Beware of Doug

by Elaine Fox

  “I assure you, there are many in the book. Austen could even be said to be making a point about the vagaries of love. Even about how we convince ourselves we have feelings for one person, when perhaps it’s only because we think we should.” She paused. For a moment, she thought of Brady Cole’s hands on her skin, and how a few years ago she might have felt she had to convince herself she was in love with him, simply to justify the startling physical passion she’d indulged in with him.

  That was one benefit to being in her thirties, she mused, looking at the students in front of her with something like pity. She didn’t have to kid herself about the difference between love and lust. Love was Gerald Lawson; lust was Brady Cole. Simple and defined, if a little confusing on the mechanics of the situation.

  For a second she amused herself with the idea of telling the students all about the situation, showing them how vividly Austen’s work reflects even modern situations.

  But of course she’d never do that. Her private life was sacrosanct; she never brought it up here, at the school. For that reason she even had a policy of not dating colleagues, despite having been asked out by more than one of her peers.

  Several students were flipping through the pages of the book, looking for answers to pop out at them.

  “Maybe it would be better if I asked you for examples from your own lives,” Lily said. “I bet that would make for a much livelier conversation.”

  For a moment the students looked stricken. But when she smiled a chorus of nervous laughter ensued.

  “Jennifer,” Lily said. “Give me one example of someone falling for the wrong man in Jane Austen’s Emma. I know you read the book. Your essay last month on the first half was very good.”

  Jennifer blushed and smiled, looked down at her book and offered, “Um, Harriet Smith?”

  “Excellent! And whom did she fall in love with who was wrong for her?”

  “Well, everyone,” she said, with a tentative smile.

  Lily laughed. “Exactly. Name one.”

  “Mr. Elton was the worst. And he was, like, so awful to her when he found out. He thought she wasn’t good enough for him.”

  “And Mr. Churchill,” Chuck, the only male in the class, offered. “She got a crush on him, too.”

  “No, that wasn’t Harriet,” Lily said. “Who mistakenly fell for Mr. Churchill?”

  Silence greeted this question until Jennifer tentatively raised her hand.

  “Um, Emma?” Jennifer said. “Or she thought she did.”

  “That’s right,” Lily said. “She thought she did. And why did she think that?”

  Silence. Jennifer paged through her notes, several of the other students continued to turn listlessly through the pages of the book. An age-old ruse that Lily knew well.

  “Kathy,” Lily said. The girl in the back row visibly started. “Why do you think Emma would try to convince herself she was in love with Mr. Churchill?”

  “Um…” Kathy stared intently at the book. Lily could tell from the front of the room, from the crack in the spine, that she was in the wrong place. “Haven’t you ever tried to convince yourself you loved someone, maybe because it would make things easier?” she prompted.

  Kathy blushed and glanced up, then back down at the book. “I—I guess Emma would do that because her, um, family expected it?”

  Lily nodded slightly and turned to the blackboard, writing a “1” and “societal expectations.” She turned back around. “In a way, yes. Many of us have probably been in the position of wanting to fall for the right person because they’re part of our social set, our families like them, our friends want us to, they fit in with some idea we have about how we want our life to be. Does Emma do this?”

  Jennifer raised her hand. Lily nodded at her.

  “Sure, because it would have been so perfect. Mr. Churchill was the son of her good friends, the Westons, and she knew they were hoping she and Mr. Churchill would get married. So she tried to convince herself she was falling for him.”

  “So why didn’t she?” Lily asked. “Marry him, that is.”

  “Because he was an asshole,” Chuck said. “I could tell the minute he showed up.”

  Despite herself, Lily laughed. “In what way?” Silence again. “He took advantage of her, right? He toyed with her affections, and was false with her. He acted like he wanted to court her and…?”

  “Like I said…” Chuck muttered, looking at his notebook. “An asshole.”

  “What was it he did? How could Emma tell he was not what he appeared to be?” The quiet lengthened.

  “How can anyone tell?” Marianne ventured, from the front row, looking as morose as if she’d recently been deceived herself. “I mean, even in real life? If you’re attracted to a guy, and he lies to you, how can you tell? How do you know who’s the right one?”

  “You feel it,” Kathy said strenuously, from the back row. “You feel it even when you don’t want to.”

  On the heels of this surprising answer—just as Lily was reluctantly associating Kathy’s “feeling it without wanting to” with that unbelievable kiss with her new neighbor—the door to the classroom opened and there he stood, like an apparition: Brady Cole.

  “Brady?” Lily took a step toward him.

  Brady, apparently not expecting the full classroom, backed up a step. “Oh, sorry. They told me this was your room—I didn’t know you had a”—he spread a hand in the direction of the students—“a class.”

  “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?” Her first thought was the house. A burglary. No, a fire.

  His eyes swept the students. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just Doug.” He edged toward her half a step, and said quietly, “But it’s not that big a deal. I can come back. It’s just—I have a flight this afternoon, and I wanted to let you know—”

  “Just Doug!” Little did he know he’d hit her panic button. She turned swiftly to the class. “Start work on the last study question for Emma. I’ll be right back.”

  She grabbed Brady by the arm and drew him out of the classroom, closing the door behind her. She spun on him. “What is it? What’s happened? Is he all right?”

  Her hand was still on his arm, gripping the leather coat as if the world were tipping, and she might topple off.

  He gazed for a second at her hand, thinking, perhaps, about the night…that night…? She dropped his arm.

  “He’s fine.” Brady let out a breath. “He’s at your vet, at your friend’s, Megan’s, and she said he’s going to be fine.”

  “What happened to him?” her voice was dangerously high.

  His face darkened, and he raised one eyebrow. “He ate the seat off my Harley. So he may be passing quite a bit of leather, and maybe a few rivets, over the next few days.”

  Lily put a hand over her mouth. “He ate your Harley?”

  He smiled then, slightly. “Just the seat.”

  “How—when—?” She ran her fingers through her hair, searching the ground for the right questions, her mind spinning. “How—how did you know where to take him?”

  “Nate, next door. Look,” he said, glancing over her shoulder toward the classroom. “I gotta go. Doug’s okay, he’s at the animal hospital, and I’ll be gone for a couple days. I just wanted to tell you before I left.”

  He started to turn, and she took his arm again. He stopped, looked back.

  She felt an unexpected shiver run up her spine at the directness of his hazel eyes. “Thank you. Thanks for taking him to the vet. And I’m sorry about the seat. I’ll—I’ll pay you back.”

  He grinned then, and the shiver stole right back down her spine. “I know,” he said. “You owe me two hundred eighty-four bucks. See you Thursday.”

  With that he turned and sauntered down the hall. Well, maybe sauntered wasn’t the right word, but for some reason she found it impossible to take her eyes off him until he turned the corner to the exit.

  She swallowed. Brady Cole had saved Doug. Doug had mauled his Harley and
he hadn’t killed him, he’d saved him. She tried to imagine the scene. How had Brady caught him? Had he picked him up? Had Doug let him pick him up? Had Doug been unconscious?

  She had to call Megan.

  She turned back to the classroom door, opened it, and was greeted by students scurrying back to their desks from, presumably, looking out the window in the door.

  Monica was one of the last to make it to her seat. “Oh my God, Ms. Tyler, is that your boyfriend?” It was the most engaged Monica had ever appeared in class.

  “What a hottie,” Kathy said, shaking her head.

  Even the studious Jennifer, in the front row, seemed to be looking at her with new respect.

  She wondered what they’d have to say if they saw Gerald, but she knew that with his tailored suits and clean-cut looks he’d be just another corporate drone to these young women. Nothing like the dashing adventure hero Brady projected.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Lily said, hating herself for not wanting to burst that bubble of theirs. What a traitor she was to Gerald, to her stalwart Mr. Knightley.

  “Too bad,” someone said low, and a few of the girls chuckled together.

  “Is he a pilot?” Chuck asked. “He said something about a flight. I was thinking about going to flight school—think he’d talk to me about it?”

  Lily shook her head, feeling flustered. “I don’t know, Chuck. I mean, yes, he is a pilot. I’ll ask if he’ll talk to you.”

  “What’s he fly?” Chuck continued. “DC-10s? 757s? I’m really into the big jets, but some of the small ones are cool, too.”

  “He—he’s a private jet pilot. I don’t know what he flies.” She pushed her hair back from her face again and wondered why she felt so thrown. No doubt the collision of her two worlds—home and work. That had to be it.

  Now where was she? What had they been talking about?

  The bell rang, jerking her out of her confusion, and the students began to rise, slamming books and squeezing papers into backpacks.

  “Okay.” Lily cleared her throat. “Okay, we’ll continue this next Tuesday. I want you all to finish that last study question on Emma. Then we’ll start reviewing for the final, all right?”

  Jennifer shot her a shy smile. “This was my favorite book so far this year, Ms. Tyler.”

  Lily smiled, back on track. “I’m so glad you liked it. Austen is my favorite author of all.”

  “So, do you think that guy is your Mr. Knightley?” Jennifer asked, then blushed. “He sure looks like a romantic hero.”

  Lily felt herself blush as well, and sat down behind her desk. “No, he’s not. He’s just a friend.”

  Not even that, really, just a neighbor. Heck, a tenant.

  “Just thought I’d ask.” Jennifer shrugged. “He was cute.”

  “I’ll tell him you thought so,” Lily said, stacking up her own books and papers.

  With a giggle, Jennifer headed out. Once the girl passed through the door, the last one to leave, Lily muttered to herself, “He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s certainly not my Knightley. In fact,” she added, feeling the revelation hit her, “he’s my Mr. Churchill.”

  And don’t you forget it, she told herself.

  Six

  Lily called Megan right away and was assured that Doug was fine. She had to stay for her last two classes, but immediately after the last one she raced over to Rose’s Animal Hospital.

  “He threw up most of it,” Megan said, leading Lily to the back, where Doug lay curled like a black-and-white soccer ball in a metal crate. “And I did an x-ray to make sure there weren’t any blockages, but it’s still a little early for that. You should add a teaspoon of Metamucil to his food for the next couple of days, just to make sure everything moves along smoothly.”

  “Thank you so much, Megan,” Lily said, beelining for Doug’s crate and putting her fingers through the metal gate. “What in the world were you thinking?” she asked him. “And of all things to chew up!”

  Doug lifted his head, and his whole body seemed to react to her presence. He surged to his feet and wriggled toward the mesh door, his stubby tail going a mile a minute and his body writhing with joy. His head was down and his ears back, but his mouth was grinning. He looked simultaneously embarrassed and elated, as he snorted his happiness at seeing her.

  It was obvious he knew he’d done something wrong, even if he knew it only because he had a stomachache.

  “Oh Lord, Doug, what am I going to do with you?” she asked, shaking her head.

  “I guess he doesn’t like your new neighbor, huh?” Megan said.

  Lily turned back to her with a wry grin. “He’s male, isn’t he?”

  “And how,” Megan said. She reached back and redid her long, dark ponytail, raking her hair back into the elastic with her fingers.

  Ever since she’d had a baby, Megan had let her hair grow long. Easier to keep it away from tiny grasping fingers, she’d said, and Lily remembered vividly how Penelope—poor, single Penelope, who had longed for a child of her own ever since Lily had known her—had fingered her own long hair when Megan had said that.

  Did Lily get that same look on her face when people talked about their husbands, she wondered. Not that she was necessarily dying for a husband, just a successful relationship. How long had it been since she’d had one? And could it even be called “successful” if it ended in a breakup?

  “Sutter had Brady over to the house for dinner the other night,” Megan continued, “and I couldn’t believe how good-looking he was.”

  Lily blushed and turned back to Doug. “Is he?” Then, realizing how disingenuous that sounded, she added, “I mean, sure, I guess he is. He’s just not my type.”

  He was just the type to get her blood boiling with his good-looking hands, and her morals flying out the window with his good-looking lips, and her head spinning with his good-looking, muscled, athletic body…

  Megan was quiet a long moment, so Lily turned back toward her, guiltily trying to come up with something that sounded more honest—Megan was just the type to see right through her protestations of disinterest—but Megan was simply writing on Doug’s chart.

  “So,” Lily ventured, “was he mad? Brady, that is? Did he seem mad about…” She tossed a hand in Doug’s direction. “About Doug ruining his Harley?”

  Megan chuckled. “Well, I’m sure he wasn’t happy, but honestly he seemed mostly worried that your dog was going to die. He kept saying, ‘He’s going to be all right, right? It didn’t kill him, did it?’ No matter how many times I told him Doug would be fine.”

  “Oh God.” Lily put a hand over her face. “How did he get Doug in here? He wasn’t unconscious, was he?”

  “Hah! Far from it.” Megan folded Doug’s file shut and walked to the counter near Doug’s crate. She picked up a piece of maroon fabric and held it out to Lily. “He brought him in this. Neither one of them seemed very happy about that.”

  Lily took the fabric and held it out in both hands. “A pillowcase?” Despite what she thought should be her indignation, she burst out laughing.

  “It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Megan said. “Honestly, for a second I thought he’d captured a leprechaun.”

  “Oh, I would have loved to see him getting Doug into this. I wonder how he did it.”

  “He said something about rolling one of the rearview mirrors into the bag. In fact…” She held up a finger and went back to the counter, pushing aside a stack of folders and a jar of cotton balls, then turning back with a cracked round mirror. She handed it to Lily.

  Lily took it and sighed. “And Doug chased it right into the bag. Guess that utility training was good for something after all; he wasn’t afraid of running into a tunnel.” She fingered the mirror, looking at the back of it where the connection had obviously snapped. “I’ll have to get him a new one of these, too. I can’t believe he wasn’t furious.”

  “He didn’t seem like it. I think he’s a pretty easygoing guy.”

  Lily t
hought back to that night that they’d kissed, to the raw passion that swept through them both. Brady was not easygoing then. He was alive with passion, wrestling as strenuously as she was with desire, raw and intense. Every muscle strained toward completion—she could still feel his tautness under her hands—to consummate that primal, irresistible union of man and woman.

  That is until he decided not to.

  Megan moved toward the crate that held Doug. “So how’s Gerald?”

  “He’s fine,” Lily said vaguely, automatically, stuck on the feel of Brady’s hard body beneath her fingers, Brady’s hot hands on her bare skin…Gerald… “Oh! Yes, Gerald. Gerald’s fine. We have another date this weekend.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot the last few weeks,” Megan said, opening up the crate and lifting Doug down. She placed him on the metal exam table in the middle of the room and palpated his abdomen. “Things must be moving along well.”

  “Yes,” Lily said, then added, “Yes!” trying to infuse her tone with more enthusiasm and failing. She scratched Doug’s neck while Megan examined him. Doug effusively licked her hand.

  Megan looked up.

  Lily sighed. “It’s just, he doesn’t seem very passionate. He might be waiting on me, trying to take things slowly, be gentlemanly, you know, but…it’s just not good. I need a little passion. All this waiting has me a little…crazy.”

  She remembered again the way she’d fallen into Brady’s arms, almost without a second thought. What was that if not crazy?

  It was Gerald’s fault, she thought suddenly. She’d been all revved up over Gerald, and it was Brady who’d followed through. If she hadn’t been thinking so much about Gerald that night in the tub, she never would have reacted the way she had to Brady.

  “Oh God, Megan,” she burst, “how did you finally get Sutter to, you know, make his move?”

  Megan laughed. “Well it didn’t take much, I’ll tell you.” She stopped examining Doug and looked abashed. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say, was it?”

  Lily shook her head miserably. “I’m dying to get on with things with Gerald, and it just seems to be moving too slowly. He gives me a peck on the cheek when he arrives, and one when he leaves, and that’s it! Am I being impatient, or is there something wrong?”