This is actually the opening scene from my other exercise (so if you were wondering about the whole murdering my kid aspect, here it is.) I had a really hard time with the worksheet because it seemed to be a lot of details that I would have figured out the minute I needed them. I tend to let characters and stories cook for so long that by the time I write the story it's not like I'm creating anything, but like I'm meeting them. Jill does strike me as a Aries or a Sagittarius, though not a Leo. She doesn't feel the need to be a star in her own life, but she does suffer some foot-in-mouth. Marcus is a Gemini with some heavy Earth and Fire in his chart. (Did I mention that I used to do Astrology semi-professionally?)
Jill stacked the essays into a neat pile and slid them into her briefcase. Her Friday office hours were nearly over. Only one girl had stopped in for clarification on the weekend’s assignment leaving her ample time to finish her grading. And in turn, leaving her an actual free weekend. She looked out the window at the Commons. Several girls were braving the late Fall chill to soak up some sun through their long sleeved jackets and jeans. None of them wore the blue wool blazer, white blouse and black watch plaid skirt of the school uniform. Those were shucked off as quickly as possible after last bell.
Sister Margarethe walked out the doors of the little girls’ hall and a gaggle of fourth graders spilled out after her. It would take until Christmas break before they felt comfortable enough to not move as a group. Jill remembered when she first started here, she'd thought she was lucky to be a day student and go home after last bell. She’d been wrong about that. Day girls were outsiders among the Academy students and among the kids in their neighborhood. She’d felt dislocated and unwelcome just about everywhere.
Jill turned away from the window before she started pondering how she ended up back here again and looked through her small library for books she could use in class next week. She brushed a lock of fair hair out of her eyes thinking she should go to town over the weekend to get it trimmed.
Rachel scuffed her feet across the threshold and dropped into Jill’s office chair. At thirteen, her feet were almost always too heavy to pick up no matter how much Sister Veronica scolded her. Jill smiled at the girl. Her sign. The child who should have been hers. The child who, for all the attention either of her parents paid her, was hers.
“He’s coming to visit.”
Jill’s blood went cold. She felt herself irrationally hoping Rachel meant her stepfather or her maternal grandfather or even her paternal grandfather, but her stepfather would not come without her mother who automatically took precedence. She adored her maternal grandfather and wouldn’t use that tone for him. Not even at thirteen. Her paternal grandfather never visited the school, though on occasion her paternal grandmother was known to appear with a large box of homemade cookies. Which could only mean one thing.
“Your father?” Jill asked, not quite managing to keep the squeak out of her voice.
“Yes.” Rachel flopped her head back, thumping her head hard on the wall. It had to hurt, but Rachel was too cool at thirteen to feel pain. Physical pain anyway, emotional pain was her stock in trade. “I don’t want to see him. He’s never visited before. Why couldn’t he just stay away like he has been?”
Jill felt herself sliding into her own private hell. She should have known she wouldn’t be safe forever, but like a mountain climber believes the rope won’t break, she had believed that Marcus would never visit his daughter at school. She leaned on the front of her desk.
“You don’t think my mother will show up do you?” Rachel moaned. “Oh God, I’ll die.”
“Don’t let the sisters hear you say that.” Jill cautioned automatically.
“But you know what she’ll be like if she comes. She’s such a nightmare. Last time she tried to convince Sister Elizabeth she was my sister.” Rachel wailed.
Jill didn’t remind Rachel that Sister Elizabeth wasn’t stupid and knew the name of St Bridged’s Academy’s most scandalous alumnus. Victoria hadn’t made it easy to not slander her to her daughter. Jill reached out and patted Rachel’s arm. “We’ll handle them both when and if they come. Now when is your father supposed to arrive?”
“Now.”
Rachel jerked upright in an amazing display of posture. Jill cringed backward, almost slipping off the corner of the desk. Marcus filled the office doorway. He still had a quarterback’s physique. His brown hair was shorter than it had been in high school and his worried brown eyes were focused, fortunately for Jill, on his daughter. “Hi honey, did you get my email?” He asked lightly.
Rachel shot out of her seat. “What are you doing here?” She shrieked.
“I came to visit my little girl.” Marcus offered.
“I am not a little girl.” Rachel shouted.
Jill glanced from Rachel’s four foot ten pubescent frame to Marcus’ six three height and irrationally wanted to laugh.
“Ok, ok then I wanted to see my big girl.” Marcus amended. His broad brow furrowed as this new comment brought tears to Rachel’s eyes.
“I am not fat.” Rachel howled. She lunged through the door, shoving her father out of the way. Marcus was too stunned to even grab her.
“Rachel, you come back here.” Marcus thundered when he’d recovered.
“That won’t help.” Jill said.
Marcus turned on her ferociously, and faltered. “Jill?” He asked softly. His eyes seemed to drink in her face. Jill felt the spring of her life returning to her. Did he remember what it had felt like between them? Was it coming back to him now after all this time? Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are you doing here?”
“I teach here.” Jill pulled herself up to her own full, if diminutive height and tried to remember that she hated him.
Marcus glanced over his shoulder at the brass plate on the office door. “Mrs. Morganstern. So you got married after all and here you are all cozy with my daughter.”
“Neither you nor Victoria seems to have much interest in her.”
“You don’t-“ Marcus cut himself off in mid-shout. He tightened into a familiar battle pose. He’d always looked this way right before a game. Focused. To think that once upon a time she’d been jealous that football could take him so completely away from her. Losing him to the game had only been preparation.
“Who are you working for?” He snarled.
“The school?” She hated the uncertainty in her voice. She began to wonder if Marcus’ years on remote drilling stations had warped his mind. If they had she had a problem because he stood between her and the door and since her office was on the third floor, the window wasn’t an option either. She would have to do as he had taught her when they were kids and she was being bullied. Go on the offensive.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.” Jill snapped. “I work for the school.”
“And that’s all you’re doing here so close to my daughter.”
“Yes. I teach history and supervise the archeology club. You might have heard about that, your daughter is a member. Last summer she went with us on a dig in Mexico. I know she sent you a postcard, because I made her.”
“Why are teaching here?”
“I went to school here. The sisters offered me a job when I needed one.”
“And you cozied right up to my daughter.”
“She seemed to lack parents.”
“Lack parents?”
“Yes. Lack parents. Even Vanessa Farique from Algeria has a family member or two here for Parent’s Weekend, but I guess you can’t be bothered.” Jill couldn’t believe venom spewing out of her. There was a fine line between going on the offensive and just being offensive and she thought she’d crossed it. Had she been storing it up all this time and not known?
Marcus glowered at her.
“Mrs. Morganstern, is there a problem?”
Marcus turned allowing Jill to see Sister Veronica, the head mistress, and Sister Bernadette, the lacrosse coach, standing in her doorway looking unhappily at Marcus.
“No problem, Sister.” The leftover anger in her voice made a liar of her. “This is Mr. Borden, Rachel’s father. He’s come for a visit.”
“Really?” Sister Veronica asked coolly. “Will you be staying long, Mr. Borden?”
“I don’t know. I’m between assignments right now so I thought I would spend the break with my daughter.” Marcus, oddly, sounded subdued. Nuns had always intimidated him.
“I see.” Sister Veronica studied him. “I would appreciate it if, for the duration of your visit, you would try to maintain some decorum. Shouting is not appreciated here. We try to teach the girls to behave properly and we teach by example.” Sister Veronica shot Jill a glance reminding her that his voice hadn’t been the only one raised.
“I’m sorry, Sister. I’ll try to behave correctly. I was just taken by surprise when I realized that the Mrs. Morganstern my daughter had written to me about used to be Jill Wallace.”
“I don’t need to know the specifics, Mr. Borden. I only need to know that it won’t happen again.”
“It won’t, Sister.” Marcus said contritely. “Excuse me.”
Sister Veronica allowed him to walk past her out the door. Sister Bernadette followed him away while Sister Veronica stepped into the office, pulling the door closed behind her. “You knew he would come here eventually.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Jill asked lightly. She knew she couldn’t get anything past the canny older woman, but she couldn’t resist trying.
“Jill.” Sister Veronica whispered. “I know what happened. Rachel is well protected here. Don’t worry about her. Worry about yourself this once.”
Jill sunk back into her office chair. ‘Worry about yourself this once.’ How could she worry about herself when Rachel needed her more? How could she worry about herself when it was so much easier to worry about someone else? She picked up the phone and dialed the barn extension. “Hello Lise, is it too late to reserve two horses for tomorrow, nineish? … Great. I’d like Dickens if I can get him and I think Rachel usually rides Aristophanes. Thanks so much.” She disconnected with the barn and called the desk in the older girls’ dorm. “This is Mrs. Morganstern, can you deliver a message to Rachel Borden’s room, please. Tell her I have two horses reserved for tomorrow at nine if she’d like to go riding with me. Thank you.”
There, two hours when she could talk to Rachel and try to get her to listen to her father without her father looming over them like an avenging angel. Marcus had many skills, but horseback riding wasn’t one of them. Unfortunately, hounding a person to the point of insanity was and Rachel would not take to hounding at all.
