The Letter

As she sat there staring at the letter and looking back, was it possible her biggest regret wasn't telling him how she really felt? Or would that have been a colossal mistake?

Her hand trembled as she carefully ran a long, red nail under the flap to open it even as she recalled those the events that had had such an impact on her life.

When all this happened, she'd just turned 31, and had been married for a little over five years to a man she'd once dearly loved and trusted. But all that had changed over time as his occasional binge drinking became a regular feature of their lives.

As bad as that was, she could have lived with that were it the only thing that was wrong in her life. But the drinking began causing other problems, the first of which had been impotence. Maybe it was the drinking itself or maybe it was the way seeing him drunk so often made her feel about him, and that may have made 'performing' impossible. Whatever the reason, they'd stopped having sex well over a year before Grant came along.

And because of the friction these problems created, her ex-husband began getting angry with her more and more often. It began with short outbursts and then came the name calling and the humiliation. But all that paled in comparison to the first time he hit her.

There'd been some pushing and what her former husband called 'body checking' as he'd use his size and strength to move her out of 'his' way when he got mad. But that had been child's play by comparison.

The first time he hit her it was on the upper arm. He hit her so hard it knocked her over and left a bruise the size of his fist. She'd worn clothing that covered it up, but the bruise lingered for over a week and hurt the entire time. He apologized the next day and swore it would never happen again, but less than a week later it did.

That time he used his knee and drove it into her thigh. It didn't knock her down, but it hurt so bad she'd been unable to walk for two days; days she took off as sick days, which was actually true as she was very sick of being treated like she was dirt. She limped around the house using anything she could find to ease the pain each step caused. That bruise was so dark and so deep it scared her worse than her husband until it began to fade. She knew what a hematoma was, and this bruise qualified as one.

She smiled wistfully as she recalled that it was Spring break four years earlier when Grant showed up at her doorstep asking if he could mow her lawn to make some extra money.

"I'll give you a 20% discount, Ms. Thomas," he'd promised, hoping to make the sale.

She still recalled the way he'd smiled at her—and the way it made her feel. Initially she'd been embarrassed to admit it, even to herself, as she'd never once had any similar kind of feeling for any student. Embarrassed or not, those feelings were real, and even though she feared being punished for saying 'yes' once her husband found out, she told him he could have the job. The lawn hadn't been mowed the entire year before, and with the warmer weather arriving, it was in desperate need of attention.

"Really?" she recalled him saying when she agreed. "That's great! You won't regret it. I promise!"

When he finished, the lawn had been mowed leaving a beautiful diagonal pattern where the overgrown grass had been just an hour before. Grant had also edged everything to include the curb, the driveway, and the flower beds that were filled with weeds. He'd even pulled all of them and then disposed of them with a leaf blower to send them to one central location where he bagged everything and hauled it away in his pickup.

Her husband rarely worked, but he'd gotten a job painting a house that day, so he was gone while Grant mowed, and afterward he showed her the results of his labor.

"Wow! This looks great, Grant," she told him as she admired the detailed work everywhere she looked.

"Satisfaction guaranteed, Ms. Thomas," he told her with a smile.

While just talking to him on the porch had created a stir deep inside her, watching him mow the lawn without a shirt on did so to an even greater degree. He was just 18 but he was already six feet tall and very muscular. Not like a body builder, but like someone who'd worked hard for several years, and that's exactly what he'd done working for his father's construction company. She didn't ask why he needed to mow lawns, but later it did strike her as odd knowing Grant routinely worked for his dad in his construction business during the summer and long breaks.

He wasn't just handsome, Grant also a very kind, very polite young man, and he was in her third-period chemistry class that semester. While many of his peers were interested in getting a laugh from their fellow students, Grant was always attentive. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, the basics of chemistry seemed to elude him, and he was struggling to maintain a passing grade.

Denise felt almost certain he would never go to college, but she knew that with a work ethic like he had, and a family business to reply on, he'd have no trouble making a decent living. And were to stay there, it was almost a guarantee that he'd take over Harmon Construction, LLC., one day.

"What's that?" she asked him, aware that she hadn't heard what he'd said. She also hoped he hadn't seen her staring at his upper body.

"I was just saying that I guarantee my work."

"Oh, right. Yes, it looks amazing," she told him, making sure to look at his face; a very handsome face that had an amazing smile and eyes that looked...well...pretty.

"Come on in and I'll pay you," she told him.

"I uh, I'm kind of a mess," he told her with a laugh as he looked down at his thick chest that was dripping sweat. It was usually warm for that time of year, but even so, Denise hadn't really noticed anything other than the tall, well-muscled boy mowing her lawn.

"I don't think I realized how warm it is out here," she told him after allowing herself a very quick glance at his sweaty, swollen pecs.

"I can just wait on the porch if that's okay."

"Um, sure. That's fine, but you're welcome to come in. It's not like you're gonna track in a big mess or anything."

He kicked off his grass-stained shoes, wiped his chest with the tee-shirt he was carrying, then followed her inside.

As she went to get her purse, Grant looked around the way any first-time visitor might, and said, "You have a nice home, Ms. Thomas," when she came back.

After agreeing to let him mow the lawn, she'd walked around the house and made sure there were no beer bottles or any sign of drinking anywhere just in case, and she'd picked some things up and put other things away.

"Thank you, Grant," she told him as she fished the cash out of her purse, knowing that writing a check was too dangerous to risk.

She handed it to her student then thanked him again for doing such a good job.

"Satisfaction guaranteed," he told her again, that wonderful smile still there until he saw the amount.

"Hold on. This is $10 more than we agreed on," he said as he tried to hand it back.

"You went above and beyond, so that only seems reasonable," she replied, holding a hand up letting him know she wasn't taking any of the money back.

"Well...thank you. That wasn't necessary, but it was very kind of you," he told her, the smile now gone.

"You earned it," his teacher told him as Grant stared into her eyes.

The way he was looking at her was so disarming and distressing, she had to look away.

"So, I guess I'll see you on Monday after Spring break," she said without looking at him.

"Oh, right. Yes. I can't afford to miss your class. I have to get a passing grade."

As she opened the letter she remembered saying the words she still couldn't believe she'd said.

"I...I could tutor you."

"What?" Grant said, not sure he'd heard correctly.

"I'd be happy to work with you one on one. If you'd like. Over the rest of the break."

"You don't have to do that," he told her. "This is your time away from students, and I'm sure the last thing you need is spending time with one of them."

"There are some students who prove to be exceptions to the rule," she recalled saying, a smile returning to her face; a face she'd been told many times was very pretty if not beautiful.

It had been several years since she felt beautiful, but as she stood there, once again looking into Grant's eyes, she suddenly felt that way again.

"If you're sure you really don't mind," he said in his usual, unassuming way.

"I don't mind," she told him, the smile even brighter than before.

"Okay. Sure. I could definitely use the help. Just let me know when and where and I'll be there."

"Um...how about in my classroom?" she suggested. "I can obviously get into my room even during Spring break, and it's the perfect place to do hands-on work."

"Um, okay. Sure. That sounds great. What time works for you?"

Denise suddenly realized she'd get the third degree about leaving to go anywhere else but to the school, and even then, going there during vacation would likely still make her husband suspicious—and angry. Now committed, all she could do was hope and pray this job of his would last an extra day or two.

"Maybe...10am?" she suggested, knowing he'd be gone by then—if he was going to leave at all.

"Okay. I'll be there. Just not with bells on," Grant told her, that innocent, boyish look she loved on his face.

It wasn't very funny, but she still laughed a very happy laugh and said she'd see him there.

To her surprise, her husband told her he'd gotten another job at a different house, and that he'd be out all day again. As grateful as she was that he wouldn't be around to grill her or worse, she was thankful for the work because getting by on her salary alone was a real challenge. And that was even more so when her husband put away no less than a 12-pack of beer each night, with many nights ending up closer to a case before he finally passed out drunk.

Being alone the next morning also gave her time to not only do her hair but put on makeup, something there was clearly no need to do. Then again, there was no need to wear a very cute, yellow and white sundress or a pair of white sandals with high heels.

Grant was already there waiting for her when she walked up, and when she looked at him he tilted his head and said, "Wow. Look at you, Ms. T."

"Oh. Um...thank you, Grant," she said as though it was all no big deal as her heart fluttered when she walked in front of him to unlock the door.

For nearly three hours they went over everything that Grant had been struggling with which was pretty much everything. They covered everything from the difference between atoms and molecules to covalent bonding to isotopes, with Denise drilling home the answers until he told her he was on overload.

"It's lunchtime anyway," she replied with a smile. "I hope this helped."

"It really did," he told her sincerely, as he stood just a foot or so away. "Thank you for doing this, Ms. Thomas."

Denise could still feel the way her heart was pounding at that moment as she looked up into his eyes.

"You're very welcome," she replied.

"I feel like I owe you something for all of the time you spent on me," he said just as sincerely.

"No. Don't be silly, Grant. It was my pleasure."

"I uh, I made a little extra money yesterday mowing some generous person's yard. I'd be happy to buy you lunch. If you're not sick of me by now."

Denise also remembered feeling nearly sick...with want...as she continued looking at him.

"Grant. This isn't a small town, but if anyone saw us... People talk. Even if it's completely innocent..."

"Oh. I understand," she remembered him saying before she could explain. "I just wanted to offer."

She knew it was her emotions talking, but they seemed to force her to say, "You could come back to my house. We could eat lunch there together without raising any eyebrows."

Denise knew right then how she felt. What she didn't know was how Grant felt. But he, of course, most definitely knew, and he had always considered her the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. For that matter, so did nearly every other boy in high school.

As he looked at her, he wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

He knew better than to even try, so he quietly said, "That sounds really nice."

Denise didn't mention her fear of being caught should her husband return home early for whatever reason. All she knew was something was driving her to be near this very handsome boy who looked nothing like a boy as her eyes moved rapidly back and forth between his.

"Great. I'll...I'll meet you there then in a few minutes then," she said, forcing herself to look away from those mesmerizing eyes.

"All right. Sounds good."

As she drove home, Denise's rational, thinking brain tried arguing with her emotional brain, but it was to no avail. Yes, it had been well over a year since she'd made love. Yes, he was her student. And yes, she was a married woman. But she knew that if Grant was willing, she would risk everything to be with him. She knew she should care enough to put a stop to thoughts of that nature, but she would gladly be 'one of those teachers' were she given the chance and deal with the consequences later.

But some 90 minutes later, she realized that wasn't going to happen.

During lunch, they talked about trivial things, then at some point, she mentioned the kind of problems she was having with her husband. It was just a subtle hint at first, but Grant's genuine care and concern allowed to open up and really share what life was like in this house.

"I can't even imagine treating you like that," he told her sympathetically. "I hope this isn't out of line, but you're the nicest, kindest, and most beautiful woman I've ever known, and well, were I lucky enough to have a wife like you, I'd make sure to let her know every single day how much I loved her."

When her eyes filled with tears, Denise suddenly stood up then had to look away again. Grant also got up the moment he noticed she was crying and moved toward her. After a moment of hesitation, he put his hands on her shoulders. When he did, Denise slowly turned around and looked up at him as tears rolled down her cheeks.

The way she looked at him was...powerful. It was a look that caused him to instinctively put his arms around her and pull her close. Denise did the same, and as tears continued to fall, Grant gently ran his hand up and down her back, mostly stroking her long, dark, silky hair as he did.

"I hope what I said wasn't out of line and what made you cry," he quietly told her as she rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"That wasn't out of line at all," she finally told him. "In fact, it was exactly what I needed to hear."

She moved away just enough to look up at him again, smiled then said, "Thank you, Grant."

When he began moving his head toward hers, a rush of chemicals flooded her body; a flood that caused her to throw all caution to the wind. And when his lips pressed against hers, she held him tightly and kissed him back, savoring every second of the delicious, forbidden passion swirling through her body and in her mind.

But when he suddenly pulled away, the flood ended as she looked at him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I mean...everything."

"Grant. What is it? Why did you stop?" she asked afraid to hear the answer.

"I...I've had the hugest crush on you all year," he began. "And now that I've gotten to know you a little, I...I can't tell you how much I love being with you."

He hesitated then said, "I...I even came over to mow your lawn just to be able to be near you."

"Then...be with me, Grant" she told him. "It's okay."

He hesitated for a second or two, then as though he were the adult, said, "I can't think of anything I would rather do."

"Then what's stopping you?" she asked, her eyes begging for his body as well as the truth.

"I...I just can't. I want to so bad it hurts, but...I can't."

"Is it me?" she asked, expecting to hear something about how old she was or how she wasn't attractive enough.

Instead, he gently lowered her arms then reached for her left hand.

She saw him look down at the diamond ring on it and that's when she knew.

"It isn't you," he quietly told her. "It's...him."

Now deeply ashamed as reality came rushing back to her with a force so hard it felt like it knocked the wind out of her, she couldn't even look at him.

"I'm so...sorry," she quietly told him. "You must think I'm some kind of slu..."

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that," he said, stopping her before she could get the word out.

"If you weren't married nothing on earth could stop me," he told her as he gently raised her chin and made her look up at him.

Denise tried to smile but couldn't as she said, "Maybe the more appropriate word for me is...fool."

"No. That's not right, either," he told her. "Neglected. Abused. Hurt. Sad."

Grant smiled at her then said, "I'd use those words instead."

"Once again you've made me love you even...sorry. You've made me respect you even more," Denise told him.

"They say love at first sight happens. I don't know if it does or it doesn't, but I do know that I could so easily fall in love with you...Denise."

Tears filled her eyes again before she said, "May I hug you one more time?"

Without saying a word, Grant took her in his arms again and held her. She wasn't sure how long that hug lasted, but it was at least three minutes if not more before he slowly let her go. Even though she knew he was right, she'd wanted that hug, and so much more, to go on forever, and yet she also knew it had to end. And so did this extremely brief and deeply embarrassing relationship.

"I'm not sure how I'm ever going to be able to look at you in class again," she told him as she reached for a hand towel near the sink to dry her eyes.

"It won't be any easier for me," Grant assured her. "But I do want you to know I'll never say anything to anyone about what happened today. Ever."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Denise asked, a half smile appearing on her lips.

"You really are beautiful...Ms. Thomas," he told her, never again using her given name.

"Thank you, Grant, and you are the one and only student for whom I've ever had feelings," she let him know. "Very inappropriate but very real feelings."

She still didn't know why he kissed her again before he left, but she treasured that moment above all else, because after that...she knew how he felt about her.

So as she unfolded the pages of the letter, she once again thought about his lips pressed against hers before walking away as though nothing had ever happened.

For some reason, try as she might, she couldn't see the words, and that's when she realized it was due to the tears filling her eyes. She pulled a tissue out of her purse, dabbed them, then took a deep breath before trying again.

"My dearest Denise," the letter began, causing her body to tremble.

"If you're reading this, it means that I have been killed during the war. I cannot apologize enough for doing this to you, but I realized that I had to finally let you know the way I felt about you, and even after nearly four long years, still feel about you."

Denise's hands trembled first. But within seconds her entire body began to shake as her eyes again filled with tears. This time, it wasn't just a welling up but a full-blown event that caused her to not only cry but sit there and sob uncontrollably as she realized that Grant had paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country.

Unable to read or even think, she picked up her purse and ran to her car. She would call the office as soon as she could speak, but there was no way she could teach that day.

An hour later, she was finally able to pick up the letter again and continue reading. It was read through a vale of tears, but she was able to read it through to the end before falling apart yet again then laying down on the sofa when she'd been sitting and crying herself to sleep.