Chapter Ten

Day One Thousand Thirty-Four

The school year was officially at an end. And while it would have been a joyous occasion many years before, it was now bittersweet for Degrassi's newest coach slash health teacher. It was a comfort knowing that his time was his own for the next six weeks before football tryouts decided his new team, a month long training camp began and his days became filled with training hormonal teenage boys from dawn to dusk. However, it was a bit depressing to know that half his original team had graduated and would not be around come fall when the new season began.

He wondered if other teachers were ever caught in this same conundrum. If they experienced this same mind-numbing sensation that had come over him as he idly mused what would happen to the students he saw day in and day out, wondering if he had been a source of inspiration to any of them and, if he had, if that inspiration would be carried throughout their lives. Or, would they forget him as time passed by, only to bring up his name in passing conversation as they recollected their teenage years.

He had to wonder if any of his own teachers had sat in their offices on the last day of the school year like he was sitting on the deserted outdoor bleachers, wondering the same things about him as he was about his own students. Would he run into any of them in a decade like he had run into Archie Simpson? And would he be the one offering them a way out of their miserable lives and the chance to become their best possible versions like the former principal had done for him?

Owen ran a frustrated hand through his hair. This was only supposed to be a job. When all was said and done, he was just supposed to go on with his life and be happy that he had money in the bank. He was supposed to be satisfied that this chosen career meant job security doing something he enjoyed. He wasn't supposed to get emotionally involved or ask philosophical questions because of it. He wasn't supposed to actually care.

But those students, with partial innocence still intact and their eyes shining with such…possibility, had wormed their way into his soul. With their dreams that were still unrealized and all the potential they had yet to tap into, they had made themselves so much a part of his life that it would be an impossibility to turn away even if he wanted to. And the true heart of the matter was that this was the one area in his life that he didn't want to turn away from.

"Hey Coach." He looked down at the brunette climbing the steps to his position halfway up the bleachers. She shuffled in between his row and the next, sighing tiredly and plopping down when she finally reached him. "You know everyone is looking for you, right?"

"I know. I just…"

"You needed time to get your head on straight?" Owen nodded and she smiled in understanding. "Well, I guess this would be the best place for that. I forgot how peaceful this place could look…and just how many memories I've been trying to forget."

"If the walls could talk they'd talk your ear off."

"But oh, the stories they would tell. Clare wrote that when she was a senior. Principal Simpson asked her to write the forward for the yearbook and she chose to write a poem about our school watching us as we passed through it," Alli told him. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "But the question is; how do you know that poem?"

"Are you kidding? Smart, pretty and talented, she quickly became Tristan's idol. One of the only reasons he bought a yearbook that year was to have a copy of that poem. And he recited it every chance he got," Owen replied. "I only remember a few lines but I bet my brother still knows the entire thing by heart."

"Wow, I didn't know Clare made such an impact on anybody back then," Alli murmured, a thoughtful look on her face. She shook her head to knock herself out of her reverie. "Anyway, I actually came to see you because I had some really good news and some not-so-good news to share with you."

"You know that's a really bad entry to the good news, bad news speech, don't you?"

Alli shrugged. "I'll work on my openings in the future."

"See that you do."

"Owen, seriously, I came here to tell you something that I thought you'd want to hear." Alli sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly to tamp down the irritation that sometimes came when talking to the slightly older man. "It's about Clare."

Owen groaned. It always took a few days and shots of the good stuff before he was able to get in the right head space following whatever news Alli announced about their mutual friend. "What is it this time? You know we've been talking again every day now, right? So what could she have shared with you that she couldn't share with me?"

"Well, Dimitri asked her to move in with him."

So that was that. As much as he thought his friendship with Clare was as close to their original relationship as possible, she still didn't trust him or his reactions enough to let him in on what would be a life-changing event. "I see how that could fit into your good news, bad news scenario. I'm not sure which category that actually falls into though."

"That's the bad news. The fact that she turned him down would be the good news."

She said it so quickly, so casually, that he had to do a double take. "She turned him down?"

Alli nodded in confirmation. "She told him that she wasn't ready to take that step. He said if she wasn't ready now then he doubted she ever would be."

"But they've only been seeing each other six months. He can't expect her to be willing to change her life so completely in such a short amount of time. Doesn't he know that Clare is a planner? Doesn't he know that it takes her a week to decide whether she wants to buy a pair of shoes? And this is bigger than a pair of shoes," Owen ranted.

Alli laughed. "You know that and I know that but apparently, Dimitri never got that memo. That is probably why she told him that if he wasn't willing to give her time to decide if she wanted to move in with him, then he wasn't willing to give her time to decide if their relationship was something that she really wanted either."

"They broke up?"

"They broke up," Alli confirmed.

"And she just didn't bother letting me know?"

"Well, can you really be surprised given that she knows how you feel about him?" Owen thought about that for a moment then ruefully shook his head. "Besides, it's not like it happened a month ago and she's been keeping it a secret ever since. They broke up last night and she called me this morning to play devil's advocate. She would've called you but you've been here and she knows you would've agreed with everything she said and did. Clare needed to hear that she was right from someone who could see things from his point of view as well as hers."

"Did you tell her that she did the right thing?"

"Of course I did, Owen. A guy who is going to give her an ultimatum is not a guy she needs in her life." Alli stood, brushing off any real and imaginative dirt from her backside. "Anyway, I got to go fit a client for her first premiere. Will I see you at the bar tonight for drinks? I think Eddie wanted to celebrate your new contract with the rest of the gang. After all, five years is a pretty big accomplishment for a first-year coach who had no previous experience."

"What time?"

"Nine, I think. I'll call you later when I find out."

She started her jog down the steps of the bleachers, a task that he thought would've been impossible in the customary four and a half inch heels that she wore. Before disappearing from his line of vision completely, she tossed a hasty congratulation that they both knew had been an afterthought.

So, Clare was no longer linked to Dimitri and he was the proud owner of a five year contract with Degrassi doing what he loved to do. Any depression that he had carried over the end of the school year had completely dissipated and all due to the news delivered by a pint-sized force of nature. And he supposed that maybe fairy tales had it right and endings weren't such bad things to experience after all.

Day One Thousand Fifty-Eight

Halfway across the continent, in the rainy city known as Seattle, a woman—clad in a casual uniform of trouser jeans and a lightweight cotton blouse, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail—was situated behind a computer in an office that was comprised of glass and brick and hardwood floors. The desk was a combination of metal and glass, built in a modern design that fit in with the rest of the décor. But one could hardly tell by the stacks of papers that littered it, barely leaving room for the computer placed in the center.

Nimble fingers moved deftly over the keyboard and the clicking of the keys paused intermittently as she sifted through the papers, discarding each one into a container meant for recycling once her eyes had finished scanning their contents. This continued for another half hour before she stood and stretched out the cramped muscles in her back, picking up a forgotten coffee cup and carrying it over to the window that made up most of the back wall of her office.

It was this view that the window provided that almost made up for the bouts of homesickness and recent loneliness she was experiencing since her break up. Well, even in the weeks preceding the break up if she was completely honest with herself. Watching the people and cars rushing below her, the children playing in a park that interrupted the concrete of the streets and sidewalks, she could almost imagine she was back in Toronto. But she knew that closing her eyes and pretending that it was a displaced portion of her hometown was only a temporary fix, a patch to simply be glued over the problem instead of actually rectifying it.

Hopefully, one day she would be able to make a change to cause that temporary fix to be a bit more permanent.

"You wanted to see me, Clare."

She turned to look at the man shadowing her doorway, smiling softly and nodding. It was hard to believe the baby-faced man dressed in ripped jeans and a shirt bearing the logo of a long forgotten band had been her mentor, much less her current boss and the person in charge of a magazine that was quickly gaining popularity. It would be hard to believe if she didn't know firsthand the cunning that was carried behind eyes that should have belonged to a puppy and just how quickly his lackadaisical approach could harden to steely resolve.

"Hey Josh," she greeted him warmly, beckoning him with a wave of her hand to come inside.

He was quick to adhere to her wishes and, after shutting the door to give them a modicum of privacy in a fish bowl environment, threw himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "What does my favorite editor need?"

Clare pulled her braid over her shoulder, her fingers fiddling with the ends and making her nerves known. "We need to talk, Josh."

"Are you breaking up with me, Clare? Because whatever I said or did, I promise I can make it up to you," Josh said playfully. His brow furrowed in confusion when his joke didn't even bring a smile to her face. "Okay, what's up? Usually I get some kind of reaction out of you, even if it's only irritation."

She let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess I'm just not feeling like myself these days."

"Is it because you broke up with Mr. Wonderful?" Her brows raised and her mouth dropped in surprise. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You didn't think I'd hear about that? This place is too small for word not to spread around like wildfire."

"I wish I could say that the way I've been feeling is a direct result of that break up." Clare shrugged. "But I was feeling…out of sorts long before we split. I guess it just amplified it."

"You're not happy."

"It's not that. Well, it's not that completely. Don't get me wrong, Josh, I love working here. This is the career that I always wanted and the job I always dreamed of having. It's just…not enough for me anymore," Clare admitted.

Josh took in everything she was saying, seeming to mull it over for a moment before nodding. "I understand."

"What do you mean, you understand?"

"Clare, I knew you left a lot back in Toronto when you agreed to come here and be my features editor. Friends and family, the city you grew up in and lived most of your life. Those things are hard to give up, even for something you've wanted since you were a kid," Josh said.

He stood and made his way to stand in front of the younger woman, using the back of his knuckles to lift her chin when she tried to avoid his searching gaze. "You were so thrilled when I interviewed you for the job, so ready to jump into the position and move full steam ahead. Then, you went home to pack and it seemed like everything changed. Sure, you still did the job I hired you to do and even exceeded my expectations. But I could tell that you didn't have the same…interest in it that you had when I saw you the first time.

"When you came back after your vacation in December, you seemed like you were back to your usual self. You were smiling, laughing, going out with some of the staff and dating Dimitri. It was like seeing the girl I knew in college all over again." Joshua chuckled. "You had found your fire for ten glorious weeks. And then you went back to Toronto for that wedding and I received a zombie instead of the woman I had become accustomed to having as my editor."

"Josh—"

He waved away her impending apology, taking her by the hand and leading her to the chairs to sit down. "Clare, you're my friend first and my editor second. I'm just worried that you're forcing yourself to be here because you don't want to disappoint me."

Clare cringed due to the truth in his words. "And if I am?"

"Then I'm going to have to fire you."

Her jaw dropped and a laugh that sounded more like a gasp escaped as she was taken aback by his blunt response. "You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack," Josh replied. "Of course, you could always quit and save me the guilt that would come with firing one of my really good friends."

"But I have a contract."

"And contracts can be broken just as easily as they're created if you know the right people."

"What about a replacement for my position or the fact that the deadline for the next issue is just under a week away?" Clare demanded. "No matter how unhappy you think I am or how homesick, you can't deny that I have responsibilities that need to be attended to, Josh. I can't just turn my back on them because I left my heart back in Toronto, so to speak."

"Okay, so you pick somebody."

"What? You can't really think it's that simple."

"Why not?" Joshua asked. "I mean, there's Margie. The woman drives me nuts but she's just as much of a control freak as you are. And Carlie was the editor of both her college and high school newspapers. Either one of them and more than half a dozen other staff members are more than qualified to handle your position here."

"Yes, they're qualified. I won't argue with that. But they're still going to need training."

"And you can train them. As soon as the new issue is out, you can pick whoever it is that you want as a replacement and have them work on the following issue with you. That way you won't have to feel guilty for leaving us in a lurch and they'll get the one-on-one training they're going to need to fulfill your responsibilities," Joshua told her. "You're running out of reasons to stay, Clare Edwards. You might as well just turn in your resignation and pack your bags right now."

She stood and began to pace the length of the room. "What about the lease on my apartment? I still have nine months left. And what am I going to do for a job once I get back there? It's not as cut and dry as you make it sound."

Joshua got up and on her next pass through, seized her arm to halt her frantic movements. "Clare, you need to go back home and, as much as you've tried to make it so, Seattle isn't it. All the little things will take care of themselves. You forget that you have connections here now."

She hesitated, worrying her bottom lip as her mind turned over everything he was saying a dozen times at least. Every variable and every outcome briefly filtered through her thought processes before she finally nodded her head in acquiescence. "I think you might be right. But you might have to remind me that it's all going to okay about a half a dozen more times in next month."

He wrapped his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting embrace. "I wouldn't expect anything less," he assured her. "In fact, if you didn't need at least that many, I'd be worried about your mental stability."

She let out a small snarl and smacked him on the chest then pulled out of his arms. "Just for that, I think I'm going to have to choose Margie as my replacement. After all, who better to keep you in line?"

"Clare, you wouldn't. Tell me you wouldn't," Joshua pleaded.

She threw her head back in laughter as she went to exit her office, pausing in the doorway and holding out her hand. "Why don't you bribe me with some coffee that doesn't taste like its three days old and maybe I'll reconsider?"

"You got yourself a deal."

To Be Continued…