Something to Believe

by Robbi McCoy

  “Have a safe trip home,” Lauren said.

  Cassie threw her arms around Lauren and hugged her tightly. She held on until Cassie was ready to let go.

  “Bye,” Cassie said, then left rapidly.

  Lauren watched her until the rattling of the gangway drew her attention. Faith was on her way up. When she arrived, she said, “You look like you’re about to cry.”

  “Oh, you know. Goodbyes are always sad.”

  “You’re such a softie,” Faith said, clamping a hand on her shoulder. “Every ending is a tragedy to you. Let’s get a taxi. We need to be at the airport in an hour for our flight to Shanghai. Nothing to cry about today. We’re still on vacation. Adventures await!”

  Lauren smiled, taking Faith’s offered hand as Cassie’s bus roared off down the street. Maybe Cassie didn’t realize it, but Lauren, too, was anxious to continue their friendship. From her point of view, Cassie was a rare and wonderful stroke of luck. As soon as she was out of sight, Lauren started to miss her. A friend like this didn’t come along often in a lifetime. At least not for Lauren. She wasn’t like Faith. She didn’t make friends easily. She didn’t often feel a genuine connection with people she met and, for Lauren, that was a prerequisite to friendship. She demanded a lot from people, emotionally. She could already tell, though, that Cassie was capable of meeting those demands. She was honest and unafraid of her feelings. Lauren hoped there was some way they could maintain a friendship across so much geographical distance once they were each back home. It would be a challenge, but Lauren was committed to making the effort.

  Part Two

  Portland, Oregon

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as Faith dismissed her Physical Anthropology class, several students crowded up to her to ask questions. The class was full, as it always was at the beginning of the semester, and chaotic. As she answered them one by one, she wondered again why they always did this, why they never asked their questions during class when she made a point of saying, “Are there any questions?” She had ten minutes between classes, so could usually not afford this delay, but today her two o’ clock period wasn’t a class. It was her weekly meeting with Emma. As Faith whittled the crowd down to just two remaining students, she saw Emma in the hallway outside the classroom. She gave a tiny wave through the glass.

  As the last student left the room, Faith gathered her papers together and Emma came in. As always, she looked so well put together, her wavy ash-blonde hair styled just so, her clothes neat and perfectly coordinated down to the snappy brown flats on her feet. Even without heels, Emma was two inches taller than Faith, but looked taller still because of the trim lines of her body, the long slender legs, the slim hips.

  “Hi,” she said brightly.

  “Hi. I’m just about ready.”

  “Would you like to go to Max’s?” Emma proposed.

  Faith zipped her briefcase. Max’s was a restaurant near the campus they’d gone to before. Faith was determined to keep their meetings professional this semester.

  “No, I think my office will do.”

  Emma followed her upstairs. Faith unlocked her office and left the door open as Emma sat in the visitor’s chair. Sitting in her own chair under a row of primitive African masks, Faith said, “So, let’s talk about your subject. I’m anxious to hear what you’ve come up with.”

  Emma crossed her legs. “I’m leaning toward the native tribes of the Pacific Northwest. I mean, why not? That’s where we are, right?”

  “Yes. Lots of interesting possibilities. I know you were awfully inspired by your trip to Alaska. Is that where you’re going to focus?”

  “A little broader, geographically, because I’m intrigued with the tradition of the potlatch. I mean, what an awesome concept, you know, getting everybody together to distribute wealth evenly among the tribe mates.”

  “Awesome, yes,” Faith agreed. “What aspect?”

  “Not completely sure.”

  “What interests you about it?”

  “It’s where we got the potluck, isn’t it?” Emma shrugged playfully. “I’m a lesbian. It’s a natural.”

  Faith laughed. “I hope you’ve got more than that?”

  “Yeah.” Emma turned serious. “I want to understand why the Christian missionaries and the early European governments considered it dangerous. Why was it banned? For the reasons given, that it was immoral, or were there political considerations?”

  “I like it. Talk it out with me.”

  Faith leaned back in her chair and listened as Emma described her ideas for her thesis. She occasionally made a suggestion. A half hour later, it sounded like Emma had a solid handle on her topic.

  “This is great,” Emma said, excitement apparent in her clear blue eyes. “Thanks so much for helping me figure this out. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “And I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Do you think I could use that Nootka story you told in class last semester? It fits in nicely.”

  “Sure.”

  “Is it published anywhere? I can quote it from the published source.”

  “No. It’s barely even written down. I’m afraid you’ll have to quote me in person.”

  “Okay. No problem. Any particular reason you haven’t written it up?”

  Faith shook her head. “No. Just lack of organization. I’m notoriously disorganized. Sometimes I’m astonished I ever got that one book published. Even when I manage to get an article written, it languishes in my filing cabinet forever.” It was only because of Lauren’s help and encouragement, Faith knew, that the book ever did get finished.

  “That’s a shame. Maybe you need a secretary. An assistant or something.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do. Someone with the wherewithal to put a manuscript in an envelope with a cover letter and mail it off to some journal.”

  “Like me,” Emma suggested.

  Faith balked, worried that Emma was going to offer herself up as personal Girl Friday. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, “like you. You definitely do have those skills. Perhaps someday when we’re colleagues, we can collaborate on something and you can take care of the business end of it.”

  Emma smiled and stared directly into Faith’s eyes. “I look forward to that. I think we work very well together. Like today. Look what great ideas we’ve come up with for my thesis. And our time isn’t even up.”

  Faith glanced at the wall clock. “I guess we can knock off early, then.”

  “Oh, before I go, I have something for you.” Emma reached into her book bag and extracted a small gift-wrapped box, which she thrust toward Faith with a sheepish smile.

  Faith hesitated. “Emma, I don’t think you should be giving me gifts.”

  “It’s not anything, really. Just a tiny thing. Please accept it.”

  Faith reluctantly took the box. This was not the first time Emma had brought her something. Usually, it was food, something she’d baked, not something she’d purchased. The exception to that was the little watercolor that hung over her desk, a souvenir from Emma’s trip to Alaska two years ago. Faith had accepted that as a thank you for encouraging Emma to make the trip.

  Faith glanced at the watercolor with its greens and violets above a dim snow field, then opened the box. Inside was a pin, a parrot made of bright blue and red crystals in a gold-colored matrix.

  “It’s lovely,” Faith said.

  “I thought it would go well with your royal blue jacket. Dress it up a little. I saw it in the store and I thought of you immediately.”

  “Thank you, Emma. But, you know, this makes me feel a little uncomfortable.”

  “Why?”

  “Well...you don’t give your other teachers gifts, do you?”

  “No. But you’re not just a teacher to me. You’re a friend. I mean, we’ve known each other for a few years now. And you’ve been such an inspiration to me. You’re the reason I’m an anthropology major, as you know. And now you’re my thesis advisor. You’re hardly jus
t another teacher.” Emma leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “Faith, you’re very special to me.”

  “Thank you,” Faith said, uneasily. She was at a loss for words, not really wanting to talk about what she saw as a growing problem. She stared at the pin for a moment, trying to think of something to say. When she looked up, she saw that Emma’s expression was serious and intense.

  “I feel really close to you,” Emma said quietly. “I feel like we have a real connection.”

  In some ways, Emma reminded Faith of Lauren. She had the same inability to be casual about anything. She threw herself wholly into everything and she experienced her feelings deeply. It was why she was such a good student, so passionate, but it also made her difficult in a case like this where she had fixed her affections on someone who wasn’t available to her.

  “I don’t want you to get carried away with that idea,” Faith said gently. “You know I like you too. You’re an intelligent woman. You’ve been a joy as a student. I want you to succeed. I want to help you succeed. I’ll do everything I can to help you... professionally.”

  Emma pressed her lips tightly together, then looked down at her hands in her lap. “I understand what you’re saying,” she said without looking up. “And I know why you’re saying it. I’m sure you know how I feel about you. I mean, you’re so perceptive and it has to be obvious, doesn’t it?”

  Yes, it’s obvious, but you should keep it to yourself anyway.

  “I think you’re brilliant,” Emma continued. “And kind and generous. Wise. Strong. Such a role model. I guess I’ve got sort of a crush on you.” She laughed nervously.

  Twenty-year-old girls have crushes on me, Faith thought. A thirty-four-year-old woman has something else. Emma was waiting for her response. Faith wondered what she expected. Surely she didn’t expect Faith to welcome this “news.”

  “I imagine you’ll get over that,” she said. “Crushes are usually short-lived, based as they are on illusion.”

  Emma smiled, an ironic smile that made it clear she knew she had no school-girl crush. “I don’t think I’m delusional.” Her voice had now acquired a hint of the seductress. Definitely no innocent young girl. Therefore much more dangerous. Now that she had voiced her feelings, Faith felt obligated to address them.

  “You should take this back,” Faith said, handing her the gift box. “Seriously. No more gifts. Our relationship has got to be strictly professional.”

  Emma looked disappointed. “I guess I’m making you nervous.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

  “Why?” Faith asked bluntly.

  Emma looked confused, as if the whole concept of keeping one’s feelings to oneself was unimaginable to her.

  “What do you want me to say?” Faith asked, exasperated. “You know I’m with Lauren.”

  “Yes, I know. Love isn’t rational. I can’t help it.”

  Faith laughed, realizing it came out as extremely cynical. “That’s a cop-out. A lot of harm in the world has been done by people saying they couldn’t help themselves. You can help yourself. And you will. You’re a mature woman. And I’m not available to you. Do the smart thing and talk yourself out of it the same way you talked yourself into it.” Faith stood and picked up her briefcase. “Because if you don’t, working together is going to be a problem for us. And I sincerely don’t want to see that happen. I’ve been rooting for you since your first semester and I want to see you through to the end. Don’t go this route, Emma.”

  Faith held a hand toward the doorway and Emma obliged her by standing and walking out. Faith followed her into the hall, then shut and locked her office door, steeling herself against the defeated slump of Emma’s body.

  “I’ll see you next week,” Emma said. “And don’t worry. I understand. Strictly professional.”

  Faith nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  She felt herself soften at the sadness in Emma’s eyes. Faith’s heart wasn’t hardened to Emma. For some time now, she had felt a tenderness toward her. For a while, she had thought they would be friends, eventually colleagues, and enjoy a long, rewarding relationship. Now, she didn’t know how this would turn out. Maybe Emma would wise up and give up the notion of romance. Faith hoped so, but she also knew that women rarely talked themselves out of loving someone, no matter how prudent it was to do so.

  She put her arm around Emma’s shoulders to give her a heartening squeeze. “See you next week.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Faith’s eyes were getting tired. She removed her reading glasses and rubbed them, then decided to take a break from reading student papers to check her e-mail. She went to the den to use the computer. She heard the familiar static and modem tones as it attempted to dial up the online service, then reported there was no dial tone. Lauren must be talking on the phone, Faith reasoned, then went looking for her. Following the sound of the TV from the family room, she found Lauren sitting in front of the TV, the laptop computer open on the coffee table, a lengthy telephone cord snaking across the carpet to the phone jack on the back wall. The VCR was on and on the television, Miss Jean Brodie was in the middle of filling Mary McGregor’s head full of impractical ideals of courage and self-sacrifice.

  “What are you doing?” Faith asked, coming up behind the couch.

  “I’m watching this movie. Cassie’s watching it too.”

  “So what are you doing on the computer?”

  “Chatting with her. We’re watching the movie together.”

  “What?” Faith said, looking at the laptop screen where an open chat window showed a running commentary between Lauren and Cassie.

  A soft ding announced a new message. “That woman is deadly!” appeared in the chat window.

  “I can’t believe this,” Faith said.

  “Since Jennifer’s working tonight and you had papers to grade, Cassie and I decided we’d have a movie night. We both rented The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. She loves Maggie Smith as much as I do. Do you believe that?”

  “Do you want to pause the movie?” Faith suggested.

  “No! It took us fifteen minutes to get in synch to begin with. We can’t pause unless we both pause at exactly the same time.”

  “Oh,” said Faith. “I guess you couldn’t log off for a few minutes either so I can check my e-mail?”

  “Can it please wait until the movie’s over? It won’t be that much longer.”

  Faith sighed. “Yes, it can wait. I’m not done with the papers anyway.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  Faith leaned over the back of the couch and kissed Lauren’s cheek. She took one more look at the chat window on the laptop screen and shook her head as Lauren rapidly typed a reply. “No good can come of this!”

  She went back to the dining room table where her work was spread out, smiling to herself. Lauren and Cassie had become cyber-buddies. Ever since they’d returned from China, the two of them communicated daily. It was not unusual for dinner conversation to center around something Cassie had told Lauren that day in an e-mail. They were as likely to talk about Cassie’s students as they were Faith’s.

  Lauren was getting used to Cassie’s presence in her life, maybe a little too used to it. One day Cassie’s e-mail service had gone down, so no messages. Lauren was genuinely upset, imagining all sorts of catastrophes from Cassie’s death to, even worse, Cassie’s indifference.

  This went on most of the day until Faith suggested Lauren call Cassie on the phone and ask her if she was okay. At first, Lauren had balked. That wasn’t how they communicated, but then she had called anyway and Faith had listened to her delighted laughter as she discovered the real cause of Cassie’s silence.

  Faith wasn’t surprised at the passion of Lauren’s relationship with Cassie. Casual friendships never maintained her interest, which was the primary reason, Faith had decided long ago, that Lauren had few friends. She demanded emotional honesty and depth of feeling from her rela
tionships, and most people were unwilling to make that sort of investment in anyone other than their family members. Apparently Cassie wasn’t afraid of Lauren’s intensity. Perhaps she was a similar type. She seemed as dedicated to this friendship as Lauren was.

  Less than two months after China, they were planning an in-person visit. Cassie and Jennifer were coming to Portland for a week in the spring. Lauren was excitedly making arrangements to show them everything worth showing. She was very happy and Faith was happy for her, though occasionally she did wonder if Lauren was becoming too involved, too preoccupied with Cassie. But, really, she thought, watching a movie together long-distance was actually very inventive and sweet.

  Lauren came into the dining room. “Movie’s over. How’s the paper grading going?”

  “I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” Faith said. “I’m too tired to read any more of these. They’re all sounding the same.”

  “Then let’s just go to bed.” Lauren took Faith’s hand and led her to the bedroom.

  “How was your movie?”

  “It was a lot of fun. Next we’re going to do either A Room With a View or The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne.”

  “Is it a Maggie Smith marathon, then?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe. That would be fun.”

  “Well, let me know when you get to Harry Potter.”

  Lauren snorted.

  “You know,” Faith said, pulling down the bedspread, “I think I’m too wound up to go to sleep.”

  Lauren reached over and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, her eyes turning mischievous. “Who said anything about sleep?”

  “Oh,” Faith said with a small whimper of delight. She put her hands around Lauren’s waist as she unbuttoned the rest of the buttons.

  “I think I might be able to unwind you,” Lauren said, then let her lips graze Faith’s collar bone and slide lower, kissing the curve of her breast above her bra. Lauren slipped the shirt over Faith’s shoulders and down off her arms, letting it fall to the floor.