Valorous(11)

“So brave.”

“I was so scared. He told me he’d kill me if I told anyone.”

When Flynn wraps me up in his strong arms, I can feel him trembling.

“Since everything happened, I haven’t felt safe, truly safe, until I found you.”

“Natalie…” He buries his face in my hair. “No one will ever hurt you again. I swear to God.”

I hold on to him and his assurances even as my heart breaks over the loss of my happy new life in New York.





On the way to the airport in Teterboro, New Jersey, later that day, Flynn tells me we have a stop to make before we leave the city. We’re in one of two SUVs full of the security personnel he hired to keep me safe. I’m surprised to hear we’re stopping anywhere when he’s so anxious to get me out of New York, where rabid reporters have staked out his place and mine.

Addie is riding with us and will be flying back to LA on the plane Flynn chartered to make the trip. She’s been quietly supportive all day, working the phones and taking care of details like arranging to have the bags Leah packed for me picked up at our apartment.

It’s a relief not to have to consider logistics at a time like this. “Thanks for everything you did today, Addie.” Fluff squirms in my arms, but I keep a tight grip on her so she can’t cause any trouble.

“I was happy to help.”

Flynn’s publicist, Liza, wanted to come by to talk to us, but he put her off for now. He spent an hour on the phone with her earlier, during which he did a lot of yelling. I hate how upset he is and that he’s still blaming himself.

We pull up to a curb on a street I don’t recognize. Flynn takes me by the hand and leads me from the car. The security guys are all over us as we enter what looks like a family-style restaurant that’s largely deserted before the dinner rush. We follow Addie through the restaurant’s dining area to a room in the back.

I’m about to ask Flynn what’s going on when I’m rushed by third-graders. The kids all talk at once as they hug me. Leah is there, as are several of the other teachers from our school. I also see Sue from the office and the children’s parents, including my good friend Aileen. Her son, Logan, is one of my favorite students.

Aileen hugs me the minute she can get close enough. We’re both in tears as we cling to each other. “This is such bullshit,” she whispers. Her body is thin and bony from the battle she’s waging with breast cancer, but her voice is fierce.

“I can’t believe you’re all here,” I somehow manage to say. I’m so completely overwhelmed that I can barely breathe.

“It was Flynn’s idea. His assistant, Addie, and Leah put this together so you could see the kids before you leave.”

I glance at Flynn, so filled with love and gratitude I don’t know how I’ll ever express it to him properly.

He smiles at me, but I can see the disquiet that remains within him because this gathering is necessary in the first place. Then my kids want my full attention, and I give it to them, not knowing how long it will be before I see them again. They have a lot of questions, for which there are no easy answers.

“Why can’t you be our teacher anymore?” Clarissa asks.

Tears fill my eyes, but I’m determined to leave them with happy memories of me, not tearful ones. “It’s really complicated, honey, but it’s not because I don’t want to be your teacher. I want that more than anything, but sometimes you can’t have what you want.”

“Like at Christmas,” Micha says, “when Santa brings you some of the toys on your list but not all of them.”

“That’s exactly right. But I want you all to do me a favor and work really hard for your new teacher and show her how much we’ve already learned this year. I know you’ll be super well behaved because you always are.”

“I’m sad that I won’t see you every day,” Logan says.

My heart breaks over the thought of not seeing him either. The poor kid already has more than enough to contend with worrying about his mom. I hug him tightly, knowing I’m likely to see him again because I intend to remain in touch with his mother.

Flynn has provided a spaghetti dinner for the kids and their parents, and as we all sit down to eat, it feels like a big family gathering. If only I wasn’t trying not to cry the whole time, I might be able to believe that this is just another night and tomorrow I’ll be right back in the classroom where I belong. Instead, I’ll be holed up in a Malibu beach house waiting for the media to lose interest in me.