Dorothy Clark - Lessons from the Heart

“The penny glee…aaams.”

“Not quite, Amber.” Erin smiled at the teenager sitting beside her. “Remember the rule. When there are two vowels, the first vowel says its own name and the second vowel is silent.”

The girl nodded her head, then bent forward over the children’s reading book. Her forehead furrowed in concentration. “The penny glee…mmms. Gleems!”

“That’s right! Good job, Amber.” Erin’s heart swelled as the teenager lifted her head and smiled. “Friday night we’ll start a new book.” Erin smiled encouragement. “You’ll be reading and writing with the best of us in no time. I promise.”

The tension in the girl’s face eased. She nodded, and rose to her feet. “I hope so. I need to learn to read so I can get a better job. Doing dishes in a restaurant doesn’t pay enough to live on, and I’ll be on my own when I graduate this month. I don’t know what good school did me!” She shrugged and tugged her purse strap over her shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Miss Kelly. I’ll see you Friday.”

“You’re welcome, Amber. Good night.” Erin picked up the child’s reading book they’d been using and carried it to the cupboard.

“Miss Kelly? Will you help me with this word? I don’t think it obeys the rules you taught me.”

Erin turned and smiled at the frustrated fourteen-year-old. “Sometimes words don’t obey rules, Janine. Let me see. Oh. You can do this one.” She put her hand on the teenager’s shoulder urging her forward. “Let’s go sit at the table and I’ll help you figure it out.”

Almost ten o’clock. Another long day. And she still had papers to correct. Erin dropped her shoulder bag on the couch, slid her feet out of her pumps and wiggled her toes into the carpet. Wonderful! What was it about taking your shoes off? She could almost purr.

Erin reached for the TV remote resting on the coffee table beside the framed picture of Alayne she’d requested for her birthday a few weeks ago. She picked up the picture and studied her sister’s face. Alayne was smiling in the photograph, but there was unhappiness in her eyes. Did she know about Jerry’s affair?

Erin frowned. If only she could talk with Alayne about it. If only she could talk to their mom and dad about it! But that was out of the question. The familiar sadness swept through her. Erin sighed, put down the picture, picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. All she could do was wait and make herself available.

Piano music filled the room. Erin sank down onto the couch closing her eyes as a voice started touting a concert in the city. What would it feel like to play like that?

“A Channel Four News exclusive! This is Robert Sheffield reporting live. Only minutes ago there was a shooting here on Humbard Street—”

Erin opened her eyes. The flashing lights of an ambulance and two police cars blinked behind the man on her TV screen.

“—We’ve been unable to talk with police and obtain details as yet, but initial reports place two witnesses on the scene at the time of the shooting. And as you can see…” The reporter stepped aside, giving a graphic description of the scene while the TV camera panned to the sidewalk across the street. Two men knelt beside a body.

“Ugh! Sorry, Robert Sheffield, but this is nothing I want to see.” Erin reached for the remote, then stopped when she caught sight of two men standing with a policeman in a darkened doorway in the background. Poor men. They must be the eyewitnesses. What a horrible experience!

A flash of brilliance from the rotating light of the ambulance swept across the recessed entrance highlighting the men’s faces for a moment and Erin jerked forward. That was David Carlson! She stared at the man on the left. She must be wrong about the witness thing. He was probably just covering the story for The Herald. But he wasn’t talking to anyone. He was just standing there. She leaned closer to the TV, watching David.

Suddenly a hand appeared, and the screen went black. A voice, obviously connected to the hand covering the lens, ordered someone to turn the camera off. There was an indistinguishable mumble in reply, and a moment later the hand was removed, revealing the reporter standing in front of the Channel Four News van. “This concludes our live coverage at this time. We’ll have updates as details become avail—”

Erin snatched up the remote, clicked the TV off and leaned back against the couch. David Carlson. She had enjoyed the time she spent with him, which was unusual because she was always so tense around men. It was probably his professional interviewing skills that had made her relax. Of course, it helped that his behavior had been impeccable. He’d been polite and nice. And he was so intelligent.

Erin bent down, scooped up her shoes and headed upstairs to change into comfortable clothes. Why was she thinking about how nice David Carlson seemed? She’d never see him again—except occasionally on TV. She pursed her lips in speculation. She could be wrong, but it sure looked as if he’d witnessed that shooting. For his sake she hoped not.

David unlocked his door and stepped into his entrance hall. The leather globe light, suspended from the plastered ceiling, shone onto the objects atop the red-lacquered chest below it. He dropped his keys into the brass bowl, then tugged his necktie loose and moved down the two steps into the living room.

It had been quite a day. Witnessing that shooting had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He’d never seen a man’s life snuffed out in the space of a moment before. He’d almost lost his dinner. And then there was the police questioning, and his own limited account of the story to write for the paper. Too bad he had to report in general terms. This story could have been his big break. Maybe it still could be.

David rotated the tension from his neck and shoulders, then flipped the switch that turned on the indirect lighting and punched the button on his answering machine.

“David, darling? Are you there? It’s after eight.” A tiny bit of impatience crept into Brandee Rogers’s honeyed tones. “I thought you’d be home by now. Even reporters— Oh, never mind. I’m calling because I want you to take me to Charlene’s this Saturday night. She’s having one of her fabulous spur-of-the-moment parties, and you know everyone who is anyone in town will be trying to wrangle an invitation. I happened to run into her at lunch today so I’m in. And so are you, darling. She made a point of mentioning you. I’m jealous.”

David frowned at the coy words and tone. He could almost see Brandee’s full lower lip sticking out in an affected pout. She was getting a little too possessive. Maybe he should call a halt to—

“Call me, darling, and I’ll give you all the particulars.” She gave a throaty laugh. “Well, maybe not all of them. Wait until you see me in my new dress. Byeeee.”

Or maybe not. David lifted his hand and rubbed the muscles at the nape of his neck. Brandee might be using him to polish up her social image, but it didn’t do his prestige any harm to have a beautiful model draped on his arm either. And you never knew who would show up at Charlene’s parties. She definitely traveled with the high crowd. Saturday night was a must. So why didn’t he feel his usual enthusiasm? Was it because he couldn’t get a cloud of dark red hair and a pair of beautiful green eyes out of his mind? Let alone the power-packed smile that went with them.

David frowned, leaped the two steps up into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. He hadn’t been able to get Erin Kelly out of his mind all week. She’d even cost him his Wednesday night handball game with Ted.

David scowled and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He’d dated quite a few women, but none of them had attached themselves so firmly to his thoughts that he couldn’t concentrate. That had never happened before.

When it’s right—it’s right.

Ted’s words set his teeth on edge. “Buddy, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Erin Kelly is definitely not right for me. So you and Ms. Kelly can both get out of my head!”

David guzzled the orange juice, rinsed the glass, then stuck it in the dishwasher and grabbed the handset from the kitchen phone. He was in a lousy mood tonight, but he knew the cure. He pushed a button with his thumb.

“Hello?”

That breathy thing she did with her voice suddenly seemed irritating. He scowled. “Hello, Brandee.”

“David, darling! You got my message?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m calling.” David put his odd mood down to the residue of emotion left over from the shooting and forced a light note into his voice. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in that dress Saturday night.”

Erin frowned down at the paper she was correcting, glanced at the little boy in the third row and pursed her lips. There had to be a reason for the error, he was one of her brightest students. He never made a mistake when it came to choosing the correct vowel to make a word. “Michael, would you come here for a moment please?”

The blond head lifted instantly. The five-year-old put down his pencil and hurried up to her desk. She motioned for him to come stand beside her. “Michael, this is your paper. Would you read the word with the vowel you’ve chosen please?”

“Buke.”

“And what would it be with the other vowel choice?”

“Bike.”

“That’s right. Now, which one do you want to choose?”

“Buke.”

Erin studied Michael’s face for a moment. He was dead serious. Why would he choose the u instead of the i? “Use buke in a sentence, Michael.”

“When I’m bad, my daddy bukes me.”

Ah! Erin fought back a grin. “That’s rebukes, Michael. When you’re bad, your daddy rebukes you.”

“Oh.” Michael’s little blond eyebrows drew together and he pointed at the paper. “Then that’s wrong. Can I change it?”

“May I change it?” Erin gave him a hug. “Yes, you may.” She handed him the paper. “Bring it back when you’ve corrected it.” She watched Michael scurry back to his desk, then rose and hurried from the room as her suppressed mirth threatened to break free.

“Erin?”

She glanced toward the office. Betty Fowler motioned her to come in. “You have a telephone call.”

David slipped his cell phone into his suit coat pocket. That was that. Erin Kelly would meet him at the Oak Street Diner at four-thirty to answer the rest of his questions about Professor Stiles’s literacy program. Too bad all the people he had to interview for stories weren’t that polite, pleasant or accommodating. Or soft spoken. A smile curved his lips. Erin Kelly had a great voice. And fantastic looks. Those eyes of hers—

Hold up, buddy! Don’t travel down that road. It doesn’t matter how attractive or nice Erin Kelly is—she’s not for you. Not with that religious baggage she’s carrying around!

David shook his head, checked traffic and ran across Bartlett Street to Domingo’s. Given the strength of his attraction to Erin Kelly, it was a good thing he’d only asked her to meet him for coffee. Twenty minutes tops, and he’d be out of there. Then he’d never see Erin Kelly again. But that was later. Right now he had a few questions to ask Danny Arcano about that shooting the other night. Danny always knew the talk on the streets.

David focused his attention on the job at hand, shoved open the door of the bar and stepped into the dark interior.

No matter how Erin tried to calm herself, nerves flittered in her stomach. She knew she was being silly. This wasn’t personal. David Carlson only wanted to ask her some questions. Still…the flitters increased.