by Claire Adams
"What, like painting?" I snapped.
Thomas shuffled his big feet, but my father took the outburst in stride. "My daughter knows I have a passion for art. There's nothing wrong with wanting a creative pursuit. Not everything has to be practical down to the last detail."
"There's nothing wrong with focus and ambition," I said. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to check on the other guests."
Thomas's big eyes beseeched me to stay, but I turned and wove my way through to the porch. Jasmine and Lexi were teamed up against two guys from the physics department. A few smiles and poses, and the ping pong ball seemed to defy the laws of gravity so the girls could win. They giggled, and the guys didn't look sad at all as they got conciliatory hugs.
I stood on the top step but could not walk down and join them. I hung suspended between a room of cheering college friends and an interesting discussion on education funding. The conversations among the faculty were far more interesting, as they all came from diverse and distinguished careers.
I would never fit in with them if I didn't concentrate on my own career path. Yes, declaring my journalism major as a freshman had narrowed my areas of study immediately, but it kept me focused. There was no way I could be accused of being flighty or free-spirited like my absent mother. She never held a job or relationship that kept her in one place, and the consequential loneliness of that choice drove me in the opposite direction. The straight and narrow was just fine.
And that made it no less exciting for me. I turned back to the house and imagined a correspondents’ dinner. I'd get the scoop, I'd capture the perfect quote, and Ford would congratulate me on my keen observations again. No, scratch that. I kicked Professor Bauer out of my daydream.
I couldn't wait to go to press conferences and listen intently to the hidden truths behind the spin. The idea of arguing over interpretations with Ford sent a zip of anticipation up my back. No, again, he was a professor at Landsman College, and I was a student. Not only a student, but the Dean of Students’ daughter. I couldn't be daydreaming about him no matter how those metal-gray eyes sparked something inside me.
I pushed the handsome stranger out of my head. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough, and I could still get to know him. Then it would be easier to think of him as a stuffy, probably strict teacher.
"Clarity, there you are. Professor Bauer, I'd like you to meet my prized assistant and the arranger of this successful party," my father said.
Ford's lethal smile hit me full force. "Nice to meet you, Clarity. Dean Dunkirk has been telling me all about how indispensable you are to him."
He didn't realize I was the dean's daughter; his smile was too warm, and he held my outstretched hand a beat too long.
My father didn't notice the caress or the misunderstanding. "Clarity is indispensable, but that doesn't stop me from wishing she would break out, see a little more of the world, get inspired. Perhaps you can help convince her that it's actually better to bounce around a little and try things out before settling down."
Ford's smiled took my temperature up another five degrees. "She needs someone to bring her out of her shell?"
"Exactly," my father said. "Someone to show her it's okay to bend the rules now and then."
"Dean Dunkirk, should you really be talking about bending rules?" I asked.
My father laughed. "Ah, Clarity. She's my voice of reason. I just want you to feel some passion. What kind of person plans so carefully?"
"The person in charge of the desserts table. Please excuse me; there's an empty cookie tray I need to refill." I spun away from my father and Ford. I wasn't ready to see his gray eyes cool when he realized I was a student.
Professor Bauer, I reminded myself as I ignored the empty cookie tray and slipped out the back door of the kitchen. I edged along the sidewalk underneath the kitchen windows. Risking being seen for a second, I dodged into the shadows of the small fruit trees that separated the house from the vegetable garden. The sounds and pressures of the party faded behind me.
One of the few pieces of advice I remembered from my estranged mother echoed in my head. "You wanna know what love really feels like?" she had asked me when I had my first crush. "Imagine you're an outlet and your special someone is a plug. They come along, you realize how you fit together, and ding! The whole room lights up."
It was an odd memory to surface as I hid in the shadowed garden. I was glad for the cool breeze. Now that the temperature was dropping, it was actually starting to feel like fall. A good time to be wrapped up in a blanket in front of a crackling fire, my cheek resting against a strong, steady heartbeat and my hair caught in the rasping caress of a stubbled chin.
What was I doing? I paced around the four raised garden beds. A few stray plants hung on despite the coming frost, but even they could not keep Ford out of my head.
Professor Bauer.
I had to escape the party. Not only had my father neglected to introduce me as his daughter, but he had gone on and on about wanting me to do something reckless and passionate. Ford had listened politely, but the wolfish curve of his lips told me he approved of my father's out-of-character advice. I wondered how many glasses of Scotch my father had drank. Maybe I should have dragged him outside to clear his head too.
It wasn't working for me. I paced one more lap around the raised garden beds then flopped onto our sun-bleached bench. Counting backwards was supposed to calm me. I took a deep breath and started at twenty. By fifteen, I was struggling to erase tall, dark, and handsome. By ten, my shoulders relaxed.
At seven, I heard boots on the stepping stones. My eyes flew open, and Ford stopped just past the low branches of our old apple tree.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," he said.
You have no idea, I thought. "Too stuffy in there?" I asked him.
Ford laughed. "A little bit." He strode over and joined me on the bench. "Let me guess: you're escaping from your boss."
"My boss? Dean Dunkirk?" I knew I should correct him, but we were so separate from the party. There wouldn't be any harm in being my own person for just a few, quiet moments. "Yeah, he's a big talker about breaking out and bending rules, but what do you want to bet he'll have a dozen things for me to do when I get back?" I said.
Ford leaned back and stretched his long legs out. He crossed his ankles casually and sighed. "I know it's just the beginning of the school year, but I keep thinking about grabbing the train and heading to the end of the line. Or just riding until I feel like getting off and not caring where I end up. That's bad, isn't it?"
I hitched an elbow up onto the back of the bench and turned to face him. "I regularly dream about packing a bag, getting in my car, and just driving," I confessed.
"Talk to me when you have that bag already packed," Ford said. "We could be past Chicago and on our way west in an hour. Not that I've studied the train time tables or anything." His smile flashed like lightning in the dark garden.
"Why the train?" I asked.
"That way I'm moving, but I can still enjoy the scenery." He looped an arm over the back of the bench next to mine. His hand brushed the ends of my hair. "There are lots of beautiful things I'd like to focus on for a while."
His leg pressed along my thigh, and the autumn air couldn't cool me down enough. A blush rose on my cheeks, and I was glad for the shadowy garden. "Running away on a train sounds so romantic," I said.
"Exactly," Ford murmured. "Do you think Dean Dunkirk would approve of you jumping on a train for a romantic getaway?"
I pulled back and stood up. "Sorry, I really should be getting back to the party."
Ford stood up. "So, Dean Dunkirk's right, huh? You're always so good?"
"Good night," I said, and fled back to my father's house.
Chapter Two
Ford
Clarity's dark-red hair was easy to spot through the windows. I wasn't ready to return to the party. I wasn't ready to admit that she was the reason I had stepped outside for some fresh air in the first place. It was all
the professors, so noble in their pursuits, and the students, so fresh-faced and eager. It drove me crazy how the real world was pushed outside of Landsman College.
I watched Clarity move through the party. She belonged there, smiled and chatted with everyone, and looked at home. I felt a plume of warmth in my chest. Just minutes ago, she had been outside with me, wishing for a way to get far away and free of it all.
I knew the long hours and close quarters of a train would be no problem at all if Clarity was with me. The thought sent me marching towards the front of the house. I hadn't felt a kick of attraction that strong since high school. That girl dumped me flat on my ass right after I enlisted, and I'd been keeping it simple ever since I’d returned to civilian life. Clarity was the only exception I'd run across, and all I could think to do was get far away from her.
"Ford, is that you? What are you doing skulking around in the roses?"
I skipped the stepping stones and jumped onto the sidewalk to join my friend. "Jackson, thank god you're here. Just the breath of fresh air I was looking for."
"Speaking of fresh air," Jackson said, "Alice and I want you to meet her friend. I think you two would really get along."
"Nice talking with you, Jackson, see you on campus." I veered away from the front steps and headed to my car.
"Come on, Ford; it can't be that bad," Jackson grabbed my arm and hauled me back.
"What is this obsession with setting me up?" I asked.
Jackson grinned. "I can't help it. After Alice and I got married this summer, I just want other people to feel the same happiness. And I wouldn't be bugging you with blind dates if you'd just find someone yourself."
"I'll let you know when I find someone interesting enough to date," I said.
We walked back through the front door and I caught a glimpse of Clarity heading over to greet Jackson. She stopped suddenly when she saw me. Her green eyes refracted a vibrant light right through my chest.
"Whoa, what is going on there?" Jackson asked, slack-jawed.
Before he could say anything else, I slipped past the math professors and caught up to her before she disappeared into the kitchen. "So, just out of curiosity, what are your plans for Thanksgiving break?" I asked.
A delicious pink hue touched her cheeks, and I was tempted to feel the heat of her blush with my lips. She blinked up at me, and I couldn't read the shifting forest shades of green in her gaze.
"What exactly are you asking?" Clarity asked.
"No pressure, I know it's crazy, but all I'm saying is that we'd have enough time to get to know each other, get out on the West Coast, and fly back before break is over." My mouth belonged to someone else, clearly someone who had not asked out a woman in a very long time. I had skipped the safe drinks suggestion, bypassed shared meals, and went straight for a couple’s vacation. She was going to think I was crazy.
"That's crazy," Clarity said.
"I know you're going to say 'but.' Come on, you know you want to." My chest jittered, unaccustomed to the heady mix of recklessness and excitement. It had been way too long. "Dean Dunkirk, I'm sure you have a few great suggestions for places to go in California."
Clarity's creamy skin went pale as the Dean of Students joined us. She swayed back a bit, so I wrapped an arm around her waist. Suddenly my suggestion didn't seem so insane. She fit against me so perfectly; I knew I needed her there.
Dean Dunkirk smiled, too engrossed in his own advice to notice me pulling Clarity close. "Personally, I'd head right to Napa Valley. The wine country there is something to see, and there are great, hidden towns to stay in while you explore. My daughter has always wanted to go there. Isn't that right, Clarity?"
"Clarity? Your daughter?" My words weren't coming out right. I dropped my arm from around her waist. "You're Clarity Dunkirk?"
"Beautiful name, isn't it? One of the only things her mother and I agreed on," Dean Dunkirk said.
Beautiful, yes, and I knew the moment she marched up to me that she wouldn't hesitate to challenge me. It was something about her that I felt with certainty and knew I needed.
My mind switched into tactical mode, determined to work around the obstacle and complete my mission. Why Clarity was a top priority mission didn't matter. It felt good to want something again.
And I liked Dean Dunkirk. The Dean of Students was easy to talk to, full of practical but light-hearted advice, and he obviously had a healthy respect for his daughter. I figured a few more friendly conversations, and I could work my way up to asking permission to date her.
"Well, thank you both for a wonderful party. I'm sorry to leave so soon, but I have an early class in the morning," I said. I needed to go, get a little distance, and see if I could form a plan that would work.
I marched out the front door, the sense of purpose giving my muscles new vitality. The last few years, I had drifted along at Landsman College and avoided most people. Jackson was a rare exception.
My phone rang, and it was the only other person I voluntarily talked to. "Hi, Liz, how's my baby sister?"
"Are you at a party?" she asked.
"Just leaving, and no, it's not what you think. Just a faculty get-together with some of the Honor Council students," I said.
"Then why do you sound so happy?"
"I'm excited for class to start tomorrow," I lied.
Liz chuckled. "I still can't believe my big brother is a college professor."
"This is year three," I said and felt the old, familiar pang.
"Don't you miss it? You were a great journalist, Ford. I still don't understand how you got let go for doing too good a job," Liz said.
"I'm living proof it's possible to know too much," I joked, but my little sister didn't buy it. I heard her sigh. "We've gone over this a hundred times, Lizzy: no one's going to hire a discredited journalist, alright? I'm happy enough where I am."
I reminded myself of that fact when I unlocked the door to my apartment. I kicked off my shoes and settled down in the office chair next to my dining room table. The new semester's syllabus was laid out along with mountains of supporting texts and articles. I opened my laptop and got back to work.
It didn't matter how much I wanted to be a journalist again. That was over. Now I was a college professor, and the money was good. My paycheck gave me enough to send some to Liz each month. She needed help with medical school, and I was determined to keep my head down and my paychecks coming.
As I added notes to my lecture topics, the image of dark-red, wavy hair, and forest-green eyes kept appearing. I wasn't working my dream job, but at least now I had the dean's lovely daughter to help me get through the school year. For once, I was looking forward to my first class early in the morning.
#
When it came to students, I only noticed what would help me remember their names. Wendell had round, silver-rimmed glasses. Allison had short, spiky hair. Maurice had a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. My first year at Landsman College, I learned firsthand the dangers of noticing anything more about the students, especially the attractive females. Now I focused on small details that would help me recognize them throughout the semester.
I unpacked my leather messenger bag and organized my introduction lecture notes. She walked in, and I knocked an entire folder on the floor. Luckily, the rest of the lecture hall could not see me as I ducked down behind my desk.
Clarity's sure steps faltered when she saw my face. I scowled up at her and swiped together the loose papers. My class roster ended up on top, and there she was: Clarity Dunkirk, junior.
My mind skipped back over our introduction and wondered where I went wrong. Had I been so distracted by my instant attraction to her that I didn't hear who she was? No, she had simply neglected to tell me two important facts. Clarity was not only the Dean of Students' daughter, but she was one of my students.
I stood up and ignored her completely, which was easy because I couldn't see anything but a red haze. I hated how Landsman College students were washed in privilege.
Clarity had probably thought flirting with me and then embarrassing me in class was going to be a hilarious prank. I was just another employee serving what she wanted.
She sat down in the center of the fourth row, and I spent the rest of class pretending she didn't exist. Clarity kept her eyes on her notebook and scribbled diligently. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail by a slim, black ribbon. The bright focus in her emerald eyes separated her from the rest of the groggy and slouching students.
After running through the syllabus, explaining the large writing component of the course, and completing my first lecture, I gathered up my things as quickly as I could. By the time I had unplugged my laptop, most of the students had made a beeline out the door towards the cafeteria for coffee and breakfast. A few stragglers asked questions, and the then echoing lecture hall was quiet.
"Professor Bauer?"
I looked up at the pair of smiling students. "Yes?"
"I'm Mindy, and this is my friend, Tonya. We just wanted to say that we're really looking forward to your course this semester. It's great to have a professor that's willing to teach us outside the classroom," Mindy batted her eyelashes.
"Well, you can't practice proper journalism in a vacuum. I have to help you get out to community events so you can start digging up real leads," I said.
"We're looking forward to it." Mindy giggled and posed in front of me until her friend dragged her to the door.
"Professor Bauer?"
I swore under my breath. It bothered me that Clarity had seen the other students flirting with me. "Yes, Ms. Dunkirk, is it?"
She frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. "I need to apologize for not explaining I was one of your students. I just, I, I enjoyed talking to you like a regular adult," Clarity said. She squeezed her notebook to her chest.
I slammed my leather messenger bag closed and gritted my teeth. "No problem, Ms. Dunkirk. I don't mind being reduced to some silly school girl fantasy just so you can pretend to be mature."