Thief of Hearts
Page 21
God, I missed him. Spending time with Stu reminded me how much I enjoyed having a man around, a partner in crime to do everything and nothing with. A little pang struck my heart.
“Where’d you go?” Stu asked, glancing at me then back to the road.
I shrugged and fiddled with my hands in my lap. “Just thinking about stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“My husband, Mark. He never learned how to drive. He always planned to but then, I don’t know, fate had other plans, I guess.”
Stu’s look was empathetic as he turned the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. Do you miss him a lot?”
“Some days more than others.”
He nodded and a silence fell between us. After a moment Stu spoke again. “I was only fourteen the first time I got behind a wheel. I was a cocky little shit, thought I knew it all. Me and my brother Lee took our uncle’s Ford Fiesta and went for a joyride. I nearly crashed the thing, but Lee was a natural from the start, came out of the womb knowing how to work a gear stick.”
“I guess that’s like people who pick up an instrument and just know how to play.”
“Like a driving virtuoso?” Stu asked. “He always was the clever one, got all the talent, too.”
The way he said it made me curious. He sounded almost . . . self-deprecating. I wondered if it stemmed from his reading difficulties, but I was wary of broaching the subject again after last time. I needed to wait for the right moment. “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t get all the talent. Is he as good with numbers as you are?”
Stu lifted a shoulder, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m all right.”
“You’re probably better than you know. You just need the right teacher.”
He glanced at me sideways. “Not you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got a basic understanding, but I’m no expert. My strong suits are literature and history.”
“Ah, got ya.”
Again, I thought of my dad, how he could guide Stu. If he was as talented as I suspected he might be, then he needed the right kind of cultivation.
“You’re thinking about something. What is it?” Stu asked, his expression curious.
“How do you know?”
He reached out and tipped my chin. “You chew on your lip when you’re thinking, and your forehead crinkles up.”
I shifted in my seat, feeling self-conscious. “I do? I never noticed. And I was thinking about maybe introducing you to my dad.”
Stu chuckled. “Hey, slow down, gorgeous.”
I flushed at him calling me gorgeous, unable to look him in the eye for a second as I slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Not like that, you goof. My dad is a mathematics professor at King’s College. I think he’d be interested in meeting you.”
Stu returned his attention to the road, his smile disappearing. “Nah, you’re all right.”
“Don’t you want to see if you can get into university? If you meet my dad and he thinks you have potential, he could help you with your applications.”
“Don’t put yourself out, Andrea. I’ll never go to uni. The only reason I’m doing this course is because it’s a requirement for my parole. This isn’t Good Will Hunting.”
His answer made my stomach twist. He just sounded so resigned to never being anything other than an ex-criminal, and it made me sad. “So then what will you do when the course ends?” I asked quietly.
Stu flexed his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”
He sounded like he didn’t really care much either way, which made me even sadder. I knew how difficult it was to break out of the social strata you were born into, how stuck in a mindset people could become. The thing was, ever since Mark died, I considered it my calling in life to help people achieve their potential. I’d spent almost a year in a deep depression, had taken a leave of absence from my old job teaching sixth-form English. Mark had been a social worker when he was alive, and even though he’d only been doing the job two years before his diagnosis changed everything, he’d still managed to make a difference for so many people. He had the biggest heart.
Once I pulled myself out of my depression I felt like it was my duty to continue his good work, so I changed career paths and started teaching adult courses instead. Teaching teenagers often felt like force-feeding, but in adult classes you had a group of people who genuinely wanted to learn, to make a difference in their lives. It was what gave me purpose, kept me going. I guess that was why Stu presented such a predicament. He wasn’t in my class because he wanted to be there. He was in it because he had to be, and that put me in a difficult situation, because sometimes I felt like he didn’t want my help.
Stu parked just down the street from his brother’s restaurant, a bistro-style eatery called the Grub Hut. Somebody had hung pink balloons and purple party streamers outside and it made me smile. I didn’t imagine those were Trevor’s favourite colours. Stu’s family must have a wicked sense of humour.
“Lee’s idea,” said Stu, placing his hand to the small of my back again. “Like I said, smart-arsery runs in the family.”
“Yes, I can see that,” I said as we stepped through the entryway. I felt a little underdressed in my jeans, Converse, and pale yellow T-shirt. All the men wore shirts and slacks, while the women wore party dresses.
“Everybody’s dressed up,” I whispered to him, feeling self-conscious as I tugged on the hem of my top.
He shot me a warm look and his eyes briefly scanned my body. “Leave yourself alone. You look gorgeous.”
Both the husky compliment and the warmth of his breath made me a little wobbly.
Stu’s brother Lee was the first to approach us. Again I recognised him from Stu’s Facebook pictures. He wasn’t as tall as Stu, in fact, he was an inch or two shorter than I was, but he was attractive in a way you didn’t see too often. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome or anything, but there was a confidence in the way he held himself, a certain wisdom in his light blue eyes that was infinitely appealing.
He looked surprised when he saw me with Stu, his shrewd gaze going back and forth between us.
“Who’s this?” he asked. The concern in his voice had me tensing up.
“My friend, Andrea. Andrea, this is my brother, Lee.”
“Where’d you go?” Stu asked, glancing at me then back to the road.
I shrugged and fiddled with my hands in my lap. “Just thinking about stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“My husband, Mark. He never learned how to drive. He always planned to but then, I don’t know, fate had other plans, I guess.”
Stu’s look was empathetic as he turned the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. Do you miss him a lot?”
“Some days more than others.”
He nodded and a silence fell between us. After a moment Stu spoke again. “I was only fourteen the first time I got behind a wheel. I was a cocky little shit, thought I knew it all. Me and my brother Lee took our uncle’s Ford Fiesta and went for a joyride. I nearly crashed the thing, but Lee was a natural from the start, came out of the womb knowing how to work a gear stick.”
“I guess that’s like people who pick up an instrument and just know how to play.”
“Like a driving virtuoso?” Stu asked. “He always was the clever one, got all the talent, too.”
The way he said it made me curious. He sounded almost . . . self-deprecating. I wondered if it stemmed from his reading difficulties, but I was wary of broaching the subject again after last time. I needed to wait for the right moment. “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t get all the talent. Is he as good with numbers as you are?”
Stu lifted a shoulder, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m all right.”
“You’re probably better than you know. You just need the right teacher.”
He glanced at me sideways. “Not you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got a basic understanding, but I’m no expert. My strong suits are literature and history.”
“Ah, got ya.”
Again, I thought of my dad, how he could guide Stu. If he was as talented as I suspected he might be, then he needed the right kind of cultivation.
“You’re thinking about something. What is it?” Stu asked, his expression curious.
“How do you know?”
He reached out and tipped my chin. “You chew on your lip when you’re thinking, and your forehead crinkles up.”
I shifted in my seat, feeling self-conscious. “I do? I never noticed. And I was thinking about maybe introducing you to my dad.”
Stu chuckled. “Hey, slow down, gorgeous.”
I flushed at him calling me gorgeous, unable to look him in the eye for a second as I slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Not like that, you goof. My dad is a mathematics professor at King’s College. I think he’d be interested in meeting you.”
Stu returned his attention to the road, his smile disappearing. “Nah, you’re all right.”
“Don’t you want to see if you can get into university? If you meet my dad and he thinks you have potential, he could help you with your applications.”
“Don’t put yourself out, Andrea. I’ll never go to uni. The only reason I’m doing this course is because it’s a requirement for my parole. This isn’t Good Will Hunting.”
His answer made my stomach twist. He just sounded so resigned to never being anything other than an ex-criminal, and it made me sad. “So then what will you do when the course ends?” I asked quietly.
Stu flexed his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”
He sounded like he didn’t really care much either way, which made me even sadder. I knew how difficult it was to break out of the social strata you were born into, how stuck in a mindset people could become. The thing was, ever since Mark died, I considered it my calling in life to help people achieve their potential. I’d spent almost a year in a deep depression, had taken a leave of absence from my old job teaching sixth-form English. Mark had been a social worker when he was alive, and even though he’d only been doing the job two years before his diagnosis changed everything, he’d still managed to make a difference for so many people. He had the biggest heart.
Once I pulled myself out of my depression I felt like it was my duty to continue his good work, so I changed career paths and started teaching adult courses instead. Teaching teenagers often felt like force-feeding, but in adult classes you had a group of people who genuinely wanted to learn, to make a difference in their lives. It was what gave me purpose, kept me going. I guess that was why Stu presented such a predicament. He wasn’t in my class because he wanted to be there. He was in it because he had to be, and that put me in a difficult situation, because sometimes I felt like he didn’t want my help.
Stu parked just down the street from his brother’s restaurant, a bistro-style eatery called the Grub Hut. Somebody had hung pink balloons and purple party streamers outside and it made me smile. I didn’t imagine those were Trevor’s favourite colours. Stu’s family must have a wicked sense of humour.
“Lee’s idea,” said Stu, placing his hand to the small of my back again. “Like I said, smart-arsery runs in the family.”
“Yes, I can see that,” I said as we stepped through the entryway. I felt a little underdressed in my jeans, Converse, and pale yellow T-shirt. All the men wore shirts and slacks, while the women wore party dresses.
“Everybody’s dressed up,” I whispered to him, feeling self-conscious as I tugged on the hem of my top.
He shot me a warm look and his eyes briefly scanned my body. “Leave yourself alone. You look gorgeous.”
Both the husky compliment and the warmth of his breath made me a little wobbly.
Stu’s brother Lee was the first to approach us. Again I recognised him from Stu’s Facebook pictures. He wasn’t as tall as Stu, in fact, he was an inch or two shorter than I was, but he was attractive in a way you didn’t see too often. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome or anything, but there was a confidence in the way he held himself, a certain wisdom in his light blue eyes that was infinitely appealing.
He looked surprised when he saw me with Stu, his shrewd gaze going back and forth between us.
“Who’s this?” he asked. The concern in his voice had me tensing up.
“My friend, Andrea. Andrea, this is my brother, Lee.”
