“Good,” Melissa said, relaxing some of the tension in her body and expression. “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Why?”
Melissa sighed and stretched out on the window seat. “I don’t know, really. But I’m afraid he’s going to pull back a little today. When things are hard for him like going to church was, sometimes he needs some time to recover.”
Helen thought about that for a few minutes.
Then she had to marvel at how well Melissa knew her brother.
Andrew returned to the room carrying up chicken and potato salad. They talked about casual topics like movies and local politics.
And Andrew barely looked at Helen at all.
Chapter Seven
“What about this one?” Helen asked, holding up a bound nursing periodical so Judy could see it. “I assume we can dump it since the college no longer has a nursing program.”
“Absolutely,” Judy agreed, meticulously sorting through a stack of old academic journals. “Dump it.”
The library staff had recently purged the paper periodical holdings that had been on the shelves for decades, leaving only the most popular and necessary ones. Now the purged periodicals were piled up in any available space, and Judy and Helen were trying to go through them and decide which were worth electronically archiving and which should just be thrown out.
Helen turned back to one of the piles of annually bound journals that were now stacked through the storage room and the back copy room. She tried to focus, but her mind kept wandering.
She’d always been a bit of a daydreamer, but lately focusing on work had become increasingly hard.
She knew the reason.
Andrew kept coming to mind. She kept recalling the details of their encounters and imagining what they’d say when they met next.
The last two weeks had gone pretty well between them. She’d seen Andrew several times, since she went over often to visit Melissa. Helen was glad about having Melissa as a new friend, and she was also glad of the opportunity to spend a little time with Andrew.
After lunch that Sunday, he’d let down his guard again. Not completely. He still seemed to act very careful around her, but at least he wasn’t pulling back. Their various encounters had been pleasant and engaging, and since the manuscript situation was still on hold, that conflict hadn’t interfered with their interaction.
Nothing serious or intimate had occurred between them, but they chatted a lot and they were definitely on terms Helen would consider friendly.
At the moment, she couldn’t stop dwelling on Sunday evening, two nights ago. On her way down from Melissa’s suite, she found Andrew hauling an Asian rug that had been stored in the basement. He said he didn’t want it damaged by the dampness, so he was going to put it in the room he was using for his office.
Helen helped him lay the rug, since Trish and Jenson had the day off. The dog—whose name they were still arguing about—tried to join in the fun. He kept planting himself on the rug, keeping them from getting it in the right position. They fell into a kind of game of shooing the dog away and then trying to scoot the rug in position before the dog could climb back on again.
They’d both ended up on the floor laughing.
Helen’s heart softened at the memory of Andrew’s face.
It was the first time she’d seen him laugh so uninhibitedly, and it was like the stress and burdens of responsibility had melted away for a moment.
She was trying to be sensible about the unlikelihood of his having real romantic intentions with her, but every day it was harder to do.
“Helen? Did you hear me?”
Helen blinked and forced her mind back to the present. “Sorry. I must have been lost in thought.”
“And nice thoughts, by the look of it.” Judy’s gentle words were obviously a hint. Helen’s boss was both courteous and classy, and she’d never push like Lorraine did.
Helen was too bashful and uncertain to talk about Andrew, though. If nothing was going to happen, she didn’t want to be a silly girl who gushed about her unattainable dream guy. “Yeah. Sorry about that. What did you say?”
“Any word from Thomas on the manuscript?”
“It’s still in legal limbo with his lawyer, I guess. He was supposed to be able to accept offers last week, but it was pushed back to this week.”
Judy pursed her perfectly lipsticked mouth. “What do you think of the chances of the library’s getting it?”
Helen put down a bound copy of art journals from 1968. Her heart dropped a little, as it did whenever she thought of the manuscript purchase. There was no good outcome here. Not for her, anyway. Not unless Andrew backed out.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “If all things were equal, I’m sure Thomas would sell to the library. I think he’s on our side as regards the Bale collection.”
“And he’s fond of you, I think.”
Helen ignored that. She hadn’t had time or focus to think much about Thomas as an eligible man since Andrew had entered her life—although she knew she should, since Thomas was much more in her league than Andrew would ever be. “But Andrew has a lot of money, and if he offers enough…” She gave a helpless shrug.
It was painful to think that Andrew would do that—after the friendship they’d formed—but he was evidently committed to obtaining the manuscript, and there was no reason to think he wouldn’t just outbid her.
“That’s too bad. It looks like the Dean is willing to up the library’s offer, so we’ll keep praying for the best.”
“Yeah,” Helen agreed.
“There you are.” Lorraine’s familiar voice came from the doorway behind her. “I’ve been searching all the dark corners for you.”
Helen and Judy greeted Lorraine and asked what was going on.
“You’ll never guess who’s on campus,” Lorraine said, something excited and intrigued on her striking face.
Helen’s mind landed unerringly on one name, on one face.
Lorraine must have read her thoughts. “Yep. Andrew Cane.”
“He’s in the library?” Helen’s hand flew up to her messy hair, and she wished she’d worn her contacts today instead of her glasses. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was here to see her.
“No. He’s in the administrative building.”
“What do you suppose he’s doing here?” Judy asked, her voice conveying polite curiosity.
Helen, who’d felt a thud of disappointment at the knowledge that Andrew wasn’t paying her a visit, started to feel a nervous twisting in her belly. “Do you think he’s meeting with someone?”
Lorraine shrugged. “I don’t know. But he was wearing a suit.”
***
Two hours later, Helen was called into the Dean’s office.
She’d never been summoned to an appointment with the Dean before. She’d met him, of course, and they’d had numerous casual conversations. But she wasn’t high enough in the school hierarchy to meet with him on a regular basis and, with the exception of her job interview, she’d never been to his office.
So she was nervous and bewildered as she tidied up and put on the linen jacket that matched her soft, flowing brown skirt before she headed over to the administration building, which was at the center of campus.
She had to assume the meeting was connected to Andrew’s presence earlier, but she had no idea what to expect.
Dean Williams was a kind, scholarly man, without the slick, political edge she’d noticed in a lot of academic administrators. Helen had always liked him, and her smile was genuine, if a little shaky, as she sat down in a chair in his office.
“I understand you’re the contact person regarding the purchase of the Bale manuscript,” he began, looking at her over his reading glasses.
“Yes,” she said, swallowing hard. “I started discussions with Ezra Harrison about it six or seven months ago, and I’ve continued a good relationship with his grandson Thomas, who now owns the manuscript.”
“I talked with Judy about
it a couple of months ago, as we were deciding on budgetary issues. You understand there are limits to what we can spend on such an item.”
“Of course,” Helen said, growing increasingly nervous. Dean Williams’s expression looked almost reluctant, which she couldn’t believe boded well. “I know we’re not rolling in funds. If we can offer as much as the college can afford, I’ll be grateful. You know there’s now competition for obtaining it?”
“Yes.” The Dean didn’t mention Andrew, even though she was sure the men must have spoken earlier today. It was the only explanation for the Dean’s sudden interest. “Exactly how important is the manuscript?”
Helen couldn’t stifle a quick inhalation. “It’s very important. Absolutely essential. We’d have a huge gap in our Bale collection if we don’t get it. We have the manuscripts to the other two novels. We need the final one to complete the collection.” A flutter of panic had developed in her chest, and she had to work hard not to let it show on her face or in her voice.
Dean Williams sighed. He looked tired and even more reluctant. “I thought you’d say that. Given the nature of the work we’ve put into it so far, it seems we’re committed to a certain extent to seek the purchase of this manuscript.”
Helen almost collapsed in relief.
“But I can’t offer any more than we’d originally budgeted.”
After her premature hope, Helen felt like she’d been struck. The Dean wasn’t going to up the offer, which was the only way of convincing Thomas to sell to the library. Her throat constricting, she began, “But—“
“I have a memo here from Judy, requesting an increase in the budgeted amount, but I’m declining the request.” He looked torn and almost sheepish, as if he felt bad about disappointing her but had been pushed into a corner.
And Helen understood. She understood everything.
This was Andrew’s doing. He’d used his influence and the pull of his name to cripple the library’s buying power. Just a couple of hours ago, Judy had said the Dean was likely to approve an increased offer.
But now he wouldn’t.
It was Andrew. Who could apparently still get whatever he wanted.
Helen felt frozen, like she was in danger of cracking into pieces. She managed to get through the rest of the conversation and return to the library without falling apart or embarrassing herself, but she felt betrayed by Andrew and horribly hurt.
She should have known it might come to this, but she couldn’t believe Andrew would be so underhanded about it.
She’d thought they were friends.
Feeling like she might crumple at any moment, she couldn’t risk going to her office where she might run into any number of colleagues or students, so she headed down to the basement to Lorraine.
“Hey there,” Lorraine said, just putting down her phone. She was obviously excited about something. “Guess what? Our new English faculty position has been approved. No more overloads! And we have the perfect candidate.”
Helen tried to shake off her broken feelings to be supportive. “That’s great. Who’s the candidate?”
“She’s been teaching at a big state school and was on her way to tenure. She’s got an amazing vita. But she needs to move back to Cane because her mother is—“ Lorraine broke off. “What’s wrong?”
Helen swallowed hard. She’d been trying to pay attention and not act weepy or pathetic. “Nothing. Tell me about the candidate.”
“Later. You look like you’re about to cry.”
“No, I’m not,” Helen insisted. But Lorraine’s sympathy was getting to her, and her face twisted suddenly. Her shoulders shook a few times.
“What happened with the Dean?” Lorraine asked gently, walking over to close her office door. “Did Andrew yank the rug out from under you with the manuscript?”
Lorraine’s insightful words reminded Helen of Sunday night. Andrew laughing so warmly as they’d tried to shoo the dog off the Asian rug.
Helen tightened her face as she tried to control her emotions. “Yes. I thought we were friends. Or almost friends. But he went behind my back to the Dean, and now the library will never get the manuscript.”
Her heart ached in her chest as she spoke the words out loud, and she realized with excruciating clarity that her feelings were already far past the point of safety when it came to Andrew Cane. “I trusted him.”
***
Andrew was finishing up a conference call with one of his managers in D.C. and a software writer in Seattle.
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to make himself think clearly. He really needed to resolve the issue of the manuscript and his feelings for Helen so he could concentrate on work again.
He managed to muddle through the call and leaned back exhausted as he hung up.
On campus this morning, he’d been dying to drop by the library to see Helen. He hadn’t. For one thing, he’d been trying to be careful and restrained in his interactions with her. It would be hard enough to leave Cane as it was—if he got much closer to Helen, he’d never be able to pull out.
The other reason he hadn’t stopped by to see her was that his conversation with the Dean made him feel a little guilty. He knew it was for the best, but he wasn’t sure Helen would understand. So he’d left campus, with only a lingering look at the concrete library building he knew held Helen’s office.
Andrew knew he’d been stupid for the last couple of weeks. He’d decided against pursuing Helen romantically, so it would be wiser if he just avoided her.
But he couldn’t seem to do it.
Whenever he heard her voice in the house on her visits to Melissa, he was drawn out against his intentions. Even if he managed to hole up in his office for most of the time, he always gave in and came out as she was leaving—just so he could see her and say goodbye.
He had little enough time with her as it was. He couldn’t resist claiming every moment he was given to drink in her laughter, her sweetness, her cleverness, her sunny beauty.
Each day, he told himself he’d be smarter, stronger. He was just making it harder for himself, after all.
But each day he caved because he wanted to see her so much.
“Andrew?”
He jerked violently at the soft voice and was startled to see Melissa peeking in through the side door to the office. “Come in,” he said, gesturing at her in welcome. “The coast is clear. Why didn’t you call me to come up?”
She gave him a grave little smile. “I knew you had that conference call and didn’t want to disturb you.” She sat in a chair across from his desk and eyed him with such sobriety that he was immediately worried.
“What is it?” he asked, leaning forward. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something’s wrong. What did you do to upset Helen?”
Andrew sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I asked. I want to know what you did and why you did it. Helen called me up just now and said she couldn’t come over for dinner after all.”
His heart and his head were both now pounding painfully. “She said it was because of me?”
“No. She said she wasn’t feeling good, but she didn’t sound sick. She sounded upset. Andrew, what did you do?”
He hated the idea of Helen’s being hurt or upset, but he couldn’t dwell on that at the moment. “Why do you assume I’m to blame?”
“Don’t be evasive with me. I know you too well. What did you do?” Her voice was sharp. It had been a long time since he’d heard Melissa so vehement.
He let out a hoarse breath. “I went to talk to the Dean at Cane College about the manuscript.”
Melissa looked absolutely horrified. “You went behind her back? How could you?”
“It’s not like that,” he assured her, his heart clenching at how appalled she was by his words. “I’m not trying to cheat her. I’m trying to arrange things in everyone’s best interests.”
“But you’re leaving her out of it? No wonder she’s upset. She des
erves better from you.”
His sister’s reproof and his own sense of guilt at having inadvertently hurt Helen weighed him down. Too much. His defenses were too low, which was the only possible reason for him to say what he did, even in the low mutter. “She deserves better than me.”
“What?” Melissa’s voice was almost shrill. “What did you say?”
Andrew realized his mistake too late. He’d never intended to open this can of worms with his sister. “Leave it alone, Melissa.”
“I will not leave it alone. What did you mean by that?”
He just stared at her levelly, feeling defeated but not willing to back down in this. He’d made his decision after that first Sunday he’d gone back to church. He was spiritually a mess, and Helen deserved a man who had always been strong, always been faithful, who hadn’t lost his way years ago.
Changing tactics at his silent resolve, Melissa said, “I know Grandma’s been desperate for the manuscript, but it’s mostly for sentimental reasons. Just let the library have the manuscript after all. Grandma will understand. Your happiness is so much more important.”
Andrew didn’t bother denying his feelings for Helen since Melissa obviously already knew about them. “The manuscript’s not the issue. Or, rather, it’s only a side issue.”
“Then tell me the main issue. I know there’s something there. It’s obvious you’re attracted to her.”
“You’re an adult, Melissa,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “You know attraction doesn’t always lead to something deeper.”
“There is something deeper.” Her little hands were clenched in fists on her lap. “You really like her. She makes you happy. I heard you two on Sunday night. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve heard you laughing like that?”
Andrew looked away—affected by the memory of Helen’s radiant face and vibrant laugh as she’d gazed up at him from that silly rug.
“How can you just let her go?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve only known her just over a month. It’s not like it’s a serious thing.” He hoped Melissa would believe him or she’d never stop worrying about him.
And she had so many other things to worry about.
No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane) Page 8