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Chapter twenty-six

Niles

A ugust didn’t return after lunch. With my mood already low and questions arising from his impromptu meeting with Dr. McCaine, third and fourth period passed in a blur. At the end of the day, after the last student departed, I retrieved my phone, expecting to find a text explaining what had happened.

Nothing.

I typed an inquiry but received no immediate reply. It was unlike August, but I could hardly be annoyed, considering I’d avoided his texts for the better part of Sunday. As I packed to leave, Constance, Cody, and three other students came through the door, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“What’s this? Party in the music room? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Hey, Mr. E.” Cody grinned and waved.

Constance approached the desk, and the others hung back.

Have you seen my dad? she signed.

Frowning, I glanced at my silent phone. “No. He was called to a meeting at lunchtime. I haven’t seen him since.”

He won’t answer my texts, and he’s not at home. I need permission to go to a café in Lakefield. They’re leaving now.

“Lakefield? Who’s taking you all to Lakefield?”

“Tania.” Cody stepped forward. “In the school van. They’re having trivia this afternoon, and we wanted to enter as a team. One of the public schools is going to be there too. Tania said she’d take us for pizza after. We won’t be back until close to nineish.”

Tania was one of the after-hours activity coordinators, so the news wasn’t surprising. She often planned spontaneous off-campus trips with small groups. The students living in the dorms would only need to sign out, but Constance’s circumstances differed since she lived with her father.

“I’ll text Tania and tell her it’s okay.”

You’ll tell Dad too? I don’t want to get in trouble.

“I’ll tell him.”

Constance beamed. Thank you, Niles.

I slanted a brow. “Excuse me? We’re at school, missy.”

Constance shrugged but signed, Thank you, Mr. Edwidge.

She skipped off and joined the other students. They left, everyone except Constance eagerly babbling about the trivia game. The smile on her face was one August needed to see. His daughter was happy and sociable. She’d made friends despite her disability. No one singled her out. No one scoffed or made fun of her for choosing not to speak. At Timber Creek, she thrived as the teenager August wanted her to be.

I sent another message to her absent father, but it too went unanswered. It was one thing to ignore me but another to ignore Constance. August’s instincts weren’t on par with other fathers, but he was improving. Instead of heading home, I tossed my briefcase into the car and followed the path to August’s cottage.

After knocking a few times and receiving no reply, I tried the door. It was open, so I let myself in, calling, “Hello? It’s me… Auggie, are you here?”

Absolute silence greeted me. I toed off my shoes and wandered around to be sure he hadn’t fallen asleep or suffered an accident and needed help. Those were the only excuses I could devise for why he wasn’t answering his phone.

August wasn’t in the kitchen. A chaotic spread of sheet music on the piano rack—the symphony he’d secreted away since the day I’d accidentally found it—remained as evidence that he’d been there recently. He was ordinarily meticulous about keeping it hidden.

Unable to quell the urge to snoop, I spent a minute leafing through the dozens and dozens of pages filled with carefully scrawled music. A conductor’s score, each instrument’s part meticulously penned with several notations denoting how it should be played. The complex layers that constituted a full orchestral ensemble fascinated me, especially knowing it had been written by someone with whom I was closely acquainted. The copy in my hands was newer than the one I’d seen months ago. Cleaner. A revision, I assumed.

In fact, on closer inspection, the symphony appeared complete. No. August would never have left it lying around, even if he wasn’t expecting me. He gave the impression this composition was something extremely private—at least, I’d surmised as much with how protective he’d been.

I put the pages back where I found them, resisting the urge to sit on the bench and play through some lines. Before leaving it, I checked the top of the first page, but the symphony remained untitled.

In the bedroom, I discovered a neatly made bed, folded laundry that had yet to be put away, and no sign of August. Suit jackets and pressed shirts filled the hangers in the closet. The numerous silk ties he couldn’t knot to save his life hung on a rack. Underneath, a few pairs of expensive leather shoes lined the carpet. Nothing appeared to be missing. I wasn’t sure why, but a niggling prophecy whispered in my ear, saying August was leaving, August was gone.

Stumped, I wandered back into the main part of the cottage, scanning for clues that might indicate his whereabouts. His rental was in the lot, so he couldn’t have gone far. My attention caught on a stapled packet of papers on the dining room table. The Timber Creek letterhead and formal configuration had me stepping forward, crossing lines, and invading August’s privacy once again.

It appeared to be a contract.

Stomach sinking, I picked it up and read.

It took three paragraphs to reveal its purpose, but once I pieced it together, my knees threatened to buckle. Timber Creek’s board of directors had offered August a full-time teaching position— my teaching position—with a starting salary nearly triple my own.

In December, I’d told Koa the school was looking to replace me—I’d been saying it for years—but he’d claimed I was paranoid. An earthquake shook my core and radiated along my limbs. Bile climbed my throat. I was going to be sick. It wasn’t shock upsetting my system. How could it be when I’d foreseen this moment for years? Devastation, however, made breathing difficult.

I set the contract down and backed away like it had bitten me. The lack of a signature on the final page was a small consolation. For all I knew, it was a copy meant for August’s records, and the real contract was in a new file in Dr. McCaine’s office, signed in black permanent ink.

I spun twice, trying to get my bearings. My scrambled brain struggled to process. When my phone vibrated with an incoming call, I startled.

August’s name filled the screen. I cleared my throat—twice—to ensure my voice didn’t croak upon answering. “Hey. Where are you?”

“At the lake. Sorry I missed your texts. I was on the phone when you messaged.” The long pause conveyed its own troubling conversation. “Come sit with me.” Was that anguish? I couldn’t tell.

“Um… sure. Did you get ahold of Constance?”

“Yes. She said you gave her permission to go to some café with a group of kids, then out for dinner?”

“Yes. With Tania. She’s an activity coordinator. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s good for her. Thank you.” Another extensive pause. “Where are you? Have you gone home already?”

“No.” I glanced around the cottage, at August’s secret symphony on the piano rack, then to the unsigned contract on the dining room table. I could lie, pretend I’d seen nothing, pretend I was still in the classroom, marking papers, but to what purpose?

“I’m at your place. I was looking for you. The door was open.”

“Oh.” Silence. “Come find me at the lake. We need to talk.”

As I hung up, a chill shivered along my spine. Talk . No word had ever sounded so daunting, so ominous.

“It’s to do with you,” I said to the unsigned contract. Only two scenarios presented themselves, neither favorable. August either took the teaching position, leaving me displaced, or he returned to Chicago and his coveted first chair.

I found August seated on a boulder by the water’s edge, staring across the glistening lake, lost in thought. The high color in his cheeks and the rosy tint to his nose suggested he’d been there a long time. Spring might be lingering around the corner, but a winter bite still hung in the air.

A branch snapped underfoot as I approached, alerting him to my arrival. His welcoming smile seemed free from strain, but I didn’t trust it. August prided himself in a well-honed stage face.

“Aren’t you cold?” I balanced along the rocky border until I landed on the boulder he occupied.

He shuffled over so I could join him. “My backside is frozen, I can’t feel my fingers, and I’m in desperate need of a tissue, but the view is too beautiful to leave. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful. A person could get used to this.”

I settled beside him, close enough that we touched along one side. From my coat pocket, I extracted a travel pack of Kleenex. August thanked me graciously.

Nothing stirred in the lakeside vista. No animals, no birds, and not a single jumping fish. The tranquility was serene, fantastical in a way I’d never considered. Winter gave the impression of freezing time. Crystalizing moments. Holding them in stasis. But the future, dormant beneath its icy layers, could only be restrained for so long. The sun would melt the snow, and life would continue as it always did.

August and I had formed our relationship throughout the winter. It existed in that stopped time. But spring was near, and the fantasy would melt and be gone. Nothing good in life ever lasted. Koa’s niggling voice in my head whispered, I’ve been telling you that for years .

“You didn’t return this afternoon.” My voice conveyed a strength I didn’t feel.

“No… Too much on my mind.”

“What did Dr. McCaine want?”

August didn’t speak for several minutes, squinting into the distance as though searching for a future still trapped in winter’s grasp. Was it as impossible for him to see as it was for me? Did he feel the dissolution of our relationship too?

“Do you know there’s a loophole in your contract?”

It was my turn for silence. “Yes.”

August turned to face me. “Why did you allow for that?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes and scanned the meandering lake to where it bent out of sight, wishing for a distraction. “They didn’t give me a choice. They bent the rules hiring me. It’s in their handbook that Timber Creek Academy strictly hires teachers who hold a doctorate degree of education. I hold a master’s, but they couldn’t find anyone better to fill the position at the time, and they were desperate. When I applied, figuring I wouldn’t get it based on a lack of qualifications, they offered me the job on the condition that should they find someone more suitable in the future, I would be replaced.”

“And you agreed?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I repeated. “Unless I wanted to turn them down. That would have been stupid. It was my dream job… or rather, my modified dream job.” I glanced at August. “And now they’ve found someone better.”

Sorrow pulled at the corners of August’s eyes—dark and beautiful like an endless forest. I’d gotten lost in those mesmerizing orbs plenty over the past few months.

“You found the contract on the table.” It wasn’t a question. “I didn’t put it away.”

“Yes. I found it, and I read it.”

“I haven’t accepted the job, Niles.”

“You will. You should. They’re offering you an astronomical wage. Surely you can see that. It would be stupid to turn it down.”

“Except, I’m not a teacher.”

“You’ll learn. Any fool can teach.”

“Niles.” The sharp tone made me bite my tongue. August hated self-recrimination.

I stared at the pale blue sky and milky sun. “You don’t need my permission. Take it. If not for yourself, then do it for Constance. She can’t voice it, but she needs you, August. Desperately.”

The deep lines bracketing his eyes remained as he searched my face. “You wouldn’t begrudge me?”

“For a while, maybe, but it’s my own fault. I saw it coming from a mile away but chose to ignore it. I literally sat by and waited for this to happen, and I did nothing to prevent it.”

“How long have you taught here?”

I huffed and shifted my attention to the sky again, letting the weak sun warm my face. “Sixteen years, and every year, there’s at least one parent complaint about my inferior education. Every year, someone reminds me I’m not good enough to teach their child.”

“Bullshit.”

“It is what it is.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why not get your doctorate? You’re incredibly intelligent. If it’s the crux of the problem, why not correct it? You could have worked on it while teaching.”

“I know, and I thought about it, but I already had student loans coming out the ass because my well-to-do surgeon father refused to pay for an inferior education for his son. He assisted all my siblings in their more respectable careers but not me. I did it on my own. I calculated it would take roughly twenty years to pay off that debt. I didn’t need to owe the government more. Timber Creek gave me the job at a reasonable salary. I figured I’d pay off the balance first and consider finishing my schooling after. The years passed, and by the time I was free and clear of that blasted student loan—which I managed in fourteen years, not twenty—I was too old to be bothered.”

“That’s an excuse.”

“Maybe, but it’s mine, and now I’ll pay the price for my stupidity.”

“You should have fought that clause in the contract. Sixteen years is evidence enough you are the best music teacher out there.”

But I wasn’t, and beating around the bush drove me insane. I was a rip-the-Band-Aid-off-quick kind of person. “Are you taking it?”

“Absolutely not.”

I let the definitive words sink in. August had spoken without pause or hesitation. He’d made the decision long before I’d arrived. But it was the wrong decision, and only then did it dawn on me that I would sacrifice my job to keep him.

“Please take it. You belong here.”

“I’m not a teacher, and they would swiftly learn that they’d spent a lot of money on a poor replacement.”

“And what of Constance?”

“What of Constance? She gives me enough hell at home. Can you imagine if I was her full-time music teacher too?”

Maybe part of me knew the truth when I’d sat down, but hearing confirmation that August didn’t want the job wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped. It solidified his imminent departure. Nothing, not his daughter nor a superior job opportunity, could keep him from the bright lights of the stage.

Not even me.

He was always going to return to Chicago.

“I’m cold, Niles. Would you like to come back to the house with me? I thought, since Constance will be gone until nine, maybe I could cook dinner.”

I was more than cold. I was numb, but it had nothing to do with the plummeting temperatures.

Agreeing, I followed August along the path, away from the lake and back into the forest to his cottage. He made chicken and homemade gnocchi with oven-roasted vegetables. “My grandmother’s recipe,” he said spearing a fanciful potato dumpling from the skillet and holding it out, a hand cupped underneath the fork to protect against sauce drips as he offered it for me to try.

Warm and soft, the gnocchi burst with flavor. I hummed approval, and August beamed, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction. As our relationship progressed, August grew comfortable sharing the various facets of who he was. He took pride in cooking, presenting a cultural experience with every meal. But he only shone when I praised his effort. I’d become the happy recipient of many delicious meals.

Dinner was lovely, and wine flowed as we ate. August lit a few candles, setting the atmosphere. It was hard not to get sucked into the romance of it all, to remember how this story ended. How it was always going to end.

After the meal, I helped him tidy the kitchen. We danced around one another effortlessly, shirtsleeves rolled, August in fine spirits, making jokes and laughing as though oblivious to my heartache.

At one point, after I’d dried and put away the last dish, August pulled me into his arms, securing his hands on my hips. I was the rare witness to his disheveled state. Only at home. Never in public.

“Oh, Niles,” he said on a released breath.

“What?”

He had the look of a man who had something important to say but didn’t know how to say it.

He searched my face, eyes glinting, pouring so many unspoken emotions I feared what he might say.

“écho tyflotheí.” The whispered words hung between us.

I offered a wary smile. “There you go again. Cursing me in a different language.”

“I’m not cursing you. Quite the opposite.”

“How would I know? You never translate. Do I have to wait for another day ?”

August shook his head, and his surety broke, nerves leaking to the surface. “I told you I’ve never been serious with anyone. I’ve experienced all kinds of superficial relationships throughout my adult life, but nothing has ever stuck. Everything was short-lived. The impulse to seek more was never there. I travel a lot. I’ve never settled anywhere for long. A year or two, maybe, then off on a new adventure. I always thought love was for other people, and that was fine. I didn’t go searching for it. I wasn’t sure I wanted it.”

Heart knocking, I held my breath and listened as August mused. He seemed to be circling a point like a vulture might his road-killed dinner. Only, I wasn’t sure if he was saying goodbye or the complete opposite.

He touched my cheek, brushed a stray chunk of hair behind my ear, and repeated the Greek phrase that had become familiar in the past few months. I figured it was an endearment of some kind, and he was too embarrassed to share.

“What does it mean?” He would answer me now. I knew he would.

Leaning his forehead against mine, August closed his eyes and exhaled. “I’ve been blindsided, Niles. écho tyflotheí. In no universe did I expect to come to Timber Creek and fall in love.”

I couldn’t breathe. “Are you… What are you…”

He opened his eyes and peered deep into my soul. “I am madly in love with you.”

“Oh.” August was the last thing I’d expected, too, but everything I wanted, and the walls I’d held precariously around my heart crumbled. The words I’d clung to out of fear and necessity spilled unchecked from my mouth. “I’ve loved you for months, but… you’re leaving.”

He held my face, strong and confident, with a tinge of despair dampening the edges. “I am.”

My stomach sank, and I tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“I have to, Niles. I can’t take your job. It’s a cruelty I can’t abide. Besides, there are… things that require my attention in Chicago.”

My insides quivered, and I forcibly pushed from his hold. “So, what? You tell me you love me but you’re walking out the door? I don’t understand. Are you coming back?”

A pained expression filled his eyes. “In time.”

“In time? What does that mean? A month? Three? A year?”

“It means…” He swiped a hand over his mouth. “It means I can’t give you a date because I don’t have one, and I can’t explain better, so please don’t ask me to.”

“What about your daughter?”

“Constance will be happy here. She’s made friends. I think she likes it more than she expected.”

“But she needs you, August.”

“She doesn’t. She never has. Once she’s settled in a dorm room, she’ll barely think of me.”

He was wrong. His misunderstanding of teenagers remained no matter how many times I explained it. He couldn’t see beyond the indignant attitude and anger to the broken girl underneath. But I selfishly didn’t argue. What he did with Constance was his choice. It was my heart he wrung through a blender, my emotions threatening to snap. Did he care?

All I heard was, I love you, but I’m leaving .

I paced, sick from distress, but before I could untangle the knot of confusion, August pulled me into his arms and kissed the protests away. The intensity of his affection confused my muddled brain. I wanted to scream, but I drew him closer, desperate not to lose this connection, fearing he’d walk out the door in the next instance and I’d never see him again.

“You can’t go,” I said into the kiss.

“I have to.”

“You don’t. Stay here… with me.”

“Niles.” Anguish bled through his tone.

Not for the first time, I experienced a hopeless urge to cling to someone who couldn’t give me what I needed. Love had always caused pain. Where was the blissful romance portrayed in love stories? Was I destined to drown every time I fell for someone? Risking my heart had done nothing but expose it to constant injury.

Would I ever learn?

But god help me, I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t shut August out or turn off my heart. I wanted all he wasn’t offering and more.

“I’ll come back. I swear it.”

But his promises felt paper thin.

He spread a hand over my lower back, drawing me against him. The other worked loose the tie holding my hair. Long strands fell over my shoulders, and he sighed against my mouth. “I want to make love to you. I need you to trust me, Niles.”

“You’ve told me nothing.”

Trust was a finicky thing in my world. I’d been let down more times than I could count, and August’s cryptic plans for a hazy future didn’t evoke confidence.

“What is so important in Chicago?”

“Please. I’ll tell you, but not now.”

Fools in love didn’t care about logistics, and wasn’t I the fool, hanging on when I should be letting go. Trusting when I shouldn’t.

I followed August to the bedroom, where he lay me down and worshiped every inch of my body like I was a priceless artifact. I had so many questions, but they floated out of reach. Hunger, desperation, and pleasure constantly pushed them away.

August claimed to love me, and I wanted his love. I wanted it to consume me, even for one night.

“I love you,” I whispered like a prayer. I wished they were enough to still his wandering heart.

“And I you, Niles. More than you know.”

Naked, he pinned me to the bed, arms above my head, hovering over me as he destroyed my sense of reason with his mouth alone.

“What’s in Chicago?” I asked when he moved to my neck.

“Work.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

“You swear you’re coming back?”

August’s formidable body blanketed my own. I noted every place we touched, absorbed his warmth, and clung to his certainty. He nuzzled my collarbones and fanned his lips over my sternum, breathing, “In time.”

“How long?” If asked enough, maybe he’d tell me.

“I can’t say.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m being as honest as I can.”

“Take the job.”

He stopped kissing and found my gaze in the shadowed darkness of the bedroom. “What?”

“Take the job. My job. Stay. Please. I’ll find something else. I’ll go back to school if I have to.”

He softly laughed, shaking his head before bumping our noses together. “What a horrible idea.”

“School? Why?”

“Not school. My teaching.”

“Oh. You’d manage.”

“Do you know what I’ve discovered in the few months I’ve been here?” He kissed my eyelids and cheekbones.

I closed my eyes, reveling in the connection. “That you aren’t a fan of teenagers.”

He chuckled. “That too, but no.” He combed his fingers through my hair, brushing it back off my forehead and staring wide-eyed at the contours of my face. “I’ve discovered how incredibly brilliant you are at your job. You have something I don’t, Niles. For all the study and performance I have in my background, I can’t teach music to save my life. I see everything that’s wrong but not how to make it right. I can criticize, but I can’t problem-solve solutions. I haven’t the patience to nurture a gifted student, and I lack the common sense to shut my mouth or find tactful ways to translate problems.”

“Then how is it you conduct orchestras?”

“Conductors are the most meticulous, arrogant, and nasty people on the planet. We don’t coddle musicians. We demand results. Our expectations are almost unachievable. We’re brash, rude, and unforgiving. We insult and complain until our visions are realized. You need thick skin to perform in an orchestra, and I know you think it’s an opportunity you missed in life, but you were never cut out for the stage, Niles.”

My spine prickled, and I wanted to shove him off and tell him he was wrong, but he held fast, knowing I wouldn’t take kindly to the observation.

“You have a different gift, and Dr. McCaine would soon realize the error of her ways if she hired me. She has the best music teacher already. I don’t want your job. I never have. You are exactly where you were meant to be, and so am I.”

“Which is far away from me.”

“Oh, Niles.”

I cupped August’s face, his five o’clock scruff rasping my delicate skin. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He took my hand and kissed the center of my palm. “I must, if only for a little while. Please trust me.”

“I’m trying.”

“Will you do something for me?”

Heart aching, a thick lump stuck in my throat, I nodded.

“Keep an eye on Constance. I’m not asking you to step in and parent her. That’s not your responsibility. I’ll be sure her medical and financial needs are taken care of, but… without her mother… She looks up to you.”

“She looks up to you too.”

“Not in the same way. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but…”

What could I say? Constance had become as significant in my life as August. We’d bonded in a way I’d never expected.

“I promise.”

With my reassurance, August brushed a thumb over my bottom lip. “Thank you. You are an exceptional human being, Niles. I never expected you.”

“I never expected you either.”

“When I’m gone, remember one thing if nothing else. I love you dearly.”

We made love for as long as time allowed, knowing Constance would be home in the evening.

After, as we lay in each other’s arms, I asked the one question I hadn’t yet voiced. “When are you leaving?”

August didn’t respond, but the answer came sooner than I expected.