A/N: Hiiii! I've been away for a while because of a rather hellish semester of graduate school, which culminated in the writing of a 110 page paper! But…the wonderful lostladyknight gave me this idea for a story and I really liked it, so I decided to start a new fic. I may one day continue with Anything But Ordinary, but I'm more excited about this right now. LLK hope to cowrite some more soon! I've written about 20 pages of this so far, but decided to break it up cuz it was getting rather longgg. So, the next part should be up soon! I hope you enjoy! Hugz, and Happy New Year, bauerfreak.
Getting called into his daughters' school was, by no means, a regular occurrence for Nick Stokes, but nevertheless he found himself pulling into the parking lot of Sid Rogich Middle School on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. Neither of his twin girls were trouble makers. They'd always been well-behaved and respectful of their teachers. However, for one reason or another, his daughter Gracie was sitting in the guidance office and he'd been called in.
The guidance office. Meaning not the principal's office, or the dean's office. At least she wasn't in trouble, it seemed. Although sometimes he wished Gracie would just get into trouble for typical tween stuff like her sister. From what her English teacher had said over the phone when she'd called fifteen minutes before, Gracie had experienced some sort of emotional breakdown. Unfortunately, a meltdown wasn't that far out of the realm of possibility for the oldest of his twin girls. He'd lost count of how many times Gracie had freaked out at home over a variety of things, from school projects to chores to getting mud all over her clothes to disagreements with her sister. At least once a week the kid had a mini-meltdown, but she'd always been able to control herself somehow at school. Gracie was all about saving face. She was comfortable at home showing her frustration, but not in front of anyone else, at least not in meltdown form. Everyone at school, according to his other daughter Alexis, knew what a spaz Gracie was. From her particular and meticulous nature she completed her assignments, to color-coded folders and notebooks, and her compulsively neat nature, it wasn't hard to see that Gracie Stokes was a bit neurotic.
With a heavy sigh, Nick climbed the front steps to the school after clicking the lock to his truck. That nap he'd been in the middle of was probably not going to happen now, so he'd have to head into his night shift at CSI with only the three hours of shut-eye he'd managed before the call from Gracie's school. He muttered to himself to quit complaining. Being there for his girls was his top priority, and getting called into school for an emotional problem with Gracie was just part of his job. Though his twin girls drove him nuts at times, they were both healthy and happy for the most part. At least he thought so. But Gracie's English teacher sounded especially concerned over the phone. He'd never met her English teacher before, but from what he heard, she sounded young. And, though he'd never admit it…kinda hot. But he was getting ahead of himself…no one could really tell someone's attractiveness based solely on the sound of a voice. His daughters' English teacher's hotness was definitely not on his list of priorities at the moment. Miss Coleman also had Alexis for third period English, the same class Gracie had been sent out of, only earlier in the day. Both girls oozed about her at home, from the things she taught them, to a funny thing she'd said, to a pretty outfit she'd worn. Nick didn't put much thought into their comments at all; they'd both always loved their teachers, and Miss Coleman was no different.
It was nearing the end of eighth period now by Nick's calculation – the last class of the day. At least, if Gracie was truly in one of her trademark huffs, he could pull her out for the last fifteen minutes of the day or whatever it was and calm her back down at home. Even though she was getting older, he still had that charm to calm her down; that special way; those perfect words. He just wanted to get her home, if need be, before the sexy-voiced teacher deemed him a bad parent for producing such a neurotic child.
Nick entered the front doors of the school and immediately spotted the doors to the guidance office just down the hallway. The sounds of obnoxious, feisty middle school children circled in the air. Junior high – not exactly the happiest time in anyone's life. The girls were just now entering seventh grade, so they'd have the pleasure of sticking around this social hell-hole, from what he'd remembered, for another year. He'd thought middle school was bad enough when he'd been through all those years ago. But, he hadn't fully grasped the cold-hearted backstabbing nature of tween girls until Gracie and Alexis had begun school here and started bringing home horrific tales. Cyber-bullying on myspace…boyfriend-stealing...teasing…just to name a few. Alexis took it more in stride, but he worried greatly about Gracie.
He stepped into the guidance office and walked up to the counter to sign in and receive direction from the secretary. As he scribbled his name, he happened to glance towards his right to a slightly open doorway. A young girl sat inside on a cot, the back of her hand swiping at her eyes – not in that delicate way you see a lot of girls do, of daintily wiping underneath their eyelids with a single finger as perhaps a few tiny tears trickle down their cheeks. A wave of fresh tears erupted…yea it was his Gracie. Despite her name, Gracie was her own antonym when she was crying or having one of her meltdowns, at least around the people that she trusted. Though he couldn't see her face, Nick would bet a hundred bucks it was bright red, her face all contorted and awkward, tears flowing like a torrential downpour. Perhaps even a runny nose, if the meltdown was especially bad, accompanied by a large amount of nail-biting.
Nick narrowed his eyes at the crack in the door, and saw a tall, slender brunette sit down on the edge of the cot and reach out to hold his daughter's hand. Through the tiny crack, only about an inch wide, Nick could barely get a glimpse of the woman who was sitting with Gracie. She wore a cream sweater of some kind, of which long trestles of dark brown, curly hair fell against. When the woman scooted forward on the cot just a little more, he caught sight of a set of sparkling white teeth, and a kind, encouraging smile.
"Mr. Stokes!" The secretary called his name a little too loudly, startling Nick out of his thoughts. He immediately looked back at the secretary, a woman probably in her fifties with graying hair, probably from too many years working in a middle school. She narrowed her eyes at him a little, as if she knew Nick had maybe been checking out whoever it was in there with Gracie. As if it were a sin or something – he couldn't look at someone? He couldn't peek to see who was comforting his sobbing child? "Your daughter's in room one."
The secretary's loud voice had apparently caught the attention of the woman taking care of Gracie. She'd since gotten up from the cot and made her way through the door, gently tugging it closed behind her, a look of concern on her face. Nick straightened himself up slightly and cleared his throat as the woman approached.
"Mr. Stokes?" She asked as she approached the front desk. Immediately, his ears sprung to life, recognizing her accent from his native state.
"Yes, ma'am," Nick answered politely in perfect Southern drawl. He held out his hand and the woman accepted, giving his hand a firm shake. Nick caught a slight waft of whatever it was she was wearing and forced himself to stare at her face. "You have my daughter?"
The woman let out the tiniest of sighs, probably one born in the throats of all school teachers after a long hard day. "Yes, Mr. Stokes I do," she said in a rather adorable twang. "Would you like to step into the hallway a moment so we can talk?"
She began to walk in the direction of the small hallway, which presumably held several small private rooms and offices. When they reached midway through the hallway and found at least some level of privacy, she turned and immediately got to the point.
"Mr. Stokes, Gracie had a small breakdown today in class over the video we watched today as part of our human growth and development unit."
"Human growth and development?" Nick asked. "You mean, like, talking about puberty and all that?"
"Yes," she nodded a little nervously. "And today's particular video depicted certain parts of childbirth. Gracie ran out of the room and I went after her. I found her crying in the girls' bathroom. Mr. Stokes, I've talked with your daughter before, and Alexis a little bit too about their family life, and I know about what happened with your wife…"
Nick held up his hand for her to stop. "Woah, woah, hold on," he said, his voice now slightly agitated. Talking about his wife and what happened to her was not something he liked to do, and especially not with perfect strangers, even if they had adorable Texan lady-accents. It had taken months before he'd even opened up to his own family about it. This lady, whoever she was, had an awful lot of nerve bringing this delicate subject up with him right off the bat, even if it did involve his daughter. "Who are you again?"
"I'm Miss Coleman. Gracie's English teacher. And Lexi's too."
"So why are you teaching them human growth and development in the first place? Shouldn't you be teaching grammar or writing or something?"
She let out a tiny sigh again but was unfazed. "It's in the seventh grade curriculum. At this school, all seventh graders are taught human growth and development eighth period during the second nine weeks. All the teachers are trained how to teach it."
Nick nodded. That seemed a weird way to do it, and he didn't remember seeing any kind of notification of this. "You showed a video of an actual human childbirth to my daughter, and you didn't ask me first? Isn't this something that, I don't know, parents should be aware of?"
Miss Coleman furrowed her eyebrows. "You were notified. Permission slips were sent home two weeks ago about the video, and Gracie returned hers with your signature."
"I never saw a permission slip," Nick contended.
"Well, then it seems we have a little problem here," she shifted her stance slightly, studying Nick's face as if somehow she'd find the answer there. "Gracie returned the slip last week with a signature of a Nicholas Stokes."
Nick torqued his jaw and put his hands on his hips as he let out an exhausted sigh. From Alexis he may have expected this, but Gracie? Unstable, but sweet little Gracie? "So she forged my signature."
Miss Coleman's eyes darted away for a moment, slightly embarrassed she hadn't been able to catch this little forgery when Gracie had turned it in. Though she was a fairly new teacher, with about eight years' experience, she'd certainly come across worse things than a quick and dirty forgery. "It would appear so," she replied a little softer than she'd been speaking.
Nick cleared his throat, "Well I'm sorry for any inconvenience Gracie caused you. I'll be having a talk with her about forging my signature, but right now I think she needs me," he told the young teacher, taking a step towards the room his daughter was sitting in. Miss Coleman, however, stood in his way, putting up a hand to stop him.
"Mr. Stokes, I understand that, but I was hoping we could perhaps set up a conference in the near future about Gracie. I care about her a great deal, and since we began talking about how babies are born…"
She'd hit a nerve again. The wrong nerve at just about the worst time. "Ma'am," he interrupted her sentence politely, but there was a hint of anger and protectiveness in his voice. His eyes, defensive and cold, warned her not to venture any further. "I appreciate your concern, but I think I know what my daughter needs. I can handle it."
Nick let his stare linger for a couple moments, a stare he'd perfected over the years as a criminalist that warned the other person to back off. Miss Coleman was taken aback for a moment. She was just trying to help, after all. Gracie and Alexis Stokes were a couple of her star pupils, and a great joy to have in class. She wanted what was best for them, but also realized she may have gone too far. According to the girls, their mother's death, even almost thirteen years later, was still an open wound to their father.
Miss Coleman conceded, offering Nick a small nod of understanding. His shoulders relaxed just slightly as he finally turned and walked to Gracie's door. Nick let out another calming breath as he pushed the door open to the little room. Gracie turned in her place, her face all red and splotchy as he'd predicted, and ceased her nail-biting. Her shoulder-length brown hair was now swept back in a ponytail, evidence that she'd had to suffer through P.E. earlier in the day. In her hand was a balled-up tissue, which she squeezed a little nervously. On one hand, she was relieved that her dad was here. He was a safe shoulder to cry on, someone who would never judge her or tell her she was being ridiculous. On the other hand, he knew now that she and her sister were studying human growth and development this nine weeks. And he knew she'd watched that video of the lady giving birth. And he probably knew she'd thought about her own mother, and how things had gone oh so wrong. And so now he was going to have to think about that day again. About how two of the great loves of his life had come into the world, only to take their own mother out of it.
"Daddy," Gracie's face contorted slightly to bring a few fresh new tears as Nick sat down on the cot and brought his twelve year old into a hug. He didn't say anything at first, just held her tightly and patted her back softly as she sniffled. Maybe, Gracie thought, he just wouldn't bring it up. Maybe Miss Coleman had been evasive, and just told him she'd had a breakdown and would leave her to fill in the gaps. She could dismiss it as a meltdown over a quiz she'd forgotten to study for. Certainly plausible, considering her record – straight A's or bust. If she could just freeze this moment - have it just be a supportive hug from a father to a daughter – then she wouldn't have to face the possibility of having to talk about it. Of having him think he HAD to talk about it for her sake. It wasn't that she didn't understand. She did. Her mother was dead because she and her sister had been born.
A few moments later, when her father finally pulled away and she saw the concerned look on his face, Gracie knew she wouldn't be out of this pickle unscathed. He was worried about her. More than he usually was. Gracie knew she wasn't the easiest kid to live with. Her mood could be a bit unpredictable. She tended to worry and over-analyze everything, and he was the only parent around to deal with it. Gracie knew she was a burden at times.
"Gracie, I heard what happened in English today," he started softly as he squeezed her upper arm with one of his hands. Gracie didn't look at him and instead focused her energy on playing with the tissue in her right hand. "Miss Coleman said you saw something that upset you?"
Gracie knew her father was holding out bait, hoping she'd start talking so he didn't have to pry. So he wouldn't accidentally say the wrong words and cause her to start crying all over again. She wanted to cry; to let it all out and tell him what she felt, but she didn't want to make him think about it. He worked so hard raising her and her sister all by himself, while working night-shift full time. He didn't need the reminder of the worst day of his life.
Gracie shrugged and pulled at her tissue, rearranging it in her palm. Nick patiently waited, hoping she'd open up and tell him. Nine times out of ten she had no problem at all telling him exactly what was going on in full detail, sparing him no detail. On rare occasions, he had to pull it out of her, like he was going to have to do today. When that happened, it usually had to do with her mother. It wasn't something he liked talking about a whole lot, and Nick sensed the girls knew that.
"What upset you, sweetheart?" Nick asked her patiently, his voice full of understanding. He moved his fingers from her arm to hold her hand, watching her face intently. "Come on, you can tell me."
Gracie furrowed her eyebrows and looked almost angry for a few moments. Whether it was at him, he didn't know. She still wouldn't look at him. Nick gently stroked her hand as he waited for her. He'd learned over the years he couldn't push Gracie emotionally. She would share with him when she was good and ready, and not a moment before.
After almost a minute of silence, Nick finally looked down, accepting for now that Gracie wasn't going to open up to him about what happened in English class. At least not just yet. Based on the subject matter that had apparently upset her, he could guess what she was thinking. When the girls were small, the concept of their mother dying was easier to explain because he could be evasive due to their age. Now they were getting smarter and having more questions about it. Thanks to the middle school curriculum, Nick figured Gracie had just received a harsh reality check about the nature of her mother's death.
"Gracie, it wasn't your fault," he said gently, but with a firmness to his voice. "And it wasn't Lexi's fault. It just happened."
Gracie finally looked up at him, tears brimming at her eyes. She held his gaze for only a moment or two, and then looked away as a few more tears trickled down her face. He had to say that. What kind of father would actually tell his kid she was responsible for her mother's death? He always dismissed her death as just bad luck, as something that just happened at no fault of the babies, the mother, or the doctors. But someone had to be responsible. The facts were there. If she and her sister hadn't been conceived, carried, and then born, their mother would still be alive.
Gracie didn't say anything back; didn't nod her head in agreement, or refute what he'd said. That's the way it always was with Gracie when the subject matter was her mother. He couldn't get her to talk much about it at home during the rare times it was even brought up, and he realized he wasn't going to have much luck in a tiny room inside a middle school guidance office. For now, just repeating it again would have to do; that it wasn't her fault.
Nick looked at his watch and saw it was only about ten minutes until the end of the school day. "Come on, let's get you home."