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Twelve years later . . .

            A colossal wave of panic swept through Jordan Anderson as she turned into Anthony Pierson High School’s parking lot.  Her heart raced and perspiration led a path down the narrow slope of her neck. 

Jordan pulled her silver Saturn SUV into an empty spot and turned off the engine.  She collapsed against the cloth covered seat, unconsciously stroking the incision on her right wrist.    

The time has come, she thought, studying the red brick building with incredible amounts of trepidation.  Today, started an important journey to recapture the joy of teaching.  No longer a starry-eyed baby teacher fresh out of college, Jordan sought enjoyment and fulfillment in her chosen profession.  She needed to dispel the sense of panic and apathy which had violently crept into her life and took control. 

            I can’t hide in the car forever, Jordan rationalized, opening the door and swinging her legs onto the concrete paved ground.  The sun’s summer rays caressed her skin as she unlocked the back door.  She dropped her scarlet Kenneth Cole shoulder bag inside the cardboard box nestled in the back seat and removed the box overflowing with the tools of her trade.  With a gentle nudge of her hip, the door swung shut and she crossed the parking lot.

Memories of the previous twelve years twisted her gut into knots.  Jordan felt as if she’d been in the trenches of a war instead of working in her chosen profession.  Rude parents, unruly students and uncompromising administration contributed to her disheartened attitude.  She ended the last school year emotionally drained, physically battered with her spirit broken.  Although she still loved teaching, she craved a break from the emotional baggage that accompanied her career. 

            Turning in the direction of her car, Jordan hit the black car remote on her key chain.  The SUV chirped and the head lights flashed, arming it. 

Mindful of the weakness in her wrist, she gingerly shifted the box from her right to her left arm and reached for the door handle.  She still had trouble handling heavy items.  After six months of physical therapy, the doctors had declared her as fit as she would ever be. 

Inside the building, she sighed, enjoying the sense of space and quiet.  These were the final days of summer and Pierson High School remained a kid free zone.  Everything would change two weeks from today with the start of the new school year.  Every available inch of floor space would be occupied by students, crowding together in social groups to discuss the highlights of their summers. 

            She cut through the empty kitchen, strolled across the cafeteria and down the main corridor.  The silhouette of a tall teenager detached itself from the wall and took shape as she approached him. 

            Jordan’s eyes narrowed.  A man stood in front of her, not a boy.  She gauged his age to be anywhere from the mid-to-late twenties.  A tiny smile formed on her lips as she admired the tantalizing picture he presented.

            He’s definitely a cutie, she thought, giving him a thorough once over.  This man stood way over six feet with the solid, muscular frame of an athlete.  A long, oval shaped face framed sparkling coffee-brown eyes that danced with golden flecks.  Jordan giggled, shook her head, knowing full well that he may be handsome, but he was still a tenderoni and one step away from jailbait. 

Admiring his skin, Jordan smiled.  Each year women eagerly paid millions to cosmetic companies to achieve his blemish free bronze complexion.  His broad smile revealed even white teeth as he came near her with an outstretched hand. 

Jordan took his hand in a firm handshake.  An electrical charge zapped her.  Time halted as they gazed into each others eyes.  Finally, she pulled her hand free, rubbing it against the soft fabric of her black linen shorts. 

“Hi,” he greeted in a deep baritone voice.  “I’m Mike Walker.  I’ve been waiting for you.”   

            Unable to resist the appeal of his smile, she grinned back.  “Hi.  Jordan Anderson.  I’m starting here as a teacher this semester.”

            “I’m your welcoming committee.”  He removed the box from her hands.  “I’ll take you to your classroom, then we’ll need to get to the staff meeting.”

            An uncertain smile wavered on her lips.  “Thanks.”

            Mike cleared his throat and ran a hand over his wavy sable hair.  “No problem.”  He took her arm in a loose grip, creating a new assortment of sensations.  “The science classrooms and labs are grouped together.  You and I are neighbors.  That way we can help each other, when necessary.”

            “Good.”

            “Yeah.  It helps.”  He smiled, guiding her down the hallway. 

            Each time Mike smiled, an invisible string drew Jordan closer to him. 

“By the way, I teach biology, earth science and astronomy,” Mike said.

            Jordan thrust a finger at her chest and responded, “Physics, physical science and chemistry.”

            “I know.”  Mike stopped at a wood door with the number fifteen marked in big, black letters.  A ceiling to floor windowpane filled the left portion of the entrance. 

Mike pulled a gold ring of keys from his pocket, chose one and turned it in the lock.  Opening the door, he peeled the key from the ring and handed it to her. 

            Jordan stepped into the room, taking her first look at what would be her workplace for the new school year. 

This classroom resembled others that she’d occupied.  Beige walls, mud brown and white tile flooring and rows of blue and grey desks stuffed the room.  Ceiling-to-floor windows ran the length of one wall.  A teacher’s work station guarded the front door.

He placed her box on a nearby desk.  “Walker Moving Company is at your service.  Do you have anything else to bring in?”

            She shook her head.  “No.  This is it.  Later this week I’ll probably bring in more stuff.”

            Nodding, Mike reiterated, “Just remember, my offer to help you move in is available anytime.”

            “I appreciate it.  Thank you.”

            Depositing her purse on the desk, Jordan examined the room.   

Mike took her arm and guided her to a door at the rear of the classroom.  “Let me show you around.  We share a lab.  This door leads to it.  The key I gave you will open your room, my room and the lab.”

            Jordan stepped through the entrance, glancing around the lab.  Gleaming state-of-the-art equipment stood ready for use.  Every possible piece of equipment needed to perform experiments waited.  Bunsen burners, beakers and microscopes lined the black marble table tops.         

“I’m warning you in advance, Debby, our department head, will go ballistic if you don’t lock up the lab whenever you use it.  It took lots of persuasion to get our administration to let go of the bucks to build these labs.  So, be careful.”

            “Noted.  I’ll keep it in mind,” she promised, tapping her forehead with a finger.  She moved around the lab, touching items as she moved between the aisles.

            Mike pointed at a wooden door at the far end of the room.  “My room is on the other side of that door.  That’s room fourteen.”

            They returned to her classroom a few moments later when Jordan had finished surveying the room.  Mike perched on the edge of one of the desks, disappointment lurked behind his dark lashes, partially hidden, but visible if she looked closely.  “You don’t remember me, do you?”
            Jordan studied his face.  “No,” she answered, slowly shaking her head.  “Should I?”
            He stood, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and moved across the room to the windows.  “I hoped you would.  You taught at Randall High School, correct?”

            “Yes.  What about it?”  Jordan moved closer to him.    

“I’m Mike.”  He emphasized his name as if she should recognize it.

            “Mike?”
            “Remember DeMarcus?”

            That name clicked in her head, conjuring up the boy’s tortured face and Mike’s shocked expression. 

Her mouth dropped open and eyebrows shot up.  “Oh my,” Jordan muttered, turning away as those old memories crystallized.  “Oh my,” she repeated, cupping her cheek with her hand.  “Good grief.  You’ve grown up.”

            “Yes, I have.”  Grinning, his voice softened to a whispered purr.  “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but the way you handled DeMarcus always stuck with me and inspired me to become a teacher.”

            Flattered, she mustered a faint, “Really?”

            “Mmm, hmm.  You safely negotiated a situation that could have had a very different outcome.” 

“That’s what they paid me for,” she added flippantly.

He moved aimlessly around the room.  “And more, I say.  I admired you for the way you stood by and helped DeMarcus.  Jordan, up to that point, I had no idea what my future held.  My agenda included college, but that ended it.  I felt confused and uncertain. That incident grounded me and gave me direction.”

            “Thank you.”  A sad little smile switched on and off her face like a light bulb.  “I needed to hear something good about my days at Randall High.”

            “You changed my life.”

They studied each other across the length of the room.  The silence grew taut and she felt compelled to break it.  “Do you enjoy teaching?”

            “Yes.  Very much,” he answered quickly.  “I found the place where I’m needed.”  Mike glanced at his watch.  “Whoa, we better get moving.  The meeting starts promptly at nine.”  

            Jordan nodded and dropped her purse in her desk drawer.  As she crossed the room, she grabbed her portfolio and a pen from the box.  “How long do you think our meeting will last?”

            He shrugged, opening the door.  “Couple of hours.  We’ll meet at nine each morning until the semester begins.  Lunch happens at noon and we return around 2:30 for a daily wrap up.”

            “What happens after lunch?  Are there additional meetings?”

            With a hand at Jordan’s elbow, Mike guided her down the corridor.  She tried to ignore the warmth of his touch against her skin.  The tingling sensations spread from the top of her spine and hustled down her back. 

“No.  Generally, we work in our rooms, unless Chet or our department head schedules a guest speaker.”

“Sounds good.”  Jordan stuffed the pen into the side pocket of her shorts.  “What about the staff?  Is it a good team?”
            “Yes, they are.”  Gazing down at her, Mike smiled.  “You’ll see for yourself.”  His eyes darkened and his voice turned conspiratory.  “Here’s a word of advice.  Don’t let them intimidate you.  They love doing that.”

            She let out a shaky breath.  “I am intimidated and nervous.”

            “Don’t be.  You’ll do fine.  Besides, you’ve been teaching far too long to let them get the upper hand.”  His warm palm shifted from her elbow to the base of her spine, leading her with gentle firmness.  “We’ll meet in room one each morning.”

            “Who besides the teaching staff attend these meetings?”
            “The principal and assistant principal.  Some of the maintenance people return when we do and the administrative staff generally attend some of the meetings.”

            “What kind of stuff will we be covering?”

            “Team teaching is one of the concepts we’re exploring this year.  By the way, we do lunch together as a department.”

            “Okay.”

            “Here we are,” he announced, opening the door. 

Jordan preceded him into the room.  The occupants quieted and turned to watch them.  She felt like a specimen from a museum on display as she crossed the floor and sank into a blue plastic chair at the back of the room.  Mike followed, settling in next to her. 

            A thin woman with coffee-colored skin and narrow shoulder length blond braids stood behind a podium, motioning for Jordan to join her at the front of the room.

            “People, this is Jordan Anderson.  She’s joining the science department this fall.  Please welcome her to our Pierson family.”

 

*   *   *

 

            Swallowing the last drops of Gatorade, the smile on Mike’s face refused to disappear as he scanned the information he picked up when he entered the room.  Jordan Anderson had arrived and she looked exactly the way he remembered.  Tall and willowy, Jordan displayed the grace of a dancer.  Skin the color of rich unsweetened tea and almond shaped eyes the color of espresso coffee, Jordan was beautiful.  His heart almost exploded from his chest when she strolled down the hallway like a queen, checking out her kingdom. 

Since his department chair had mentioned Jordan was joining the Pierson High School staff, he’d been waiting for her to put in her appearance.  Finally, after weeks of anticipation, she had arrived.  His eyes swept over her once more.  Jordan was beautiful and she was finally close.   

            Mike snatched a quick glance at the woman sitting next to him.  He drew in a deep breath of air, inhaling her fragrant scent.  Her unique fragrance perfumed the air with a rich combination of exotic fruit and sensual promise. 

A red elastic band held her auburn, wavy ponytail in place.  It swung from the crown of her head, resting between her shoulder blades.  He studied her profile a moment longer, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her soft mane. 

            Eyeing her covertly, he considered how his image of Jordan had changed as he matured and became a man.  As a student, all the guys drooled after Miss Anderson.  They talked about how she filled out her sweaters and that dimple in her left cheek that seemed to wink at them when she smiled.  He didn’t participate in locker room antics, but he recalled more times than he could count, Ms. Anderson had been a hot topic of discussion in the gym.  Sometimes, his buddies would take bets on who would make her smile and fantasized about what life would be like with her. 

            Mike knew it was a lot to expect, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she hadn’t recognized him.  On the other hand, they had plenty of time to get to know one another now.  And he planned to make good use of his time.