Teacher's Aide

"You did," Pete said quietly as he went back to folding, hoping he hadn't somehow unintentionally embarrassed her.

Less than 30 minutes later, he had five very neat stacks of cards with each child's name on them.

"Okay. What's next?" he asked cheerfully.

"You finished those already?" she asked with more disbelief.

"It was just writing names on cards," he said with a smile as he held up an example.

"And your handwriting is neat!"

Chelsea faux glared at him then tried not to smile when she said, "You know I hate you, right?"

Pete chuckled then told her, "You better not talk like that. People might get the idea we're married or something."

Chelsea's eyes opened wide in disbelief (again) before she started laughing.

"Pete! That was...terrible!"

She stopped laughing, tilted her head, then said, "Terrible but funny. Very funny, actually."

"What can I say? I'm a regular comedian," he told her before asking what she was working on so he could help with it.

As it got closer to noon he asked what she was doing for lunch.

He saw a puzzled look on her face then heard her swear for the first time.

Her earlier 'dang it' got replaced with something stronger when she remembered her lunch was sitting on the kitchen counter at her mom and dad's.

"Dammit! I forgot my lunch!" she said.

Within seconds he saw her eyes filling with tears again.

"I set it out on the kitchen counter and left without it. I can't call my mom because she's at the doctor's office with Bryce. And even worse, I can't afford to be buying lunch anymore, either."

This time, Chelsea grabbed a tissue herself then apologized again for getting so emotional.

"You don't need to apologize," Pete told her rather quietly. "You're under as much stress as a lot of soldiers and Marines wounded in combat. This is as much PTSD-related as anything they're going through."

Thinking he was helping, he was shocked and saddened when, after looking right at him as he said that, she started crying.

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to be helpful," he said as he stood up and moved toward her. "I'm obviously not very good at it."

Chelsea was shaking her head and trying to get control.

"No. That's not true at all," she said as she tried taking a couple of slow, deep breaths.

"Then...what is it?" he asked hoping to try and make things right.

"It's...nothing," she told him, her breathing still ragged.

"Is it me? Am I the cause of this?"

This was all so new to him that Pete wasn't sure what to say or do.

"No," she told him. "Well, yes, but..."

"Wait. I'm the reason you're crying?" he asked quietly.

He was standing beside her desk and knelt down so that he'd be able to talk to her at eye level, but she wasn't looking at him.

"No. You...you didn't make me cry, Pete. Your words did."

"Chelsea. I...I am so sorry."

She shook her head then finally turned toward him a little then told him, "You've done nothing but make me feel like...like you care about me since the first time we met, and no one, except my mom and dad..."

She couldn't finish talking, and started crying again.

Pete reached over and gently put a hand on her back.

"You okay?" he asked very quietly.

She was nodding her head then fell apart.

Out of nowhere she turned and put her arms around him as she cried and sobbed. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, but he willed himself to tough it out for as long as she needed. The 'jag' lasted maybe two minutes before she was able to pull herself together enough to talk.

"I don't know how I'm even going to be able to look at you again," she said as she grabbed more tissues. "You have to think I'm a total basket case."

Pete shifted his weight then said, "No. No, I don't."

She kind of turned toward him and cut her eyes his way then looked down again as he spoke.

"I think you're a very brave young woman who's pushing back against a whole lot of adversity. You have nothing to ashamed of, Chelsea. In fact, you have everything to be proud of. You have a son, you're back here teaching, and well, you're one of the kindest, sweetest..."

He realized that was crossing one of those lines he'd been reminded of in the mandatory training.

"Sorry. I don't think that was the best choice of words."

She glanced over at him and tried to smile so he said, "I meant that word, and I think it's true, but it probably wasn't appropriate."

"I...I liked hearing it," she said. "It was very...sweet."

Pete was feeling better just as she said, "Sorry," then blew her nose so loudly it made him laugh.

He was about to apologize for laughing when Chelsea laughed, too.

"I'm a freakin' mess!" she said as she tried to take some more deep breaths.

"Hey. How about you and I go get something to eat?" he suggested.

"No. Pete, you already spent a fortune on copies."

"Nah, I got a senior discount," he told her with a straight face as he stood up.

She looked up at him then saw him smiling, and that made her laugh then say, "I feel terrible for looking."

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I know you're not old enough for a senior discount, but you said it so seriously, I...I had to look."

Pete crossed his arms, cocked his head, then started tapping his foot.

"Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea," he said as he shook his head. "I think you just called me 'old'."

She started to apologize when he said, "And I resemble that remark."

Once she realized he wasn't offended, she threw the wad of Kleenex at him then shrieked.

"Oh, my gosh! I am so sorry!"

He managed to turn sideways so it missed him, but it hit the floor with a wet plop.

"So that's what a snot bomb looks like," Pete deadpanned as they looked at the gooey mess.

"I'll pick that up!" Chelsea said as she reached for her cane.

"No. You'll do no such thing," Pete told her as he grabbed another tissue to use to grab it. "But you will have lunch with me."

She went to protest, but Pete held up a hand and said, "Uh-uh. No arguing, young lady!"

Her face was a puffy mess, her eyes were bloodshot, and yet when she looked up at him and said, "Okay," Pete felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He dismissed the feeling immediately, but it hit him very hard and very unexpectedly.

"Did you want to go now?" she asked just as sweetly as she'd said 'okay'.

"I could eat. You?"

She nodded, smiled, then said, "I'm starving."

"Okay. Then let's do this."

He helped her stand up, and when he did, she was using his arm to steady herself until she was standing up directly in front of him.

She looked up into his eyes, smiled again, then said, "Thank you, Pete. For everything."

That 'feeling' hit him again just as he said, "My pleasure."

She grabbed her cane and continued using his arm as they left the room. Pete locked it for them then Chelsea asked if they could stop by the restroom so she could try and clean up.

"You know, to try and fix the disaster I call my face," she said with a laugh.

When Pete answered her, she had a feeling of her own; one she hadn't experienced in a very long time, either.

"Your face isn't a disaster, Chelsea."

She looked over at him as they walked, and as he looked back at her he said, "It's actually very pretty."

She looked away immediately, but this time there were no tears, and as far as he could tell there was no hint of having offended her. What he couldn't know was that those few words made her feel better than she'd felt since before the life-changing events that took place when she gave birth to her son.

She held his arm a little tighter as they continued walking but didn't say another word. They stopped at the teacher's lounge where the only restroom for staff on campus was located, and Pete opened the door for her.

"Sorry. You're on your own from here," he said with a smile.

"I think I can handle it," she told him as she smiled back.

When they got to his Jeep Cherokee, Chelsea saw how much higher the floorboard was than in her car and said, "Oh, my. There's no way I can get there."

Pete opened her door, told her to hold on tight then took her cane and set it inside. He then gently picked her up by lifting her legs as she held onto his neck, then just as gently set her inside.

"You okay?" he asked as he set her down.

She was just inches from his face and looked away again as she said, "I...I'm fine. Thank you."

"Can you get your seat belt?" he asked, not knowing whether or not she could.

Chelsea looked at him, laughed, then said, "What? Do I look like I'm...helpless or something?"

Still not sure if she was kidding, he waited until he knew then laughed, too.

"No. Not at all. You don't look helpless at all," he said in a way that again caused her to feel whatever she was feeling.

He turned the Jeep on, and the AC came to life.

"Oh, that feels so good!" she said.

"Yeah, August in Florida can be pretty brutal, huh?" he said as he backed out.

"I grew up here all my life, and never noticed until after, you know..."

That caused Chelsea to ask Pete where he was from, and the answer took all the way to the restaurant to finish as he told her then hit each of his duty stations, as well.

"I'm envious," Chelsea said. "The furthest I've been from Fleming Island is Charleston, South Carolina. My grandparents live there, so I used to go up each summer and spend a week or two with them."

Pete came around and helped her out the same way, but this time Chelsea didn't look away when he picked her up. She just smiled sweetly and thanked him as he gently set her on the ground before handing her her cane.

They sat down and ordered and made small talk as they ate, and about twenty minutes into their meal, Pete's phone rang.

"It's Trevor," he told her.

"Oh, by all means. Take it," she said knowing he was waiting for this call.

"Trev! What's the word?" his dad said.

"Dad. You're not gonna believe it!"

"Yes, I will. Lay it me, Lieutenant. What'd you get? F-22s?"

"Um...no."

"F-35s?" his dad said, his enthusiasm waning.

"Try again."

"I give up, Trevor. Tell me."

"Ospreys. Friggin' MV-22 Ospreys. Can you believe that shit?"

Chelsea saw how serious Pete's face looked and could tell by the tone of voice he seemed upset.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

He covered the phone as though he was using an old style mouthpiece and said, "Yes. Just a little setback."

"Dad? Who was that?" his son asked.

"Oh, that's my new boss. Chelsea. Or Ms. Tanner to me," he said while winking at her.

"Ahh! Your teacher. The one you're aiding and abetting, right?"

He hadn't told Trevor the details, so he couldn't chastise his son for asking, "So...is she hot?"

Chelsea evidently heard his comment, and Pete saw little circles of red in the apples of her cheeks again as she looked down at her plate.

He waited until she looked back up at him then told his son, "She's...amazing."

When Chelsea smiled, that feeling hit both her and him again before he let his son vent about not getting any of his three top choices.

"Well, you're still flying for the Marine Corps," his dad said.

"I know. And I'm already a lot less pissed off than I was when I found out a couple of hours ago. I guess Ospreys aren't all that bad."

Pete chuckled as Trevor said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your lunch. I didn't mean to disturb you. I just needed to let my old man know what I got."

"Trevor? I'm proud of you," his dad told him sincerely. "And you know Mom would be, too, right?"

"Yeah. I do," his son said. "Thanks, Dad. I can't tell you what it means knowing I can call anytime about anything, and my dad will 'get it'."

"Well, I can't tell you what it means to have a son wearing the same uniform I wore for all those years who can share his experiences with me."

"All right. Well, I'll uh, I'll let go," Trevor said.

"Okay, buddy. Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Sure thing, Dad. And...I love you."

"I love you too, son," he said.

He saw Chelsea smiling at him and said, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're this really big, strong...masculine...guy, but you're quite possibly the most gentle man I've ever met," she told him with a smile.

He looked around then said, "Don't say that too loudly, okay? I've got a reputation to protect."

Chelsea laughed a genuine laugh and said, "I can tell you love your son, too. He's very luck to have you."

"I'm the lucky one," he told her. "After Gayle died, he was all I had. He was away at college, but we were on the phone every day. Without Trevor..."

His voiced trailed off, and Chelsea could feel the emotion just as he forced a smile then said, "You ready for dessert?"

"Dessert? I'm stuffed! I haven't eaten this much in months!"

He looked down at the piddly little amount she'd eaten then said, "Yeah. You really know how to pack it away, don't you?"

"Okay, now you're just being mean!" she said with another very sweet smile. "But since you told your son I was amazing, I think I'll let you slide this one time."

"I would have said 'beautiful' but I didn't want you to get the wrong impression," Pete said.

It was obvious by his tone of voice he was being honest, and yet Chelsea was having a hard time believing it because she didn't believe it about herself.

"That's me. Stick girl. Beautiful...stick girl," she said trying to sound playful.

"There's nothing wrong with sticks," Pete said playfully. "I actually like sticks."

Not quite sure how to take that, Chelsea decided to change the subject.

"I might be able to eat something sweet. Is that still okay?"

Pete got very serious then said as he made of show of looking at her plate again, "Gee. I don't know. I mean, now that I think about it, if you were to order something like cake or pie, that could put me in the poorhouse."

"We could share something," she suggested so sweetly it touched him deeply.

"Hmmm. I think I like the sound of that," Pete said before asking her what looked good.

"Uh-huh. Of course you do," Chelsea replied. "Because you know that means I'll have one tiny, little bite, and the rest will be yours."

The way she smiled at him 'did it' again, and to his surprise, Pete heard himself saying, "You really are beautiful, Chelsea."

Not sure what to say to take back what he'd just said, Pete sat there in silence as he watched Chelsea blink a couple of times then quickly look down at the menu.

"I um...I was thinking about the pecan pie. Does that sound okay?" she asked without looking at him.

"Sure. Yeah. That sounds great," Pete told her before signaling their server. "A la mode?"

There was a fairly long period of silence as they waited, and Pete was still trying to think of some way to explain what he'd meant even as he realized he'd meant what he'd said. After that, he had no intention of apologizing even if it came up.

After their pie came, he set it between them and watched Chelsea pick up a fork then take a tiny little bite.

She said it was delicious, and after that, they returned to making small talk as though Pete hadn't said what he'd said, and that was just fine by him.

"Do you mind if we stop and pick up the copies on the way back?" he asked once they were back in the Jeep.

"No. That only makes sense," she told him.

Chelsea had used that store enough times to know Pete had paid extra—a lot extra—to get them done that fast. And although she wasn't impressed by money or things, after seeing his 'car', and thinking about it for a while, she realized he wasn't likely living anywhere near the poverty line—or anywhere close to it.

And each time she thought about the way he'd looked at her when he told her she was beautiful, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, for some crazy, ridiculous reason that made no sense to her, he might actually have meant that. She was too shy to ask, and a part of her wanted to not find out because it believed he'd tell her he was just being polite.

Regardless, she was now seeing him in a very different light, and also wondered if perhaps there was some other, deeper reason he was being so kind and doing so many nice things for her.

She took a quick look in the mirror on her visor then thought, "No. That's not possible."

She thought about him and realized yet again, that in spite of his age, he was still a very handsome man, while she, in spite of her relative youth, was maybe a little above average, and that was when she was healthy making her even more sure there was no 'deeper reason'.

He was only inside for a couple of minutes, but he left the engine running for her, and Chelsea could see him as he dealt with the girl behind the counter. He was smiling and it was obvious he was playfully joking around with her, so perhaps that's just how he was. With everyone. And for some reason, that thought made her sad. Very sad.

As she watched him walk back out carrying two huge boxes filled with copies, she told herself, "Get a grip. He's almost your dad's age, for crying out loud, and he's...freaking gorgeous. That means he's not interested in you. Got it?"

By the time he put the boxes away and got back in, Chelsea had convinced herself there wasn't anything going on, and that it was much better that there wasn't. After all, he was working for her as her aide, and again, he was way, way too old for her.

So why then did she look over at him one more time just to see how handsome his face was as he got ready to back out and return to campus?

Other than thanking Pete for lunch, neither of them said another word about anything personal the rest of the day. When Chelsea got ready to leave school, Pete told her he'd walk her out to her car.

"Pete? I appreciate you offering to help, but I can walk to and from my car each day," she told him as politely as she could.

"I have no doubt," he replied. "But I know how difficult and painful it is for you to walk, so I'd really feel better if you'd me provide a little bit of assistance."

He saw the way she was looking at him again and wondered if she was about to tear up again.

"Please?" he asked with a smile.

"Once the kids show up, I have to be here from 7:30 until 4:00 every school day, but you only work from 8-2:30. Two o'clock if you eat lunch in the room which is considered not taking a lunch break. I can't ask you to be here extra hours without pay. You do understand, right?"

Chelsea was getting ready to get up again, so Pete moved over to her desk and helped her stand.

"Yes, I'm aware of all that," he told her as she stood directly in front of him again.

She'd been looking into his eyes then looked down so Pete gently put his hands on her tiny arms near the place where bicep muscles should be then said very kindly, "I'm not doing this for the money, Chelsea."

Another second or two passed before she looked up at him.

She didn't cry, but her eyes were glassy as she said, "I meant what I said about you quite possibly being the kindest man I've ever known."

As her eyes locked with his, he smiled and told her, "Thank you. And I meant it, too, when I said I thought you were beautiful."

She looked away again, but Pete ever-so gently squeezed her tiny arms.

"It's true," he told her again.

She looked back up then said, "Pete. I have a mirror. I know what I look like. I've never been...beautiful. I don't consider myself ugly or unattractive, but I'm not beautiful."

"Then you don't understand the things that make a woman beautiful or attractive to a man," he told her, still speaking very quietly.

As she continued looking into his eyes, she could tell he was being truthful, and for the first time since she was too little to assess beauty, in spite of her many known and perceived faults, she felt beautiful. And as she stood there with his hands on her arms, she realized her heart was beating fast, and regardless about him working for her, all she wanted was to be able to put her arms around him and hold him.