Lessons to Learn

Chapter 12

A/N: First off, I want to thank you for your reviews, favourites, and follows on this story but also on my others. My summer has finally started so I hope I will be back to my former upload schedule. This chapter has been on my mind for a while and I am happy I finally got to write it. Please let me know what you think! Your reviews are a great motivation!

What could have become a nice week with delightful highlights in a phase of intense schedules at the company seemed to turn into a row of disappointed expectations. Monday might have been a highly promising start of the week, Robert had thought. He had reached out to Cora after his busy day at work to apologise for their strained interactions at the weekend, and after talking about it, her warmth had finally reached him again. It surprised him repeatedly how crucial her enveloping warmth and softness was for his comfort and peace of mind. Cora's warmth was something that accompanied him nearly constantly, and in the rare moments, he had to do without it he never really realised what the cause for his growing uneasiness was until his reason for comfort was back. Until she was back. So, if there was anything he had done right this week it was probably reaching out for Cora on Monday afternoon. This way he had at least a moment of comfort.

The following dinner with Rosamund had been a success as well. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, Rose appeared to have had a felicitous start in London, Rosamund and he had a fruitful discussion and had agreed on a choice of settings for the new system in the end.

But Cora didn't seem to know her mind lately. She had been so flirtatious with him over dinner, hadn't tried to prevent her blushes but quite on the contrary, had encouraged his advances with her cheeky grins. Her casual and relaxed demeanour during the after-dinner conversations had made him all the more fidgety. It was a way of teasing she had come to master to perfection and Robert hadn't anticipated her to apply this extensive form of teasing and preliminary on Monday night. It was a welcome surprise. However, how she had gone so fast from laid-back hostess to the picture of utter exhaustion when they had descended the stairs after the guests had left was beyond him.

Her annoyed tone when declaring, "Robert, I am tired!" as his hand had deliberately fallen from her waist to her backside, was stuck in his head and surfaced every time he saw her with the same look of weak exasperation the next days (it seemed to have become the exception to meet her without that look). Though, he had to admit she managed rather well to keep this tone from her voice despite her appearance of exasperation most of the time. It was Robert's tensed mind that anticipated a spillage of her annoyance any moment.

It seemed the last moments of Monday set the tone for the entire week. Cora was on edge and her mind was somewhere completely else. She didn't repeat her "Robert, I am tired!" but she didn't have to say it out loud. It hung over them and was an unspoken truth. It made Robert tense. He had things that demanded his attention at the bank. He couldn't use all his energy to tread on eggshells around Cora. Home should be a place where burdens were taken off of one's shoulders and not the other way around.

…

It was Wednesday before dinner when Robert sat at the half-set dining table. He was done with his tasks earlier than usually was the case over the last few days. And now he sat alone at the large table. The stack of plates, Cora had brought from the kitchen when he had entered the dining room, was spread now. Robert was waiting in this halfway done setting. Well, and Cora took her time finishing dinner preparations. The girls had no problem with waiting while staying in their rooms for a while longer. They just watched the next episode of their TV shows that were on autoplay or chatted with their friends about everything and nothing at all or whatever nonsense they wasted their time with, lying passively in their beds. But Robert was used to the more or less regular dining schedule. He felt slightly abandoned alone at the table. Cora had reacted huffily when he had asked how much longer it would take. He had no clue if he was seated here unoccupied for another half hour or if there was for real 'no need to get impatient'.

The smell of grilled peppers wafted in clouds from the kitchen. Robert's stomach clenched and he didn't really think some grilled vegetable would solve his appetite. But that was nothing new. Cora rushed into the room, her hands occupied with the cutlery. Wordlessly she started setting it. Her coiffure had come loose in several places. Hastily she blew a curl from her forehead. Robert mustered her bent posture, the slightly flushed part of her cleavage that was visible with her otherwise not very revealing blouse, her constantly blinking eyes. When she blinked so much it either meant she was trying to remember something or trying to stay awake. She didn't meet his intent gaze.

Robert's fingers tapped a rhythm on the tabletop.

"Cora? Who is Oliver?" he asked. Her mental absence reminded him of Joseph's words, that apparently, she managed to be a lot more attentive at work.

"Which Oliver?" she inquired as she kept her focus on setting the cutlery.

"Do you know more than one Oliver?"

"No. But how should I know what you're talking about?" the tilt in her voice was no good sign but actually, she wasn't the one to be exasperated. "I assume you mean Oliver from school."

"How come you have never told me about him?"

Now Cora pressed both her palms to the tabletop, the last knife still in one hand. She finally turned her face to him. Her wide eyes and slightly parted lips portrayed her surprise but there was no grudge in her expression as a part of Robert had somehow expected.

"I don't talk about every colleague. I think you wouldn't want me to, as well as I wouldn't like to hear about every single one of your employees."

With a quiet snort, Robert looked down on his fingers that played with the fringes of the tablecloth. He had to admit his wife sounded reasonable. He had to credit her for trying to answer calmly since their reduced conversations had adopted more snappiness over the last few days. But she hadn't had let him make his point. And even if it might be wiser to not stir up this conflict more, the urge to finally have a proper conversation from start to end till points are made, to resolve the question mark in the back of his head that was attached to the name Oliver made Robert act otherwise.

"But maybe this is a colleague you should have told me about," he made a genuine attempt at speaking as calmly as she but it resulted in a dangerous grumble.

"What's brought that on, Robert?" Now her brow furrowed, and her surprise grew into discontent.

Robert wanted to weigh his words, to phrase his irritation right. He didn't really want to accuse her of anything but to rectify the discrepancy of the extent that seemed to occur at school and the tiny bits that actually made it to his ears. But this was nothing he had greatly prepared, so he had to hope that he was eloquent enough at the hour.

"Oh, it appears you two get along perfectly and have such great fun. I'd think you'd tell me when you make new friends," Robert replied.

"We aren't friends," Cora answered slowly as she sank onto the chair nearest her. At least now she gave Robert her full attention. "But since you seem to know so much about him already why do you ask as if you don't?"

"I wanted to give you the opportunity to tell me but you're so tight-lipped with me all of the time."

"To tell you what? I don't know where you got that nonsense from but I am not having significantly much fun with him and I never told you about him because I honestly forget about him as I forget about so much from school as soon as I get home." Her low and calm voice got a little sharper and her eyes wandered back and forth between his with a look of incomprehension.

"It was just that –" Robert launched into a reply when a whistling sound chimed from the kitchen and Cora leapt up.

"Bummer!" she muttered. "The potatoes!" A swish of cold air hit Robert as she rushed past him and had vanished in the blink of an eye.

There were clattering sounds and mumbled curses coming from the kitchen. Robert's fingertips started tapping on the edge of the table again with increasing pace. Then he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The spring in the steps made them distinctively Sybil's. Robert heard her approaching the kitchen.

"Mama? Do you need help with that? Wait a moment!"

"No, it's alright –"

"I got that, Mama," Sybil reassured. Cora sighed.

"Thank you, darling."

It was another chance missed Robert realised. Another conversation unfinished, another point that hadn't been made. Sybil would be with Cora until dinner started, and everything Cora would listen to was the stories her youngest daughter told her.

No matter how dear both were to him, the extraordinary tight bond between mother and daughter sometimes had a way of being excluding. Sybil's endless chatter and enthusiasm had always been directed at everyone around her but Cora soon became her main recipient for the simple reason that Cora was always gladly listening. At times it seemed like a conspiracy that Cora was too busy to do anything else but listening to Sybil was alright at all times. It annoyed Robert only a fragment of the times but right now communication with his wife felt cursed and he couldn't help but be jealous of his daughter's easy way of starting a conversation with Cora and keeping it going.

…

Friday was the day that had the ability to resurrect the otherwise failing week. Robert awoke with the same surliness and fatigue that was typical for his days when overtime was worked. But today he had a special prospect. It had been planned for nearly two weeks and he was very pleased with himself now that he had thought about it back then and had put his idea into practice right away.

Groaning he pulled himself from the lulling warmth of the bedsheets and padded to the bathroom. Still sleepy he washed his face, and as he dried it with his towel, he took in the chaos on the bathroom shelf. Cora's makeup was strewn there in a hectic. Her neat makeup case was still unzipped, and mascara, lipstick, and powder cluttered the side of the shelf that was actually Robert's. He sighed. A deep breath should help him to not get annoyed right away. Cora's lack of attention here at home did annoy him, yes. But after this busy week, they had a promising prospect and he didn't want to be the one who doomed this chance to failure. He wanted their dinner date to go well so he suppressed the bubbling feeling of irritation and pushed her stuff to the side to gain territory on the shelf again.

When he came downstairs, he had no time left to make some breakfast which was always a bad start for the day. He went into the kitchen to get at least a cup of coffee, and with the small hope that maybe there was already some breakfast prepared. The girls were sitting around the kitchen counter, spooning their cereals with their eyes glued to their phones. Cora stood at the kitchen table and had a bunch of notes and slips of papers spread in front of her which she now tried to get sorted and back into her bag in a hurry.

"Morning," Robert mumbled into the room and was greeted with sleepy and distracted responses. "No breakfast ready?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Cora muttered. "No time. I actually have to get going now." Her eyes scanned the kitchen table to look if she had everything she needed. Robert could see that she didn't have much time this morning. The clothes she wore were the same that had lain at the foot of the bed from the day before. Her bun was simple; no intricate up-do with several hairpins. Despite the early hour of the day, her brow was wrinkled and her eyes slightly exhausted.

"Don't forget your coffee!" he called when he took notice of her thermos flask next to the coffee machine he stood at.

"Oh! Right!" She turned around and approached him. "Thank you," she said softly, and the hint of a sheepish grin grazed her features. He liked to see the twitch of the corner of her mouth. It was a welcome change from her latest expressions.

When she went around to get her thermos, there was a short moment when they stood next to each other at the coffee machine. It felt good. Robert only had to turn his head a trifle and the aromatic smell of the freshly ground coffee beans was replaced by the gentle scent of her hair. She didn't wear any perfume today but her hair was so close to him that he could clearly distinguish the immanent smell that reminded him of the mornings he woke up with her head on his shoulder or in the crook of his neck, and that he started with breathing in her scent for a few minutes. Today he had at least one breath of her hair before she turned back around and buried the thermos flask in the depth of her handbag.

She was on her way out when Robert thought of reminding her of their rendezvous.

"Cora, don't forget about our date!" He took the first sip of his coffee, and heard her rustling in the hallway, probably putting on her coat.

The sounds paused for a moment and she reappeared in the doorway. "Our what?"

"Our date."

She nodded while closing the buttons of her coat. "Alright. Can you tell me about it later? I've to go now. Bye!"

"Bye…" he said, and then she was gone.

The days passed in a blur. Each and every one of them held surprises of unexpected tasks, and Cora just tried to get from day to day. This week there had been kind of a double load of work. Since her new contract officially started this week, she had to get into her new responsibilities as a member of the school's council. That also meant her teaching hours were reduced but she didn't experience it that way effectively yet. There still were assignments from her passed over classes she had to grade, and she had decided to still visit the art class she started the new project for the school fair with. Oliver was officially doing the teaching but it turned out everyone – the students, Oliver, and maybe mostly Cora's high-running mind – was steadied with Cora's advice and support here and there.

So, it was partly on her that she had this double workload, but Cora wouldn't give up her time with her art students. She just hoped that soon her schedule at work would normalise itself, enough so that she'd have a moment to take a breath. That would be nice.

Today was Friday, and she was looking forward to getting everything done that was expected from her and complete this busy week. Once she sat on her bike on her way to school, she already felt better than when she had woken up. This morning she had done the foolish mistake to roll over for a few more minutes when her alarm had rung. She wasn't any less tired when she had left the bed and had only been more stressed because it seemed that she had no time for anything this morning. Cora was only glad that the girls weren't as little anymore that they would need her guidance in the mornings. She couldn't imagine how she had done it ten years ago.

When she rode across the cobblestone in front of the school, the sound of her thermos flask clattering in her bag in the bicycle basket gave her a rush of comfort. It was odd but in times of great abundance of work, she felt a little lost had she not had her personal coffee with her. It wasn't that she wouldn't get any coffee otherwise (which would be a disaster in itself) but it was some kind of routine that soothed her. The familiar taste of their coffee from home. She was glad that Robert had reminded her of the thermos this morning. She didn't like to think about it but lately, there had been so much in her head that it regularly spilt and she forgot things every now and then. And now that the coffee was in her bag, Cora had the uneasy feeling that there was something else, she didn't bear in mind.

She parked her bike and tried to recall what it could be. It didn't come to her.

Once in her office, she tried to get some order in the documents on her desk. Essays and assignments, graded and ungraded, information sheets for conferences, forms for the school's council. It already looked much better when the stacks on her desks were sorted. Now, it all just needed to be handled and solved.

Cora sighed. As long as she only looked at a single task it was all right and manageable. But, God, how these small tasks sucked up her precious time! She knew once she committed herself to one of the stacks on her desk the bulk of her time at school would be eaten up, and all the other duties – just as important – would stay untended to. It was fortunate that her schedule on Friday didn't look as cramped anymore as it had until last week. No more concatenated lessons. Only her English class where half of the class was in a sleep-like state and the other half was sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the bell to announce the weekend and planning their wild Friday nights. But Cora didn't really care much right now. This lesson was time to pass, for her just as much as for her students. She wouldn't like to say she had given up on that class. She hoped she would never say or think that. But this week the effort to really try with this class wasn't worth her energy. Energy she actually didn't have at all. So, she hoped she could be indulged in her negligence.

But her thoughts were drifting away with her again, and the stacks on her table still lay there just like before. She groaned, annoyed with herself. How should she get anything done when she wasted her time with pointless daydreaming? She reached for the first stack of documents she caught, avoiding to think about each and every deadline they were tied to, and began skimming the abundance of forms she had to fill in.

It was about lunchtime when Cora was disrupted in her desk work. It was Oliver at her door.

"How can I help you?" she inquired.

"Do you have a moment to discuss the next art lessons?" He had a bunch of folders and colourful cardboard paper under his arm. It seemed he had planned a little longer than a moment. Cora checked the time.

"My English lesson starts in fifteen minutes. I'm afraid that would be a little tight on time," she gave back.

"Alright," Oliver nodded. "How about afterwards? I had a few new ideas I wanted to ask your opinions about," he suggested and pointed his head to the cardboard he carried with him.

His proposal was reasonable. This way she would hopefully manage to get the most fundamental tasks done. "That should work out. Meet me at quarter to three here, alright?"

"Great! See you then." He raised his free hand for a short greeting and left her office again.

When Cora came back from her English lesson, she felt like the time had run from her and it was mere seconds ago that Oliver had knocked on her door. She felt in the muscles of her neck and her upper back that this wasn't the case and that she had actually performed the ever-same and exhausting tuitions in front of a class for over an hour. With a huff, she set down her folder on her desk and could take only one deep breath before Oliver was there again.

"Hey there!" his voice sounded from the still-opened door. Cora turned around and tried to muster what could be a welcoming smile.

"Come in," she offered quietly. He entered the room, his steps nimble in a way that should be forbidden on a Friday afternoon. He even had a low, jolly tune on his lips but he ceased whistling as he sat down in front of her desk. His eyes followed her as she took a seat as well, not as light-footed as he, and he seemed to adjust his demeanour to her more frugal and drained one.

"How are you?" his voice was quiet and gentle. Cora nodded and hoped her nonverbal answer was response enough. She didn't want him to dig deeper. "Exhausting day? An exhausting week?" he asked. She nodded again.

"Then I don't want to burden you more."

"No, it's alright. I want to know about the ideas you mentioned," she demanded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely," Cora insisted.

"Alright, but let's keep it easy-going then," he offered with a smile. Cora gathered the folders and documents from her desk and put them down on the sideboard next to her desk. She brushed her hands on her trousers and opened the second drawer of her desk to fetch the box of biscuits she kept there for occasions like this.

"Here," she said with a smile and pushed the box across the tabletop. "What have you thought of for the art class?"

"Thank you! It was just that I noticed that most of the students only use brush and paint to do their artworks. I thought it would be nice if we had a little more diversity." He took a biscuit and as he took a bite a few crumbs fell onto his knees and the desk in front of him. Cora tried to ignore it but she could vividly imagine the scraping sound when her folders and documents would slide over the littered tabletop later.

"But the students had the choice to use whatever technique they wanted. And I think we do have indeed a great variety. Yes, many of them use acrylic colours but we also have some that paint with watercolours and others that decided to use markers or spray paints." Cora liked to think that her lessons allowed rather a lot of artistic freedom and that her way of teaching inspired many of the students to give new approaches a try. She was a little surprised that the diversity – or more the lack thereof – of the different artworks and styles was the first point of critic that was uttered from her successor. "And even with the same implements the children develop very own and unique styles," she tried to explain.

"Yes, of course. I was very impressed when I saw the different pictures. I just thought about offering them some further techniques. Collages would do well, I think. I could look up some examples for next week and show them to the pupils and if some of them are interested I could work with them on it," he explained. The nibbling on his biscuit got a bit more flustered, and suddenly he reminded Cora of a nervous rabbit that tried to munch its vegetable while expecting an attack every minute.

"Well," she shrugged her shoulders. "Collages do great, you're right. If you'd like to prepare that I think it's a great idea. I wouldn't have the capacity for that right now but if you would take it on yourself, I would support you on this."

"Really?" Cora could only guess that his eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, his fringes covered most of it. He reached for another biscuit before she could even as much as nod in agreement.

"Sure. As long as the students that already do great with their painting aren't forced to abandon their current artworks," she replied with a small grin. He laughed.

"Of course not!"

"Well, then I am relieved." She eyed the biscuit box and noticed that her supplies were slowly running out. She wanted to grab the second last biscuit but Oliver had also reached out for the pastry and her fingertips brushed the back of his hand.

"Oh, I am sorry," she said and pulled back. "Dig in! You are my guest," she emphasised.

"I – no, you…" he stammered, and as Cora looked at him expectantly with raised brows, he flushed a light pink and lowered his gaze.

"Take it," she said softly. He slowly reached out again and she nodded encouragingly. For a moment they had lost the thread, but Oliver had figured out a way to always keep their conversations running over the last weeks by asking Cora about her opinion on everything that was on their mind at the moment. Now he inquired about her knowledge about the artists the students were recreating artworks of. Cora told him about their lives and oeuvres, and Oliver was like a very eager and clever student. Of course, he knew some things himself about the art and artists but it wasn't very much that he had gained from his few college courses, he affirmed.

The box of pastry was soon empty except for a few crumbs that also covered his side of the desk, and Cora tried to talk over the increasing rumbling of her stomach. She hoped Oliver didn't notice. She didn't want him to think it was his fault because he had eaten all the biscuits. The angry revolt of her stomach would be apparent with or without one or two of the biscuits from the box. Cora hasn't really had any bite at all between her teeth today. A few biscuits had not changed a thing about the threatening ravenous appetite.

"Are you hungry?" his voice chimed tentatively into her speech. She fell silent. "I did eat all your biscuits, right?"

"No, Oliver. It's alright. I have them here for guests, not for me."

"But you are hungry. Let me buy you something to eat. I owe you that. We could just head over to the small café over the street," Oliver suggested, and Cora already wanted to put him off. "I am afraid we still have to talk about the time management regarding the art projects. The school fair is just around the corner, and to be honest, I think it doesn't look like the students will finish their works in time. That would be a pity, so we have to think of something, I'd say." Cora tried to recall how many weeks were left until the school fair and the start of the holidays, but she couldn't really focus. "We should agree on a plan this week, but I don't want to put you on the rack, so let's grab something at the café," he proposed again. It sounded like the most reasonable option.

"Okay," Cora agreed. She turned in her chair to grab the coat that hung over the backrest.

"And remember, it's on me." As she turned back around, she caught the last glimpse of his cheeky grin that disappeared behind the curtain of his dark hair.

As they walked down the depleting hallways Cora felt the pinching sensations of starvation in her abdomen. She pressed her palm to her side, and then she suddenly remembered what she missed in the last days. She knew that her mind had failed to keep track of something crucial. And now it came to her all of the sudden. The tormenting monthly cramps of her lower abdomen seemed to be missing. She was glad that Oliver walked by her side and didn't catch the distressed expression that probably crossed her face.

Robert's impatience grew, and he felt more and more uncomfortable. His knee bobbed restlessly under the table, and every few seconds he pushed up his sleeve to throw a glance at his watch. He felt oddly trapped at this table in the middle of the fancy French restaurant he had ordered a table at for him and Cora. Cora especially liked the place. That's why Robert had chosen it. He had actually wanted to take her last Friday but it had already been booked out.

Now it was half-past six, thirty minutes after their scheduled date. And there was no sign from Cora. Actually, he had thought he would meet her at home and they would drive to the restaurant together but she hadn't been at home. When he hadn't reached her on her phone he had thought, maybe she would come to the restaurant directly from the school. Fridays were always very busy for her. So, he had made his way here on his own. But she wasn't there yet. She hadn't answered the texts he had sent her, and he was sitting here like a fool, nodding at the waiter every time he passed him, and sipping his wine nervously in small gulps. Why did everything have to be so complicated lately? Robert wished for the days when eating out with Cora had been easy and therefore a not so rare occasion. When everything was easier just because she was with him. But now she was not, and even when she had been her mind wasn't really there lately.

He pulled out his phone. No calls, no texts. He decided to call her, and his eyes scanned the room while he waited for her to pick up. He felt exposed alone at his table when every other fellow restaurant guest seemed to return his look with an expression of pity. Cora didn't pick up. It appeared that her phone was turned off. Robert tried to remember the last time he had been ditched on a date but he couldn't recall it. He downed the remainder of his wine.

Cora had really forgotten their date?! Yes, she had been in a hurry this morning, but he had purposefully reminded her. If he recalled it correctly now, she had been rather absent every time he had mentioned their dinner reservation. But that's just how it was lately. There was no time he could have chosen where she had been more present. He had mentioned their Friday night dinner multiple times. "Let's discuss it over dinner on Friday." "We can finally take a break during our date on Friday." "You can wear something like that on our dinner date." He could not understand how it could have slipped her mind. But somehow it seemed it did.

His stomach growled. He huffed. Decidedly he raised his hand and beckoned the waiter.

"I take a steak au poivre and another glass of wine." The waiter nodded. His gaze shortly wandered to the empty seat in front of Robert but he didn't say anything. "No, wait," Robert corrected himself. "Make it two steaks. I'll take two."

"As you wish, sir."

Robert snorted inwardly. As he wished. Nothing went as he wished.