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“The woman took care of me while she searched for my next of kin and finally found my mom and grandparents who came to get me. My mom refuses to tell me the name of the woman who saved me. I think I have a vague memory of her. A big smile and long blonde hair. She was always laughing. I loved the woman’s pearl necklace; as a baby, I would always play with it while she wore it, so she called me Pearl.” That part is true because my mom gave me the necklace when I turned eighteen. “When we left, the woman gave my mom the necklace, and my mom changed my middle name to Pearl as a tribute to her.”
“That’s sweet.” He eyes me. “Edinburg Castle, you say?”
“Yes,” I say. “At the crosswalk that led to the curving road that goes up to the castle.”
“I wish I knew more.” He nods. “I’ll ask around.”
My heart lifts with hope. “You’ve already done so much for me…”
He places a warm hand over mine. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The sincerity in his voice makes tears of gratitude prick at the back of my eyes. A new email notification appears on my computer screen, saving me. It’s the message I’ve been waiting for from my teacher, that the grade revisions have been posted. He promised if we got everything to him by three p.m., we’d have our revised grades by five.
“Grades are back, Mr. Gian.” Nerves flutter in my belly as I open the school portal. Will this grade be any better than the last?
Gian moves around the island to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. “What did you get!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I hit refresh on my computer, hoping the number on the screen would magically change. It doesn’t. “All that work and only a 76!”
He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Not bad for only one morning of work,” he says. “And now the average of the two grades is 70.”
“I passed!”
“Yes,” he says. “You did. Nice work.”
“Thanks to you!” I glance back, beaming a smile at him. “Let me see if he graded our essay yet.”
“Your essay,” he corrects. He squeezes my shoulder before going to the stove to check on his simmering pot of pasta sauce. “I only did a little editing. You’re a good writer.”
“And a dastardly speller,” I say.
“Speaking of tomorrow morning, at the same time and in the same place to study for your vocabulary test?” He dips a soup spoon in the sauce, bringing it to his lips for a taste.
“Yes, please.”
“It’ll be my pleasure. It’s quiet here in the mornings. Needs more salt. Always more salt, isn’t it?” He grinds his container of pink salt over the pot. I’ve never seen pink salt before.
I think of how much time Gian’s already spent helping me. “If you’re sure I’m not getting in your way. I am known to be a little too chatty at times.”
“I grew up in a big family.” He lays eyes on me to assure me. “I enjoy your company.”
“Thanks.” Shyly, I add, “Today would have been super lonely without you.”
“Mr. Bachman will be home soon,” Gian comments.
Blood rushes to my head. I snap my computer closed. Knowing Haze’ll be walking in that door any moment fills me with anxiety. A confusing flicker of heat licks at my core. I don’t know what to expect from our first “official” evening together as—fiancées. Is that the correct term for what we are? Or is it kidnapper and kidnappee?
Husband and soon-to-be wife?
Gian hangs a kitchen towel on the oven handle to dry. He looks at me. “Is there anything you need from me before I go pack?”
“Pack?” I almost shout. I lower my voice. “You mean, you’re leaving?”
His brow knits in confusion. “Did Mr. Bachman not tell you?”
“Does he tell me anything?” I ask.
He laughs. “I leave tomorrow afternoon, but I won’t go until I study with you and make you lunch—grilled cheese again?”