Her position blocked the man’s view of her brother, and when she glanced back at Mitch, he mouthed, “He’s the sub.”
“Cal! Come on in.” Mitch stood, his face shifting to a welcoming smile as he moved around Bryony and waved the man to enter. “Come in and meet my little sister, Bryony Green.”
Mitch finished making the introductions. Bryony’s face grew warm when Mitch, now situated behind the new teacher, made hand signals of a talking mouth as the teacher gushed a monologue of appreciations at Bryony for the warm reception he had received at the school and, in particular, for Mitch’s hospitality.
Unwilling to join her brother in crossing the boundaries of civil conduct, and good taste, Bryony shifted her position to avoid seeing him altogether as she gave her full attention to the new teacher. “Nice to meet you, Mister Forster.”
“Please, call me Cal.” He extended his hand to shake hers, and the papers he held fluttered to the ground around his feet.
“Let me help,” Bryony said, as the sub said, “Oh, dear,” and they both leaned forward at the same time, butting their heads hard enough for Bryony to see stars.
“I’m so sorry!” they said in unison, rising as one.
“Ouch!” Mitch said. “I’ll bet that hurt.” He skirted his desk, sat down again, and began shuffling through papers.
Bryony looked at the sub as they both rubbed their foreheads. “I understand you’re with us while Mister Henderson recovers from his surgery.” The pain in her head dulled to a throb.
“Do you work in the building?” The sub clutched the disorganized papers in his free hand. “Because I’ve spent the last two days roaming the halls, meeting everyone I could, and somehow I missed you. Let me guess. You look like an artist, but I know you’re not the art teacher. He’s a scary looking fellow!” The sub raised his eyebrows, shuddered, and backpedaled, “But nice, so nice.”
Bryony stifled a laugh. The art teacher was a large man with bushy eyebrows, a thick nose, and thicker lips, which never smiled. She knew he was not nice, and his students feared him. The sub was being kind.
The sub made comments, often insightful, about the other teachers he met. After a long-winded stretch, he took a breath and launched in for the home stretch. “I would say Home Economics for you,” he continued, “but I don’t think you offer Home Ec here, do you?”
The sub for Chuck Henderson had a quick mind, which covered a large swath of ground in a short time, like a hummingbird, Bryony’s favorite of the winged creatures. She coaxed them to her yard annually with feeders and flowers. She couldn’t help but like the man. He buzzed around inside her head, iridescent, magical.
“We offer Family and Consumer Sciences,” Mitch said. “A great fit for my sister if she’d chosen a teaching career, but Bryony doesn’t work here. She recently left a lucrative job as a bookkeeper to wait on tables in a coffee shop.” Mitch rolled his eyes and looked back down at his desk.
“Oh!” the sub said. “I love coffee shops. Which one?”
Bryony pointed toward downtown with her thumb. “BeanHereNow, on Main Street.”
“Bean Here Now,” he laughed. “Reminiscent of Be Here Now, the famous book by Ram Dass, the title transformed from a command to a declarative statement, as in, ‘I’m Being Here Now.’ I like that.”
Did he always talk so much? No wonder Mitch had a lousy evening. He liked being the center of attention, and Chuck’s sub didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would do all the listening.
“Okay you two,” Mitch said. “Enough chit chat. I have to attend to the first fifteen crises of the day. Bryony, thanks for the coffee. Cal, what can I do for you?”
“I came in to give you these.” The sub waved the wad of papers back and forth as he turned again to Bryony. “Nice meeting you. I hope we run into each other again.”
“Good luck with the school year, Mister Forster,” Bryony said.
She heard him call out as she walked to the outer office door, “Cal! Call me Cal, or I shall forevermore refer to you as ‘Mitch’s little sister,’” which made her smile.
Chuck Henderson’s sub was funny, and nice.
Bryony left the office suite with as little disruption as possible to the staff, who were bombarded with student needs. She thought about Chuck as she navigated her way to the exterior glass double doors. She would ask later if the school staff had coordinated any ongoing support for him and his family. If so, she would slip in her thoughts and prayers there. Her contribution might go unnoticed, but she would know she had made an effort. Reaching out on her own at this point would seem strange. Chuck and she hadn’t been friends for such a long time.
CAL’S FIRST DAY
Cal watched the outer door to the office suite swing shut behind the principal’s sister. “She works downtown at a coffee shop?” He shuffled the papers into a neat stack and handed them to Mitch.
“We’ve been over BeanHereNow,” Mitch said. “Ram Dass, etcetera.” He dropped the papers onto a pile of other, similar forms, and said, “If you don’t need anything else right now, I need to prepare for my first address of the year.”
“Sure, sure.” Cal backed out of the office and turned to walk from relative serenity into outright chaos. He could see Bryony, her graying auburn ponytail swinging side-to-side as she opened the door to leave the building. He tried to catch up, but throngs of young people, all heading in the same direction, forced him into the school gymnasium.
Of course, this was where he was supposed to be now, not floundering after the first attractive woman to pop up on his radar since moving to Fieldstone a month ago.
Assembling here in this great hall would be the entire student body to greet the Freshmen, honor the Seniors, and pretend the older students would act as mentors to the younger ones throughout the coming year. Nice idea, but short on reality. Seventeen and eighteen-year-old students typically wanted nothing to do with fourteen-year-olds new to the school, many of whom were younger brothers and sisters.
Tiers of bleachers on the long walls of the gym awaited hormone-soaked bodies. The floor had been padded and filled with folding chairs. Knowing his main duty was being present, Cal took a seat in the back. He simply had to be here now. He would check out that coffee shop downtown as soon as possible.
During Mitch’s speech, Cal took mental notes. Perhaps Mitch might be open to help the next time. His references were dated and the jokes a bit stale. As the program ended and the crowd dispersed to the hallway, Cal thought again of Mitch’s sister.
Bryony Green’s eyes were the color of tea shot through with a sunburst of amber. Did her dilated pupils indicate heightened interest? She retained her maiden name and did not wear a ring on her left hand.
She wore a simple brown A-line skirt and a crisp cream shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to halfway between her wrist and her elbow. She looked quite healthy with a posture indicating she had not given in to age. Her legs were covered in tights, and her shoes looked comfortable, not stylish. Did she always wear her hair in a ponytail? A bit juvenile for someone with so much gray, but she seemed to pull it off.
The delightful image of Bryony Green faded from his mind as he walked into his room to teach his first class.
“Who’s up for learning about Marketing?” he sang out.
Thirty-five voices silenced, and seventy eyes watched him stride to the front of the room.
“My name is Mister Forster,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “and we’re going to have fun this semester!”
BRYONY’S BUMBLEBERRY
