Skepticism

Monica wasn't quite sure how to respond so she thought for a few moments then said, "I'm guessing it's been very hard for your parents to accept that you won't be."

"That's putting it mildly," he replied. "And the tension all of this has created is a huge reason why I'm graduating early and moving out."

"That's a big step."

"It is and I'm a little nervous about it. I've put a budget together, and I'm trying to look ahead to think about what I might be missing, but until I actually miss it, it's kind of hard to do."

He smiled at her, and for the first time since he left her apartment, that feeling came back.

"Well, if you ever need someone who's always budgeting and trying to find ways to cut costs, don't hesitate to ask," she told him, trying to make it sound like it was nothing more than a friendly, rhetorical offer.

"I'll try not to show up at your door unannounced next time," Brandon told her, that same smile on his very handsome face.

"No worries. I'm pretty much always there doing what you saw me doing, so just drop by anytime," she said just as nonchalantly and with a smile of her own.

"So do you have any plans for the holidays?" Brandon asked in order to get off of his own anxiety-inducing future plans.

"Oh. Um, yes. I'm going home to Spokane to see my family," she told him.

"There's no reason why I'd know that, but somehow that still surprises me," Brandon told her. Before she could say anything else, he added, "I love Spokane."

"Me, too. But after I graduated from the University of Washington..."

"Which is in Seattle," Brandon said with a laugh.

"Yes. Yes, it is. But after I finished and got my teaching certificate, I had a chance to start teaching immediately in the local area. I never intended to stay, but one year became two and two became...well, as you can see, I'm still here."

The way Brandon was looking at her made her tummy flutter, so she looked away. But what he said very quietly made it do flips.

"I'm glad you stayed."

It was just a few words, but the sincerity behind them hit her hard. Her head was spinning, and before she could collect herself, Brandon continued talking.

"You're not just a really good teacher, you're someone I really enjoy talking with."

"Thank you...Brandon. That's...that's very kind of you to say," she replied as she began shuffling some papers around on her desk.

"I should go," he told her as he got the sense he was way out of bounds.

"I...I didn't mean to run you off," Monica told him so quickly it surprised both herself and her student.

"You just looked like I was...I don't know. Like I said something inappropriate. If I did, I..."

"What? No. Not at all. It was just very...unexpected," she told him, finally mustering up the courage to look at him again.

She smiled, but it wasn't her normal smile, and Brandon sensed that and again tried to excuse himself.

"I should really get to class."

There were still 15 minutes before the first bell, so Monica knew there was no need to hurry.

"Do you have any plans?" she asked, causing Brandon to sit back down.

"Um, no. Not really. I think I'll just hang out at home then maybe start looking for a place after the first of the year."

She glanced at him, looked down at her desk then said, "My apartment complex almost always has a vacancy or two."

She paused then said, "Especially after Christmas."

"I don't know. It's probably outside of my budget," he told her.

"It was just a thought," she told him as she finally felt like she was recovering.

"Maybe I'll check it out," he told her before standing up again and saying he really needed to run.

This time it was Monica who was thinking she'd crossed some kind of line. But the only way that could be true is if Brandon could read minds and know why she suggested her apartment complex.

As he walked out, she felt even more foolish for both having said it and for feeling the way she did about him. Even worse, she knew that getting involved with someone like her would ruin his life; a life full of purpose and the possibility of doing something great. The last thing he needed was a lonely, 30-year old teacher, or even a former teacher, dragging him down and holding him back.

And yet, of all the men she'd even met in her life, she'd never met anyone who made her feel the way Brandon Holtz did. But no matter how he made her feel, that was something she could never share with him—or anyone else. And once he was gone, she set her mind to forgetting about him and the way he made her feel once and for all.

December 28th. Spokane, WA.

"Honey, are you sure?" her father asked.

"Yes. I need to move back home," Monica told him. "I'll finish out the school year in Auburn, then start trying to find a job here in Spokane."

"Teaching positions are tough to find," her dad gently reminded her.

"But there are fewer teachers here than in the Seattle area," she reminded him with a smile.

"That's true, and your mother and I are thrilled about having you back home. Not that you'll want to actually live here. At home. With us," her father said making sure to let his daughter know it would be her decision. "But your room is still available if you do."

"I can't believe one of you didn't turn it into a quilting room," she replied as she looked at her mother.

"Me?" her mom said with a flair of the dramatic. She was an ardent quilter and loved everything about it.

Monica laughed and so did her parents as they stood there around her car as she got ready to leave.

"So...I'll see you all during Spring Break and then I'll be back for good," she told them both before giving them each a long, tearful hug.

"Be safe, honey!" her mom said as she dried her eyes at the same time her daughter did.

"I will!" she promised.

Her dad opened her door then said, "And Monica? If you, you know, meet someone, and you end up staying..."

"Dad? That's not going to happen," she assured him.

"But just the same, if you do, and you decide to stay there, it's only a four-hour drive. Ish."

"It's less than four for me, and over five for you, Dad," she told her father who drove right at the speed limit no matter what.

And with that, Monica started the long drive back across the Evergreen State which was anything but green on its eastern side, passing through fields of hops, wheat, and sugar beets as she drove.

At the Holtz's home, Christmas was over and Brandon was a high school graduate. After a heavy workout that morning, his father asked him what his plans were.

"Longterm or short-term?" Brandon asked back.

"Both," his dad replied, an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

"I really think it's time I started looking for a place of my own, Dad," he told his father truthfully.

"I agree, but you don't have to move out anytime soon. You're welcome to stay for at least the rest of the school year, and even longer if you need to."

Just that small amount of kindness moved Brandon almost to the point of tears as the unspoken tension had continued to mount in their home.

"Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me."

"Well, you mean a lot to me, son," his father told him. "I'm not going to say this...transition of yours...has been easy. But you're still my son, and I still love you."

Brandon saw his father tearing up so he looked away as the older man told him, "And I always will."

Barely able to hold back his emotions, Brandon grabbed his father and hugged him. His dad was so surprised it took him a second to hug back, but when he did the two men held onto one another for a good long while as both of them fought back tears.

"So what about the longterm?" his dad finally asked when they let go of each other.

Brandon spent a good deal of time spelling out his plan to get a degree in biology and why he was doing it.

"That's a lot of years in school," his father told him when his son mentioned getting a master's degree.

"It's the only thing that really motivates me," his son told him.

His father fought off the urge to inform his son there was no need for all of that because it was obvious that Heavenly Father had organized matter and created the world and everything in it. But he did manage not to say it. Again.

"I know you're not going on a mission, and I know that's because you don't even accept the teachings of The Church anymore. But do you still at least believe in marriage?"

"I do," his son told him. "Just not for 'time and all eternity'."

Brandon said it as gently as he could, and his father accepted the honest answer.

"I married your mother five months after returning from my mission," his father reminded him. "Is there even someone in your life you're interested in?"

Brandon looked at his dad, smiled then said, "There is. I don't think she's interested in me, but there is this one very special woman I'd love to get to know better."

"Then what's keeping you from telling her?" his dad asked.

"A lot of things, I guess."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Not really, Dad. It's just one of things I guess I'm going to have to grow out of."

"I know there won't ever be a temple marriage, but I want you to know I'll be here for you no matter who you end up choosing."

"I'm not sure you'd say that if you knew the woman I've been crushing on for several months now."

His father tilted his head then got very serious.

"Please don't tell me this woman is married."

"What? No! No way, Dad. She's single. And she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. And she's smart. And funny."

"Okay. Then...tell her."

"She's uh, she's just...older than me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Quite a bit older, in fact."

"Well, your Aunt Susan is four years older than your Uncle Jeremy," his father reminded his son.

"She is. But this woman is a little more than four years older than me."

"I'm not gonna pry. Your mother and I have given you the best tools we can, and the decisions you make are now yours alone to make. We trust you'll make good ones based on what you've been taught."

"Thanks, Dad," was Brandon's reply. "And I'm really glad we talked."

"Me, too, Brandon."

The difference in the way he felt after his father left the room was almost palpable. It was like some kind of pressure valve had been released allowing a huge amount of steam to slowly vent its way out of his life. It felt like they'd moved on to some new place in their relationship; a place that was still based on love but also on mutual respect, something Brandon felt he would never receive from his father no matter what he did or how well he did it. But this talk gave him confidence to believe that his father, who still strongly disagreed with him, did in fact still love him, and now perhaps even respected him.

Feeling better than he had since Hannah's death, Brandon showered, got dressed, and after eating lunch, borrowed his mom's car and drove across town to the apartment complex he'd only been to once before but without calling ahead.

To his great surprise, he saw the person he was looking for pulling in just in front of him. Just seeing her made him smile as he pulled in two spaces away so as not to frighten her if she saw him.

She was already out of her car and opening the trunk when he got out. She didn't see him, and he knew he needed to let her know he was there, so he stopped at the back of his car and said, "May I help you?"

Monica turned to look and when she did, she raised up so quickly that she smacked her head on the lid of the trunk.

"Are you okay?" Brandon said as he hurried toward her.

Monica rubbed her head, smiled, then said, "Other than this huge knot that's forming—yes."

"I am so sorry, Ms. Traxler," he told her sincerely. "I was trying to avoid startling you, and..."

"It's fine, Brandon. I'm okay. Really."

He looked in the trunk and didn't see groceries. Instead, he saw her luggage.

"Did you...are you just getting back from somewhere?" he asked almost sheepishly.

"I am. I went home to Spokane for Christmas."

"Don't I feel foolish," he said with a kind of goofy look on his face.

"Why would you feel like that?" she asked, a beautiful smile on hers.

"Because you told me you were doing that."

He laughed then said, "Also it makes it seem like I was, I don't know, sitting here waiting for you or something."

"Were you?" she teased.

"No. Definitely not. And if this is a bad time, I'll leave. I just wanted to..."

"Brandon?" Monica said, stopping him in mid-sentence. "You're not bothering me, okay?"

He finally smiled then said, "Whew. In that case, may I get your bags?"

"They're very heavy," she said before realizing who she was talking to and laughed.

Brandon grabbed one that had to be close to 75 pounds and laughed, too.

"Geez. Did you take your weights home to work out with?" he jokingly said.

"Ha-ha!" she said with a little flip of her hair as she grabbed one that hold wheels on it she could roll along with her purse.

Brandon grabbed the next heaviest suitcase and toted both of them to her apartment.

Monica unlocked it, asked him to go ahead, then asked to what she owed the pleasure of his company.

"Oh, right. Um, well, maybe we could get your things inside and then talk?"

"Sounds serious. Maybe I'll put on some tea," she told him before remembering that Mormons don't drink tea. "Or not."

"I've had iced tea before," Brandon told her as though he was informing her he was a 'man of the world'.

She managed not to laugh then told him she'd boil enough water for two and leave it up to him as they went back out for the last of her things.

When they got back inside, she said with a laugh, "A girl could really get used to having a guy like you around," before sincerely thanking him.

Brandon told her she was welcome and couldn't help but laugh about the rest of her comment.

"I'm often lost when you and I talk, so...what is it I'm missing this time that's so funny?" she asked with a warm smile as she filled the teapot.

"Oh. I suppose it has something to do with why I stopped by," he told her as the butterflies in his stomach got busy.

"Ah. Now I see," she replied playfully.

Brandon laughed nervously as she turned on the gas burner and asked, "One cup or two?"

"Two?" he replied. "But I'll probably need a lot of sugar in mine."

Monica laughed and assured him she had plenty.

"I use Equal, but I do have sugar."

"Either is fine," Brandon said as she smiled at him again.

"So how does if feel being an alumnus of Auburn High School?"

Brandon laughed and told her it felt pretty good.

"Congratulations. Again," his former teacher told him. "Are you out looking at apartments by any chance?"

"No. Not really."

"Did you just want to talk?" she asked.

"I do," he told her, the nervousness returning.

"Well, let me get our tea and we'll sit down and do just that."

The natural gas was much faster than an electric stove, and the tea was ready within another minute. Monica asked him to stop her when she'd added enough sugar, and when he said 'whoa', she laughed.

"So you're having some tea with your sugar, huh?" she teased, another smile on her beautiful face.

"I'm a tea virgin," he replied before turning slightly red, something he hadn't done since was 12 or 13.

Monica noticed but didn't mention it as the butteries in her own tummy paid a visit.

"Okay. Let's find a place to sit and have a chat."

She sat on the sofa and offered Brandon the oversized chair across from it then asked what was on his mind.

He came so close to saying, "You," that it scared him.

"Well, I guess I just wanted to stop by and let you know how much you've meant to me."

Before she could even think of a reply, he added, "As my teacher."

"Oh. Um, thank you. I loved having you in my class, so the feeling is mutual," she told him before taking a first sip.

"There's something else I wanted to talk about, too."

He hesitated then said, "With you."

"Is it about your future?" she asked with genuine interest.

"As a matter of fact it is."

"Then by all means," she told him with a smile so amazing it caused quite a 'stir'.

Brandon looked down, took a deep breath, then looked right at his former teacher.

"I had a very interesting talk with my dad this morning," he began.

"Good interesting or disturbing interesting?" she asked.

"Good. Very good, in fact."

"How are things between you now?"

"Better. A lot better."

"That has to be a relief," she said very cheerfully.

"Oh. It's huge. It's great. Really great."

"And?"

"And...he asked me if there was anyone I was, you know, interested in. Mormons are really big on family and marriage, and all that."

"So I've heard," she replied very sweetly. "And?"

"And I...I told him there was."

As Monica sat there looking at him, all of the feelings she'd ever had—in spite of her best efforts not to have them—came rushing back all at once.

"I see," she said very quietly as her heart rate quickened even though she assumed he was looking for advice about how to talk to some other girl.

"He uh, he told me I needed to tell her how I feel."

"I agree with him," Monica replied.

"But I also told him she not only had no idea how I felt, but that I was also pretty sure she didn't...or wouldn't...feel the same way."

"Isn't that the reason you need to tell her? So you can find out if she does?"

"Right. Yes. That's right," Brandon said, feeling more nervous than he'd ever felt.

"Do I know her?" she asked even as her own butterflies went crazy.

"You do actually."

"Well, I have to say she's a very lucky girl."

Brandon's palms were sweaty and his own heart was racing as he said, "She's...she's not a girl."

Stunned and crestfallen, Monica did her best not to let her disappointment show.

"Oh. OH!" she said. "I...I had no idea."

"Wait. What?"

"Well. Aren't you telling me you're...gay?" she asked, her eyebrows raised high.

"Me? Gay? No. NO!" he told her as though being gay was the worst thing a guy could be.

Out of nervousness and no small amount of relief, Monica laughed. When she did, Brandon laughed, too.

"No, I'm definitely not gay," he told her.

"I didn't think you were, but when you said, you know..."

"That she's not a girl?"

Monica laughed again and said, "Yes. That."

Brandon drew in a long breath, exhaled slowly then sat up straight and looked right at her.

"I...I really don't even know how to say this, Ms. Tr..."

He stopped then said, "Is it all right if I call you by your first name now?"

Another nervous laugh followed as she said, "Of course it is. Do you even know it?"

"Oh, I know it," he assured her before saying, "Monica."

Several seconds passed before he finally said, "This woman. This woman who I like."

He stopped again then said, "It's whom I like, isn't it?"

Monica didn't laugh this time. She only told him it didn't matter and to go ahead and say it.

"Sorry. I'm really nervous."

"It's okay, Brandon. So am I," she told him truthfully as she set her cup down.

Her hands were shaking ever-so slightly as she folded them and put them in her lap.

"I haven't been this nervous talking to a girl since..."

He stopped yet again then finally got it out.

"I'm nervous because the...girl...the woman...I like...a lot...is...you, Monica."

As his words registered in her brain, another wave of feelings swept over her as this became reality. This incredibly handsome, very intelligent young man did indeed like her. It wasn't just her imagination. It was real.

As she struggled to deal with those emotions, Brandon continued talking.

"I told my dad I didn't think...this woman...would be interested in me, but I...I had to tell you so I could at least try and stop thinking about you."

"I...I'm flattered, Brandon," she heard herself say, even though those weren't the words she wanted to come out.