up for Lily because no one ever had. “You should know better than to kiss a student on school property. Did you forget they put video cameras in the parking lot?”

Something flashed across Mrs. B’s face—fear? panic? Kate wasn’t sure.

Mrs. B had raised an arched eyebrow. Her ever-confident expression returned. Then she’d curled her lips into a Cruella De Vil smile. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d be fired in an instant.” She was strong. Stronger than Kate. And she knew it.

Now, as Mrs. B gave her speech, the blood pulsed forcefully in Kate’s neck. Kate caught a whiff of her own sweat.

Mrs. B looked at her certificate. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. What this school and this community mean to me.”

Kate’s heart bucked madly.

“I am proud to receive this recognition on behalf of my students. After all, they are the ones who scored the highest in the state.”

Kate slid her moist palms along her skirt and prepared to take a stand.

“I have taught at Foxworth High School for thirty-three years. And I have attended every school play, home football game and graduation because that is what good teachers do.”

Kate forced her wobbly legs to support her weight. Her pumps clicked as she slowly walked to the podium. Mr. Mohr narrowed his eyes at her, a warning.

Mrs. B glowered at Kate then returned her focus to the crowd. “Just remember, seniors, that we all make mistakes. I like to believe that I’ve more than made up for mine.” Mrs. B put her hand to her mouth and looked pensive.

The audience grew even quieter.

“I love you guys,” Mrs. B’s voice quivered. She looked down at her award. “However, the time has come. . . for me to retire.”

Kate almost fell off her two-inch heels.

She had done it! Timid Kate Hopper had chased the wolf from the field.

Something inside of her, a sense of righteousness and a new kind of confidence, radiated throughout her body. Excitement zipped up and down her spine, tingled in her fingertips.

She allowed the moment to fill her chest.

Relieved. Justified. Victorious.