Teaching Ms. Riggs. Stephanie Beck

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      Another box. What the hell was she going to do with another wad of cardboard? She had no idea, and she refused to walk to the dumpster after dark even if she was back in her hometown. The only place with room was the tiny space between the refrigerator and wall, so she crammed it in with the others.

      Benfri Riggs turned and surveyed her apartment. It was small, sparse and ugly. The walls were the same color yellow she’d promised herself never to be surrounded by after her two years in dorms. The sofa sagged, and the TV needed a converter box. The super had promised to bring her a spare box, and in the meantime, her tiny MP3 player provided the only source of background noise.

      Classical music filled the silence. That’s all she needed, because she wasn’t really paying attention to it anyway. She ambled across her kitchen, three whole steps, and grabbed a box of cereal from above the refrigerator. The afternoon spent unpacking had been a blissful time of non-thought.

      Unfortunately, her stomach growled and exhaustion loomed, so it was time to sit down and eventually go to bed. She poured milk into her bowl after the cereal. The cheap brand didn’t taste the greatest, but it would suffice until she got her first paycheck.

      She tried not to wince at the first bite, reminding herself she wasn’t some spoiled wife anymore. How she’d ended up one, she still didn’t quite understand. She’d been raised in Flathead Falls, Missouri, with a box of the same store-brand corn flakes on the breakfast table every morning.

      Maybe if her aunt had splurged on the frosted ones once in a while, Ben wouldn’t have been so drawn to Don and his slick ways. The thought made her grin, but it was much too easy to blame her fastidious, spendthrift aunt for the turn Ben’s life had taken. She took another bite and did wince.

      She missed coffee from anywhere but her own cheap coffee pot. Giving up everything had been for the best, but she still wished for the things she couldn’t have anymore. She looked over her shoulder at the stack of bank papers she’d lugged from Chicago. Because of her husband’s past criminal activities, she hadn’t been granted the bankruptcy she needed after his death.

      Instead, she’d been saddled with an unbelievable loan with interest that made her stomach turn. She tossed her spoon aside and rested her forehead on the heel of her hand.

      This was why she couldn’t stop moving. When she did the weight of her heavy world settled between her shoulder blades and made the moments unbearable. Not only had she lost her husband and been overwhelmed with debt, she’d had to learn from strangers just who the man she’d loved really was. A criminal, identity thief, adulterer and, the worst offense in her mind, a drug dealer who preyed on children.

      She shook off her pity party, or at least told herself she had to before she drove herself crazy. Ben took her bowl and spoon to the sink and slowly washed them, killing time to keep the ugly thoughts away, but they invaded full force.

      The police officer who had informed her all about Don had worn a smirk the entire time as he detailed Don’s dealings and personal liaisons. Instead of treating her like the victim she was, the detective had taken great pleasure in presenting her with pictures of Don with other women.

      That file was under the one from the bank. She should have burned it, but she couldn’t. It was a good reminder of what being stupid could bring. Love wasn’t the negative, it was the things she’d done for love that made her regret ever meeting Don.

      She’d given him everything and trusted him when he asked her to. It had never occurred to her to question him.

      Ben turned off the light in the kitchen so only the living room lamp remained. Classic rock now filled the room.

      There was absolutely no sense in thinking about the past. She scolded herself as she checked the multitude of locks on the door. The only thing the past had that she had to worry about was a single woman who may or may not have been the one to kill Don. But even she wasn’t going to take over Ben’s mind.

      Determined to make the best of the night, Ben grabbed her briefcase and looked through the papers. As she organized class lists and introduction letters, she reminded herself that she needed to look toward the future.

      One good thing had come from her time with Don–her teaching license. Back in her hometown she had found a way to start paying her crippling debt by doing what she’d been trained for: teaching chemistry. She smiled as she started making notes, the ugliness behind her as she focused. Nothing would hold her back this time.

       Chapter 2