Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  “Okay, Daddy. I’m coming right now.” Shelby slowly closed the phone and sank into the kitchen chair. The ruined biscuits and the dangling smoke alarm evaporated from her thoughts.

  She turned to Ransom and tried to explain but all the words wouldn’t come out. “My aunt is in the hospital... I need to leave.”

  Ransom stepped to the oven and turned it off. “You should pack, I’ll put the dishes away.” He was already headed for the living room to gather the plates.

  Shelby rose slowly from the table and walked to her room in a daze. Aunt Junetta, her rock, her cheering squad. The one she was most like, her partner in crime. She sank onto her bed, unable to grasp what her father had said, the fingers of one hand tracing the pattern in the old quilt.

  “Are you done?” Ransom was tapping on her bedroom door and Shelby raised her head in confusion.

  “ I have to get out my suitcase,” she whispered.

  “Tell me where it is,” he said briskly.

  “The laundry room closet.” She realized she should at least point him in the right direction but he was back within seconds.

  “I wrote a note for Rebecca and left it in the kitchen. Are you packing for the week? Several days?”

  She met his eyes and shuddered. Was she packing for a funeral? “I don’t know.”

  “Can I help? Where are your shirts?” Ransom had moved to the closet and was pulling out a pair of slacks. The thought of him packing her underwear made Shelby sit up and shake the fog from her brain.

  “Wait, I can do it. Can you get Sirocco’s carrier? It’s in the laundry room, over the dryer.” As soon as he was gone she grabbed socks and underwear, shirts and pants, shoving them into her suitcase. With a stab of pure agony, she took a black dress from its hanger and carefully laid it on top of her clothes. Just in case. By the time she had her toiletries from the bathroom, Ransom had collected Sirocco’s dishes and food.

  “Shelby, you can’t drive like this. Let me take you.” He grasped her hands and leaned close, eyes dark with emotion.

  “No, I can, I just need to...” What she needed was to go back in time, back to before her daddy had called. She rested her forehead against his chest and let out a short sob.

  “Please, let me take you.” He rubbed her back and waited.

  After a few moments of struggling to control her tears, Shelby lifted her head and nodded.

  “Okay,” was the only word that came out of her mouth, but what her eyes said, spoke volumes.

  The drive under two hours, but it seemed an eternity to Shelby. Sirocco made unhappy noises in the back, wanting to escape the carrier and wondering whose car they were in. Ransom prayed with her, asking God to touch Junetta with his healing hand. The words seemed to come so easily to him, even though it had been years since he’d been on speaking terms with God. Gratitude swelled in her, that there was someone to pray, to speak the words she could hardly say because tears choked her throat.

  If only she had been there this weekend, then she might have found her hours earlier. As they drove, Ransom gripped Shelby’s hand, fingers laced together and only let go to shift gears. The warmth of his touch was the only thing that kept Shelby from drowning in grief.

  “It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return.”

  -Pride and Prejudice

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  “Shelby, I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Mrs Arbogast clutched her like a drowning woman. Nurses bustled around, pushing carts and preparing medication.

  “I want to see her,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

  “Of course. Come in- oh!” Mrs. Arbogast seemed to see Ransom for the first time, standing silent and somber behind Shelby.

  “This is Ransom Fielding,” she said, and reached out for his hand. He closed his broad one around hers, and she drew strength from it.

  “Will he be coming in?”

  Shelby looked at him, her eyes pleading. She couldn’t do this alone.

  “Yes, if they’ll let me come in.” His voice was soft, his grip firm on her fingers.

  They followed Mrs. Arbogast down the brightly lit hallway, past the nurses station, and into the critical care unit. The door was ajar, and a faint beeping could be heard from inside the room. Shelby faltered, took a shuddering breath and stepped through the door.

  Aunt Junetta lay still, a large tube protruding from her mouth. Wires and small tubes led from her veins and chest. Sensors tracked every movement, but her eyes didn’t flicker at the sound of Shelby’s cry.

  Collapsing at the side of the bed, she felt her heart break into a thousand pieces. Her beloved cooking partner, her confidant, was steps from death. Shelby knew, at a glance, that this was not something she would recover from. It was time to say goodbye.

  Ransom’s hands covered her shaking shoulders and smoothed her hair. After a few minutes, Shelby felt him step away, then heard murmuring voices at the door. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her aunt, couldn’t wrench her hand from her frail arm.

  Some time later, Shelby turned to see her father in the doorway. She rose, fresh tears falling from her swollen eyes. “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, sobbing into his arms.

  “I know, Shelby, I know.” He stroked her back, voice choked with tears.

  Time seemed to have lost its rhythm. It ebbed and flowed in a way that made the evening fly by, but the night hours dragged.

  “Where’s Ransom?” she asked, when her father came in near nine, urging her to eat something.

  “He brought Sirocco and your bag to the house and then left for Spartainville. He came to say goodbye, don’t you remember?”

  Shelby shook her head, grimacing. Her head throbbed from crying, she had hardly eaten all day. She saw her purse on the chair and checked her cell. Her phone was packed with messages from Rebecca and Shelby reluctantly left her aunt’s room to make a quick call.

  When she returned, a somber Jennie Anne was standing at the bedside.

  “Shelby,” her father said, “you should go home and rest. We’ll call you if anything happens.” He looked pale and sad, and older than she had ever seen him.

  “Daddy, I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Shelby said, tears leaking from her eyes.

  “Go home, Shelby,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “She’s my only sister. I want to wait the night with her.”

  Nodding glumly, Shelby took her sister’s hand, who for once wasn’t chattering, and her father’s hand. They bent their heads in prayer.

  “Give thanks in all things, for that is the will of Christ Jesus,” Shelby whispered “so I thank God for the life of this woman.”

  Her father squeezed her hand, nodding. “Thank you for her life and the love she gave us. Psalm 116 says ‘Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with thee.’ Let her rest in you, Lord.”

  “Amen.” Jennie Anne sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free hand.

  Shelby gave her father one last hug and left for home.

  *******

  Standing at the grave site, Shelby felt numb and cold. She never should have left, she should have stayed with her aunt in the hospital. Her family huddled together as the casket was lowered into the ground. The minister’s words were familiar and comforting, but murmurs of grief sounded all around her. Mrs. Arbogast wept openly into a handkerchief. Shelby’s face was dry, but she felt as if there was a dam building behind her eyes.

  Later, at the Roswell home, as visitors signed a condolence book and shared their memories, she wondered whether life would ever be the same. But of course, it wouldn’t. Aunt Junetta was gone and Shelby saw her life stretch out before her, lonely and dark. If only they had had a bit more time. She wished she could have introduced her to Ransom, and smiled a little at how her aunt had known, even then, that he was special to her.

  Her cell phone rang and Shelby didn’t move to answer it in the packed room of mourners. Ra
nsom had called that morning and they had talked, briefly. He wanted her to know he was thinking of her, asking her to call if she wanted. There had been a message from Jolee, passing on the condolences of the department and assuring her that her classes for the week were covered.

  It sounded again. And again. Shelby frowned, checking the display and saw Rebecca’s name. Her mother glared at her across the room and she sighed, trudging outside to answer it. She was tempted to turn it off, but something about the urgent ringing set off an alarm in the back of her mind.

  “Rebecca? We’re having the funeral reception. Can I call you back?” Shelby felt like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth, her face felt heavy with grief.

  “Shelby?” she said, her voice shaking.

  “What happened?” Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach.

  “There’s a video, online. Of you in your office... and it’s bad.”

  Shelby said nothing, trying to make sense of Rebecca’s words.

  “You’re not alone, there’s a man in the video, too.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Me and a man in my office?”, repeated Shelby.

  “It looks like a student. Was it a student?”

  She shook her head, confusion giving rise to anger. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Who was a student?”

  “Shelby, this video... Look, go upstairs and find it on youtube. Someone put it on face book, and then it got put up on youtube, and now it’s everywhere.”

  “But what is it?” Shelby glanced back into the living room, and the mourners rotating slowly around the long table of food. “Fine, tell me how to look it up.

  “Just search for...” Rebecca’s voice trembled. “Hot Professor Does Freshman In Office.”

  Shelby stared at the hallway wallpaper, unseeing. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She slowly closed the cell phone and went upstairs, her feet leaden.

  Minutes later, Shelby sat with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with mounting horror. The video was grainy, the frame shook as the camera person walked toward her office. The view was clearly of Chapman Hall as the intricate decorations over the top windows came into view. The oak limb that Shelby loved nearly blocked the frame, so the camera man had to stand on something, maybe the short wall across the street.

  It was night, the light inside illuminated the action as if it were on stage. A half-dressed auburn haired woman and a very young man maneuvered around the desk, sweeping items onto the floor. The woman’s face was never shown, but her curly auburn hair swept from side to side. The young man had dark hair, but wasn’t anyone she had ever seen before. Shelby felt bile rise in her throat. Everyone would think it was her, assume she had been caught in this. She dialed Rebecca’s number with shaking hands. “It’s not me, you know that, don’t you? You know that!”

  Her room mate let out a long breath. “I wanted to. You would never have, could never have done that. But Shelby, this looks really bad.”

  “When did you see it?”

  “I just heard about it tonight. But look at the number underneath the video.”

  Shelby peered at the screen and gasped. Two hundred thousand views? Was that possible?

  “I’m coming back. Oh, but Ransom drove me down here...” Shelby’s heart stopped, wondering if Ransom had seen it yet, if he would think that was her on the video.

  “I’m coming down to get you. Just hold tight.” Rebecca’s voice was firm, decided. “And Shelby?”

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you should call Ransom.”

  “You will be censure, slighted, despised, by everyone connected with him.”

  -Lady Catherine

  Chapter Forty

  Shelby stood up, legs shaking, and the phone rang again as soon as she snapped it closed. Finch’s name read on the display.

  She answered, struggling to keep her voice even.

  “Shelby, I’ve just been told to set up a meeting with you on Tuesday.”

  “A meeting? Told?” Her head spun, trying to catch up.

  He sighed impatiently. “In light of the video, you’re on administrative leave, obviously. On Tuesday we’ll have a meeting with the board of directors to see what happens next.”

  Her knees buckled and she sat with a thump on the office chair. “On leave? But it wasn’t me! How can I be placed on leave for something that I didn’t do?”

  “You deny that’s your office?” His voice held utter contempt.

  “No, that’s my office.” She struggled to organize her panicked brain. “But I lost my keys, about a week ago. Someone must have found them and filmed this video while I was gone.”

  “You never said anything about losing your keys,” he said, disbelief palpable.

  “But I did, really! And that’s not me...” Shelby glanced back at the screen, trying to find something in the grainy footage that proved her innocence.

  “We’re not discussing it now. The board has taken measures, you’re on leave. Tuesday at two o’clock. If anything comes up, let me know.” He hung with a snap.

  Shelby sat, unseeing for some time. Maybe she should call Ransom. But how to begin? What could she say? The image of the couple seemed burned into her brain and she shuddered.

  ******

  Rebecca pulled into the driveway a few hours later and jumped from the car. Shelby stood near the doorway, bags packed. Sirocco was in her carrier, sleeping. The guests had all gone and she had told her father that she had to get home. His pale face hardly registered her words as he sat in his study, staring out the window.

  “Oh, Shelby,” she said, giving her a hug in the driveway.

  “Do you think- is it really that bad?”

  She bit her lip. “Well, maybe it’s not. I don’t know everything. Sometimes people just gossip...” She let the end of her sentence trail away.

  Shelby’s heart fell like a stone. “Finch called. I’m on administrative leave, with a board of directors meeting on Tuesday.”

  Rebecca gasped, shock registering in her wide eyes. “To be put on leave without a hearing? We have to call the dean of faculty immediately. Shelby, you can’t let them railroad you for some prank someone else pulled in your office,” she said angrily.

  Shelby winced at the actions on the video being called a ‘prank’. She loaded her bags into the car, settling Sirocco in the back seat. “I don’t know what to do. It’s Saturday. Will the dean even be in his office?”

  “Shelby, you have to call these people at home, this is an emergency!”

  She felt like her mind was overloaded with grief and shock. This new development was just one more scene in a long nightmare that started when her father had called. She lay her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. “Why is this happening? Why now?”

  She felt Rebecca’s hand squeeze her arm. “I’m sorry. Just rest for a bit. When we get there we can make those phone calls.”

  *******

  No one would return her messages. Monday arrived and Shelby reached a secretary for the dean of faculty. The older woman’s voice sounded very solemn as she explained that the dean would be at the meeting on Tuesday. He would call her if there was anything to discuss before then.

  Rebecca was incensed, slamming napkins down on the table. She had made some soup, although Shelby wasn’t hungry. “That’s what Richard Angle is there for, to be your advocate!”

  She shrugged, stirring the soup with her spoon. Her face felt heavy with tears, but she hadn’t cried since before the funeral.

  “Did you reach Ransom?”

  “I... haven’t tried.” She was just so tired. She knew she should be trying to explain to him, to convince him. The video had gone viral over the weekend, linked to news sites and social networks across the nation. The media coverage was overwhelming. It started with the local stations and had worked its way up. “I don’t think he wants to be part of this train wreck,” she said, trying to sound off-hand but only managing to sound deathly tired. She couldn’t imagine wha
t he must be thinking.

  “Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet,” Rebecca said hopefully.

  Shelby snorted. “Everyone has seen it. They played a clip on the national news. Of course, it was something about how the digital age has made it much harder to have a romantic life without your boss finding out.” There had been no discussion about whether it had been Shelby at all. Journalists had called repeatedly, but every time she denied involvement, they lost interest. They all wanted to know who the student was and what kind of grade he’d gotten in her class. The thought of it made her stomach churn. She took a sip and forced herself to swallow. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do except wait for the meeting.”

  “That Miami station was the worst, calling the Roswells the ‘Rebel Family’. You told me once that your father had sided with the desegregationists and was voted out of his position as D.A., but you didn’t tell me about Jennie Anne’s problem this year.”

  Shelby nodded. “When she called me, it was all about some note she wrote that the teacher found. When the station reported it, they made it sound like she’d personally attacked a professor and barely dodged a suspension. It seems they can twist it whatever way they want.”

  Her room mate said nothing, her face glum and eyes bright with tears.

  “But hey, on the bright side, everyone thinks I have a social life,” Shelby said suddenly, a wry smile touching her lips.

  “Not funny,” Rebecca said, but she laughed anyway.