wouldn’t say I was a loose cannon before him; I just enjoyed having a good time. I blew off steam where I could, but I didn’t have one-night stands, and I didn’t date long term until Ian. I worked with my father in his law practice, and I had Building Buddies to fill the gaps.
We met through the program. As Waterson Community’s principal, Ian ran a summer service retreat for his students. Instantly, I loved his demeanor with the teenagers. He understood them on an elemental level that offered them respect while enforcing his authority over them. In my early thirties, my ovaries were calling, and his interaction with the older kids was endearing.
Eventually, he asked me out for a drink. One date turned into two years of dating before Ian popped the question. My father died in that time, and perhaps that prompted Ian to finally ask me to be his wife. Prior to that, we’d fallen into a routine as two working adults in no rush for the next step, but still, my ovaries were knocking.
Our wedding was scheduled to be a late summer affair so it didn’t conflict with the high school calendar. As principal, Ian didn’t have summer hours like his teacher colleagues. He only had a few weeks off in July, but it hardly stopped him from entering his building. He always had something else to work on. As a school with high graduation rates and rising test scores, he prided himself on the accomplishments he’d achieved. He certainly made me feel like he’d done more in his few years as a principal than I’d done in ten years as a lawyer at that time.
The night of Ian’s death was a week before our wedding. He wanted to check on something before we met for dinner to discuss some final wedding arrangement that no longer seemed relevant to remember. The only memory I have now is a phone call I received informing me of a fire at the high school. An explosion had occurred. My future husband was dead days before our marriage began.
I never understood why Ian didn’t get out of the building. Standard fire drill procedures teach children starting at the age of four to exit a school building when the alarm rings. The investigation into the explosion found fault with the alarm system. I didn’t know all the particulars. I never wanted to read the report.
The sudden sound of feet on my front porch turns my head from my perch in my great-grandmother’s rocking chair. I’m sitting in my parents’ old bedroom on the first floor, feeling their loss more than ever. At forty-three, I want my father. I could call my mother, but I don’t really want to talk. After several calls from Scarlett, I turned off my phone, finally sending her a text to say I’d call her later, leaving later open-ended.
Slowly, I stand from the old wooden chair and walk to the curtain-covered window looking out at the porch. Only a finger’s length presses back the sheer material, but I quickly pull back when I see Jake standing on the porch, a Busy Bean Café to-go cup in his hand, and some other object under his arm. I press myself flat to the wall beside the window and close my eyes as if that will hide him from my mind.
As much as I’ve been recalling Ian, I’ve been struggling with thoughts of Jake. When I first returned from his house, I showered. I couldn’t get the water hot enough to scrub myself clean of what I’d been doing with him. With trembling hands, I next called my AA sponsor who I hadn’t reached out to in a while. I didn’t need a drink as much as I needed someone to talk to, someone unbiased, unlike Scarlett, who might have been tainted by what she’d learned. As much as I wanted to curse my friend, the rational side of me said she was only looking out for me. The irrational side felt like my heart had been ripped out once again.
Because, like it or not, I had fallen for Jake, the hunky, swanky charmer. I’d been hooked like the fish we caught only a week ago. Now, I was released. Tossed back into the cool water to flounder with my emotions as I struggled to regroup.
Eventually, I hear the tender footsteps of his retreat and the gentle hop down the front steps. A truck engine roars to life, and I