Part 15 (1/2)

”Then maybe you shouldn't have started something you didn't want.” She growled, her eyes on fire. I met her gaze dagger for dagger.

”I was vulnerable. You, you took advantage of that. I-”

”I don't have to hear this s.h.i.+t.” She took a step toward the door, then turned to look over her shoulder. ”Especially not from you.”

”Get out, Beth. Get out and don't come back.” My voice was shaking. I couldn't believe I had just said that. I couldn't breath. She turned slowly to fully face me, searching my face to see my sincerity. She must have seen something that she didn't like. She took a deep breath, adjusting her shoulders as if she had just been slapped.

”Later.” She said, her voice barely audible, and she turned to open the door, closing it with a soft click behind her.

I stood where I was, staring at the door in shock. What had just happened? A wave of nausea raced through me, and I hurried over to the bed, plopping down face first as the tears came yet again that day.

PART 7.

I SQUIRMED IN MY chair again. The hard seat was making my b.u.t.t and back ache. I blew out a long breath, readjusting my hat as the speaker droned on and on. Who cares! Just give us our d.a.m.n diplomas, already. I reached down and played with the gold cord around my neck, and looked around. My fellow graduates looked just as bored as I felt. I was sitting in the front row, so couldn't look around too much. Mr. Edwards had already given the guy next to me the evil eye for not paying attention.

I snapped out of my dazed reverie when I heard our speaker finally say, ”And now we will begin to call our graduates of the cla.s.s of nineteen eighty four, honored with a gold cord, earning a grade point average of three point seven to four point oh.”

Yippy. About time. I sat up straight, and smoothed out my gown. Our row would be first to be called. At the signal, we all stood, waiting in line as one by one we were called up.

”Emily Jane Thomas! Three point nine-five.” I smiled and walked up onto the stage, feeling like a million bucks. I shook the princ.i.p.als hand as he handed me my diploma, and headed toward the ramp that would take me back to my seat. As I stepped back onto the auditorium floor, I searched the audience, seeing my parents and Billy, and his new girlfriend, Nina. My eyes quickly trailed over the other people around them, recognizing some of my friend's parents, but not seeing who I was looking for. I knew she wouldn't come, but I had hoped in the deepest part of me. I think I saw it like some movie where the heroine was surprised as the valiant knight rode up on his white horse, forgiving the naive maiden. Fact was, I hadn't seen Beth since the day she moved out of her mother's house. That had been back in early November. I had no idea where she had gone, or if she would ever forgive me.

I took my seat, and tried to look interested as everyone else went up to receive their prize for four years of study. My heart cracked just a bit when I heard them say, ”Toby Elliot Samson. Erika Lynn Serky.” No Beth Sayers. Then, never had I heard of a high school drop out getting a diploma.

I was getting more and more frustrated by the day. I was bored out of my mind! The longer I sat at home, the more admiration I had for my mother, staying home all these years. I sat at the kitchen table, the Pueblo Chieftain spread out in front of me. I scanned the Cla.s.sified section, looking over the help wanted section. My parents had told me I should enjoy this last summer before heading off to college, but I had had enough joy, and was ready to start feeling productive again. With a sigh I scanned the page with my finger, looking over the tons of babysitting jobs. Not interesting. I didn't really know what I was looking for, per se, but I decided that since I was one of the those lucky kids who didn't have to work that summer, I was going to do just what I wanted to do.

My eyes suddenly stopped in their search. I squinted, drawing my brows to make sure I was reading right. Hot d.a.m.n!

Help wanted in private law firm of Monica Nivens. Secretarial, must be able to type, file, etc. Some training preferred.

I couldn't believe it. I knew absolutely nothing about secretarial work, but to work for a law firm. And I had no idea that my neighbor had her own firm. I was even more impressed than I had been with her as a child.

I unbuckled my seat belt, and glanced over at the building with a deep, nervous breath. Gathering my wits with my resume, I climbed out of the Jeep, and headed toward the darkly tinted, gla.s.s double doors. The Nivens law firm shared s.p.a.ce with another lawyer that I didn't remember the name of. There was a single receptionist desk in the middle of the small, well air-conditioned lobby. A woman sat at the desk, her brows drawn as she concentrated on a form in front of her.

I walked up to the desk, looking around, waiting for the woman to notice me. She didn't seem to feel the need, so I cleared my throat. Her head snapped up, as if I had surprised her, and she looked at me questioningly.

”h.e.l.lo.” I smiled. She still looked at my questioningly. ”I'm here to see Monica Nivens.” I told her, and got no reaction from her at all. ”Um, she is a lawyer here?” maybe if I explained it to her a bit better she'd pretend to be helpful.

”Yeah, that way.” She said, pointing a long-nailed finger as she turned her attention back to her form. I followed her finger, and saw another darkly-tinted gla.s.s door. In white letters was stenciled: Monica J. Nivens. Attorney at law. A feeling of awe washed through me. Wow! A real lawyer. I was so excited.

I walked to the door, feeling very nervous for reasons that I couldn't figure out. I pushed it open, and stepped inside a nice office done in maroons and dark greens. Two chairs sat against the wall by the door. A single desk was across the room, a computer set up on it, and tons of paperwork scattered across top. No one was sitting behind it, however. I looked around, confused. Then a door in a short hall off to the left opened, and a man looking to be in his early twenties, stepped out with a cup of coffee. He looked up and nearly threw the cup into the air. He closed his eyes and put his hand on his chest.

”My G.o.d, you scared me.” He walked over to the desk, and set the cup down, then turned back to me. ”Do you have an appointment?” he asked, dabbing at his tie with a Kleenex. ”I guess it's a good thing brown is in this year.” He muttered.

”Sorry about that.” I smiled, hoping that I didn't feel quite as stupid as I felt. ”Um, I saw the ad in the paper for-”

”Oh, yeah. Right.” He sat behind the desk and sipped from the coffee, wrinkling his nose and setting the cup down. ”She keeps making it this strong, she'll have more hair on her chest than I do.” I grinned as he looked around for a pen.

”How about the one there?” I asked, pointing to my ear. He looked up at me, reaching up to feel the Bic behind his ear. He rolled his eyes, and began to write.

”Okay, sweetie, what's your name?'

”Emily Thomas.”

”Emily Thomas,” he murmured as he wrote it down. ”Okay. Wait here. Oh, give me your resume.” He reached his hand out, and I handed him the paper that would tell Monica that I had absolutely no useable experience whatsoever. The man walked off toward another door in the hall, disappearing behind its dark paneling. I sat in one of the chairs against the wall, and crossed my legs. I felt very self-conscious in my summer dress. I rarely wore them, was told I looked good in them, and figured this was definitely an occasion for one. I smoothed out the skirt as I waited.

”Hon?” my head snapped up to see the man from the desk standing in the doorway to what I a.s.sumed was Monica's office. He smiled and waved me over.

”Thanks.” I said as I pa.s.sed him. He shut the door behind me, and I turned to look around. The office itself wasn't that big, but the s.p.a.ce it did have was used well. The colors were like that in the reception area, maroons and dark greens. Surprisingly masculine motif. Sitting behind the large cherrywood desk was Monica Nivens. My neighbor. I stood by the door, my arms crossed in front of me, and stared at her. She wore her dark hair very short. Certainly shorter than I had ever seen it, but it was very complimentary to her thin face, and dark eyes. She wore a red pant suit that made for a striking contrast between her dark features and pale skin. She was beautiful.

”h.e.l.lo there, Emily.” I jumped, started from my appraisal to look into amused dark eyes. ”Come on in. I really don't intend to yell across my office at you.” I smiled nervously, and sat in one of the two chairs that were placed before her desk. She looked so professional, so regal sitting there with her elbows on the desk blotter, her fingers steeped under her chin. I noticed a pair black rimmed reading gla.s.ses sitting on a manila file.

”Hi.” I said, feeling rather stupid.

”It's been quite a while.” She said.

”Yes.” I answered intelligently. Always impressed with my own communication skills.

”Well,” she said, grabbing my resume from between her elbows that had been resting on the desk. ”I have to be honest here, Emily. You really have no experience.” She smiled at me. I nodded, feeling really stupid. ”And to be honest, the paper was supposed to take that add out on Friday. The job's been filled.”

”Oh.” I said, my heart sinking. ”Well, thank you for seeing me.” I smiled, and began to stand.

”Hold on a sec.” She said, sitting back in her chair, studying me. ”You still intend to go to school for law?” she asked conversationally. I nodded enthusiastically.

”Yes. I got a scholars.h.i.+p to CU. Four year.” She raised her brows, obviously impressed.

”Good for you, Emily. It's a good school.” She said with a wink, having graduated from Boulder herself. ”Listen, I love to see young people follow their dreams, so I'll tell you what. I have a really big case I'm working on right now, and could really use an a.s.sistant. Would you be interested? Could show you a bit of the ropes.” My eyes lit up, and I felt my chest puff out with pride. Was she serious? G.o.d, please let her be serious.

”Absolutely!” I said, leaning forward in my chair.

”Great.” She smiled, pleased. ”I can't pay you much.”

”Oh, that's no problem!” I exclaimed, probably a little too much get go in that one. ”To me the experience is priceless.” I smiled. Okay, was I trying to win a beauty pageant, or get this job? I had always had so much admiration for Monica, and the thought of actually working with, and learning from her was almost too much.

I walked through the door of my house as if I were walking on a cloud. Nothing could burst my bubble. I flipped through the pieces of mail in my hand as I headed into the kitchen to get some iced tea when my brows drew, and I tossed the other stuff on the table. Let my mother worry about those later. I saw the heading in the top left hand corner, and recognized it as letters Aunt Kitty used to get from the doctor. I plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs, and slid my finger under the flap, ripping it open. The neatly folded letter came out easily, and I covered my mouth with my hand as I read. I dropped my hands, along with the letter, into my lap, and stared out the window over the sink. I could feel my throat tighten, and immediately tears sprang to my eyes.

”Hey, honey.” My mom said as she brushed by with a large trash bag from gathering trash around the house. When I didn't answer, she turned to me. ”Emmy? You okay, babe?” I handed the letter to her, my eyes looking on numbly ahead of me.

”Apparently someone does not keep their records updated very well.” I said quietly. My mother took the letter, setting the bag on the floor. She read over it, her brows drawn in concentration, then her face paled and fell. She gently laid the paper on the table, walked over to the sink, her shoulders slumped as she rested her weight on her arms.

”Now they want to give Kitty a kidney.” She breathed. I walked over to her as she began to quietly cry. I laid my hands on her arms, resting my chin on her shoulder.

”You okay, mom?” I asked, swallowing back my emotions so I wouldn't upset her anymore. She nodded.

I sat in the driver's seat, still parked outside my parent's house, and checked the address that I had been given one last time. Greenwood. Nice area. Impressed, I turned the key in the Camry, and pulled away from the curb. As I drove I looked around the city. My mother had told me about how much Pueblo had been growing over the past five or so years, and she was certainly right. As I looked, I saw so many businesses and neighborhoods that had not been there when I had been a kid. After the big quake in California, people had left the state in droves, and many of them had found new homes in Colorado. Why not? The economy was booming, and Pueblo seemed as good a place to them as any other. They were settling down there, and opening new businesses, or expanding on the one they'd had back on the coast. New York had become my home, but all the same, it felt good to be in a place where you knew you would always be welcome.

I drove by the my old high school, and smiled at the cars in the parking lot. Sunday practices for whatever. A line of yellow buses unloaded kids from a returning sporting event. It all seemed so long ago, like another life time ago. In many ways it was.

I hoped my slacks and simple b.u.t.ton-up s.h.i.+rt would do the trick. Monica had told me to dress dressy-casual. Whatever that meant, so I had come up with this. I parked in the back lot where she had told me to, cutting the engine, and readying myself for my first day as an a.s.sistant.

”Okay,” Richard, the office manager said as he gave me the ”grand tour”. ”This is where she keeps all the files. They are all in order by last name. Each case is given a number.” He pulled one of the manila folders from a filing cabinet, and showed me the number and the name printed on the front. He opened the folder, and showed me the file. ”This woman here, she is a total loser.” He said, looking very serious as he eyed the details. ”Now, don't do what I'm doing right now, because A. Monica gets really, really mad. And B. It's really, really illegal.” I grinned and followed as we walked from the file room where the copy machine and coffee machine's were, and we continued on to his desk in the reception area. ”This is my desk, is you hadn't figured that out by now. I answer all the phones, make appointments, yadda, yadda. Any questions about anything other than law stuff, ask me, not Monica. Don't get me wrong, she's a great boss with fabulous taste in clothes, but she has absolutely no clue what goes on here, or how to run this place.” He stopped to take a break, and a sip from his coffee, his finger reaching up to put a perfectly placed piece of blonde hair back in place. ”She'd be lost without me.”