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“You encourage t
hem, trust them by assigning tasks and then not standing over them every step of the way. You go along with their solutions.”
“Not always.”
“It wouldn’t mean anything if you approved of everything they did. You’re also teaching them about standards. You’re showing them that you trust them to meet your expectations.”
He just taught. Nothing else.
“Your trust in them also builds self-confidence. And in turn, teaches them to trust you.”
Matt wasn’t sure that was a responsibility he could accept. He knew he was never going to overstep his teacher-student boundaries again, but all it would take was getting just a little too friendly. Something could easily be misunderstood or blown out of proportion, and it would all come out. The past. Shelley.
And he would be crucified.
He knew how these things worked.
“Obviously this Sophie feels she can trust you. Which is why she came to you today.”
“I teach lighting design.”
“I’m just suggesting you keep an eye on things, Matt, not counsel her.”
He nodded. Yeah, he knew those ropes.
“If I notice anything more, I’ll send her to counseling,” he said.
He left shortly after that, hoping Phyllis would be able to get a good night’s sleep. He didn’t expect to sleep much himself. Not while he was feeling responsible for the fact that this woman was lying in the hospital with an IV stuck in her hand because he hadn’t been more careful about protecting her all those weeks ago.
And not after their last conversation, either. It was always there. The past. Haunting him. Waiting to rear its ugly head.
Yet, as he let himself into his room in the motel across from the hospital, stripped down to his briefs and slid between the sheets, Matt felt strangely relaxed. Phyllis Langford was easy to talk to. Even for a man as out of practice with friendly conversation as he was.
She thought he was a good teacher….
He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
MATT STOPPED BY Phyllis’s house the next night after work. She saw him pull up in front of her bungalow, watched him get out of his truck, lock the door. Her first impulse was to deny him access to her house—and to her life. After last night, the hours they’d spent talking, his tending to her without complaint, she liked him even more than she had that day she’d been so desperate to sleep with him.
Liking a man was a step she couldn’t take. One step invariably led to the next….
And then, as she watched him make his way slowly up her walk, hands in the pockets of his jeans, head bent, she remembered that she was going to help him find a measure of peace. Matt Sheffield was a good man. She could feel his goodness every time she was with him.
He was also a man with secrets. Secrets that might be hidden but certainly weren’t forgotten. At least not by him. She could feel that, too.
Maybe because he was the father of her unborn baby, which gave her some kind of physical connection to him, or maybe because she was who she was and sometimes saw things in people that others couldn’t, Phyllis refused to keep turning her back on him.
Protect herself she would. Of course. Always. But she had a strong feeling she could help this man—and that was something she could no longer ignore.
Her inability to mind her own business, as her ex-husband put it was part of the problem with her and romantic relationships. Most men didn’t like to be probed, didn’t like their pain exposed to others, examined. Phyllis was a natural prober.
Sometimes people were suffering agonies that could be eased. Sometimes healing came from viewing the source of pain in a different light. Or learning to release the past. The world was too filled with hurts that couldn’t be fixed to let stand those that could.
Matt Sheffield was a man who needed healing.
She waited until he knocked on the door before going to open it.
“Matt, hi,” she said, pulling it wide.
