Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance

by Caroline Lake

  “It’s made from civet feces,” Connor replied flippantly, turning a page in the newspaper. Cara giggled, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye but his deadpan expression turned her chuckle into a gag. Before she could ask him if he was serious, the pilot entered the cabin.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we will be landing in forty-five minutes. Please secure your seatbelts at your earliest convenience.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, the squirrely man bowed slightly and disappeared back into the cockpit. Cara felt her heart rate speed up slightly. It was almost the moment of truth. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the question again.

  “Where are you taking me?” Connor raised his eyes and gave her an indecipherable look. Then he turned to Zoe and nodded a dismissal. Instantly, Zoe vanished, not a word spoken between the two as if they had some telepathic bond.

  “Are you afraid of me?” Connor asked. “Worried that I might be luring you to your death or some other such nonsense?”

  Cara felt her cheek turn crimson and she looked away from his scrutinizing stare.

  “No of course not!” she proclaimed defensively. “I have a right to ask where we’re going, don’t I?” Connor lowered the paper and folded it neatly.

  “Yes.” He offered nothing else for a moment. When he finally opened his mouth again, his words were not what she was expecting.

  “I didn’t speak until I was almost four years old. I was diagnosed with autism when I was five. My teachers and peers all thought I was an idiot. I couldn’t hold focus, I failed horribly in anything not math related, at least by school standards.” He paused and suddenly Cara realized that he was looking over her head, lost in thought as he pulled through his databank of memories. She held her tongue although she desperately wanted to ask him why he was telling her such an intimate story when she was merely his maid.

  “I have two older brothers. They were both excellent athletes, got perfect marks in school. They were popular and intelligent – truly the kind of kids every parent wishes for. You can imagine how my parents must have felt when their little idiot came along. Non-verbal, throwing fits, punching walls. I would scream for hours upon hours on end.” Cara felt a knot in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where the story was going.

  “My parents grew up in the Bronx. My dad was a mechanic. My mom was waitress until she got pregnant with my oldest brother. Then they got married and she stayed at home with us.

  Neither one of them were educated – again by school standards. Autism was still a fairly new term being thrown around at that time and the concept was hard for most people to grasp. It still can be for some people.” Connor paused to refill his coffee cup from the percolator on the table. Cara had leaned forward, her elbows on the soft wood, hanging on every word. She had no idea what the purpose of this soliloquy was but she was grateful he was at least speaking for once.

  “But I was lucky! Both sides of the family knew how to cure my autism; by beating it out of me. And they tried their damn hardest to cure me. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, even cousins took turns whipping me when I had episodes. Sometimes even when I didn’t have episodes. They would take preventative measures. Yet my parents never laid a hand on me. When my brothers eventually told my mom and dad what relatives were doing when we were alone, they cut off their family and never let me out of their sight again when I was a child.” Cara’s green eyes widened in shock. What kind of cruel, evil people beat developmentally challenged children? Connor smiled at her angry expression.

  “It was very commonplace for children to be walloped back in the day, Ms. Castillo. Unruly children especially. They were simply trying to put me in my place. It was the way of the world for generations.”

  “That doesn’t make it right!” She retorted hotly. Connor’s smile faded slightly but remained softly on his full lips, his eyes searching her mouth as if actually looking for something.

  “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. Then he shrugged. “Regardless, after my parents found out, the beatings ended and my mom did everything she could to find a solution to whatever was plaguing me without resorting to using me as a guinea pig and shoving pills down my throat. Literature was scarce but that didn’t stop my mother. I got herbal baths and trips to dieticians. I saw every kind of doctor you can think of. In retrospect, I have no idea where they came up with the money to finance those medical visits.” He sat back and glanced at his watch.

  “Get to your seat. We’re landing soon.” Reluctantly, Cara rose and obeyed. She was relieved that he took the spot across from her.

  “What happened?” she urged. “Did anything help?”

  Lamoreaux scowled at her naïve question.

  “I took you to be smarter than that, Ms. Castillo. You think trips to witch doctors cure autism?” Cara felt a now familiar blush stain her face.

  “No, of course not, I just meant – “

  “No, nothing helped what was ailing my development but something did strengthen and that is the bond I have with my parents. That relationship is unbreakable. You know why, Ms. Castillo?” Cara shook her head even though she had a fair idea.

  “Because I have the utmost faith in those people. They never gave up on me when anyone else in their situation would. They stood by my side under what could have only been the worst case scenario to a pair of poor people with no education and no support system. Why do you think they did it?”

  “Because you’re their child, Mr. Lamoreaux.” Again, the soft smile returned to his face.

  “It’s more than that. It’s because they, my mother in particular, had faith in me getting well. She saw something promising in me and knew that if I could get over the worst, something amazing would transpire. It is easy to forget when things get very dark that sometimes there is good where no one can see it.”

  Cara didn’t know how to respond. She was touched by the story but she had no idea why he had told her such a personal thing. When he fell silent again, she turned to peer out the window at the now descending aircraft. Her breath was stolen for a moment as she took in the vibrant colors of the landscapes below. The lush green of exotic trees popped in contrast to rich red soil and pockets of water. She leaned forward eagerly as she saw some form of wildlife grouping and she gasped as she recognized a pride of lions. They were in Africa! Startled, Cara looked at Connor, her eyes wide with awe and excitement.

  “We’re in Africa?” she asked incredulously. He nodded and turned his own eyes out the window to follow her gaze.

  “But why?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Why would you bring me here?”

  “You ask too many questions, Ms. Castillo. Sometimes you just need to let things evolve naturally and not demand answers to everything,” he replied shortly but Cara saw a glimmer of amusement before he turned his face away. She fell silent and continued to take in the spectacular scenery. Soon enough, the plane had landed on a private runway, behind a long, non-descript complex made of wood and tin. When they disembarked, she realized that they were not at an airport but instead behind a gated community. The pilot shooed them off the plane and into the walls of the building, bags in hand. Cara barely had time to look around they were hustled in so quickly, almost like they were celebrities hiding from the paparazzi.

  Once inside the dank but stifling hot building, they were greeted by several people, all clamoring for their attention. Men, women and children flocked to Lamoreaux’s side, all speaking at once. They were apparently thrilled to see him and he stopped to acknowledge each and every person individually. To her surprise, he was speaking in a completely foreign language, one that Cara did not recognize. She glanced around, looking for something familiar when suddenly she realized that Zoe was standing beside her, waiting patiently for instructions.

  “Where are we? What language is that?” she asked the flight attendant. Zoe smiled.

  “We’re in Ethiopia, just outside of Addis Ababa. They speak Amharic here.” Cara nodded in thanks but she was just as confus
ed as ever. She waited for Lamoreaux to finish making his rounds with the horde. Finally, he gestured for her to follow him and she wandered after him, further into the complex. Cara was learning that the facility was multi-faceted and they slowly went through each and every room, Lamoreaux stopping to speak with various people as they walked. He addressed everyone with a warmth and caring that she had never seen in him before. It was as though they were his long lost family and he was genuinely happy to see every member of the tribe. There was an area in the structure which was used as a small medical clinic and in spite of its size, its equipment was modern and relatively new looking. Another few rooms were allotted to the school which was filled with children of all ages in blue and white uniforms, smiling and attentively watching their teachers at the head of the class. At the very back of the huge building, a large, dark cool room used for harvest storage. There were huge bins of grains and corn, barley and millet.

  They made their way outside into the blistering sunlight and Cara stopped in her tracks, blinded not only by the intense rays but by the incredible sight before her. She was staring at a village filled with hundreds of people. Their dark skin gleamed beautifully against brightly colored, hand spun clothing and for a moment, Cara had Deja vu of her trip to Mexico when she was a child. There were merchants selling blankets, drinks and sweets. Goats, chickens and cows wandered through the dusty streets and women and children hung wash from clothing lines outside. Some of the older females carried large wicker baskets atop their black hair, sometime unassisted by thin but strong arms. Babies wailed, vendors yelled out and people bantered but every single person stopped whatever they were doing to call out to Connor, to touch him or to make the sign of the cross at him in blessing. Little huts of mud and straw with tin roofs acted a housing for the surprisingly dense population. As they continued to walk, Cara was enthralled with the way the village appeared to be thriving. From what she remembered from her World Economics classes, Ethiopia was still one of the poorest countries in the world, the poverty level at roughly seventy-three percent. Although their existence was absolutely not comparable by any standard to the way Connor Lamoreaux lived, they seemed to be comfortable, well-nourished and content. They were a sea of smiles and throughout their tour, Cara was filled with a sense of happiness in her surroundings. People offered her fruit and blankets which initially Cara tried to refuse but Connor warned her it was considered rude to decline these gifts. By the time they had walked the entire town, Cara could barely see over the mound of goodies she had acquired. Her heart was full with the generosity of these seemingly happy, beaming people. Connor and Zoe did not offer her much conversation on their slow trek and eventually they made their way full circle back to the compound where the pilot took the pile of presents from her upon their arrival. Once inside the coolness of the dark building, Connor led her into a small, dusty office near the back door and motioned her to sit down. He asked Zoe to wait outside and while the assistant obliged, Cara sat on a simple wooden chair and waited expectantly. Lamoreaux closed the door, staring at her with those steely eyes and Cara met his gaze evenly for once.

  “Do you know why I brought you here?” he finally asked. She slowly shook her head.

  “I brought you here because I have been watching you since you started working for me.” The words gave Cara a chill but in a sexual way, not one of alarm. She waited for him to continue. She was learning that while he did not speak much, when he did, he needed to do it on his own terms, uninterrupted.

  “I appreciate that you do your work and mind your own business. Some of my other staff could take a few lessons from you. But it’s more than that. You have a quality which I haven’t been able to put my finger on.” Cara was surprised to hear the words. She never thought of herself as anything remarkable but she still said nothing.

  “The more I watched you, however, the more I realized that you have absolutely no respect for me,” Connor went on. Cara felt her face go pale as his words sunk in. She had allowed herself to let her guard down and he had just been luring her in for the kill. He brought me all the way to Africa to fire me? Oh my God! Is he going to leave me here? Panic seized her.

  “That’s not true – “

  “Let me finish,” Lamoreaux cut her off chidingly. “Everything I have to say is not necessarily a bad thing for you, Ms. Castillo.”

  Cara closed her mouth and waited once more.

  “As you can imagine, I am accustomed to being respected by people. What’s more is I usually demand respect. But you seem to have some distain for me. It made me wonder what it was you saw in me that could possibly be so appalling to your obviously righteous sense of self.”

  “Mr. Lamoreaux, what difference does it make what I think about you? I am only a house servant.” Cara almost choked on the words as they left her lips. Lamoreaux’s eyes narrowed into angry slits.

  “I think you and I both know that you are a great deal more than that, Ms. Castillo,” he retorted. “And perhaps you weren’t paying attention earlier when I explained to you that I come from fairly meager roots. Your occupation has nothing to do with what I see in a person. I can see much deeper than you can imagine.”

  Cara felt a fleeting fusion of alarm at the words spoken but before she could pinpoint its origin, Lamoreaux continued.

  “I finally realized, after a few days of studying your patterns and expressions, that you were disgusted with my wealth.”

  This time Cara’s head shake was genuine.

  “That is simply not accurate, Mr. Lamoreaux!” she insisted. “I have nothing but admiration for how you have built your empire!”

  Connor smiled.

  “I believe that is true, Ms. Castillo, but that’s not what I mean. I think you are actually put off by the way I spend my money, not how I acquire it. I saw the way you were rolling your eyes during my speech at the Sunstain charity event.” Cara’s face went crimson as she remembered her surly attitude that evening.

  “I was – “

  “And then it occurred to me that you didn’t believe that I was using any of my wealth to actually help anyone. You think that Sunstain is hack charity.”

  Cara could not deny it. He was absolutely right.

  “Am I wrong?” he pressed. Cara looked down at the scarred wooden table and shook her head slightly.

  “Well, now you have your answer.” She looked up again, confused.

  “Answer to what?”

  “Why I brought you here.” Connor reached into one of the drawers of the battered desk and retrieved a folder from its depth. He opened it and pulled out a stack of Polaroid pictures. He carelessly tossed them at Cara. She picked them up and began to thumb through them. There were dozens, each one sadder and more horrifying than the last. They depicted starving people, diminished to bones and rags, standing in landfills of garbage. Children and dogs encased in flies, laying lethargic in dirty, swampy puddles. Others showed emaciated bodies attempting to drink from those same diseased waters. There were infants with their faces gnarled in screams but unable to produce tears due to extreme hydration. Tears filled Cara’s eyes and she threw the photographs back at Lamoreaux.

  “Why would you think I would want to see such suffering?” she cried. “This is awful!”

  “Yes,” Connor agreed. “It was horrible. You can’t imagine what it was like to witness it firsthand. The smell of disease and death on that scale is something that never, ever leaves you. It probably never will. But it’s not awful anymore. That was this very village three years ago, almost to the day. There was no food, no water, no prospects. People were dying every day from hunger and disease and there was no escape. Until Sunstain came in. We built wells and houses and helped these people get the medical attention they so desperately needed. We helped to make the soil viable for the farmers and set up solar panels so they can operate their homes, farms and businesses cost free. We even got veterinary care for their animals so they could utilize them for farming and travel.” Cara swallowed the lump in her
throat and stared at Lamoreaux disbelievingly.

  “That…that’s what your charity did?”

  “That’s what Sunstain does. This is the thirteenth village we’ve rescued in Ethiopia. We have several others in Kenya and Libya also, making it a total of forty-five as of today. We plan to branch out into other places in Africa and eventually we will move onto South America and Asia as well. We believe that harnessing solar power will be the end of poverty universally and we intend to see it through.”

  “You say ‘we’ but you mean ‘you’ don’t you? This was always your charity.”

  “It takes a village, Ms. Castillo,” Connor told her modestly. “No one can do everything by themselves.”

  “You’re a remarkable man, Mr. Lamoreaux,” Cara told him sincerely.

  “Behind every remarkable man is an even more remarkable woman, Ms. Castillo,” he replied, leaning in suddenly. “And I would like very much for you to be that woman for me.”

  Chapter Seven

  That was how it started. They flew back to the States that very day, even though it was clear that the villagers desperately wanted the man to stay longer and when they returned to the Long Island mansion, Connor had already arranged for Cara to move her quarters into the east wing to be closer to him. To Cara’s utter embarrassment, it was Tabitha who had done the packing and transfer. The older housekeeper barely said two words to either one of them upon their arrival and quickly finished the task of moving Cara’s belongings before disappearing. The new suite was four times the size of the one in the west wing. There was a huge sitting room with a complete sofa set, sixty-nine-inch television and pool table.

  “Who needs a pool table in their bedroom?” Cara had cried to the unresponsive walls. Only the dark paintings of fallen angels accompanied her slow walk through the vast rooms. The walk-in closet was the size of her mother’s entire apartment in Brooklyn and she hated it instantly because there was a smaller version of the fountain faun atop a round marble table in the center. It also boasted an antique vanity with a sterling silver hairbrush set and comb. Its aura was that of the gay nineties and Cara felt like she had been sucked into a time warp. The washroom was three times as large at the one in her old suite. There was a Jacuzzi tub which could have comfortably sat six people, a steam shower with a dozen jets protruding from all angles and two sinks on marble pedestals to match the heated marble floors. The bedroom itself was a sight to behold. Windows made up three of the four walls and on the fourth, was a four poster canopy bed draped in sheer curtains and the mattress was so large that Cara was sure she could do a gymnastics routine upon it without falling off the high sides. At the foot of the bed was a step stool which was actually needed to climb onto the Egyptian cotton sheets. Staring at it, Cara was reminded of the princess and the pea.