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“It isn’t that,” I said, although I was afraid of my stepmother. I was afraid I’d talk to her and she’d yell at me again and tie me up and put me in the closet, or in a shower, even if the fear might be unrealistic and the boys wouldn’t allow it. I was also scared she’d tell me far more than I wanted to know. “Do we have to do this now?”
Time passed. I continued to stare at my yogurt. Mr. Blackbourne remained still on his side of the table. The knot in my stomach became bigger with every second that passed, neither of us willing to give in. He wanted answers. I wanted to forget it for now. I wasn’t ready to face it.
“No,” he said in a softer voice. “You don’t have to talk to her at all if you don’t want to. We can find another way.”
As he returned to his omelet, the silence became so heavy that I wanted to slip to the floor and hide under the table to relieve the pressure. I didn’t want to ever say no to Mr. Blackbourne, but now I was. He must have thought finding out my real mother was important to me, and I simply couldn’t deal with it right now. Ask me anything else. Ask anything of me. I’d do a million other things, but I couldn’t do this.
I closed my eyes, seeking out the words to explain to him. “It’s not important,” I said.
“Back to the other matter,” he said quietly, granting me reprieve from the conversation about my mother. He spoke slowly, and quietly, and when I looked up, willing the discussion to go in this direction, his voice rose to normal tones. “I’m not fully aware of how Mr. Coleman feels about you joining the Academy. I think that’s the first step. To discover how they all feel about you joining. I’ve asked him, and he said he was okay with it, but I’m not convinced by his answer. He’s protective of you, and if Kota can convince him joining the Academy might put you at risk, he may reconsider.”
My heart was still heavy from the previous conversation, and I was eager for Mr. Blackbourne to give me another task so I could show I wasn’t angry or upset with him. I wanted to work on my place in my new family, and get some secure footing before I tiptoed out into muddy waters of the past. “I wanted to tell you that I would like to divide my time up a little better. I don’t get to see Gabriel as often as I’d like since he lives so far away.”
“If you need me to manage your schedule,” he said, “I’ll be able to do so. You’ll also need to let me know if you need free time to yourself.”
I nodded, although the thought of being alone wasn’t a big deal to me. “I’d rather focus on Gabriel for now. And then the others. Perhaps if I convinced everyone other than Kota, then maybe Kota will change his own mind.” I was repeating Silas’s thoughts from earlier, but it fit.
“It’s a possibility,” he said. He used his knife, cutting his omelet into pieces, and started to eat. He seemed to think while he ate, focusing on his food and occasionally looking up at me while he sipped at his coffee.
I followed his actions, allowing myself to pick at the yogurt. My stomach was still knotted, so I slid the yogurt over a bit to look like I’d eaten more than I had. The fruit wasn’t as heavy, and I ate what I could of it.
Time passed as we were quiet. After denying his request to help him locate my real mother, something was different between us. We’d come to a crossroads. I wasn’t sure how to get around it. I wasn’t sure what to talk about other than the guys.
There wasn’t much I knew about Mr. Blackbourne personally.
That lead me to start listing things I could talk about with him. I glanced at his food. He liked garden omelets. He liked one sugar and a little bit of cream in his coffee. He could play violin and piano. What else could he do? What was the real Mr. Blackbourne like outside of school and the Academy?
If I needed to get to know and spend time with each of them, I needed to get to know all of them, including Mr. Blackbourne. Here I was having breakfast with him, and I found it difficult to start any conversation.
I fought for a question. All of them sounded horrible in my head. So you like eggs? Have you played the violin lately?
I tried one that didn’t seem too weird. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Mr. Lee will be needing groceries for his house, but he’ll be busy with those children we brought in,” he said immediately, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask just that question.
What an odd idea: Mr. Blackbourne at a grocery store. “You go grocery shopping for Kota?”
“For any of them,” he said. “If we’re gone on assignments, someone needs to stay behind and make it look like everything is normal. For those of us with family, we need to appear to be around more than we are. At least for now.”
“For now?”
“One day,” he said, “we won’t need to check in with parents. You’ll all be eighteen and then we’ll be on our own. You’ve got a bit of a head start.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. My cheeks heated. I’d moved out, but I felt far from being grown up and on my own. I fiddled with my yogurt. “What happens when we’re all eighteen?”
“I could make some guesses,” he said. “Right now, though, we’re trying to survive our year in high school.” He picked up his napkin and dabbed it at his lips. “How’s your yogurt? Is it not to your liking?”
I should have guessed he’d notice I wasn’t eating much. “I wasn’t really hungry this morning,” I said. “The fruit is more than enough.”
“As long as you don’t forget to eat,” he said quietly. “Keep up your strength. We’ve got a ways to go. I know it hasn’t been easy, but all the hard work we’re putting in will pay off. Maybe not in ways we expected.”
I looked up at him then, at the gray eyes, and questioned his meaning silently. He met my gaze with confidence. In some way, it felt like whatever they were expecting, I was the interruption, the change to what they’d planned before.
I couldn’t formulate the question to ask his full meaning, but I was saved by the waiter bringing over the check and asking if he could box our food. Mr. Blackbourne paid quickly in cash and declined the boxes.
When the waiter left with the cash, including tip, in hand, Mr. Blackbourne took one more sip of coffee and glanced at me. “I don’t want to rush you,” he said.
I shook my head quickly, pushed my chair back slightly and stood. I liked spending time with him, but felt like I’d ruined the moment earlier and wanted a chance to step away, rethink what happened, and perhaps come back later with an apology and an explanation. “I know you need to get going.”
He straightened his suit jacket, buttoning it back up and then touched the knot of his tie again. He guided me to walk with him toward the exit.
This time, I got just the slightest of touches near the base of my spine as we headed for the door. Fingertips only. No palm. No hand holding. He was tentative around me.
Don’t be like that. I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. I wanted to go back and change my answers, but I couldn’t. I still felt like I nee
ded to forget the past. My father refused to speak of it, and my stepmother had kept it tucked in her memory for sixteen years without a word until recently, a secret they’d meant to bury forever. Unearthing my mother’s history might mean something far worse to deal with than we could imagine. In my heart, I knew Mr. Blackbourne meant well, but could he possibly understand my feelings?
I didn’t want to let him think I was angry at him for it. I was actually touched that he was making an effort. I didn’t want us to change, whatever we were; part of a family.
When we got to the door, Mr. Blackbourne moved ahead to open it, and stood by, waiting.
I caught my opportunity. Instead of moving far away from him to exit, I made sure to move straight past, as close as possible.
I reached out slightly, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said quietly as I stepped outside. My heart was in my throat. Was that inappropriate to touch him? He was acting as a teacher, but he wasn’t really. Like Dr. Green, he was only three years older, and a spy for the Academy, not really someone in authority. He was part of our group.
There was a pause in the world. Mr. Blackbourne paused mid-step. His eyes were forward, his gaze steady. Not breathing. Not talking. Simply calmness. It was for only a second, but the second lasted a while, and I had enough time for my heart to skip and wonder if I’d been mistaken in how to handle my approach.
He followed immediately, letting the door close behind him. “My pleasure,” he said, quickly. “We should do this more often.”
I smiled and nodded, although I hoped more breakfasts with Mr. Blackbourne were friendlier and without confrontation.
I moved toward his car, and this time, his palm touched my lower back, warming a spot on my spine.
