Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

by Sallinger, Elene

  Sadly, he was right.

  Chapter Five

  Bridget stared at her iPhone in shocked dismay. He was refusing to let her cancel their date. She’d called him the night before and left him a voicemail when he hadn’t picked up, saying that after some thought she’d decided to pass on the picnic. She’d had a moment of regret, but she’d let it go.

  Fixing herself a light dinner of crab salad and toast, she snuggled on the couch with Daisy and completely missed every minute of her favourite programme as she’d rationalised her actions over and over. She’d spent the better part of her adult years alone and she was no lonelier than the next person. Right? She had a full and satisfying life with friends and activities. She loved her career. Loved her dog. Loved –

  A quick glance at Daisy, who was eyeing her with one ear cocked and a look that said “Who are you trying to convince?”, and she’d given up and gone to bed. At no time had she ever once considered that he’d refuse. Could a person refuse to let a date be cancelled?

  Well, apparently he thought he could. She’d turned her mobile phone back on after class and seen the voicemail indicator. Checking it had turned up a few messages regarding work, then she’d heard Connor’s voice. Unlike some people who sound differently over the phone, that deep, growly tone of his came through exactly the same as it did in person. It set her pulse racing exactly the same

  way too. His message, however, had left her dumbfounded.

  ‘Sorry, Bridget,’ he’d said. She could almost hear him smirking. ‘I know what you’re trying to do and you’re not getting away that easily. I will haunt that coffee shop until you show up. I remember where you jog too. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can make me suffer the indignity of haunting you like a stalker or you can show up at one o’clock like we agreed and let me show you one of my favourite spots on the planet.’

  There had been a long pause and she’d almost disconnected. When he’d resumed speaking, the smirk was gone and he sounded earnest instead.

  ‘Bridget. I understand your caution. I respect it. I’ll even give your friend, Mona, my social security number and driver’s licence, just don’t stand me up. Please.’

  He’d disconnected at that point.

  She had no idea how to react. He thought he understood, but he had no real idea. He thought it was the typical caution of a single woman with a new man. He had no idea what he was really getting into.

  She smiled at his offer to give Mona his personal info. Little did he know that Mona was already his biggest fan. She’d joined them briefly during their coffee date and they’d had a discussion on the merits of Colombian coffee versus Robusta. Something Bridget hadn’t even realised existed. Coffee was just coffee to her, meant to be drunk with lots of cream and sugar.

  Connor, however, took his very seriously. He gave Mona credit for not skimping. She only sold Arabica coffee, which they both agreed was more richly flavoured, and didn’t sell out to simply give patrons a bigger caffeine shot. She thanked him and quite loudly informed Bridget he was a keeper before laughing at her friend’s embarrassment and moving on to other customers and the duties of running her cafe.

  ‘What are you thinking about, Ross? Me, I hope.’ The low, elegant voice of her boss and Dean of the School of Sciences, Dale Whittier, scraped across her skin like nails. She instantly tensed as he continued, ‘We do have your tenure review at the end of the semester, after all.’

  Jerking her head around to face him, she controlled her instinctive shudder. From the moment he’d come onboard at Pinewood, he’d made subtle insinuations to her that skipped just to the edge of harassment but never quite crossed over. He’d hover a tad too close. Brush her in ways that if she addressed them would make her look over-reactive and paranoid.

  To look at him, one would never suspect him of something as low as sexual harassment. He was handsome in a distinguished sort of way. Tall and lean, with salt and pepper hair. He dressed like the academic he was with lots of tweed and sweaters paired with cords, but he was never lacking in female company. Their department mixers often saw him with one beautiful female or another.

  Rumours abounded of affairs with students as well as faculty members. He certainly wasn’t so lacking in companionship as to make him desperate. Still, he rankled her. She was always left feeling as if she had a trail of slime over her body wherever his eyes had been. And they were everywhere, including her chest at this very moment. His scrutiny made her want to cover herself from his sight.

  ‘Did you need to speak with me, Dean?’

  She’d learned to be very careful in how she interacted with him. Remarks like “Did you need me?” or “Do you need to see me?” – simple things she would have said to anyone else – had been met one too many times with “Yes, very much so” and a lingering, implication-filled silence.

  She’d learned to give him no openings.

  His icy blue eyes met hers and she controlled the need to look away from him. You didn’t show weakness to predators. Ever.

  ‘Yes, Ross. I wanted to let you know I’ve called a staff meeting Monday morning at 8 a.m. I expect you there.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  ‘Just show up, Ross.’ He raked her over one last time before turning and leaving her alone.

  Feeling like she needed a shower, Bridget ran through all the reasons she stayed here at Pinewood when she felt like a mouse in the lion’s den. Sure, she was only weeks away from gaining tenure, but was it really worth it when Dean Whittier was so repulsive despite the pretty package? Yes. She loved teaching chemistry, loved her students and the life she’d built, but how many more veiled suggestions could she really take?

  ‘Professor Ross?’ Her mental debate was thrust aside, however, at Skyler’s timid greeting.

  Lurching to her feet, she rushed to Skyler, practically pulling the girl into her office. She was dishevelled and looked stunned. Her blonde hair was falling out of the elastic band she’d used to pull it back and her brown eyes were almost vacant.

  ‘Are you OK? Talk to me, sugar.’

  Skyler fell into the visitor chair that Bridget guided her toward.

  ‘Skyler?’ Bridget knelt beside her and took her student’s hand. It was ice cold.

  For several moments, she just sat there staring over Bridget’s shoulder and then it was like a veil fell down over her face. It hardened and her eyes snapped to Bridget’s.

  ‘Professor Ross, I need to know if I can take the mid-term on a different day. I’ll take it early if necessary.’

  ‘Why?’ Bridget stood and moved to lean against her desk. Her Spidey senses were jangling a mile a minute and she knew in her gut there was more going on here, but it was up to Skyler to confide in her.

  She looked directly into Bridget’s eyes, replying, ‘I have a medical appointment I can’t change.’

  ‘Skyler.’ Bridget’s tone was sharp. ‘You can be honest with me.’

  A wave of pain flowed across Skyler’s face, distorting her features, but she schooled them quickly.

  ‘I am, Professor.’ Her words were tinted with a bitterness that made them crack.

  At a loss, Bridget said, ‘Bring me confirmation of the appointment and you can take the mid-term the day before.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll see you at 10 a.m. Don’t be late.’

  Skyler sat for several more moments before her eyes welled with tears. She nodded once and then left without another word.

  Bridget watched her leave with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  Skyler Brooks couldn’t believe she’d allowed this to happen. So much for a genius level IQ. She’d been as dumb as a fence-post and now she was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place.

  It so had not been worth it either. Sure, he’d been attractive and suave. He’d said all the right things and gotten into her head. But the sex had been mediocre at best. Could she be any more cli
ché?

  A man with an ego that big had no room for anyone else in his bed. Initially, she’d been so flattered by his attention she’d practically thrown herself at him. Now, she couldn’t get far enough away.

  She had to stop and grab the wall, collecting herself as a wave of nausea so deep it almost knocked her to her knees ran through her. Leaning against the painted cinderblocks, she took several long, deep breaths. Saliva welled in her mouth and she tasted a bilious tang. She would be damned if she’d puke in the middle of the hallway. Swallowing frantically, she bolted for the nearest ladies’ room.

  Throwing open the door, she threw her backpack to the ground and flung herself into one of the stalls just in time. Fortunately for her, there was nothing in her stomach to bring up, having already brought up the salad she’d had for lunch before Professor Ross’s class. Her entire diaphragm clenched and held as she heaved and heaved, bringing up nothing but bile. By the time the spasms stopped, she was panting from the exertion. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged the cool porcelain, waiting to ensure no more would be coming up.

  She’d confronted him, told him she was pregnant. She’d expected it would force him to finally let her go. He wasn’t the sort who would want a child.

  Nothing had prepared her for his response.

  Rather than abandon her as she’d hoped, he’d picked up the phone and coolly arranged for her to have an abortion. There’d been no more emotion in his voice than if he’d been ordering lunch or hiring a rental car. When he’d hung up the phone, he looked at her with such disdain her skin had crawled.

  ‘You will take care of this inconvenience. Do you understand?’ His voice, once so provocative, was hard enough to cut glass.

  She’d gaped at him, at a complete loss.

  ‘Do you understand me, Skyler?’

  ‘You can’t force me to do this. What if I want to keep it?’

  He’d stood then and moved over to where she sat slumped in the chair closest to the door. Leaning over her shoulder, he’d been close enough that she could smell the tang of coffee on his breath and the scent of his cologne. He’d grabbed her breast and squeezed hard, forcing her to arch. She cried out and he only squeezed harder.

  ‘You don’t get it yet, you little slut, do you?’ He’d grabbed her ponytail and pulled her head back so that their eyes met. ‘You’re nothing but a piece of pussy to me, but I’ll not have you ruining that pussy as long as I feel like using it. Nor will I have you trapping me with a brat. You will keep that appointment or I will make you wish you’d never been fucking born.’

  Squatting in the stall of the ladies’ room, Skyler began to laugh. Shows what he knew. She already wished she’d never been born.

  Gathering herself, she stood on wobbly knees. She flushed and waited for a few more deep breaths before lurching to the sink. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying. She looked like hell and felt worse.

  After splashing cold water on her face, she ripped several paper towels out of the dispenser and blotted before balling them up and shoving them into the trash can. One more deep breath and she turned and shrieked.

  ‘Professor Ross!’ Her heart raced a mile a minute. She hadn’t heard the professor come in. She’d probably been too busy crying.

  Professor Ross was leaning against the door to the restroom. She held Skyler’s backpack in her hand. A small frown crinkled her brow. Other than that she was the picture of calm. Skyler had always admired her. She was sexy and classy and funny and she always had a nice word for her students.

  So many times she’d watched in awe as the professor had made complex chemical ideas sound fun and interesting. Skyler considered her a mentor and role model. Right now, though, she was the last person Skyler wanted to see.

  ‘Skyler, sugar,’ she drawled the way she did in that light Southern twang that made her sound like the classiest phone sex operator out there. ‘You wanna tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘Professor. No disrespect –’ Skyler held up a hand as if to ward the professor off ‘– but, no I don’t.’

  ‘Are you pregnant?’

  Skyler didn’t deny it, but she didn’t feign outrage either. She was too damn tired.

  ‘Professor, that’s really none of your business.’

  ‘Skyler, I just want to help. Please talk to me.’

  More tears welled in Skyler’s eyes and she could feel her lips wobble, but she wasn’t going to cry now. Her tears wouldn’t solve anything.

  ‘You can’t help me, Professor. No one can.’

  Squaring her shoulders, Skyler walked to Professor Ross and held out her hand for her backpack. The professor hesitated; concern shone out of her green eyes, but she ultimately gave Skyler the pack and moved aside.

  Skyler felt like a true shit for her attitude, but what could Professor Ross do for her? He was her boss, after all.

  Bridget watched Skyler retreat down the hallway. She moved like she had the world on her shoulders. If the girl was pregnant, this wouldn’t be the first time it had happened to one of her students. She only hoped whoever had knocked her up would step up and be responsible. She had a very bad feeling, however, that this “unchangeable appointment” was an abortion.

  Not that Bridget was passing judgment. It was between each person’s conscience and God whether they took that route or not, but the risks were so high if Skyler didn’t take care of this the right way.

  After all, she should know. Unconsciously, Bridget rested a hand on her lower abdomen. Yes, she should definitely know.

  Chapter Six

  She wasn’t coming. Connor checked his watch for what had to be the fifth time. It was 1.15 p.m. and Bridget didn’t strike him as someone who was anything other than punctual. She carried herself with the charm and class of a true Southern belle. With her sexy drawl and sensitivity, she was all gentility and refinement, but he sensed something in her. An eroticism that she seemed to keep under lock and key. That mystery, that enigmatic quality had kept her in the forefront of his thoughts ever since their coffee date. Hell, it had kept her the main star in all his fantasies as well.

  He hadn’t been so intrigued by a woman in a very long time. He liked that she was older too. Not that he was a baby, or she even that old. But he was 28 and, while she’d not admitted her actual age to him, he was guessing late 30s from some of the cultural references she’d dropped about growing up. The 80s was definitely her era.

  Maybe it was growing up the way he had with his grandparents. They were in their late 70s when he’d gone to live with them. Maybe it was having to assume the role of caretaker when he was so young, but he’d never really fit with the girls in his age range. He was too serious. He wasn’t enough fun.

  Well, it was damned hard to be “fun” when you had to worry about Gran falling and breaking a hip while you were at school because she was too damn stubborn to ask for help. How could you not be “serious” when you had to rush home every day and make sure your grandfather was taking his medication as prescribed before going to your after-school job at the drugstore because from the age of 14 you’d been helping make ends meet.

  His grandparents had loved him. So had his parents. Connor could honestly say he’d never been without love growing up. But when his grandpa had come down with lung cancer, the brunt of the responsibility had fallen to Connor. His grandmother simply hadn’t been capable since senility had already burrowed in like a tick. Her moments of lucidity were too few and far between for her to be a reliable caretaker. So, Connor had done the only thing he could. He’d become a man at 14. He’d stepped in and filled the void as best he could.

  Then, he’d buried them both when he was 16.

  His chest clenched even now in grief. He’d loved them as much as they’d loved him. When his parents had died, they’d welcomed him with open arms. They’d kept his parents’ memories alive and had encouraged him to be whatever he wanted to be. Some days, he wondered if they’d be disappointed with how he’d tur
ned out.

  He had a small sum of money put away; the little bit that was left after selling his grandparents’ house. It was the only thing of value they had to leave him, but he hadn’t wanted to go back there. After his two year stint in the foster system, he’d just wanted to get the hell away from Maryland. The neighbourhood the house was in had gone downhill and he’d had enough of depressing, rundown neighbourhoods. He’d sold everything, banked the money, and made his way north before finally settling in Vermont.

  The decision to stay in River Rock had been a complete fluke. He’d landed in town because a photographer he admired was having a show and giving a lecture at the university and he’d wanted to sit in on it. It had been the height of spring when the foliage was new and the flowers were in bloom. After leaving the bus station, he’d walked for a bit to stretch his legs and had come to the main street. It had endeared him immediately to the town. Appearing straight out of a storybook with its simulated gas lamps, and flower boxes, it had vintage-style shops owned by real people not corporate giants. He’d been captivated.

  The university had sealed the deal, though. When he’d walked the quad to get to the lecture, he’d barely been able to go two steps without finding something to capture his imagination. He almost missed the lecture because he’d been so caught up drawing and taking photos.

  Simple as that, he’d decided to stay. Fortunately for him, the custodial position had been available and he’d found a place to live within a week of landing in town. That had been five years ago and he’d never regretted it.

  Another glance at his watch said it was now 1.20. It was time to throw in the towel. If she thought he hadn’t been serious about his threat to haunt all her known spots until he ran into her, she’d been mistaken. He was determined to get to know Ms Bridget Ross and he sensed she wanted to get to know him too. She was blocking him for some reason and he wanted to know why.