Destiny by chance: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (7 page)

Bill stepped into his daughter’s domain and found himself surrounded by purples and greens and pinks.  Mostly purple, though.  Purple was her favorite color.  But when she had asked for purple walls, carpet, comforter and furniture, he drew the line.  He had the original wood floors stained and sealed, then repainted the walls a soft pink, with white crown molding and baseboards.  However, once it was all said and done, and he’d spent $1000 on furniture he painted purple, purple bed sheets, and comforter, and assorted purple accents for her walls, it felt like she got her way.  Sydney was only eight.  He knew he shouldn’t indulge her so much.  Bill knew he was overcompensating for her mother’s absence from her life, but she was his only child.  He had to.  He needed to.  What else was he to do?

Justine had not only left him after eleven months of marriage but walked away from their child, their beautiful daughter, without ever looking back.  Sydney was only four months old when her mother disappeared from their lives.  She left without any warning, without any discussion.  Bill simply arrived home one day to a note on the mirror.  The note was as brief and unremarkable as his marriage had been. 

When he first met Justine she was sophisticated and exciting, and he knew he had finally met
the one. 
They went out four times in four weeks, and then they slept together.  She left the next day with her family on a pre-planned month-long trip through Italy.  She teased him with postcards from exotic ports telling him she was thinking about him and missed him.

However, for three days after she arrived back in the States, she avoided him and his phone calls.  The fourth day she showed up on his doorstep, crying and told him she was pregnant.  He was surprised, to say the least.  But after a moment of letting the news sink in, he was ecstatic. Bill proposed on the spot.  They were married the following week at the county courthouse.  Before the honeymoon started, the honeymoon was over.  Justine had grand plans for them—wanting to travel back to some of the same exotic cities where she had just been so that she could show him the world.  But something was just… different. 
She
was different.  Distant. 

Bill shook his head as he picked up Sydney’s purple leggings and her purple shirt with a horse outlined with glittery faux jewels, her white tennis shoes with purple hearts and purple shoe laces and her purple and pink polka dotted underwear. Tired of picking up after her, he was going to have to put his foot down.  Bill wanted to be the best single dad he could be, but knew he couldn’t keep letting her get away with some of her recent behaviors; not cleaning her room, defiance at school.  And then there were the nightmares.  Plus, lately, she’d been asking about her mother, and she never even knew her.  It was all a little overwhelming.

Bill dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes.  Justine never wanted to be pregnant and was contemplating an abortion, until Bill pleaded with her to reconsider.  In her emotional state she acquiesced and kept the baby.  Of course, Justine never had the courage to tell him in person that not only did she
not
want children, but she never wanted to be married. When she finally did get the nerve, she left it in a letter, taped to the expensive bureau he never really liked.  Then she moved to Italy and filed for divorce, giving him full custody.  He hadn’t heard from her since.

The front door opened, and he looked up suddenly.  He dropped Sydney’s clothes onto her bed and walked into the hallway. 

“Daddy!” she exclaimed. 

And the moment the sound of her voice hit his ears, any thoughts of chores and punishment, simply slipped away.  At least, temporarily.  His smile broadened with every step she ran toward him.  He knelt to receive her hug and fell backward as she jumped into his arms.  She kissed him, then furrowed her brow.

“Your nose is still pretty disgusting.”

Bill saw his daughter reaching for his nose.  He leaned back before her fingers arrived, taking them into his hand and kissing them. 

“William Bryan Ireland,” his mother exclaimed.  “What did you do to your nose?”

“I bumped into the cabinet in the washroom,” he lied.

“The cabinet?” she asked, standing over him, hands on hips.  “I swear; you never look where you are going.”  His mother shook her head.  “Did you take some ibuprofen?”

“Yes, Mother.” Bill hugged Sydney to himself, like a teddy bear or a comforting blanket as he felt a scolding on the horizon. 

“Did you put a cold compress on it?”

Bill nodded as he sat back up.  Sydney climbed off of him and rushed to her room.  “Put your clothes up, Sweetie,” he groaned as he stood up in front of his mother.

She looked up at his nose as he moved toward the kitchen, avoiding her glance.  “Maybe rub some mentholatum on it before applying moist heat.”

“I thought you said a cold compress.”

“After the cold compress, dear.” She stated this, as though he should have already known that.

Bill grinned as he walked into the kitchen, picked up her purse and headed for the front door, his mother on his heels.  When they arrived at the door, she looked up at his six-foot-one frame from her four-foot-six vantage point, tilting her head as she inspected his nose. 

“Love you, Mom.” Bill leaned over and kissed her forehead.  “Thanks for picking up Sydney tonight.”  He handed her purse to her as he opened the door.

“Sure, Sweetie.” She smiled and pulled his arm downward until he leaned closer to her.  Then she kissed his cheek.  “I’m very proud of you, Son.”

His smile grew.  “Thank you, Mom.”

“You really should ice that schnoz,” she added as she walked onto the front porch and pulled her shawl tighter around her.

“I will, Mom.  Bye.” Bill shivered, shoving his hands into his front jeans pockets, waiting until she was safely in her car.

“Mentolatum, then heat,” she repeated over her shoulder.

“Got it, Mom.” When she was in her car, he waved and quickly walked back inside.  Then Bill dropped his head to the door and banged it gently.

“Syd,” he called out.  “Bath, now!”

“Aww,” he heard from her room.

“And then we’ll read whatever you want.”

“You’ll read, or I’ll read?” she asked, as she walked from her room to her bathroom.

“You’ll read.  Ms. Johnson says you need to practice your reading.”  Bill rounded the corner as he heard her mumbling.  “What’d you say, Sweetie?”

“Nothing,” she pouted as her dad started running her a bubble bath.  Sydney stepped up onto her purple step stool with white hearts painted all over it and brushed her teeth with her purple toothbrush.

“Ms. Johnson just wants you to be able to read better when you get out of second grade.”

Sydney spat into the sink and looked at him in the mirror.  “Allie said Ms. Johnson is the book Nazi.”

“What?” Bill laughed aloud, as he tested the water, then turned off the faucet.

Sydney took a sip of water and rinsed out her mouth, once, then twice, then swallowed her last sip before putting up her toothbrush in her purple toothbrush holder.  “Book Nazi.”

Bill helped his daughter undress and then step into the bath.  “If you knew what a Nazi was, you would know that’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Well…” she said as wryly as an eight-year-old could while decorating a Barbie simultaneously with bubbles.  “Allie explained that a Nazi is someone who hangs onto something like a bulldog and won’t let it go.”

Bill shook his head as he bathed his daughter.  “Well, she is your teacher.  And she’s supposed to make you read.  So, I guess that’s a reasonable explanation but to call her a Nazi, well,” he said, as he tried to put it in eight-year-old layman’s terms.  “That’s not only inaccurate but disrespectful and could land you in the principal’s office.  And if you think old Ms. Johnson’s tough, she’s probably a piece of cake next to your principal.”

“Piece of cake?” Sydney laughed, decorating his head and chin with bubbles.  “Where do you come up with these things?”

“Where do
I
come up with these things?” he laughed.  “You hit me with book Nazi.”

Sydney shrugged.  “I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

Bill poured a large cup of water over his daughter’s head.  “Me, too,” he added.  “And I’m warning you, Little Miss.” Bill looked at her sternly, shaking his finger at her.

She responded by shaking her long dark hair and soaking him.

Bill dried himself off, then went to check on the rolls for the morning while she finished bathing herself.  When he returned fifteen minutes later, she and Barbie were each sporting a bubble beard and tiara.  Then he lifted her from the tub, suds and all, and set her onto the bathmat.  He knelt beside her and toweled her dry, including her hair.  “By the way, I don’t want ever to hear those words out of your mouth again, okay?” he said firmly.

Sydney slipped on her purple princess pajamas and then turned for him to spray her conditioner on before combing out her hair.

“Young lady?” he asked again, over her shoulder before turning her around.

Sydney crossed her arms and looked up into the sky.  “Yes, sir.”

Bill narrowed his eyes and turned her chin with his hand until she was facing him.

“Yes, sir,” she repeated more softly.

“Good girl.” Bill tapped the end of her nose.  “Now put your dirty clothes in the hamper, put up your towel, get a book and then get into bed.”

Sydney’s shoulders slumped as she did each of the instructed items on his list, then she dragged to her room.

Bill grinned to himself as he watched her complete her tasks before she hurled herself onto her bed.  He stood and walked to her room.  “One book.” Bill held up one finger, then turned on the lamp by her bed and turned off her ceiling light.  “One book,” he repeated, “then sleep.” He walked from the room and closed her door all the way.

“Sleep Nazi,” she said under her breath as she turned the page.

Bill stopped in the hallway, tilted his head, thinking he heard something.  “Nah.”  He shook his head, turned off the hallway light and disappeared into the darkness of his room. 

Destiny didn’t mind parent-teacher conferences.  It was just that some of the parents were a problem.  Some of them were a little pompous, and that rubbed her the wrong way.  Many of the children she fostered through the gifted and talented program came from wealth.  And a few of those had an entitlement mentality.  They were smart. 
Very
smart.  And manipulative.  Then there those who were more than a little arrogant, believing that they deserved the best grade, just for showing up.  Sometimes even when they didn’t show up. 

The year before her accident, she had discovered two of her students were buying their papers online.  Destiny immediately removed them from the program.  Both of their parents were furious, and after a very lengthy legal battle, the children were allowed to choose whether to stay in the program with a written admission of their guilt added to their school transcript or to drop voluntarily out of the program.  Reluctantly, they resigned.  The parents of the two boys tried very hard to lobby the school board to get rid of Destiny.  However, most of the board were either her friends, people she’d grown up with, or people she had worked with over the past eight years.  They knew her.  They knew her reputation, and how much she cared about the kids—even the ones she had suspended from the program.  They knew she was an advocate of accountability.  Thankfully, her school board had backed her up.

Wally Williamson was the elite of the elite of the film industry in Austin.  His son, Frederick, was his protégé.  Wally, concerned that his son wasn’t performing as well as he could in school, wasn’t the overbearing parent who pushed his child to overachieve at all costs.  He was the kind of parent Destiny admired; he and his wife came to every school sponsored event that his son participated in and more importantly, every parent-teacher conference.  He took her phone calls with concerns, and he or his wife called if they had concerns.  She wished all her parents were as invested in their children’s lives as he and his wife were.  Destiny assured them their son was doing well and that he was trying hard to excel.  He was an honest, dedicated young man and Destiny was almost sure Frederick would graduate at the top of his class.  Their conference ended with a sincere handshake and a thank you for her dedication.

There was a knock on her classroom door.  Destiny looked up.  “Winston,” she smiled.  “How did your meeting go?” 

“Not as good as yours,” he scoffed.  “Your dad was smiling when I passed him in the hall.  The dad I just met with, well, let’s just say he wasn’t smiling.”

“At least, he showed up.” Destiny walked to her desk and put a handful of files into her briefcase.

“Right,” he exhaled, then picked at a paint chip in the doorway.  “So, some of us are going out after work, and I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink.”

Destiny wrinkled her nose.  “Nah.  But thanks for asking.”

“Maybe some other time, then?”

Destiny looked up at Winston, a substitute teacher who had only been with the school district two-and-a-half years. Originally he had been substituting for one of their older math teachers, Mr. Franklin, who had fallen down the stairs at home, and faced months of rehabbing from multiple injuries and surgeries, a result of his fall.  Winston performed so well that the high school administration continued to use him as often as he was available, mostly covering teachers that were out longer stretches of time.  Like Destiny.  Winston had moved from Seattle just a few months before Destiny’s accident and coincidentally subbed in the classroom next to hers.  Destiny had taken him under her wing since he was the new kid on the block. 

Winston’s positive attitude, winning personality, and sexy smile wasn’t lost on all the single teachers and moms at the school, not to mention many of the female students.  He was fawned over at any school events he attended.  Personally, she thought he reveled in the attention.  But Winston wasn’t her type.  Not that she had a type anymore.  Attractive with perfect hair and perfect white teeth, he always dressed nicely and was always the perfect gentleman.  Maybe that was why she didn’t give him a second glance.  He was just too… perfect.  And to Destiny, that was unnatural.  Everyone had flaws, either physical or personality flaws, but he just… didn’t.

Winston shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked into the room.  “I promise that I’d be a
perfect
gentleman.”

Destiny smiled to herself, then looked up him and shrugged noncommittally.  “Maybe some other time.”

Winston’s eyes perked up.  “Well, a maybe isn’t a no, so I’ll take that.”

Destiny walked to the door, Winston keeping in stride with her.  “So, what do you do for fun?” he asked.

“We’re teachers.  I didn’t think we were allowed to have any fun.”

“Sure we are.  We just have to get permission slips first,” he added, noting a wisp of a smile on her lips at his remark. 

Winston talked for both of them as they walked.  Destiny could feel his hand at the curve of her back as they turned the corner toward the teachers’ lounge.  Her body tensed at his touch.  It wasn’t the first time he had touched her.  Sometimes, when he stood beside her, if he were talking to her or telling a joke, he would touch her very lightly; occasionally letting his hand or fingers linger a moment or two.  Winston had done it when Phillip was alive, as well.  Destiny had confided to her husband that it made her uncomfortable, so Phillip, in Phillip fashion, teased her that Winston was her work fling
.

Now that Phillip was gone, Winston tended to do it more.  Or was it that she noticed it more or that it simply bothered her more?  Destiny would have dismissed him altogether a long time ago if only he weren’t so darn charming.  Not to mention great with the kids.  Destiny found herself relating to him about varied, innovative teaching methods; methods that had changed so much over the past five years alone.  Winston had lived in many cities; from Chicago to Portland, New York, and Oklahoma City.  When he found it was harder to settle into a full-time teaching position, he immediately offered to substitute teach at the local school district.  They had kept him busy ever since.

Within six months of Phillip’s death, Winston had begun asking her out in subtle ways, like suggesting a casual cup of coffee or meeting up at a park for the free local entertainment.  Destiny had tried being polite in her rejection of his advances, not interested in him or anyone else at this juncture in her life.  She couldn’t imagine herself ever dating again, much less ever remarrying. 

Almost two years since Phillip’s and Rhett’s deaths, Destiny was much lonelier than she let on.  It wasn’t just that she missed Phillip’s presence, but she missed what his presence had meant.  There was no more early morning snuggling and sweet kisses on the back of her neck… surprise romantic back rubs and amazing foot massages.  Or random “I love you’s,” or a quiet smile that spoke the same.  All the things that had been a part of her everyday life for ten years were now just a distant memory.

Winston had been hinting at a date for almost fifteen months and here she’d agreed to meet Owen after just one brief conversation.  It was as close to a blind date as one could get.  And now, thanks to Lisa, she was stuck.  Owen… the first man that had successfully asked her out though
unofficially
, in almost a dozen years.

Destiny and Winston each checked their individual teacher mailboxes, rifling through messages as he continued to rattle on about working out after school or a new martial arts movie that was playing.  Winston usually chattered on and on about things she knew nothing about or even cared to know.  As he turned to leave, he nudged her with his elbow.  “See you Monday,” he said with a wink.

“Monday,” she replied as he walked out the door to the teachers’ parking lot.

Destiny turned toward the administration corridor and met a new face smiling up at her from the secretarial desk.  “Hi, is Rita still here?”

“I’ll see.  May I tell her who’s asking?”

“Destiny,” she smiled.

“What a lovely name.  I’m Brenda.” She held out her hand.

“Brenda, nice to meet you.”

At that moment, the school principal, Rita O’Connor, walked from her office.  “Destiny!” she exclaimed.  “How were your meetings?”

“They all went well,” she replied.  “Do you have a second?”

“Sure.” Rita turned back toward her office.  “Did you meet Brenda?”

Destiny smiled back at Brenda.  “I did.  Again, pleased to meet you.” 

Brenda glanced back up from her computer without a break in typing, smiled, and looked back down.

“Where’s Ginger?” Destiny asked as she sat across from her boss.

“She quit.”

“Quit?” Destiny exclaimed.  “Why?”

“Not really sure,” she said, the disappointment evident in her voice.  “She was acting kind of strange the past two weeks, and then this morning she just didn’t show up.”  Rita nodded toward the door.  “Brenda’s an intern on loan from the central office until I can find a replacement.”

“That’s peculiar,” Destiny remarked off-handedly.  Her eyes met Rita’s.  “I hate to add to your plate, but I wanted to see about doing a Habitat build with the seniors.  They approached me a month ago, and I have to give Habitat an answer by Monday.”

“As long as you have all the proper paperwork, I don’t see it as a problem.”

“Then I’ll call Habitat and set up a weekend.”

Rita stood and moved to the front of her desk.  “That was painless.  I wish all the teachers brought me issues with such easy answers.”

Destiny stood beside Rita.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked with a compassionate smile.

Destiny smiled sadly and shrugged.  “Today’s a good day.”

Rita’s smile grew.  “Give yourself time.”  Rita understood Destiny’s pain, having lost her husband ten years before to a massive heart attack.  Rita, as Destiny had, threw herself into her work.  Her love for the kids was great and helped her deal with the loss.  Helped her deal with the pain.

Destiny nodded.  “One day at a time,” she sighed.

“Look, we’re all meeting for drinks at the Oasis in about an hour.  You’re welcome to join us,” she offered, already knowing the answer.

Destiny slowly shook her head.  “Thanks for the invite.  Winston already invited me.”

Rita’s smile faded.  “Yeah, well, Winston’s sweet, but there’s something just a little off about him.”

Destiny furrowed her brow.  “What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it.  Why does someone that good looking, who is the perfect gentleman, not have a girlfriend and never been married?”

Destiny shrugged again.  “Maybe something happened, and he’s nursing a broken heart… or maybe he’s…”

“Gay?” Rita finished her question for her, shaking her head.  “Not gay,” she clarified.  “Remember Claire, who transferred to LBJ High last year?  Well, she went out with him a few times, I think, just before she transferred.  Apparently something happened because she told more than just a few of us that he has a kinky dark side.”

Destiny remembered the rumors, simply because she and most of the other females on staff had been skeptical.  Claire was very explicit with those who would listen about her sexual escapades and short-lived relationships.  Most of them ended quickly or poorly or both, so no one put any stock in what she had claimed, assuming a date gone very badly. 

“I can’t go because I promised a friend I would help out at the Senior Center tonight.”

“That’s so great, Destiny.  I’m glad to know you are getting out more.”

Destiny picked up her purse and carefully slid it over her shoulder.  “I’m trying.”  She hugged her friend. “Thanks.”

Rita winked.  “Anytime.”

As Destiny walked from her office, Rita held open the door, watching her go.  “One day at a time,” she sighed to herself, before closing the door behind her.