Even more remarkable was Maren’s interaction with the little beast. With Carlos’s encouragement, virtually everything of note that came up during a session Malcolm shared with Maren—eventually. It had been terrifying at first, but when he saw that it seemed to make her love him even more, he simply let go.
He’d even shared the secret that shamed him most, the awful—and once-alluring—AMT 6mm. Maren had helped him retrieve it from his office, and the two of them had taken it to Lafayette Shooters. (They had left with a new pair of binoculars—for hummingbird spotting—and a line of store credit that Malcolm contemplated cashing in for a two-man kayak.)
So when Duende showed himself in Malcolm’s grumbles, tantrums, or self-assaults, Maren would call out the little demon, always while touching Malcolm warmly. The effect was…dizzying. It was certainly true the Malcolm loved Maren with his whole being, shadow side and all. That she even loved the monster inside him, treated the monster with tenderness, took the fight right out of him.
But as he waited for Maren to come home, waited with the velvet box in his pocket, it was this part of himself that was most agitated.
Malcolm reached for the box, plucked it out, and opened it. Looking at the ring itself calmed him. Cushion. French-set. Halo. Six weeks ago, he had not known what any of the terms meant, but he’d had the good sense to seek Laurel’s help. He’d bought her silence, of course. Since Mark’s death, the two sisters had grown even closer, and he could not have tolerated Maren even having the slightest hint that he would ask for her hand.
What if she’d pulled away at the thought?
No. Laurel had hardly needed the bribe—the promise that once they were engaged, Malcolm would see the Jetta returned to her, and he and Maren would buy something new together. Maren’s little sister had been overjoyed to help him choose the white gold ring. Laurel had sworn on her life that Maren would love the ring that was both delicate and timeless.
He held the glittering band and could actually picture it on Maren’s hand. It suited her. She would love it.
The Jetta’s distinctive thrum and Perry’s excited dash to the door started his heart racing, and he nearly dropped the engagement ring in his effort to wedge it back into the box. Malcolm shoved the box back into his pocket, and promptly pulled the albarino out of the fridge. He tried with all of his might to appear calm.
Maren entered the kitchen with a smile of triumph.
God, I want to marry her.
“Success?” he managed, holding out the chilled bottle and trying to match her smile even while his liver lilied.
“Hells, yes!” she yelled and crashed into his arms, wine bottle and all. “I killed that test. Fucking killed it!”
Malcolm squeezed her, buried his nose in her hair, and thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to have her. Of course, she’d killed her master’s comps. She could do anything. Go anywhere.
She’s choosing to stay here, he reminded himself before Duende could speak up. Maren had already applied and been accepted into the doctoral program. Malcolm had wondered for weeks if she knew that once they were married, there would be no need to hide, no university policy to condemn them.
He lost the thought in her kiss—until she pulled away.
“You’re sweating. Are you okay? God, it smells great in here. Poor baby, you’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day. Here, let me open that.”
She took the bottle from him, adrenalized from the test, talking without pausing for breath while Malcolm tried to catch his.
He was sweating. His plan of proposing at just the right moment during dinner suddenly seemed impossibly foolish. He’d be a mess of nerves by then. He was a mess of nerves now.
“Thank you, by the way,” she went on, riffling through a drawer for the bottle opener. “You were right about Moby Dick showing up. I’m so glad I dusted off my Melville.”
He could do it now. Just take knee and ask her.
What if she says no? She might not be ready.
She pulled the cork and turned to him, a wistful look in her eye.
“I’m really lucky to have you.” She reached for him and ran her fingertips down his cheek. “You’re always looking out for me.”
Now.
Malcolm grabbed her hand and dropped to his knees. His fingers were shaking as he fished the box out of his pocket.
“Maren, mi todo, my love…” He could hear the tremor in his voice as he watched Maren’s eyes go wide. He hung onto her hand for dear life. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
But he couldn’t stop himself there. He ran on in a rush.
“I know I’ll get the better end of the bargain, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep you happy, to give you everything you want. To make a home with you. To have children with you. I’ll—”
“Malcolm!” she gasped, her beautiful, maple eyes shining. She was suddenly on her knees with him, holding out her left hand which was shaking, too.
“Yes!”
Malcolm and Maren’s Playlist
“Year of the Cat” Al Stewart
“Believe Me Natalie” The Killers
“If You Don’t Want Me” Warren Storm
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” Elvis Presley
“Interstate Love Song” Stone Temple Pilots
“Radioactive” Kings of Leon
“Have Love Will Travel” The Black Keys
“Rope” Foo Fighters
“Warning” Incubus
“She Looks to Me” Red Hot Chili Peppers
“Unconditional” The Bravery
“Tongue Tied” Grouplove
“Help I’m Alive” Metric
“Mountain Sound” Of Monsters and Men
“Heartbeats” Royal Teeth
“Cocoon” Jack Johnson
“In My Life” The Beatles
“The General” Dispatch
“Home” Phillip Phillips
Acknowledgements
Malcolm and Maren took a long time to find their way onto the page, but they would have taken even longer without the help of my husband John and our daughter Hannah. Their encouragement, assistance, and support meant so much to me. Beyond that, John’s skill as an editor and as a talented writer in his own right helped to keep my words in line, and Hannah’s artistic vision and magic gave me the original ebook cover that I absolutely loved. For these and countless other reasons, I am forever grateful to you both.
I want to thank my friend and running partner Fawn Hernandez for the miles of marathon training when she listened to me talk about my story or when she ran with me in silence while my mind spun the tale. Her faith in me carried me past the finish line in more ways than one.
Malcolm Vashal owes his Spanish to my friends Beth and Luis Acevedo. Thank you so much for giving him authentic diction and for answering my Spanish grammar questions.
Stella Arabie, Gerald Sierveld, and Tom Lyles, my friends and colleagues, cheered me on in this nine-month project, and they helped me to overcome a little of my shyness when talking about this work that is so close to my heart.
Thanks to my friend and spiritual mentor Deanna Fouin for teaching me about the communion of Saints, both in Christian and Eastern belief systems. Her influence on my own soul cannot be measured. And if Deanna and Mark Gardner are correct, as I believe they must be, I hope that Grandma Ruby knows how the last 27 chapters turned out. Reading the first three to you in your last days is something I will never forget.
The Gardners could never have come to life without the influence of my own vibrant, loving, crazy family. My parents, sisters, brother, and sibs-in-law are all in my pages as the instant family that Malcolm both fears and craves. Fournets, Leblancs, Whites, and Thomases, I am so lucky to have you.
All the schools I have attended as a student or served as a faculty member have left their marks as well. While no one scene or character is based on any single event or individual, mentors, colleagues, and students have given
me sparks of inspiration for the people in Malcolm and Maren’s world, and so I am thankful for my years at St. Thomas More, the University of Louisiana-Lafayette, Episcopal School of Acadiana, and Ascension Episcopal School for the many ways they have enriched my mind and my life.
I’d like to thank Lynne Bauersfeld for her years of care and compassion. This accomplishment of mine has your fingerprints all over it. I can only hope that Carlos Navarro is as helpful to Malcolm as you were to me.
To my Kickstarter backers, thank you so much for helping me to print publish Fall Semester. This is a dream come true. I’d especially like to thank Heather Lamarche, Annette Broussard, Ann Kergan, Chad Case, Catherine Smith, Marilynn Adams, Richard Fournet, Chris Jones, Justin Hernandez, Geoff Gjertson, Allison Bean, Elizabeth Hollier, Dana Topham, Philip Tucker, Kay Dearborn, and Kevin Hargrave.
Finally, dear reader, I loved every moment that I wrote and revised Fall Semester, so I thank you for your time and attention. I believe that there is a harmony in the universe that draws together the need to give something with the need to receive something. Whatever you received from this book, take it with my warmest blessings.
About the Author
Stephanie Fournet graduated with a bachelor’s degree in journalism before earning her master’s degree in English at the University of Southwestern Louisiana.
An avid runner who has completed four half-marathons and one full marathon, she works as a high school English teacher and college counselor.
Fournet currently lives with her husband and daughter in Lafayette, Louisiana, and is already hard at work on her second novel.
Fall Semester Page 37