Chapter 71 Chapter Seventy One
An hour later, I stood in the guest room I’d stayed in so many times, staring blankly at my half-packed duffel bag.
My hands were still shaking. My face felt raw from crying. Every time I thought I’d gotten control of myself, another wave would hit and I’d have to bite down hard on my fist to keep from sobbing out loud.
I grabbed my phone charger from the nightstand and shoved it into the bag with more force than necessary while Noah watched me from the doorway with a frustrated expression.
This was it. This was how it ended.
With me being thrown out like trash because Jace Dawson couldn’t tell the truth to save his life, or mine.
I zipped the bag closed with trembling fingers, then reached for my coat hanging on the back of the chair.
“Lena?”
I spun around.
Martin stood in the doorway, his head tilted to one side in confusion. His favourite train-themed backpack was still slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, Martin.” I wiped at my face quickly, trying to compose myself. “What’s up, bud?”
“Where are you going?” He stepped into the room, his eyes tracking from my face to the duffel bag and back again. “Did you forget something at your house?”
“No, I…” I swallowed hard. “I’m going home.”
“Oh.” Martin nodded though fully “That’s okay. I wanted to ask you… Can you help me look over my Charlotte’s Web report one more time? I added the conclusion paragraph like you said, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough.”
My chest felt like someone had reached in and squeezed my heart. I hated to disappoint him.
“I can’t, Martin. I’m sorry.”
“Why not? Is it because you have other kids to tutor?” He was still trying to understand, his mind working through the possibilities. “Because I can wait until tomorrow if you’re busy today.”
“It’s not that.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I won’t be coming back, Martin. Not tomorrow. Not… not ever.”
His face went blank with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t tutor you anymore. Your mom…” My voice cracked. “Your mom doesn’t want me working here anymore.”
“Why not?” His voice rose slightly. “Did you do something bad?”
“No! I mean—” I stopped. How could I explain this to a child? “It’s complicated, buddy. Sometimes grown-ups make decisions that don’t make sense, but—”
“That’s not fair!” Martin’s backpack slid off his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud. “You’re the best tutor I’ve ever had! You’re the only one who actually explains things instead of just telling me I’m stupid!”
“Martin, I know you’re upset, but…”
“I don’t want another tutor!” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I want you!”
“I’m sorry—”
“MOM!” He spun on his heel and ran out of the room so fast I barely had time to react. “MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Martin, wait—” I grabbed my bag and hurried after him, Noah following close behind me, saying nothing.
I found him in the kitchen, tugging on Mrs. Dawson’s arm with both hands while she tried to gently pull away.
“Martin, sweetheart, please calm down—”
“NO!” His voice had gone high-pitched and shrill. “You have to let Lena stay! You have to!”
“Martin, we discussed this…”
“I don’t care! I don’t want a new tutor! I want Lena!” He was bouncing on his toes now, his whole body vibrating. “She’s my friend and you can’t just make her leave!”
“Martin—” Mrs. Dawson’s voice became firm, trying to regain some control. “That’s enough. I know you’re upset, but Lena can’t—”
“I SAID NO!” Martin threw himself on the floor on top of my duffel bag, spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish. “I’m not moving! You can’t make her leave if I’m sitting on her stuff!”
“Martin Dawson, get up right now—”
“NO!” Tears were streaming down his face now. He pressed himself harder against the bag. “I won’t get up! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”
Martin’s voice cracked on a sob. “First Dad, now her. Everyone always leaves and it’s not fair!”
Mrs. Dawson looked at me helplessly. “Lena, please. Can you…”
I set down my coat and crouched beside Martin, keeping my voice soft and steady despite the way my own throat was closing up.
“Hey, buddy. Look at me.”
Martin turned his head, his face red and tear-streaked.
“I know you’re upset. I know this feels really, really unfair right now.”
“It IS unfair!” Another sob. “You didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Maybe not. But your mom is trying to protect you and Jace, and that’s her job. That’s what moms do.”
“But I don’t need protecting from you!” His voice went desperate. “You’re nice! You help me with my homework and you don’t get mad when I don’t understand things and you do the special handshake with me and Rosie likes you too--”
“I know.” I blinked back my own tears. “And I’m going to miss all of that so much. But Martin, you need to listen to your mom. Even when it’s hard, even when you don’t agree with her.”
“But—”
“No buts. She’s your mom, and she loves you, and she’s trying to do what she thinks is best.” I reached out slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted.
When he didn't, I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Can you do something for me?”
He nodded, still crying.
“Can you get up and let me have my bag? Please?”
“If I move, you’ll leave.”
“I’m going to leave either way, bud. But I’d really like to leave knowing you’re being a good kid and listening to your mom. Can you do that for me?”
For a long moment, Martin didn’t move.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself up off my bag and wrapped his arms around my neck in a fierce hug.
“I’m going to miss you,” he whispered.
“I’m going to miss you too.” I hugged him back, probably too tightly. “So, so much.”
When he finally pulled away, he walked over to his mother and took her hand, though he refused to look at her.
I picked up my bag with shaking hands.
“Aunt Claire.”
We all turned to see Noah standing in the doorway to the sitting room. His expression was calm, but there was steel in his eyes.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
Mrs. Dawson sighed, “Noah, we’ve already discussed—”
“Please.” He walked into the hallway, his hands in his pockets. “Just hear me out.”
Mrs. Dawson sighed. “I really don’t think…”
“I know I haven’t been here long,” Noah said, cutting her off gently. “And I know you probably think I don’t know Lena well enough to make judgments about her character.”
He continued, “But I do know her well enough to say, with complete certainty, that none of the things Jace accused her of fit who she is.” Noah’s voice was steady and reasonable. “At all.”
Mrs. Dawson’s expression softened slightly. “Noah, I appreciate your loyalty to your friend, but—”
“And deep down, you know this too.” Noah took a step closer. “Because let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time Jace has lied about someone to get his way, would it?”
Mrs. Dawson went very still as the air grew heavy with tension.
“What are you implying?” She asked, her voice quiet.
“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating a fact.” Noah’s tone remained calm. “Jace has a history of… let’s call it bending the truth when it suits him. You know this. I know this. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you know that firing Lena based solely on his word, without even asking for her side of the story, isn't fair."
“I asked for her side…”
“Did you?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “Or did you come in here with your mind already made up?”
Mrs. Dawson’s jaw tightened.
Noah looked at me, then back at his aunt. “All we’re asking for is one more chance. Let Lena explain what actually happened, and let her tell you her side without judgment, then make your decision.”
“I’ve already made my decision, Noah.” She shook her head, looking undecided.
“Then unmake it.” Noah’s voice went softer. “Please, Aunt Claire. You pride yourself on being fair and giving people the benefit of the doubt. Don't you think Lena deserves at least that much?”
Mrs. Dawson looked at Martin, who was watching her with red, hopeful eyes. Then at me, standing there clutching my duffel bag with as much dignity as I could muster. Then at Noah, who stood with quiet certainty that he was right.
Her expression wavered.
“Please, Mrs. Dawson,” I said quietly. “Just let me explain, and then if you still want me to leave, I’ll go. No argument, I promise.”
She closed her eyes briefly, and I saw her shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath.
When she opened them again, her expression was unreadable.
“Alright,” she said finally. “You have five minutes. And then I’m making my final decision.”
She gestured toward the sitting room. “Let’s talk. Alone.”