This was not one of my better days. Being new to the Quillayute Valley School District, I really needed to pay attention to the superintendent, but nothing seemed to be getting through to my addled female brain. If I had not been so preoccupied with the back of my neighbor's head, with the restless rhythm of his fingertips upon the table or with the occasional glimpse I had of his aristocratic profile, I might have had the presence of mind to be utterly disgusted with myself and refocus. As it was, when everyone around me began to stand and move towards the exit, I did not have the slightest clue why. All I could comprehend at the moment were the pair of mahogany eyes looking into mine expectantly.
I must have looked ridiculous to him, because the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch as if he were struggling to contain his amusement. "Are you not going to lunch?" he asked.
"Oh! I guess so. Are you?"
He did smile then. "Yes and with you, if you are willing." His voice was lovely, a singer's voice I supposed, but I could not place the accent. East coast, maybe?
"Sure. We'll be working together, won't we?" I extended my hand to him with a friendly but trembling smile. "I'm Lucy Dawes. I teach French."
"Yes, I know," he replied. Rather than shake my hand, he offered his elbow with a slight bow. Gallant but odd. "Daniel Lewis. German." I accepted his arm and was glad everyone else had left before they could witness our strange introduction.
However, I was vaguely surprised that Will had left for lunch on his own without a word. My lack of interest in sports must have put him off. Oh well. Wasn't the first time my bland personality failed to attract the opposite sex. Wouldn't be the last.
Daniel led me on his arm out of the building and into the graying afternoon. The outside air helped to clear my head a bit, and I began to wonder that I so willingly accepted a lunch invitation from a man I didn't know, colleague or not. I studied him with a more objective eye. Earlier he appeared carelessly aloof, and I had suspected he felt himself above his company. As we walked to the parking lot, his ever so slight swagger and the proud tilt of his head reinforced my opinion. But then, I noted upon closer inspection how his eyes constantly roved back and forth, performing a thorough sweep of our surroundings, and this almost belied his air of ease and confidence.
"Where does one go in this town to have lunch?" Daniel asked as we approached a very black and very shiny car.
"There's a little coffee shop down the way a bit," I suggested before ducking inside the car. I looked around in surprise as he pushed the door closed and walked around to the driver's side.
Having absolutely no knowledge of or interest in cars, I couldn't really identify the make, but I was pretty sure that it was hardly the car one drove while surviving on a teacher's salary. I hoped he didn't expect me to comment on his car. The only thing I'd come up with would be that it was curvy and smelled nice.
"The school is lucky our principal found you," I said as Daniel slid into his seat and started the car. "For a while it looked like there would be no German program. I suppose German teachers willing to work in such a small school district are hard to come by."
"It is fortunate that I saw there was a position here," he said, "but I had planned to come to this area regardless. And you came here from southern California?"
"Yes. Um, take a left up here."
Daniel's car pulled into the small parking lot by the Forks Coffee Shop. I recognized a few teachers going into the restaurant ahead of us.
As we entered the restaurant, Daniel studied me intently. I pretended not to notice. "Do you have family here?" he asked.
"No," I said before turning to the hostess and requesting a table.
Fortunately the hostess was able to seat us immediately. It gave me a little time to think of a way to divert the conversation from its present course.
"And where do you come from, Daniel?" I asked as we took our seats. I almost winced when I heard how brusque my voice sounded. He could not have known how uncomfortable his questions would make me.
"Alaska," he answered with a smile that made me wonder what the joke was. "Forks is an interesting move for either of us, is it not?"
I shrugged. "Well at least you are more accustomed to the cold weather and dead carcass décor." I indicated the various hunting trophies that adorned the walls with a slight wave. "Did you study German in Alaska?"
"No, I studied languages in Europe for many years," he said.
I raised an eyebrow at that. How many was many? I felt it prudent not to ask. "I envy you the opportunity," I admitted. "I taught in France for a year through the Fulbright program, but I never studied there."
"Perhaps someday you will."
I shrugged. "My time has passed. I don't think I'll travel abroad again for a while. Not with students, at least." If ever again. My eyes slid down to study my hands upon the tabletop while my mind drifted to a place it visited often in dream and memory. The inevitable, sickening clench of guilt in my gut followed my silent reminiscing like heart burn after a chili dog. I doubted I would swallow a bite of lunch.
"Lucy, why did you choose to move up here alone?"
I started and trembled at the sound of my name on his lips preceding such a question, and I was sure he noticed. His sharp eyes swept up and down my frame before returning to my own. How to answer? I had never even been candid with Aracelle about the circumstances of my move to Washington, and I certainly would not spill my heart to this lovely stranger – too lovely to be sitting across a café table from me.
"Oh, my motives were probably similar to yours. I saw the position was available and opted for a little change of scenery." I allowed a shallow smile to accompany the partial truth.
"I see." And I perceived that he did. Far more than I would have liked. "Judith mentioned you live in La Push. Are you Quileute?"
I smiled at his question. A few of my neighbors had also made the assumption that I shared their ethnicity. "No, my father is Middle Eastern and my mother Caucasian. I favor my father, so I guess I blend easily with the Quileutes."
"An interesting heritage. Your family is in California?" he asked.
"No, my father went back to Qatar after he and my mom divorced. He's a businessman in the oil industry. I don't remember him very well. My mother and her mother raised me, but they have both passed," I said.
"Does your father's family know you are alone?"
I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I would never live in Qatar, and they are not going to move to America."
"I suppose your mother retained her surname according to Middle Eastern tradition," Daniel speculated, "but you have not taken your father's name. Is that common?"
"It is when your father's not in the picture," I replied dryly. "The name on my birth certificate is Lazim Al-Marri. I feel funny carrying around an Arabic name when I know next to nothing about my Arabic heritage."
"It suits you better though. You look far too exotic to be a Lucy Dawes."
"Yeah. Well, Lucy Dawes is more comfortable. I think I'll continue wearing it." I laughed heartily at his gallantry. I couldn't recollect anyone using lines on me before. I never usually came across as the type who would fall for them.
Our waitress approached our table then. I ordered a salad I had no intention of eating, and Daniel ordered a coffee.
Our conversation continued thus until we left the restaurant. Daniel proved to be very good at coming up with questions to get me to talk about myself and appearing interested in my responses. Aracelle would undoubtedly press me for information tomorrow, so I asked him a few. His answers were vague, and it made me wonder if I was a little too candid about myself. After an hour of conversation, I knew almost nothing more about him than I did before. Of course, this only served to whet my curiosity.
I snuck a glance at Daniel as we returned to the administration building. His expression seemed very controlled and uniform. I was tempted to tweek his nose or pinch his cheek just to see what he would do.
"Thanks for the ride," I said when the car pulled into a parking space in front of the administration building. My smile was sincere, and he nodded in acknowledgment. We exited the car and made our way back inside the building and towards the conference room. "If we don't get the chance to talk again, I'll see you tomorrow."
"He took you to lunch, and the only thing you can tell me is that he is from Alaska?" Aracelle asked. If she soon lost interest in me as a friend, I wouldn't be surprised. I get the feeling she was hoping I would be her young, hip work pal. And I must confess, I am a little entertained by her disappointment.
"He did not take me to lunch. We went to lunch together. If you had been there, you would have come with us."
"Perhaps it would have been all the better," she speculated. "I see I will need to accompany you two on your first dates. You will be forty and still unattached if I don't."
A very girlish giggle preceded the diminutive woman who traipsed into Aracelle's classroom and positioned a student desk next to the ones we already occupied. Judith dropped her plan book and calendar on the desk before sitting down. "Aracelle, are you ridiculing Lucy's old maid tendencies again?" An outsider might perceive barbs in Judith's teasing, but I knew she was harmless.
"I can't help being a little frustrated with her. She spent the whole day with Mr. Lewis and has nothing to show for it," Aracelle sniffed.
"Where is he? Is he not here today?" I asked.
"Nope. He called in sick today and tomorrow. Dr. Boaz told Aracelle not to expect him back until Monday," Judith said.
"What? How can you call in sick this time of year?" I demanded. Judith shrugged.
Daniel must be really sick if he is willing to miss the two work days before the first day of school. I wondered if he had a stomach bug or the flu. The day before, he only ordered a beverage at lunchtime.
If I was going to be honest with myself, I had to admit that I was truly disappointed by Daniel's absence. My feelings worried me. It would be dangerous for me to get too attached. He screamed "player", and I knew very well that I had "vulnerable" and "untouched" written across my forehead. Fortunately, the kids would be coming back on Monday, and everyone would be too caught up in the first day bustle to attend to anything else.
A medley of voices filtered through the door announcing the arrival of the middle school Spanish teachers, and we abandoned our conversation for the task of getting another meeting behind us.