Teacher's Crossroad

"This machine is wonderful! So much better than the one my parents have at home!" she gushed.

That nagging sensation of familiarity vanished with the young woman's enthusiasm.

"I'm more of a plain black coffee man myself, but Imani knew her espresso," he said without enthusiasm. She gave him a compassionate smile, and he immediately moved himself to the fridge as he had breakfast to make. He grabbed two eggs, some yogurt, spinach, and a few small tomatoes. While he made his scrambled eggs, he glanced over at her working the espresso machine. She was making two small cups of the stuff.

"These are very good beans," she noted happily.

He nodded slightly. "George brought them over."

She nodded and finished the preparations. Their espresso was ready. "When I first got here, I didn't see a car in the driveway. I thought maybe you'd driven into town."

"I don't drive," he said bluntly.

She looked at him cautiously. "Because of—"

"Yes," he said, cutting her off.

She paused at his abrupt answer. She slid his little mug towards him, and he nodded his thanks. "How do you get groceries?" she asked.

He glanced at her wearily. "They deliver."

He sipped the espresso, and it was good but very strong. He smiled at her expectant look, and her face lit up in a brilliant smile. That sensation of recognition returned, but he was still missing the clue that would connect the dots.

"You have a beautiful home! Is that door for a second bedroom?" she asked, pointing to the door to the right of his bedroom door. Most of the stuff in that room once belonged to Imani.

"Yes, but it's just storage for junk and where I work out on my home gym."

Tyson finished making his breakfast and carried it to the small table next to the patio doors to look out at the lake while he ate.

Of course, Ms. Taylor thought that was an invitation to sit between him and the doors, blocking his view. She smiled at him, and his irritation at this spiked. He was feeling pressured, and he didn't like it.

"Did George tell you I won't teach idiots?" he asserted, regretting his bluntness as the words left his lips.

"Yes, Professor Haley was very clear that I would need to prove I was worthy of your time," she said calmly.

"And?"

Ms. Taylor proceeded with her pitch as Tyson listened in silence, eating his breakfast.

He felt himself nod approvingly as he heard things he was impressed with, and she seemed to sit up a little taller each time he did, her smile showing her pleasure at receiving this tiny bit of praise.

When she reached the end and described how her grade was slipping, he recalled George's comment regarding the mystery. He had to agree. This woman had so many privileges, yet this starts to slide, and she makes no effort to resolve it?

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

Her smile wobbled as she thought she'd been explaining why.

He saw her confusion. "No, why is this grade slipping?"

He saw that sink home, and she went quiet as she thought about it. Finally, she seemed to find something. "My other classes are simple in comparison. It feels like I already know all the material, and it comes naturally. I have to make a stronger effort in this class."

"And you haven't made a stronger effort because..."

Her eyes locked on his as her smile slipped away, and he saw a momentary flash of depression. He was very familiar with that foe.

"Count your privileges," he said, and her expression clouded.

The fire of anger flashed in her pretty eyes. "Listen, I know I'm one of the fortunate ones to be born into wealth and privilege—" she began as her steam began to show.

Tyson shook his head. "No, it's a mental exercise. Count the things you are grateful for."

She blinked at him. "Am I being given a mental evaluation?" she asked, suddenly recognizing the process.

He gave her a stern look. "If I'm going to be able to teach you, I need to know if your block is purely conceptual or is tangled up in something emotional. Each requires a different approach." He wanted to tell her he was in no condition to deal with someone else's emotional baggage, but something held his tongue.

She nodded to him with wide eyes and went back to thinking of her privileges, as he labeled them.

"Can't be a thing. Concepts only," he clarified, and she shot him an annoyed look.

She cleared her throat delicately. "I'm grateful for my family. I'm grateful for my friends. I'm grateful for my fiancé. I'm grateful for being able to attend this university. I'm grateful for—"

"Stop. You just mentioned the most significant sources of your potential for happiness. People. Which one was the lie?"

She made a sound of outrage, but he wasn't listening and pushed forward.

"Your parents. Is your dad pressuring you to do something with your life? If your mom too critical of your choices?" he asserted.

"No! They're nothing like that! They've been nothing but supportive," she bit back, but he saw something in her expression again.

"So, they support something you don't agree with. Let's move on," he pushed, and her outrage just increased. He didn't care, as he had nothing to lose. He understood George's refusal to adjust her score. Tyson was also protecting his integrity as a teacher... though he had no interest in returning to that occupation.

"Your friends. Do you have any frenemies in your clique? Someone you don't trust at your back? Someone who may be plotting against you now?" he asked.

"Again, no! I don't let people with poisonous personalities close to me!" she snapped.

Be nodded. "Then it must be the fiancé. He leaves something to be desired? Is he too assertive? Not assertive enough? Has he abused you?"

"He would NEVER—" she gasped as her eyes flew wide. She stared at Tyson like he was a rabid dog.

"But, he doesn't rock your world in bed?" Tyson asked as he picked up a hesitation and took a wild guess.

Ms. Taylor stood and stepped around the table. He saw the slap incoming, but he just accepted it.

He'd felt worse pain.

Chapter 4

Christy stormed out of the house and dropped herself in the driver's seat of her car before the tears came. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. She told herself it was because of his rude behavior, but she wouldn't allow herself to accept that as entirely accurate.

He'd been right, and she couldn't deal with it. She allowed herself to release her tension and gradually pushed back against her tears until they stopped.

She couldn't give up, or she'd fail the course. She didn't want to prove to the man inside that house that he was correct in his assumption that she wasn't worthy. She was completely worthy!

Christy climbed out of the car and lifted from the back seat the bag containing her books and notes for the math course.

She took a deep breath and turned back to the cottage-style home.

Be bold or go home.

She marched back to the front door and rang the bell. Moments later, the man's face held a suspicious expression as he peered at her through the screen door.

"I'm sorry for slapping you."

His expression didn't change as he spoke to her. "No, you're not. You had reason to do it. I was rude."

She waited a second. "May I come back in?"

He sighed and stood aside, gesturing for her to enter.

She walked back to the table and set her bag of books on the table.

He looked at it with a frown. "I haven't agreed to teach you yet."

"You've identified the issue I'm having that's affecting my grades—"

"Only half of the issue has been dealt with. Identifying it was a good start, but you need a definite plan for resolving it, or it'll continue to block you," he suggested.

"I'm calling off the wedding," she asserted, surprising herself by how good those words felt. She felt a weight lifting from her shoulders.

Tyson's brows went up in surprise. "That seems rather extreme for a little bedroom issue. You could just go for counseling for that."

She frowned and shook her head. "It isn't just the sex." She thought about it for a moment, and with the decision to end the engagement already achieved, the remaining truths she'd been hiding from herself came forth. "I... I think it's because we're too much alike. Our worlds are identical, and our likes and dislikes are the same. No friction means no sparks. It would be easy to be married to Blake, but I think I'd eventually die of boredom or begin having affairs. I've no doubt he'd have them, too. When he proposed, I was caught up in the excitement of the prospect of marriage, but it's not enough. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

She looked at the diamond ring on her hand and tugged it from her finger with a sigh. She really liked the ring. She dropped it into her purse.

"Could we get started?" she asked, and he couldn't suppress the small snort of amusement at her tenacity.

"Did I say I've agreed to teach you yet?" he asked in return.

Blue eyes locked on his brown eyes. "You've identified the issue, and I've described my plan to resolve it. I won't let this prevent my career from proceeding. What else do you need?" Christy asserted.

He nodded to himself as she demonstrated she was serious, and she saw his final reservation slip away.

"Fine. Take me to the last section you felt comfortable with," Tyson said as he moved to sit next to her at the small table. She smiled and pulled out her books, and turned to her notes.

They spent the rest of the morning in the review. He took her back two additional chapters before he was convinced she comprehended the material. "You started missing things here," he pointed out, and she thought back to when they began the chapter in question. It was a couple of weeks after the engagement began. How had he known? She glanced at Tyson's face, and he looked back curiously, but she just shook her head with a self-conscious smile and turned her attention back to the textbook.

He took her back through the chapters, explaining the formulae and showing examples of how to use them. Christy made notes as they went and felt the information soaking in. She raised her hand to get him to stop on a particular problem they were solving. She recalled becoming seriously frustrated with this section before, but now it seemed far more understandable. "Why can't they teach this the way you just did? It makes so much more sense how you just explained," she exclaimed in frustration.

He shrugged. "Different teachers have their own style of teaching, but the math is the math. Numbers have a beautiful language of their own."

He glanced at the wall clock. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded with a little smile.

"I was just going to make a salad with grilled chicken. Does that work for you?" Tyson asked, and her smile widened as she nodded to him.

"Run through those three practice questions while I make us lunch," he said, pointing to the textbook.

"Yes, sir," she said with a grin.

He went to the kitchen, and she caught herself watching his ass move in his tight shorts. She turned back to her notebook and started on the equations. She powered through the first two, but her mind was distracted by images of Tyson climbing out of the lake before she could get to the third. She couldn't believe he was fifty-eight! He looked so fucking sexy, walking from the water, naked.

"What's troubling you about the third question?"

She squeaked as his voice caught her in mid-fantasy. "Sorry, what?"

He frowned at her. "I said, what's giving you trouble on the third one?"

"Oh, nothing. I just got a little distracted," she replied.

He gave her a raised eyebrow, then placed the lunch plates on the table as she concentrated on completing the final question.

When she was done, she handed her work over to him. He quickly confirmed she knew the material.

"Looks like you have this under control. After lunch, we will complete the next four chapters. You are doing very well, so there must have just been a small conceptual misunderstanding."

"No, I don't think you understand just how much of a difference your teaching method makes for learning this stuff," she insisted.

He shook his head. "I'm not a teacher anymore."

She shook hers. "And that's a damn shame."

"If you want my help this afternoon, you'll drop it."

She threw her hands up in surrender. They dug into their lunches, and Christy was impressed. The salad was fresh, the grilled chicken was hot and a little spicy, which went well with the dressing. "It's like spicy chicken wings in a cool creamy dressing!"

He smiled and nodded. "Secret recipe."

After a few minutes of silence, Christy could no longer suppress the urge to ask him a question. "If you don't drive, do you go outside for more than your morning swim?"

He gave her an evaluating look then decided to answer. "I go for a walk every day. I'll do it today after we finish the fourth chapter.

"Where do you walk?" she asked.

"I walk the length of the lakefront road and back. Six miles,"

"I have my gym clothes in my car. Could I join you today?" she asked boldly.

He looked into her eyes, but all she showed him was hope. He seemed unsettled by something as he kept looking at her. He looked like he wanted to say no, but he caved. "Fine."

She looked around and tried counting all the pictures of Tyson and his wife scattered around the room but lost track. "You certainly have a lot of photos. I can't get over how much you changed!"

He glanced around as well and shrugged. "As I said earlier, the man in those pictures died that night. Everything he held as important died. I'm not Professor Kane. I'm just Tyson Kane now."

"Is math important?"

Tyson froze, then looked into blue eyes challenging him to take his words back.

"Let's finish the tutoring," he said stiffly.

They spent the next three hours going through four chapters in the textbook. Christy made detailed notes of his explanations, and she asked many questions. He never lost his temper or made discouraging noises. She looked more and more relaxed as the lessons proceeded, and as they finished up the last chapter, she closed her notebook with a satisfied sigh.

"I now have a buffer. We went one chapter beyond what's being taught at the university, and I know the methods and formulae. I'm going to ace the next test. I feel it. Thank you so much!"

He nodded to her and looked away from her smile with a troubled look on his face.

"Are you ready to take your walk?" Christy asked.

He stood up and stretched, and her eyes went to the exposed patch of his abdomen and marveled at the muscles there. "Yes, I just need to get changed."

"Let me put my books away and get my gym clothes," she said, and she leaped from her chair. She stuffed her books into the bag and dashed outside. She switched bags in the car and carried her duffle bag back into the home.

"You can use the guest bathroom to change," he offered, and she headed inside.

Once the door was closed, she let herself grin mischievously. He wasn't gonna know what hit him!

-=-

Tyson watched the bathroom door close and wondered how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Granted, it was George's fault for sending her his way. She was certainly easy on the eyes, and her lovely outfit hinted at a well cared for body. He scowled at himself as she was young enough to be his daughter and almost a granddaughter at that.

Pushing that from his mind, he went to the master bedroom and slipped into his running tights. Not that he'd be doing any running that day as his knee was acting up. He slipped on a pair of ankle socks. He went back to the living room, locked the patio doors, and grabbed his keys. He sat on the bench by the front door and put his runners on. He heard a noise and looked up.

His jaw dropped, and he froze as she prowled toward him. As his eyes panned up her body, he saw her runners were a splash of color below the bands of skin at her exposed ankles. Her yoga pants were clinging to and accentuating her sleek curves. They were patterned with boldly-colored parrot feathers from just above her ankle to just above the knee. Rising out of the feathers, climbing up her long thighs, and encasing her spectacular ass, the pattern was orange, gold, and brown leopard print. Her flat tummy muscles were firm and visible from waist to below the matching leopard print sports bra, which contained and controlled her generous bosom. He saw she was giving him a dazzling smile for his dazzled expression, and her lovely blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail.

"Uh, that's quite the outfit."

"Do you like it? This is my first opportunity to wear it," she said, sliding her hands over the smooth fabric, and Tyson felt an unfamiliar surge of tingles between his legs. It'd been years since he'd gotten excited about a woman. He was really uncomfortable about it happening for a woman who was this young.

"Yes! I mean, it's... very flattering. You look... yes. We should go," Tyson stumbled through his response as he struggled to find someplace else to look.

She moved out the door with a satisfied little smile on her lips, and his eyes immediately went to her ass. His breath caught as it truly was one of the sexiest asses he'd ever seen.

He locked up and saw her eyeing his ass in his tights. Her face flushed at being caught. Then her eyes widened slightly when she saw the bulge growing up the front of his walking pants.

Tyson did his best to relax as he walked down the drive to the road. He turned left, and Christy fell into step next to him.

He glanced at her happy expression and frowned in puzzlement. "I'm sure this isn't giving you as good a workout as you would be getting at the gym. And you'd be showing off your new outfit to a much younger audience who could show you better appreciation for your beaut— your outfit!"

She bit her lip to hide her smile at his slip, then shook her head as they set a brisk pace along the road. "The gym gets stale after a while. Getting outside from time to time feels really good," she said with a wide smile. "Besides, you're far more fit than anyone I've ever seen in our gym."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, and she nodded to indicate it was the truth. "You are seriously hot!"

"For someone who's almost sixty, you mean," he suggested.

She held up her hands. "No, you just look hot. I don't see you as old, at all!"

They walked on in silence as he contemplated this new information. He was flattered, but that's all. The truth was, he was approaching the end of his life while she was just beginning hers.

They reached the western end of the road, where it once continued to town on the country road. They passed the spot where the train crossing used to be. As he always did, Tyson stopped to take a moment to reflect on the statistical impossibility of the events that transpired that night. He almost wanted to call it a failure of the numbers, but his empirical evidence proved that it could, and did, happen.

"Is this the spot?" Christy said gently, and he glanced at her.

He began to move away from the crossing, heading east along the road as she followed. "Yes. They found me in that ditch." He pointed to the spot twenty feet away where his body came to rest once it was ripped from the shattered car. They stopped again as there was a large stone with Imani's name etched in it. She wasn't buried here, of course, but the town wanted to honor her, so... here was the stone. He walked on.

He moved to a light jog to get away from the reminders of the accident, and the pain in his knee wasn't too bad. Christy jogged up beside him, and he felt her watching him from the side. He looked over, and she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Please don't."

She was quiet for a moment. "Sorry."

They continued to jog until he had to drop back to walking as the ache was signaling it was time not to press his luck.