Gayle Roper - See No Evil

“Hi, Ed,” Lucy called, and Gray rolled his eyes. “What a shame Anna can’t keep you, ’cause you look nice enough, the little I saw of you, tall, handsome, but you’ve seen me looking yucky, so you’ve got to go.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Lucy was an original, and she said anything that popped into her mind, often in one long run-on sentence. Gray looked a bit thunderstruck, though he was smiling.

“Go to bed, Lucy.” I gestured for Gray to follow me to the kitchen. “I’ll tell you and Tipsy all about it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I guess I’d better before I embarrass you more.”

“What makes you think I’m embarrassed?”

“Hah! I know you, kiddo. Good night, Ed.” Her bedroom door clicked shut.

“Is she a teacher too?” Gray asked, his eyes dancing.

I nodded. “We all teach at Amhearst North Intermediate School. Lucy teaches English.”

“I bet her classes are a riot.”

“This is sixth to eighth grades we’re talking. All classes are a riot if you don’t watch out.”

“Didn’t you say there was a third one of you?” he asked.

Just then a snore echoed down the hall.

“That’s Meaghan. She has sinus issues. And when she falls asleep, nothing wakens her, except maybe her own snoring.”

“And what does she teach?”

“She’s the guidance counselor,” I explained as we unwrapped our fries and square hamburgers at the kitchen table. “Want a soda?”

He nodded and waited while I got two cans from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard.

“Don’t dirty a glass. I’m fine with the can,” he said.

“This is an all-girl household.” I poured the sodas and handed Gray his drink. “We use glasses for company.”

“Waste of a clean glass.”

“I bet you usually drink your milk right out of the carton.”

“Unless my mother’s visiting. Then I put my manners back on so she thinks she did a good job raising me.” He took a swallow. “And I usually also say grace whether Mom’s around or not. Do you mind if I say it now for both of us?”

“Please do.” As I bowed my head, I glowed inside. Handsome, successful and Christian?

“So,” I said after his amen, “did your mom teach you to pray too?”

He nodded. “Janet Grayson Edwards is the queen of prayers. ‘There’s nothing too big or nothing too small to talk to the Lord about,’” he said in an obvious quote.

“Sounds about right to me,” I said.

Gray unwrapped his second burger. “Well, I can tell you, I don’t remember ever praying as hard as I prayed tonight when the shots started flying—”

“Shot,” I said automatically and wanted to shoot myself. I could hear my frustrated father saying, “Anna, you don’t have to correct every little thing.” I breathed more easily when Gray didn’t seem to notice.

“—at least not since I took my tests to be licensed as an architect.”

“The worst part was the look on Ken Ryder’s face.” I was suddenly no longer hungry.

Gray fiddled with a fry, swirling it around and around in a blob of catsup. “Not finding a pulse was pretty bad too.”

I made a sympathetic noise. “Was she a good friend of yours?”

“Not really. Business acquaintances, both of them, though I knew Dorothy better than Ken.” He set the fry down. “And I liked her. She was pleasant. Nice. Very good at what she did. Knew just what she wanted in the house. Only changed her mind every other day.”

A thought hit me, filling me with horror. “Do they have kids?”

Gray shook his head. “Thankfully, no. She’s all businesswoman. You got another soda?” He held up his empty glass.

When I walked him to the door a half hour later, he took my hand in his, sort of a shake but not quite. “You did great tonight, Anna,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Warmed by his compliment, I watched his truck back down the drive and disappear into the darkness.

Lord, they don’t come much hotter. What do You think? Better than Glenn? I rolled my eyes. Of course he is; almost everyone is. We both know that, right?

When I heard no celestial He’s yours, girl, I sighed, flicked out the lights, and headed for my bedroom. I wasn’t sure I wanted him or any man anyway. I still had too many bruises from before. I wasn’t even halfway down the hall before Lucy was right behind me, Tipsy prowling at her feet.

“Okay, Anna, give,” she demanded. “Where did you find him?”

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I told her. I glanced at the cat weaving through her legs. “You, too, furball.”

“With a handsome, unknown dude like Ed in the house? No way. I want details.”

So I recounted my evening yet again, finishing, “I thought my heart would break for him. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have someone you loved murdered.”

For once Lucy was dumbstruck. She stared at me, emotions flitting across her face. Finally she said, “I can’t decide whether I’m more appalled at what you went through or more excited that Ed was there so you didn’t go through it alone.”

“Gray.” I pitched my one remaining sandal into the closet. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it at the hamper.

“Whatever. You know who I mean.” Lucy looked thoughtful. “I wonder what it’s like to be named after a color.”

I pulled on my sleep boxers and top and headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth. Lucy followed and said, “At least his mother’s maiden name wasn’t magenta or chartreuse. It’d be hard on a guy being named Chartreuse.”

I paused in the middle of brushing and just looked at my housemate.

“Well, it would.”

I mumbled through the foam, “I’m sure you’re right.”

Lucy’s face crumpled suddenly. “Oh, Anna, you could have been killed. Right this very moment Meg and I could be having broken hearts over losing you.” She threw her arms around me, foam and all.

“Easy, Luce. I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” She gave me a hard squeeze. “Lord, thank You for keeping her safe!”

I rinsed, turned, and gave Lucy a hug in return. One of the best things that happened to me four years ago when I began teaching at Amhearst North was that Lucy, a veteran of one year, took me under her wing.

“Don’t stand too near Mrs. Meanix, the English teacher, when she’s excited,” she’d told me the first day in the teachers’ lounge. “She spits, sort of like a llama. And watch out for old Mr. Simmons.” We both looked at the skinny old man who taught math and should have retired ten years ago. “He’s got roving hands.” When all I could do was sputter, Lucy nodded vehemently, her eyes dancing. “I kid you not. And whatever you do, don’t smile until after Thanksgiving.”

“What?”

“My father’s advice,” Lucy said. “He’s a teacher, too, though in New Jersey. ‘Remember you are not their friend, Lucy,’” she mimicked in a deep voice. “‘You are their teacher. Don’t smile till after Thanksgiving. Don’t send your discipline problems to the office. Take care of them yourself. And whatever you do, don’t take off one day every month like so many women.’”

Lucy turned big brown eyes to me. “I’m afraid to get sick except on weekends, but I don’t want to get sick then because I’ll miss all the singles’ stuff at church. So I have a policy never to get sick.” She grinned. “You have to come to church with Meg and me. You’ll love it.”

Lucy introduced me to Meg. The three of us clicked, and soon I found myself living with them, enjoying the third bedroom and as unwilling to get sick on weekends as Lucy and Meg. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t thank the Lord for these special friendships.