Chapter 21 – Ms. Henley

Emily was standing in front of a wooden door with beautiful carvings that belonged to an equally ravishing house. She had certainly not visualized her teacher living in such a pompous mansion. Sure, the house offered a spectacular sight, but it also looked kind of pretentious, and adjective which didn't match with Ms. Henley's humble personality. Emily looked over her shoulder at Henry waiting in the car; it was unlikely he would've driven her to the wrong address by accident, since he knew this town like the back of his hand. She was more than thankful for him relaxing the rules and letting her out this Saturday, with her punishment still binding her to home for two more days.

She gathered up all her courage and took the metal ring of the gargoyle shaped door knocker in her hand, wondering why Ms. Henley didn't have a doorbell like normal people did. The heavy door opened slowly, and Emily relaxed promptly when the young teacher stood before her, smiling warmly and stretching out her right hand.

"Emily, I'm so glad you could make it," she said, while they shook hands. "Please come in."

Emily did after waving goodbye to Henry, who winked at her and then drove off.

"Wow Ms. Henley, you really have a beautiful home," she said, admiring the gorgeous paintings and the tastefully picked furniture in the spacious living room.

"Thank you dear, but it's not really mine. It's my mother's house, I'm only living here temporarily."

"Well, your mother has very good taste then," Emily said, tracing her fingers along the soft wooden surface of a small table standing right next to her.

"Thank you, I will pass the compliment on to her," Ms. Henley assured with a small nod of her head. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Just some water, thank you," Emily said, gazing at a painting that showed two lovers by a lake; the water seemed to actually be in motion, and the young woman bore a striking resemblance to Ms. Henley.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Ms. Henley said in a dreamy voice. "I wished I could paint like that."

"Do you paint?" Emily asked, realizing she knew next to nothing about the teacher she held in such high admiration.

Ms. Henley gave her a funny look before answering. "Yes, but I'm not very good at it."

"I bet you are better than you think you are," Emily said and blushed slightly. "I do like to paint too, from time to time. I'm doing portraits right now."

"Portraits, huh? I would like to see them sometime. Only if you want to show them to me, of course."

"Yeah, I'd like that," the teenager said, and followed Ms. Henley into the kitchen.

Ms. Henley took two glasses out of the kitchen cabinet and poured herself some orange juice.

"Are you sure you just want water?" she asked. "I have a delicious pineapple juice you will love if you have a sweet tooth. Or if you prefer, there's also apple, orange, and cherry juice, but I wouldn't recommend the latter, it has a rather… peculiar taste."

"No, just water's fine, thank you," Emily said and her eyes wandered around in awe. She had to admit even the kitchen was stunning, which was typically the room she would pay less attention to. It appeared to have been newly modernized, and the soft, welcoming colors bathed it in a warm light. "How come you live in your mother's house?" she asked after a while. "I thought..."

"That I was married?"

"Well yeah..." Emily said slowly, wondering if she had been indiscreet.

"She doesn't live here with me, I live alone. And no, I'm not married," Ms. Henley said and chuckled after Emily raised an eyebrow.

"Good for you. I m-mean... you're still young..." Emily stammered, mentally cursing herself. Eager to change the subject to avoid further embarrassment, she added: "You know, when I was standing outside I wondered whether it was your house, it just doesn't seem like you."

"Really? Why not? Don't you think I could have good taste?" Ms. Henley said teasingly.

"No no, it's not that," Emily replied quickly. "It's just... well it's a beautiful house and all but it's not homey. I pictured you living in a small cozy apartment with maybe two or three kittens and a pair of budgies."

"A pair of budgies, really? So you think I'm a sad old spinster?" Ms. Henley continued to tease her.

"No, not at all," Emily said, blushing heavily. "It's just, you're so beautiful yourself… you don't need to surround yourself by pretty things."

"Oh shit," Emily thought. She could not believe she had just said that out loud, but luckily, Ms. Henley didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you, Emily," she said genuinely. "That was about the nicest thing someone has said to me in a long time."

"Anytime," Emily said nervously and started biting on her fingernails.

"Anyway, shall we start?" Ms. Henley asked. "There's a piano in the dining room we can use." She waited until Emily had drunk her water, and then guided her into the dining room.

As she walked behind her teacher, Emily thought that from this particular angle, Ms. Henley could easily pass as a high school student; she was dressed the most casual Emily had ever seen her, with sweatpants and an oversized sweater, and her brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that swung back and forth in synchrony with her steps.

Neither of them realized how quickly the time passed, they were completely absorbed in the music. It was not until it began to grow dark outside that Emily remembered Henry had said he would pick her up in two hours, and after a quick glance at her watch, she saw they had half an hour left.

Ms. Henley paused the playing, her fingers hovering over the piano keys. "Do you have to go?" she asked and looked at Emily with saddened eyes.

"Not yet, but I'm kind of hoarse already, maybe we should continue another time," Emily replied carefully. Surely, living alone in a place with space for a household of eight was bound to get lonely now and again, and if it wasn't for her stupid punishment, she would've been happy to keep Ms. Henley company for a couple more hours.

Ms. Henley nodded and took her hands away from the piano. "You know, Emily, I didn't invite you just to practice your songs," she said.

"You didn't?" Emily glanced at the elder woman and found her looking at her with a perturbed expression.

Ms. Henley shook her head. "No. See, as a teacher my job does not consist exclusively of teaching you what's on the syllabus, I also carry a certain amount of responsibility for my students' general well-being. I have been observing you for quite some time now, and you seem more distracted than usual. Emily, is there something you want to tell me?"

Emily sat down at the table, and supported her head with both hands. "Not really," she said evasively. "Why do you ask?"

"Well... I noticed you behavior has changed over the past couple of weeks," Ms. Henley said, phrasing her concern carefully.

"I thought I was doing well," Emily mumbled. "I'm even participating in class."

"You are right, but I don't mean your participation in class, which has really improved since the beginning of the school year. It isn't the play either, you've been really enthusiastic about it since we've started…"

"Then what is it?" Emily said quietly, and her face darkened. "Am I in trouble?"

"By no means, darling. It's just that you… well lately you don't seem like yourself, and frankly I'm worried about you. Is there something going on at home? Are you in some sort of trouble?" Ms. Henley asked softly, causing the growth of a lump in Emily's throat.

"No, there's nothing going on at home," Emily muttered somewhat indistinctly, and after clearing her throat she added, "Well, I did something foolish and I got grounded, but it was a one-time thing. I'm fine, really, you don't have to worry."

She could tell Ms. Henley was not convinced, but she didn't know what more to say. There was only one person in the world who really knew her worst nightmare, and it wasn't even JJ. Ms. Henley knelt in front of her, a frown on her beautiful face.

"Emily you're an excellent student, but I'm more worried about what is going on in here," she said, putting her hand over her heart. "God knows I hadn't it all figured out at your age either, and I too, was very confused, but to me it seems like... like you're trying to run away from something."

"What do you mean? I'm not trying to run away from anything," Emily said a little louder than she had intended.

"It seems to me that you're afraid to feel," said Ms. Henley, searching for Emily's eyes and looking at them with intensity. "And I worry that if you stay that way you will never allow yourself to surrender to your true emotions."

Emily remained quiet, eyes fixated on her lap. When she finally looked up, she found herself captivated by the older woman's bright green eyes that were gazing at her with nothing but deep understanding. Emily saw a flickering of something else in them, but it was over so quickly she wasn't able to pinpoint it. She suddenly became very aware of Ms. Henley's hands stroking her own. No doubt the teacher's intention was to encourage her to talk to her, but her touches did have a very different effect on Emily, thus her reaction was withdrawing her hands as if she had burnt herself.

"I'm sorry," Ms. Henley whispered, clearly misinterpreting her gesture. "I want you to know you can always talk to me, Emily. I might not be old enough to be your mother, but maybe you could think of me as an older and slightly wiser friend or sister that just wants to help you out."

"Thank you, Ms. Henley," Emily whispered back and then her tears started to run freely. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've been crying an awful lot lately."

"That's a good sign, dear," Ms. Henley said, patting her gently on the head.

An unexpected bang startled them both. There was someone in the house! Didn't Ms. Henley live alone? Emily looked at her, frightened.

"Good Lord, that's my mother again," said Ms. Henley and clicked her tongue impatiently. "I specifically asked her..."

The door to the dining room opened, and Emily did not believe her eyes when she saw who came marching in.