The Season of Falling

16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

Kasey

Kendra came down for the weekend like she said, but I only saw her on Sunday for dinner with Grandpa before she had to go back to Middlebury. I spent Saturday researching kidney failure, memory loss, and therapists in the area that could help me work through all the feelings I had surrounding my dad.

But I made sure to update both her and Grandpa on how things were going with Dean. I didn’t tell her about the hand kissing, flour fight, or movie night cuddling until we’d said goodbye and made it out to the front porch. I didn’t really want to discuss my love life in detail with Grandpa. But when I told her, Kendra was ecstatic.

“I knew this would happen.” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

I rolled my eyes and dropped down onto the porch swing. “No you didn’t. You saw it in a movie and took a stab in the dark. You’re just lucky that it has been working out this well.”

She scoffed and sat beside me. “Whatever, it was destiny. I simply hurried it along a bit. Besides, Sandra Bullock can’t be beat. Well, maybe she can be beat by Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks…” Her voice got quiet as she zoned out for a second, but then she shook her head as if to clear it. “They’re in some of the greatest rom-coms ever.”

“I know, I know. I’ve heard you talk about them all. And seen most of them with you, too. But do any of them tell you what to do if your kinda-fake but kinda-real-boyfriend gets his memories back, and one of those memories includes a conversation where he straight up told you that he doesn’t want to date you? Because while I’ve loved pretend dating Dean, I can’t help but worry about what’s going to happen when he remembers everything…” My voice faded and I bit my lip.

Kendra narrowed her eyes in thought. “You know, I can’t think of one off the top of my head, but I’ll do some movie research and get back to you!”

I swatted at her, and she hopped up from the swing, laughing. “I’m serious, though, Kendra. What do I do when he remembers?”

“Tell him the truth?” She shrugged.

“By that point, it won’t be that simple.” I sighed, my shoulders dropping. “Maybe I should just give it up now and come clean.”

“What? No! You can’t.” When I looked up at her in confusion, Kendra cringed a little and lowered her voice. “It’s just that it’s going so well. There’s no way he hasn’t thought about kissing you, and that means he’s basically in love with you already. If you tell him before he’s all the way in love, there’s no guarantee.”

“There’s no guarantee anyway,” I grumbled, but her words made sense. If he were actually in love with me before he learned the truth, it would probably be much easier for him to forgive me for lying to him. I sighed and scrubbed a hand down my face. Why did all of life have to be so complicated?

When Kendra pulled me into a hug before she left, I amended my statement. Not everything in life was complicated. This wasn’t complicated. Being here with my sister. Talking, laughing, comforting. That was exactly the way it should be, and I squeezed her tighter before she got into her car and pulled away.

But everything else? That was all still complicated.

At work Monday morning, Linda was all smiles as she announced our newest client, Burlington High School. And she turned her million watt smile on me when she announced that I was going to be the lead on the project. I sat in stunned silence for a minute before thanking her and accepting the congratulations from my coworkers.

I met with her later to discuss the project. The school district usually went through a state contracted firm for big projects, but they wanted to build a small greenhouse and garden area for a few of their classes to use and thought it would get done faster if they found a firm on their own. “I know that man of yours, Dean, is a teacher at the high school so I figured you’d have plenty of opportunity to get over there and survey the area, make some sketches, and get a headstart on this project.”

I eyed her warily. “Is that the reason you gave me this project and put me on lead?”

“Of course not, Kasey. Don’t be silly. You’re perfect for this project. You’ve shown dedication to a good job, and your past clients only ever have positive things to say at the end of your time together. It’s just an added bonus that you have such a close connection to the school.” She laughed as she shooed me out of her office, effectively ending the conversation.

I was excited for the project and wanted to get started immediately, so instead of texting or waiting, I called Dean. It was for work, after all.

“Hey, Kasey, what’s up?” Dean asked when he picked up the phone. “Aren’t you at work?”

“Yes, but I just got some news, and I wanted to tell you and also ask for your help,” I said as I found a small meeting room to step into.

“Let’s hear it then.”

I pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the table. “I got put on as lead for a new project.”

“That’s great.” Dean exclaimed. “But wait…I feel like I should remember this. Wasn’t there another project you were trying to be lead on before?”

I could hear the frustration in his voice and imagined him rubbing his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to remember. “Stubbs Dental, but don’t feel bad for not remembering. I didn’t get that project anyway. But this one is with the high school,” I said excitedly.

“The high school here?”

“Yes. They’re trying to build a small greenhouse and garden space, and Linda put me on the project. I’m actually really excited for it. I love designing outdoor spaces.”

“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you. You’ll do great on the project. And then I’ll get to see your handiwork every day.”

“Well, I won’t be the one building it, but thanks. And I actually had a question. Do you think you could show me around? Linda told me the general area they want to build in, but I want to look around and see what I’m working with.”

He agreed, and we planned to meet the next day after work when all the kids had left school.

I was excited to see Dean. I was always excited to see him, but something had shifted during our movie night. I was the kind of excited that had me nervously fidgeting and glancing at myself in the mirror every few minutes to check that I still looked okay. I looked the same as the last ten times I’d checked, but it didn’t stop me from checking again.

I was sitting in my car in the school parking lot waiting for Dean. He had gone in to teach a few classes that morning but was coming from home to meet me now. I hadn’t been to his classroom since it got moved, and I didn’t want to wander around the hallways on my own anyway. A few minutes later, Dean pulled into the spot next to me. I smiled and waved at him before gathering my things.

Before I could open the door, Dean was there, opening it for me and holding it steady while I climbed out. He smiled as he pushed the door closed. As we walked toward the school, he grabbed my hand, and it felt natural. Like it was something we’d been doing our whole lives and not just a month or so. My hand felt so right in his, like it was meant to be there. Like the curves of my fingers were made to fit exactly with the curves of his.

Dean cleared his throat, and I blinked, pushing all hand holding thoughts away. “Sorry, what?” I asked, not sure if he’d said something.

“I just asked where you’re wanting me to take you. You said your boss gave you a map of the area they’re thinking of, right?”

“Oh, yes.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the file Linda and I had compiled with all the project information. I shuffled through the papers until I found the map. I held it out to Dean, and he nodded after looking it over for a few seconds.

“That’s around back. Here, let’s go this way.” He steered me away from the front door, and we walked around the side of the building.

Dean showed me the area from the map, and I surveyed it with a critical eye. The space was a little small for what I had envisioned, but it would work well enough for what the school wanted to use it for. I plopped down on the grass and grabbed the notebook and pencil from my bag. I barely noticed as Dean dropped down beside me, resting his knee against mine.

I quickly made some basic sketches and jotted down a few notes. Now that I knew where the location was, I could come back when I needed to. But I wanted to be prepared to jump straight in when I got to work in the morning. I sighed with satisfaction as I finished and stuffed my notebook back into my bag.

“I’ve always loved how you hum while you sketch,” Dean said softly.

I turned to look at him and could feel the heat in my neck. “I always forget that I do that. And that you always notice.”

He laughed. “What can I say? You’re a pretty noticeable person.”

He got up from the ground and reached a hand out to help haul me to my feet. Dean was really nailing it with this whole dating thing. He was a natural. But me? Not so much. I needed to step up my game. How was he supposed to fall in love with me if I didn’t make any moves or do anything to encourage him?

As we started walking, I reached for his hand and was rewarded with his dimpled smile. “Hey,” I squeezed his hand, “thanks for taking the time to show me this spot today.”

He squeezed my hand back. “Of course. But we’re not done yet. I want to show you my classroom. Wait. Have you been there since it moved?” He rubbed at his head, and I hurried to reassure him.

“No, it got moved earlier in the summer, but I haven’t made it over to see yet.”

He nodded, looking relieved, and led me through a back door of the school and down a hallway. Dean and I hadn’t known each other in high school, but being in a school setting brought back memories of college and all the fun things we did together.

“Remember that time we went swing dancing?” I asked, looking up at Dean with a teasing smile on my face.

He laughed and glanced down at me before looking back up and scanning the doorways for his classroom. “Um, yes. That was the most embarrassing day of my life. How could I forget it?”

I snickered. “Most embarrassing, huh? That’s pretty high praise.” He rolled his eyes, and I continued to reminisce. “We all dressed up in our flannel and jeans and thought we’d be hot stuff.”

“Well we did look hot, but that’s probably where it ended.”

“You’re so right.” I snorted. “We had no idea what we were getting into.”

There was a Western swing dance club on campus, and one week they had an open dance night. So we had decided to go and drag Hazel, Ro, and Max along with us. As soon as we walked through the door, we realized what a mistake we had made. Everyone was decked out in their pearl snap shirts, belt buckles, boots, and cowboy hats as far as they eye could see. We looked woefully out of place but plastered big smiles on our faces and marched in.

And then the dancing began, and it really started going downhill. Max and Ro seemed to catch on pretty quick and Hazel mostly sat on the sidelines, people watching. Dean and I tried to get down even the most basic of moves, but we kept laughing and tripping each other up. After ten minutes of attempting to help us, the student instructor had rolled her eyes and left to find someone more coordinated to help.

We spun, or more like stumbled, around the dance floor singing off-tune and keeping each other from running into other couples. At that point, I had been crushing on Dean for months, but he didn’t know that. I had looked at him with stars in my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms, of his hands on my waist, and of being close to him.

Dean pulled me toward a classroom and out of my memories. I could tell right away by the bulletin outside that it was his. The board was covered in drawings and paintings from his students. Dean always encouraged his students to go home and put their artwork on the fridge. They were high schoolers and mostly rolled their eyes and laughed, but he knew that a lot of them actually did it. They were proud of their artwork.

When he first started teaching here, Dean had told me that he’d found out that some of his students had really bad home life situations. There wasn’t much he could do, but he wanted all his kids to have a place to hang their artwork. So students could turn their work into him and he had a rotating bulletin board filled with their artwork. Even the kids who rolled their eyes eventually wanted a turn to have their picture on the board.

I smiled fondly at all the art from last year. “I love that you do this,” I said, gently touching the curling edge of a painting of a sunflower. “You’re a good man, Dean Ellis.”

He smiled at me before he lifted our still clasped hands to his mouth and gently kissed the back of my hand. I smiled shyly back at him as he opened the door and led me into his classroom.

To the left of where we stood was his desk and supply closet and then there were tables arranged all around the room into groupings so that students could face each other easily to collaborate. Drawings and paintings covered the walls, and even some of the ceiling tiles had been removed, painted, and then replaced. In the far corner was the pottery wheel and a place for drying what the students made from clay.

Dean watched me as I took it all in, and I smiled broadly at him. “It looks like the best art classroom I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen that many but”—I bumped my shoulder against his—“I’m sure it’s the best.”

He chuckled and bumped me back before walking with me toward the pottery corner. I’d seen lots of Dean’s ceramic creations throughout the years, and he was good. He took pride in what he did and loved to make things that were beautiful yet useful. I even had a few mugs and vases that he’d given me for various birthday and Christmas gifts. Along the top of the cupboards sat Dean’s work in various states of completion. Some of the cups still needed to be fired or glazed or both, but each one was lovely.

“I still can’t believe that you get to do this all day,” I said, gesturing to his work.

“I do have to teach too, you know. It’s not like I just sit around at the pottery wheel all day every day.”

I pushed lightly at his arm and laughed. “I know that. But you know what I mean. You get to be artistic and help the kids do the same. It’s so cool.”

“You get to be artistic, too.”

“I mean, yeah. I sketch and stuff, but it’s not like this. Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever used a pottery wheel,” I said, walking closer to it.

Dean’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated horror. “We’ve been friends for how long, and I’ve never gotten you to try out the pottery wheel? How’s that even possible?” I shrugged, and he rubbed his hands together as if in preparation for something.

“What?”

“There’s no time like the present,” he exclaimed and gestured to the swivel stool behind the pottery wheel.

“Um…what? Right now?”

He shrugged and moved toward the supply closet, taking out a bag of clay. “Why not? Do you have anything else going on tonight?”

“Well no, but I have no idea how to do pottery. And I don’t really want to get my outfit dirty.” I glanced down at the light green blouse and gray slacks I was wearing. I definitely didn’t want to get clay everywhere.

Dean glanced from my head to my toes and back again, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right. That outfit is much too good to ruin with clay.”

My stomach flipped at his pointed look, but I sighed in relief. It was short lived, though, as Dean opened a cupboard and pulled out what looked like a scientist’s lab coat. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to try pottery. I just didn’t know if I wanted to try it in front of Dean who was basically a master at it.

“Here, put this on. It’ll protect your clothes.”

He held the lab coat out to me, and I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

“It’s either this or risk the clay.” He shrugged, but his smile said he wouldn’t make me do it if I really didn’t want to. I rolled my eyes but smiled back and took the scientist coat from him and slipped my arms through. “Make sure you button it up, or else it won’t do any good,” he said as he pulled the clay out and used a thin metal wire to cut a section off the block.

I did as I was told but kept my eyes on Dean and his movements as he got everything ready. He was so sure of himself and knew exactly what he was doing. He was in his element, and any trace of the distress he felt at not having his memories back yet was smoothed away by the familiarity he was surrounded by in that moment.

After he put on a very normal looking apron, he set to work kneading the clay. He called it wedging and said it helped get all the air out and make everything nice and smooth. I took a seat on the stool by the wheel and watched as he worked. And did I happen to notice the way his arms moved and flexed as he kneaded the clay? Well, maybe I did. But who can blame a girl?

He rolled and pounded the clay until it was in a nice ball shape and then handed it to me. “Okay, the foot pedal kind of acts like the gas pedal in your car. The more you press on it, the faster the wheel will go. I’m going to dampen the wheel head,” he gestured to the flat top of the pottery wheel, “and then you put the clay in the middle and press the edges down onto the head. Make sure it’s nice and secure, otherwise it’ll fly off once you start spinning the wheel. Got it?”

I nodded, and we set to work. Dean explained that he was going to have me work on creating a cylinder shape because that was the base shape of lots of other things like cups, bowls, and vases of all kinds. I tried to pay attention as he talked me through all the steps, but he went into a lot of detail.

After a moment, he chuckled. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying, but I mostly have no idea what you’re talking about. Apparently my art classes in college weren’t all that helpful.”

He laughed. “Alright, we’ll take it slowly.” He grabbed a chair and positioned it beside me so he could get a better view of what I was doing. “First, scoot up so your legs are on either side of the wheel. You want to be close enough that you can brace your elbow against your body and be sturdy. Then get your hands wet and rub them on the clay. You’re creating what’s called slip to make the clay moveable.”

I rolled my stool to where he pointed and followed Dean’s instructions, letting the slippery clay coat my hands as I rubbed more water onto it. At his direction, I tentatively moved my foot to the pedal and put the slightest amount of pressure on it.

“You have to press harder than that,” Dean laughed. The wheel turned so slow you could barely even say it was moving. “Don’t be scared of it. At these early stages, a mistake is pretty easy to fix. Besides, right now you’re just learning the basics.”

I swallowed and pressed my foot a bit harder on the pedal. The wheel picked up speed and so did my heart as Dean moved even closer to me, leaning forward so he could get a better look at what I was doing. He demonstrated in the air the kind of pushing and pulling movements I was supposed to do with the clay and then told me to try. I tentatively set my hands around the clay mound and tried to do what he’d shown me. I think I squeezed the clay, something he specifically told me not to do, and my project was looking like anything but a cylinder.

Dean scooted his chair behind me, and I tried to keep my breathing normal as he positioned himself with his legs on either side of mine. He was so close, I could feel his warmth against my back, and if I leaned back every so slightly, I’d be able to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

And then his arms were around me and his hands were on mine, showing me how to push and pull and shape the clay. I could barely hear his words over the pounding of my heart. He was so close and his arms were so sure and steady around me. I think I sighed out loud, because the next moment, I felt the rumble of Dean’s laugh in his chest. I sat up straight, not realizing I had relaxed back into him, and pulled my focus back to the pottery wheel.

He moved his hands off of mine and rested them on his legs which just happened to be right next to my legs. His hands were basically on my thighs, and I fought hard to pay attention to the spinning wheel in front of me. He let me work for a few minutes, and once I had a passable cylinder, I took my foot off the pedal and squealed in delight.

“Look, I did it!” My smile was huge, and I twisted to the side to give him a better look. But Dean wasn’t looking at my slightly lumpy cylinder; he was looking directly at me with a soft, tender smile. I felt my face heat, and my smile turned shy. “It’s not as good as yours would be, but it’s not bad.”

Dean didn’t say anything, and I started to turn back around to continue working, but I stopped moving when he put his hand gently on my leg. I looked back up at him, and his dimpled smile appeared. “It’s definitely not bad,” he said and leaned down to softly kiss my cheek.

At my answering smile, he placed his hands on my hips and slowly turned me around on the stool until I was facing him fully. My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze, all thoughts of the pottery lesson gone from my mind. He tugged me closer to him, and my eyes fluttered closed as he brought his lips to my cheek again. I held still, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over us. But this time he didn’t stop with one kiss, moving his lips across my cheek until he reached the corner of my mouth.

He pulled back slightly and looked at me as if giving me time to move away if I wanted. But what I wanted was to kiss Dean Ellis right there in his classroom. I let out a small breath of exasperation and tugged on the front of his apron with my clay covered hands. He chuckled low in his throat and leaned back down toward me.

I just felt the brush of his lips against mine when the door to his classroom flew open and slammed against the wall. We immediately scooted apart as though we’d been shocked. And while there was certainly electricity flowing, it wasn’t the kind from a circuit. Heat flooded my face and neck as I looked over at the man who’d barged into the room. He was wearing blue coveralls and looked old enough to be my grandpa.

“Oh, so sorry you two. I was making my rounds and just came in to turn the lights out.” The man, a janitor I assumed, didn’t look apologetic at all. In fact his face held so much mischief, I wondered if he’d seen us through the tiny window on the door and waited for the most inopportune moment to barge in.

Dean quickly got to his feet and crossed the room toward the man. “Gerald, it’s good to see you.” He gestured back toward me. “This is my girlfriend, Kasey. Kasey, this is Gerald. He’s been the janitor here at Burlington High for, oh, who knows how many years.”

I stood and made my way over to the men, conscious of the clay handprints plainly visible on my sides and leg. “Nice to meet you, Gerald. I’d shake your hand, but it’s kind of covered in clay at the moment.”

Gerald laughed, and the sound eased some of the awkwardness of the situation. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“You can go wash your hands in the sink over there,” Dean said, gesturing to one of the sinks along the wall. “I think our pottery lesson was probably over for the day anyway.”

I scrubbed my hands as Dean and Gerald talked like old friends, but my head was far away from the conversation happening behind me. It was replaying that moment with Dean over and over and cursing Gerald for walking in when he did. I had been so close to kissing the man who I wanted to kiss more than anything. I relived every moment. The press of his hands on my hips, the way his breath fanned across my skin, the way his kisses on my cheek had left tingles in their wake. And the softest brush of his lips against mine.

I groaned quietly and softly banged my head against the cupboard above the sink. One day very soon, I was going to be kissed by Dean, and it was going to be the best day of my life. I sighed and watched as the dirty water ran down the drain. Next time, I just needed to make sure there were no distractions.