By Jove

by Marissa Doyle

  Outdoors, the early March sun looked washed-out and watery but Theo could feel its heat as she held her face up to it. Spring always seemed furthest away in March in New England. Back down at Sneed, the daffodils would be up and opening by now.

  “Miss Fairchild? Is that spes, third one down in the first column?”

  “Is my writing that bad today? Yes. It means ‘hope.’”

  Hope. It was Theo’s favorite word lately, because all she could do these days was hope for life to brighten. Maybe it was the miserable cold and frequent storms that had arrived with the start of the new semester and had stayed interminably since. But no one in the department had been very lively, either. Paul had lost all his flirtatiousness and treated her with such grave courtesy that she had been moved to ask Di Hunter if he were ill. Marlowe remained his merry self, but in a subdued way, and SpongeBob had not made an appearance since the Saturnalia party, not even for the department’s Lupercalia party in February with its coy fertility references and general rowdiness.

  Strangest of all, Renee Frothington-Forge-Smythe had taken a fancy to her. She hung around the department a day or two a week and invited Theo out for drinks or lunch, then fussed over her hair and wardrobe like a sophisticated elder sister trying to launch a gauche younger sibling in society. Lately she had started taking Theo shopping at her extensive number of favorite boutiques.

  Where Theo felt in the most need of hope was with Grant. He had written to her several times over the month of Christmas break, postcards of bemused-looking moose from New Hampshire and of the Sibyl’s Cave at Cumae in Italy, and three lengthy letters full of such longing and love that she was almost frantic for classes to start again so she could respond—for he had neglected to include a return address on any of them. Nor had he responded to emails or texts.

  But when she’d come back, ready to fall into his arms, it was to find that he had reverted to absentminded preoccupation once more. Theo had spent a bad few days her first week back, trying to reconcile the beautiful love letters she had received with the coolness of their author.

  But that wasn’t all. Grant looked positively haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in days, and pale as a ghost when he’d returned from Italy. Theo had been shocked at his appearance but he had waved aside her worried suggestions that he see a doctor.

  “I must’ve picked something up on my trip,” was his careless comment. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  But he hadn’t improved, and she was worried. There was no more talk of Pemberley, no more talk of—of almost anything.

  Only Julian had been himself. He had greeted her with a warm embrace when she looked into his office on the first day of the new semester, and carried her off for a talk-filled dinner that very night. Since then, she had gone out for dinner with him almost every week, delighting in his conversation. And not telling Grant. That made her uneasy, for she had promised him that she would be careful with Julian. But she was being careful, whatever that meant. Julian didn’t say or do anything that she would have been uncomfortable telling either her mother or the university’s ethics committee about, and if it was good enough for Mom and the committee, it would have to be good enough for Grant.

  Not that he ever asked where she was on those nights. She was always careful to shower away any traces of Julian’s perfume, which she always wore when she went out with him. The expression of pleasure on Julian’s face when she wore it was worth the risk of annoying Grant. If he’d even notice.

  A restless rustle moved through the classroom. Theo turned from the window. “All set? All right, Matt, what would spes be in the ablative plural?”

  …

  “But if I tell him you were with me, it’ll be all right,” Renee said, her blue eyes opened wide.

  “It’s not that he’ll care where I was. It’s that I’ll have missed his class,” Theo tried to explain once more.

  “To go shopping with his wife. Surely that’s a good enough reason to skip Henry’s class, don’t you think? I’ve found the cutest little shop in Hingham—almost as good as something on Newbury Street. They’ve got lots of things that would look yummy on you, and Talbots is only a little ways away. I just love classic clothes.”

  Theo sighed.

  “Please? Pretty please?”

  “Why are you doing this, Renee? I mean, it’s very kind of you to be nice to your husband’s students and all, but—”

  She and Renee were having lunch in the faculty lounge. Theo had actually come to like Renee. It was impossible not to, once you got to know her. She was so beautiful that even the most jealous woman was forced to give in and admire her eventually. Furthermore, she had the manner and personality of a Siamese kitten: imperious, playful, and utterly charming.

  “It’s my hobby. I love pretty things. And it’s almost as much fun finding pretty things for other people as it is for myself. After all, Henry has his hobbies, like that nasty metal shop of his. So why can’t I have mine?”

  “Because the last time we went shopping, I would’ve maxed out two credit cards if I’d let you have your way. As it was I spent far too much.”

  “Yes, and you should’ve seen the eyes of all the men in this department bug out whenever you walked by wearing one of those new blouses.”

  Well, that was kind of true. Julian had paid her a quiet compliment when she’d worn the white linen one to dinner last week, but his eyes had spoken volumes more. If only Grant were the one to be doing the noticing—

  As if her thought had called him into being, she saw Grant walk into the Lounge, head bowed, and sit down at a small table in the corner. While Renee chattered about the new spring colors and what necklines would be doing, Theo watched him sit slumped in his chair. When a waiter arrived he pulled himself together enough to order something, then subsided back into a near stupor. This illness of his had persisted since January, well over a month and a half now. He claimed to have seen a doctor back in February after she’d finally called and made him an appointment, but if the visit had done him any good, she had yet to see it.

  After a moment he stirred, reached down into his bag, and pulled something from it. A group of lunch-goers walked by just then, obscuring Theo’s view. When they had passed, she saw that he held a small silver flask, gazing at it with a strange expression of mixed revulsion and determination. As she watched, he seemed to steel himself. Raising the flask to his lips, he drank the contents down in a rush then sat back, grayer than ever and almost panting.

  Before she could even think or say a word of excuse to Renee, Theo was across the room. She knelt at his side.

  “Grant! What is it? What did you just drink?” she demanded, taking his hand.

  He slowly turned his head and stared down at her as if his eyes wouldn’t focus properly. “Theo?” he mumbled.

  She reached over and picked up the flask, looked at it suspiciously, and raised it to her nose.

  “No!” Grant said suddenly, lunging for it. She just caught a whiff of something awful, like decaying vegetation overlaid with sulfur and petroleum, before he snatched the bottle away from her, looking even more dreadful. “Don’t touch that! Don’t even go near it!” he gasped.

  “It’s horrible! What is it?” she asked again, fighting back nausea. He screwed the cover on it and shoved it back into his bag.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Theo. It’s all right. You’ll see,” he said, trying to smile reassuringly at her. It made him look like a death’s head.

  “No, it’s not all right. Is that what’s making you sick? What are you doing to yourself?”

  He looked into her eyes, and she could see a shadow of the old Grant, her beloved wise fool, gaze back at her. “Recreating myself, Theo. It’s my Pemberley. So I have something to give you when—when—” His eyes closed and he swallowed hard.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Renee asked from behind Theo. She had followed and was staring at Grant with horrified fascination, hugging her arms around herself.


  “I don’t know. He’s been sick ever since the semester started. He just drank something that seemed to make him sicker, but he won’t tell me what it was,” she murmured back.

  “You’re right. I won’t. H’lo, Renee. Nice to see you. Take care of Theo, won’t you? Tell her I’ll be okay in just a little while longer.” Grant opened one eye and looked at them blearily.

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it, Grant,” Theo said furiously.

  Someone cleared his throat politely behind her. Theo turned and saw Grant’s waiter holding a plate and a large glass of water. “Excuse me, please,” he said, and set the plate down in front of Grant. “Anything else I can get you, sir?”

  “No, thank you.” Grant took a drink of water and sighed in relief. “Go with Renee, Theo. I’ll see you tonight. I promise.” He turned to his plate, which held a large and evidently very rare hamburger.

  Renee took Theo’s arm and pulled her away without another word.

  “But he never eats hamburgers,” Theo said, looking back over her shoulder. “He told me once that he was good friends with a cow a long time ago and hasn’t been able to eat beef since then.”

  Renee pursed her lips. “Come on. Let’s go. You heard him.” She threw a couple of twenties down on their table and propelled Theo toward the door.

  Even after an afternoon spent with Renee and her cheerfully inconsequential chatter, Theo could not get the picture of the gasping, whey-faced Grant from her mind. Nor could Renee’s gift of a magnificent silk scarf, hand-painted in shades of turquoise, soothe her worries. She bolted an early dinner and was in the Great Room by six, waiting for Grant to keep his promise and prepared to brave the terrors of his neighborhood in Little Athens to knock down the door of his apartment if he didn’t.

  She didn’t have to. He came into the Great Room shortly after seven-thirty, still pale and weak-looking but more in control of himself.

  “I’m sorry, Theo,” he began, flinging himself down in the armchair opposite her. Back around Halloween he would have sat down next to her on the sofa. She tried not to dwell on that fact. At least he’d shown up tonight.

  “Would you care to explain to me what’s going on? Are you sure you’ve been to see a doctor?” she asked, managing to keep her voice quiet.

  “I know exactly what’s going on. No, a doctor won’t help. And no, I can’t explain it. Not yet. Actually,” he continued, holding up one hand to silence her, “I’m quite pleased with how it’s going. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to continue to teach.”

  “Well, your students have more sense than that,” she replied severely. “Several of them have been to see me because they’re concerned that you’re going to drop dead in class some morning. I promised them I’d deal with your remains if they came and got me right away, but they didn’t seem very reassured. What the heck do you mean ‘you’re pleased with how it’s going’? Do you have any idea what you look like?”

  “Good answer. Knew I could rely on you,” he said, ignoring the second half of her speech.

  “Grant—”

  “Wait, Theo. I won’t say anything else, so don’t ask. But I think I can promise you that I’ll be better by the end of spring break.”

  Theo got up and paced around the couch. “That’s in another, oh, three and a half weeks. So you’re telling me that if you’re not dead by then, you’ll be cured?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I’ll be going up to Eleusinian for the break, and once I get back—”

  So he would disappear back up to New Hampshire once again. “I can’t handle much more of this, you know,” she said, interrupting him. “You tell me you love me in letters, then you avoid me like the plague when we’re face-to-face. You look like you belong on life support but you’re pleased with how you’re doing. And every time we might have a chance to spend some free time together over a vacation, you vanish up to New Hampshire. I’m—it’s starting to hurt too much to love you.” She sat back down on the couch and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Oh, Theo,” he said helplessly. “I’m not trying to hurt you. Please—after spring break—”

  She took a deep breath. “All right. After spring break. At that time we will sit down and decide what we should do. I don’t like to say this when you’re sick, but this has been going on a lot longer than your illness, and you haven’t been willing to let me help you through it. You keep pushing me away. I love you. But I can’t keep loving you if you won’t let me.”

  Grant sat back in his chair, his knuckles white as he clutched its arms. But his voice was steady when he spoke. “That seems fair, so long as you’re willing to listen to what I have to say to you then. Most of it won’t be very believable, but it’s true nonetheless.” He let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. They were both quiet after that.

  …

  It was a relief to have dinner with Julian the next night. Theo didn’t have to be on guard, to worry that he would collapse or do anything else inexplicable. It was restful to know that she would have another quiet evening of stimulating conversation with a friend.

  “Pretty scarf,” he commented as he pushed in her seat at the Greek restaurant that he had taken her to before. As if by magic, two waiters appeared with a bottle of wine and a platter of olives and cheese.

  “Thank you. Renee gave it to me because she liked the way it looked with my hair.” She stroked it and looked up at him. “Actually, it matches your eyes.”

  “Does it? Well, then. My eyes are upon you, Theodora,” he said, making a threatening face at her. “Literally.”

  She smiled. “You’re far too nice to be able to look convincingly predatory.”

  “And you’re far too clever to be caught by any common predator. Not that it wouldn’t be tempting to try. But I’d rather be your friend.” He held a glass out to her, then raised his own. “You’re pensive tonight. Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, it’s—you know. Same old, same old.” She shrugged and tried to look more lively.

  “Are things with Grant still troubling you?”

  Hell. She didn’t want to think about that right now. “Well…yes. I’ve been worried about his health. Have you seen how pale and tired he looks all the time? And I, er, sort of lost my temper with him. We’ve called a truce until after spring break.”

  “I hope you can resolve things with him, one way or another. I don’t like to see my friends unhappy.” Julian’s expression was concerned. “What are you doing for spring break, anyway? Going home?”

  “No. Dr. Waterman asked if I would fish-sit for him, and I said yes. I also thought I’d try to get work on course papers done that week, so that I’m not so swamped at the end of the semester. Like I was last year.” She popped a black olive, fragrant with rosemary and olive oil, into her mouth.

  “You did very well last semester. But getting a head start is a good idea. I’ll be busy with projects too. Finalizing the annual department trip, for one thing.”

  “Trip to where? That sounds exciting.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “To Greece, of course. We visit several ancient sites and a few of the islands, do a little digging if I can arrange it, and have a wonderful time. You should consider coming.”

  Theo remembered her father’s story of his first visit to Greece. His “nymph” was probably now a wrinkled grandmother in a black dress and kerchief in some village somewhere. “It does sound wonderful. But I’ll need to get a summer job and earn some tuition money.”

  “Are you sure I can’t tempt you? It’s not for the whole summer, after all.” He chose an olive from the tray and ate it. “The olives there make these taste like cardboard. The afternoon sunshine would turn your hair to molten gold as we sat outside tavernas drinking retsina, and all the old women and young men would cluster around you to stroke it.” Julian’s voice was low and caressing. It insinuated itself into her middle and coiled seductively around until she felt hot and short of breath.

  “Of course you can
tempt me. How can I not be tempted when you say things like that? But I’ll have to be good and resist.” Julian was watching her with narrowed eyes, the way a hawk watches its prey before it stoops for the capture. It made her breath come even shorter.

  “What will I do if you successfully resist temptation? It would be a very lonely trip if you didn’t come. I would be forced to request that you to return to school early in August and have dinner with me every night like this to atone.” He pretended to look stern as he refilled her glass.

  “I would have to do as you say, of course, Magister,” she said with mock submissiveness. “But it would be more pleasure than punishment.”

  “It would, would it? We’ll see about this summer, kalliste Theodora.” He smiled. “I can be very persuasive, you know.”

  …

  The next night Grant came to her in the Great Room. Theo watched him over the top of her book as he prowled around, hands behind his back, stooped and pale but full of febrile energy. That had to be an improvement; the last few days she wasn’t sure he would have the energy to teach his class, much less pace the room.

  She sighed to herself and said aloud, “You’re going to wear a path in the mosaics, which would be a shame. They’re one of my favorite things here.”

  He didn’t smile, but at least sat down on the couch next to her. That was an improvement, too. Until he started drumming his fingers on his knee.

  “Grant,” she said, trying to keep her voice pleasant.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly.

  “I’d noticed,” she muttered, and put a slip of paper in her book. “What have you been thinking?”

  “That it’s time for you to come to Eleusinian. This summer. I want you to spend the summer with me in New Hampshire.”

  Theo felt her mouth fall open in surprise.

  “There’s a small guest cottage that you could stay in, if you liked, or you could stay in my—” He looked down at his hands. “We give summer classes in Latin and Greek for high school and college students. You could teach and earn some of what you’ll need for the year. The faculty are wonderful. More amazing than anyone you’ve met, even here. And we could be together. It’s beautiful in the mountains in summer, warm in the day and cool at night, and the stars are so close when we lie in the meadows on clear nights—”