“Goodbye,” he said before closing the door behind him. He didn’t give her a chance to answer.
***
Beth stared at the door. It still vibrated from Will’s slamming of it. Not that he hadn’t had a reason to be angry. In fact, under the circumstances, he’d behaved himself rather well. Except for the bet he’d flung in her face.
Oh, that hurt…but only because it had the ring of truth to it. She remembered with 20/20 hindsight all the information he’d told her about the clinic. The money they still needed. The ideas he’d had for it. The way he’d tried to gauge her interest and potential involvement. The passion that had shown on his face when he spoke of his project. It was as though Will was in the midst of a love affair, all right, but it was between him and his clinic, not between the two of them.
This explained his curiosity about her in a way that even her fictitious Love Match profile did not. Of course he’d need some pressing reason to pretend to be attracted to someone like her. Will Darcy would never have sought her out after that first coffee date without an ulterior motive, even if she’d actually been Charlotte Lucas. After all, most details about herself she hadn’t been able to change.
She still had her average, twenty-six-year-old face.
She still dressed too humbly for someone with his sense of sophistication and style.
She still spoke with the same soft voice, which probably bored him without her realizing it.
“Charlotte” might have had more polish in her career and her lifestyle, but there’d been too much Beth Bennet in her from the beginning. It was all so clear now how foolishly she’d behaved. Will must have seen her as tiresome from the start, even before he found out about her real life.
The tears she’d held back while he was in her apartment began to fall in splashes on her shirt. She brushed some away with her sleeve, but soon that got too soaked to do much good. She grabbed a wad of tissues along with the research paper she’d written for her sociology class. It was due tomorrow afternoon.
She read over the monstrosity. The thing was dull and evasive by turns. She knew she could do better on it. After her talk with Will today, only about half the paper still felt legitimate anyway. She marked up the first five pages with corrections and more emotionally valid observations. Then she ripped the last five pages to shreds, the way she’d wanted to do this morning, and began rewriting.
Regardless of the grade Professor O’Reilly would give her, this time she was going to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No matter what the consequences.
***
Will’s insides were still shaking an hour later at the Koffee Haus. Granted, a double Dark Espresso Roast could make anyone jittery, but he knew better than to blame the beverage.
Beth Bennet—that was who to blame. For getting him to care about her. For making him feel like a fool. For pitying him, even for a few seconds, because she’d hoodwinked him. It was the first time since he was ten that he’d gotten sideswiped like this. Not since the year he’d overheard the school social worker whispering to a teacher about his “unfortunate home life.” Will shook his head and swallowed the dregs of his coffee in one bitter gulp. Punishment he deserved.
He ordered another to go and drove back to Regents. He was off duty until tomorrow, but his choices for free time were limited to his cold condo, his mother’s House of Tea and Inquiry, wandering around the city of Chicago with a chip on his shoulder or going to the hospital to work on raising funds for the clinic.
So, really, there was only one choice.
He guzzled half his drink on the walkway to the Regents business wing when he spotted Lang again by that same blasted tree. No one else was in sight, but this time the med student was openly sobbing. Cripes.
“Lang, what happened, man?”
Lang sniffled and turned away from him. “I apologize, Dr. Darcy. I thought I was alone.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. What’s going on? Is it your third-floor patient again?”
He nodded, but Will only saw the back of his dark head. “She died a half hour ago. I—I just needed some time to get used to the idea.” He turned back toward Will, his eyes glistening with raw pain. “I know you think I’m being overemotional about this, that I’ll need to get tougher if I’m going to be a good doctor. I want to have thicker skin, I really do, but this lady was special. She really got to know me. While I was inside helping the others clean her up and take out the tubes, I had to pretend to be objective and indifferent. Strong, you know?”
Will nodded. He knew.
“But,” Lang said, “she wasn’t just a body to analyze. She touched me. She was the first patient that made me feel like I’d done some good. Like I wasn’t just another medical student practicing on her. She saw me, even with all my inexperience. And I saw her, even with her lousy arteries and her blotchy skin and her heart condition. We were real people connecting, and it’s not like that with everyone. I—I’m going to miss her.”
Will put a hand on Lang’s forearm. “I know you are. I’ll bet you were one of the most pleasant parts of her last days, too. She might’ve hung around a little longer just because of you. Because you cared so much,” he said, realizing it was probably true. Realizing how long it’d been since he’d let himself feel that way about a patient himself.
Lang broke into fresh sobs and buried his head in his hands. Will mutely patted his arm.
“I’ll be okay, Doc,” the med student muttered. “Please, just give me a few minutes alone.”
With a final squeeze, Will let go. “Okay, Lang. Hang in there, though. You’re heart is in the right place. That’s gotta count for something.”
“Thank you,” the young man whispered.
Will’s emotions danced around inside of him in a way that had been foreign for years. Yeah, he’d had too much coffee. Yeah, he hadn’t gotten enough sleep in days. Yeah, every single person around him was getting all teary-eyed over something. If he didn’t know himself better, he’d think he was turning into one of those emotional geysers himself. A disturbing part of his soul wanted to.
At this thought, an unfamiliar pain gripped his chest, begging for release. But it was like frostbite around his heart—the ache only turned torturous when it began to thaw. While he was numb, everything was cool. There were no problems. As long as he stayed detached, he couldn’t feel the sting.
He lobbed his empty coffee cup in the trash and burst through the business office doors. Enough of this nonsensical thinking. He had a clinic to save and, somehow or other, he was going to figure out a way to do that. With or without Bingley’s help.
***
Beth told Mrs. Moratti about her extra days off this week when she picked up Charlie at the usual time.
“S’everything okay, Beth?” She gave her a worried look. “You alright, then?”
“Oh, yes.” Beth embraced the older lady. “I’ll be fine, but I’ll have a lot of work to do still during these next couple days. Could we keep Charlie’s schedule with you the same as it’s been?”
“Of-a course.” Mrs. Moratti squeezed Charlie tight in emphasis.
“Hey, ow!” her little boy said, wrangling free. “You’re gonna squash me like a pancake.”
She and Mrs. Moratti laughed at his incensed expression before Beth ruffled Charlie’s hair and they left. She noticed a scrape on his elbow. “What’s this from?” she asked.
“Recess. Mikey and I thought we’d play pirates, but the tree was gigantic, and I fell.”
“The tree? Sweetheart, what kind of pirate spends his time in a tree?”
He looked at her like she was a dense as a mud ball. “Mom, I was Blackbird. Everyone’s heard of Blackbird the Pirate.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I think you mean Blackbeard, honey.” She planted a kiss on the top of his beloved little head.
“Well, that’s who I was,” he said, sounding indignant. “And I was real tough. A real man.”
Beth s
wallowed. “Real men don’t always have to be real tough to be brave. I know how amazing you are even when you’re not being tough.”
He turned those gorgeous eyes on her, so big, so open, so without fear. “Really, Mommy?”
“Yes, my darling. Really.”
***
Smoke wafted out from underneath Professor O’Reilly’s office door. Beth stood in the hallway, trying to decide whether she had the courage to knock or whether she should just slip the paper in the crack between the door and the floor tiles and then run. Finally, she lifted her fist and wrapped on the hard wood.
“C’mon in, who’s ever out there,” a gruff voice called.
She poked her head inside. “Hello, Professor,” she said. “Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to turn in my paper in person.”
He raised both bushy white eyebrows and took a puff on his pipe. “Hope you don’t mind the smoke, Miss Bennet,” he said, and it was clear to Beth that whether or not she objected to pipe smoke, she was going to get a lungful if she hung around.
The curtains billowed from the Professor’s exhalations, and the throw rug all but coughed when Beth walked on it.
“That’s all right, sir. I won’t be staying for long.” She handed him the large brown envelope with her final Sociology 369 paper inside. “I—I did the best I could on this, but I’m afraid I didn’t end up proving what I’d set out to.”
He laughed long and hardy. “Ah, Miss Bennet, your hypothesis was null and void, was it?”
She nodded. “I thought I’d found a case study that was as clear-cut as possible for my research. I did what was expected of me. I stated my objective, sought out a reasonable circumstance where it could be proven true and began observations. But—”
“But your initial hypothesis was wrong and, thus, you didn’t get the anticipated results in return,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.
She looked down at her worn shoes, feeling all the misery weighing on her more than ever. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
He laughed again. “Don’t be sorry. Hypotheses were meant to be proven true or false. Sometimes in academia the snobbiest of the snobs forget that. They get all worked up about their papers, about having something to publish, that they don’t try anything daring. They stop reaching. And when a sociologist stops reaching, the results might be more predictable, but they’re rarely very revealing or inspiring.” He gave her a searching glance. “Looks like you actually learned something from your research, Miss Bennet, didn’t you?”
Boy, did she ever. “Yes, sir. I really did.”
“Well, good. That’s the ‘science’ part. Now the big question—did you learn anything that you could actually apply to your life and your relationships?”
She considered his question and nodded. “More than you could possibly imagine.”
“Excellent.” He puffed on his pipe. “That’s the ‘social’ part. And what do these two parts add up to, young lady?”
Beth couldn’t help but feel warmth at his compassionate line of reasoning. “Social science, Professor,” she answered dutifully.
“Ah-ha. So, from my vantage point there’s not a thing to be sorry about. And, since you’re a future social worker, I reckon an experience like this could only help you gain a better perspective on your field. It’s always a good thing when we’re forced to question our prejudices and stereotypes. To hold them under scrutiny and see if they measure up when they’re put to the test. And if they don’t, well…” He waited for her, indicating with a nod of his head that she should add her own thoughts.
“And if they don’t,” she began, “then we know we need to reevaluate. To see a person or circumstance more clearly. More objectively. Or, if we can’t, to at least acknowledge how subjective our view is. How limited our perspective. How emotional and not particularly logical we all can be.” Some of the sadness in her heart lifted when she said those words aloud. She smiled at Professor O’Reilly. “Especially when we have to face what we most fear about ourselves.”
He waved the brown envelope in the air. “I suspect the paper inside here will be an A. But I sincerely hope, Miss Bennet, that you put more stock in, as you say, ‘seeing more clearly’ than you will in an honor-roll placement or even your degree. Life lasts long after school ends.” He gave her a warm grin then all but shoved her out the door. “You made me forget my pipe for five whole minutes. Go on with you. Let me puff in peace.”
“Thank you, Professor.” She walked out into the shockingly fresh air of the hallway.
He raised a hand and said, “Best of luck, my dear,” before shutting the door. A new batch of smoke began drifting out through the crack. She exhaled slowly in relief and headed to her car.
To celebrate this last academic milestone before graduation, she decided to treat herself to a specialty coffee at the Koffee Haus. Of course, she wasn’t fooling herself. She hoped she might run into Will Darcy there. Kind of.
She also kind of hoped she wouldn’t.
Her feelings were inconsistent. One minute she wished that Will would find love and happiness without her because she knew she’d hurt him and he deserved to be with someone who hadn’t. Two minutes later, she wished he’d admit to an overwhelming love for her and would forgive her because only true love would make that possible. Most of the other minutes she just wished the ache in her heart would stop.
When she entered the coffee shop she scanned it, from window to window, tile to tile, to make sure she’d see Will if he were lurking in a back corner. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. Darn it. But the aroma inside was enticing, nonetheless, and being here brought back memories as bittersweet as the chocolate in the cookies Will had gotten for them on that very first date.
Beth felt an almost genuine smile tug at the edges of her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She stepped up to the counter to order.
“Do I know you?” a male voice asked from behind her.
Beth swiveled to look back at the guy. Tall, early thirties, dark hair, chiseled face. If it weren’t for the greenish eyes and the somewhat egotistical look that marked him as someone other than Will, the two would’ve been convincing as brothers.
“I don’t think so,” she said, feeling a wariness creep into her pores. The guy did look familiar, though, even without his resemblance to Will. Her apprehensive nerve fibers began to skitter around.
He shook his head. “This isn’t a line. I know I’ve seen you. You hang out here much?”
“I’m not a regular.”
“Hmm. Too bad,” she heard him mutter.
“What’ll you have, ma’am?” the girl behind the counter asked.
“I, um, well…” She’d planned to get a small decaf, but being here made her want to be more adventurous, to try one of the flavors Will was so wild about.
“The Kona’s to die for,” the guy behind her whispered.
She nodded and ordered that, remembering how Will had mentioned it in his last email to her. The email before he found out she wasn’t really Charlotte Lucas. She sighed and thanked the guy, still trying to place him.
“No problem. I practically live at this place. I read the paper here in the morning…or in the afternoon if I don’t get to it soon enough.” He let loose a short laugh, then ordered a Kona coffee of his own.
A few dozen light bulbs went off in her brain. That very first date with Will there’d been a guy who looked like him, reading the newspaper. The guy who disappeared right before Will entered. It must’ve been this man.
“You know, I think I remember you now,” she said to him while they waited for their coffees. “I was here one afternoon last month to meet someone. It was kind of a blind date, so I spent a lot of time looking around the room, trying to find a person who matched the guy’s description. Your features were, um, close to his. So, I must have been staring at you that day. I apologize.”
“Ah, well, that wouldn’t have been a problem from my standpoint,” he said with a wink.
The coffe
es came and the Will-Look-Alike Guy confidently pointed his cup in the direction of a table, seeming sure she’d join him.
Well, he was right. She did. Not because she thought she’d start dating someone new, but because she felt an odd connection to him. It was a though he brought a piece of Will back to her.
He took a swig of his hot drink and looked her over carefully. Beth felt assessed, as though every element of her appearance was being itemized and catalogued. But she also realized there was something else behind this guy’s almost arrogant exterior. She sensed a longing in his eyes. And when she softened toward him that little bit, she smiled. His expression changed. His eyebrows shot up, and he choked on some coffee.
“Oh, good Lord. Will’s gonna kill me,” he whispered.
Now her eyebrows shot up, and the coffee in her mouth went down too fast, like liquid fire, making her cough and sputter.
“Will?” she managed to say. “You…you know him?”
TEN
“I didn’t recognize you until you smiled,” the guy said, shaking his head and clawing a bit at his throat. “Oh, man. Will would skin me alive for almost flirting with you.” He reached over and put a couple of gentle fingers on Beth’s wrist. “Please don’t tell him. I’d be in deep trouble with my workaholic cousin.”
Her heart leaped in her chest higher than a bird in the sky. It raced faster than a jet plane. Then it stopped, weighted down by kryptonite and the certainty that Superman wouldn’t be coming to her rescue on this one. “Y-you’re Bingley?”
“You bet’cha, gorgeous.” He glanced around. “So, where’s Cuz? Hospital’s only a few blocks away. Is he coming here to meet you?”
Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Match Page 11