She Was the Quiet One. Michele Campbell

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СКАЧАТЬ to being married to an English teacher, you know.”

      He ducked his head sheepishly, and she read his thoughts. Heath loved his work, but he was ashamed of the size of his paycheck. He’d never intended to spend his life as an English teacher. There had been a more fabulous, lucrative goal once, and he’d come achingly close to achieving it. Heath was supposed to be a famous novelist by now. On the bestseller list, winning literary prizes, opening fat royalty checks at a house on Martha’s Vineyard. But things had gone terribly wrong, and they’d fled back to Odell in disgrace. (A private disgrace, with a confidentiality agreement to ensure it stayed that way.) Back to a safe place, where they’d first met. Now, a fancy dinner out was a rare treat. Sarah wasn’t disappointed with their lot in life. They had each other, the two babies she’d always dreamed of, the dog, jobs that were rewarding if not glamorous. But Heath was disappointed, and he didn’t hide it.

      “There are many wonderful benefits to being married to Heath Donovan,” she said, lifting his hand and kissing it.

      His smile reached his eyes, and she was grateful for it. In the past few weeks, since they’d gotten the promotion to dorm head, Heath had found his way again after years in the wilderness. An ambitious man of a literary bent and few practical skills could do worse than rising through the ranks at a prestigious boarding school like Odell. Heath had a plan. Dorm head today, but tomorrow, head of the English department. Then dean of faculty, and eventually, headmaster. It would take time, but at least he was dreaming again. Heath wasn’t Heath when he didn’t dream. Sarah was starting to believe that the demons were banished, but she wouldn’t say it out loud, for fear of jinxing it.

      They sipped champagne, and chatted about their week. There were a couple of new girls in Moreland, twins, who’d been orphaned. Heath and Sarah had taken them on as advisees, and would keep a close watch. They both remembered their early days as students at Odell. How tough the place could be, how hard it was to get your feet under you. Sarah hadn’t been thrilled about the dorm head job. She took it for Heath’s sake. But if this job gave her the chance to help girls like the girl she’d been once—shy, insecure, daunted by the school and everyone in it—then something good could come of it.

      Heath opened his menu and studied it, an adorable wrinkle forming between his brows. Sarah paused to appreciate his face—the elegant bone structure, the intense blue-green eyes. Even his ears were perfect—small and neat and dignified.

      He looked up and caught her staring. “What?”

      “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

      “Me, too, always, love,” he said. “Hey, what do you say we split the seafood tower for the first course?”

      She looked at the price and raised an eyebrow.

      “Oh, come on, we just got raises,” he said. “YOLO, am I right?”

      She laughed. “You sound like a Moreland girl.”

      “Uh-oh, it’s starting to rub off. Seriously, it’s your birthday, so I’m making an executive decision. We split the seafood tower. You get the Dover sole because I know you want it. I get the filet mignon. Then we order the chocolate lava cake with a candle and two spoons.”

      “Mmm, you always know what I like,” she said.

      “That’s why you married me. So, what do you say?”

      “You’ve got a deal.”

      They placed their orders, and Sarah pushed the thought of money from her mind. It wasn’t something she’d worried about much, before the setbacks of the past few years. Sarah came from a tight-lipped, old-money, old-Odellian family. She grew up in a stately house in a wealthy town in Massachusetts, where life was comfortable, but cold and restrained. Nobody showed off, nobody cried or danced or displayed much emotion of any kind. Her mother wore sensible shoes and tweed skirts, and belonged to the Junior League. Her father commuted into Boston, to a law firm that his own father had worked at before him, and that he would work at till he retired, or died in the harness, whichever came first. They went to dinner at the country club and to church on Sundays, and talked about trimming the hydrangeas and how the neighbors’ house needed painting. Money was never discussed—which was possible only because they had plenty of it, of course.

      Heath arrived at Odell like a whirlwind in junior year, on a tennis scholarship. Most kids who came late in the game never made it to the golden circle, but Heath was different. Kids were bored with each other by then, and Heath—so good-looking, so athletic, so charming—was a sensation. Sarah got assigned to be his peer tutor in math, or she never would’ve gotten near him. They had no classes together, and Sarah didn’t run with the popular crowd. Not that she wanted to; they were a rotten bunch. The same beautiful mean girls Heath sat with at lunch had tormented Sarah since freshman year. Yet Heath took a shine to Sarah, despite the disdain of his friends. Maybe he took a shine to her because his friends didn’t like her, because she was different from them—low-key and nonjudgmental. Heath found refuge in talking to Sarah. He was confident on the surface, but that was an act. His parents were going through a brutal divorce. His father had left his mother for another woman, and Heath’s mother—who’d doted on him and raised him to believe in his own greatness—tried to kill herself. There were lawyers involved, involuntary commitment to a mental institution, money problems. Nobody at school knew except Sarah. She kept Heath’s secrets, and loved that he trusted her. Once he kissed her, that was it, she was done. Though they didn’t get engaged till the end of college. Her parents were none too happy. They thought Heath was beneath her.

      Their first few years as newlyweds were bliss. They lived in the city. She worked in a consulting firm, he freelanced for magazines and wrote his novel on the side. Sarah thought Heath was a literary genius, even if his novel hit a bit too close to home for comfort. It was the story of a relationship between a wealthy young woman and a penniless young man that began at an East Coast boarding school. The boarding school details were lifted straight from their Odell years. The couple was even named Henry and Sophia—H and S, Heath and Sarah. But the resemblance ended there, and the latter half of the book—in which Henry and Sophia move to France and get caught up in a decadent, expat social scene that ends in murder—was searingly brilliant. Sarah wasn’t the only one who thought so. Heath got a book deal, a major one, and had a famous director interested in the film rights. They were on the way to realizing their dreams—well, his dreams. Heath’s big break was well deserved. He was a rare talent, a genius. They’d both known it since high school. The world had now caught on, and was giving him the recognition he deserved.

      They were so happy.

      Then the accusation of plagiarism surfaced. An early reviewer caught it. Whole passages lifted directly from Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night, not the revised edition, but the first, convoluted one, that wasn’t widely read. Heath denied it, and Sarah believed him with all her heart. It was only when the publisher pulled the book, prior to publication, that she went out and bought a copy of Tender Is the Night and compared for herself. Heath must’ve thought that nobody would check, because when you put the pages side by side, the plagiarism was obvious. She was almost as angry about his carelessness as his lies. How could he have been so cavalier about something so important to their future? He was used to being admired and adored; that was why. Heath was confident that his transgressions would be overlooked, or forgiven. And she tried to forgive. But it was hard.

      Heath was asked to pay back the advance, which was a problem since they’d already spent it. That hadn’t been Sarah’s doing. She was frugal by nature, but Heath wanted things. A lot of things. New clothes, a car, a better apartment, restaurants, parties. Who was she to say no, when he’d felt so deprived, growing up? Her parents stepped in and lent them the money to pay back the publisher—and СКАЧАТЬ