by Carl Hamlin
Brandon told of his own youth as a son of a high school teacher who was also a track coach, and a mother who worked as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home. Both parents had encouraged him to read, and he had quickly developed a love of literature. Unlike Hannah, he had never dabbled in writing, approaching fiction from a purely academic angle. He was content to study fiction rather than create it.
He had majored in American literature in college, then went straight to graduate school for an advanced degree in the same field. Upon receiving his Masters degree he began looking for a position at the college level. That was how he had come to the campus, as a teacher and assistant to the professor who was his predecessor as department head. Upon coming to the university, he had begun studies to get his doctorate. Once that was completed, he was hired by the university as a full professor in the English department.
At the age of 33, Brandon was named department head upon the retirement of his mentor. Out of respect to his friend’s legacy, he and made very few changes during his first year in his new capacity. However once that inaugural year was behind him, he began to put his own mark on the department’s operations. That included instituting Internet – based classes, the very ones that had brought Hannah into his life.
As they strolled and talked, both were sensing that a crazy set of circumstances had brought about their meeting. If each were already sensing a budding romance, the serendipitous circumstances seemed to be telling them to listen carefully to what each was feeling.
As they passed throngs of students changing classes, they were oblivious to many grins and sudden recognitions upon meeting a prominent member of the faculty walking with a woman that some students new to be the author Hannah Miller. As their gait slowed as they became more transfixed on each other, they were not even aware that they were holding hands as they walked.
They approached a very large building, and Hannah saw that it was the performing arts building. Brandon told her that the building contained a large auditorium along with a smaller one for more intimate performances. He stopped and turned to Hannah and asked if she would like to attend a performance of the Phantom of the Opera that was taking place two Saturday’s away.
He explained that the cast was going to be composed of students from the University, but that four colleges in the area were collaborating to provide a full orchestra for the program.
Hannah began shaking her head enthusiastically. “Oh, Brandon. It’s my favorite musical. Some of that music - some of those songs go right to my heart. It’s hard to explain, but I just love that musical.”
“We will be sitting in the front row. That’s one of the perks of my position.”
They continued their stroll and indulged in idle chat. For Hannah, she was content to just be transfixed by the thought of sitting with Brandon while some for favorite love songs would be performed on the stage in front of them.
They wound their way back to Brandon’s office, and he expressed disappointment that he could not spend more time with the woman he was rapidly falling for. “I promised the president I would play racquetball with him late this afternoon. I hate racquetball, but he’s the president and he loves to play racquetball. He wins.”
Hannah laughed. “I understand. He’s the boss.”
Brandon’s sighed. “That’s one part of my job that sometimes leaves a bit to be desired. I have so many evening activities, but otherwise, I love my job, so all the meetings and gatherings, even racquetball games, they just come with the territory.”
They reached the front of Brandon’s office building, and he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Hannah, promise me that you’ll tell me if I’m moving too fast or being too demanding of your time.”
Hannah giggled. “Of course I promise that. However, I think you can tell how much I enjoy being with you. I am a long way from feeling the need for any space, just the opposite, in fact.”
Brandon was relieved at hearing her answer. “The reason I ask, Thursday evening, we have a big banquet in the assembly hall. There are lots of important alumni and donors coming, and I have to speak for just a couple minutes. I would love for you to attend with me.”
“I would love to be there with you. That’s sound like a good excuse for me to do some shopping, as much as I would hate to buy something new to wear.” A wide smile spread across her face.”
When Thursday evening arrived, Hannah entered the assembly hall and saw Brandon off in the distance, speaking to a tall black man in an elegantly fitted suit. When Brandon saw Hannah, he motioned for her to join them.
As Hannah walked to whatever standing, she attracted numerous gazes of the men present as she swayed as she walked in the dark tan off- the- shoulder dress. The dress was otherwise modestly cut at the breasts, and was nearly knee – length. Still, the loose fabric of the dress managed to cling to her form sufficiently to allow discerning male eyes to appreciate the well-sculptured body it covered.
Brandon reached out to her, put his arm around her and drew her gently to his side. “Hannah Miller, Dr. Frank Holden, the president of our university.”
Hannah and the president simultaneously extended their hands, although Hannah spoke first: “Dr. Holden… it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. We are honored to have such a popular author in our presence tonight. Brandon, here, has been telling me all about you. I am so pleased to know that our college played a role in your development as an author.”
Hannah flashed a warm smile. “Those classes really made a difference. My degree was in elementary education, so having some formal education in plot development and character traits just added that extra quality in my writing.”
Just then, a staff member approached the president and whispered in this year. With a disappointed expression, he excused himself. “Miss Miller, you can always consider this university to be your second alma mater. I apologize, but I have to smooth out a problem with the caterer. I hope to speak to you again very soon.”
As the president walked away, Brandon gave Hannah a hug. “Wow, you certainly made a good first impression on my boss. I think I’ll just keep you around all the time.”
Hannah reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I would have no objection to that.” Brandon began to gently guide her to their seats for the banquet that was about to begin.
Hannah found herself at a table with not only Brandon, but three other department heads and their guests. Until the main courses were served, she found herself answering a number of questions about her writing, and received several comments, most of which were complementary. One of Brandon’s colleagues displayed a slightly dismissive attitude toward her books geared to young adult women. Hannah thanked him for his valuable input, then turned to another attendee to ask about what was going on in her department. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of some snickering by two others at the table at seeing their pompous compatriot treated with the indifference he deserved.
Brandon had not been a witness to the exchange, as he was speaking with the president of the alumni association who was serving as master of ceremonies for the event. When it was time for the speakers to begin, Brandon was the first to come to the podium.
Hannah watched in delight as Brandon spoke of the role the English Department played in the University and how every effort was made to reach out to local high schools and engage them in promoting the study of English and creative writing. He also spoke of the distance-learning program, and thanked the alumni and the community for their support in bringing the idea to reality.
Brandon left the riser to a round of applause and returned to his seat next to Hannah, who squeezed his hand and murmured to him that he had done such a wonderful job. Hannah did not notice at first that President Holden was now at the podium. Finally, she turned her attention to him just in time to hear him say, “Now I would like to diverge from our planned agenda for just a moment, to recognize that novelist Hannah Miller is with us this e
vening.”
A loud thunder of applause erupted from the crowd. “I know that I am being totally unfair to our special guest, but I would like to ask Miss Miller to come forward and say a few words.” And another round of applause filled the room.
Hannah felt stunned at first, as she had not spoken in public since her meltdown. However, she rose gracefully as Brandon patted her on the hand, and strolled to the podium as the applause continued.
“Thank you Dr. Holden, for this surprise.” Laughter arose from the audience. “In all seriousness, let me take this opportunity to express my appreciation for the opportunity that was provided for me by the excellent distance learning classes I was able to take from this University. While I will always treasure my education degree from Indiana University, and will always be a Hoosier at heart, having the convenience of Internet—based classes in the area of concentration I was seeking was a major factor in my becoming published.
“I urge all of you to support this effort by your English Department. The positive effects on potential authors has no limit. President Holden, thank you so much for your hospitality, and I wish your university continued success.”
Hannah stepped down from the riser, and began to walk back to the table to yet another round of thunderous applause. As she arrived, Brandon rose and pulled out her chair for her. When she sat down, Brandon continued his own applause, leaned over to her and whispered, “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you, and how honored I am to have you with me here this evening.”
As Hannah sat through the rest of the banquet, she felt a level of confidence she had not known for as long as she could remember. Her brief time at the podium may have been impromptu, but nonetheless, she had not realized just how much she needed to be able to successfully face the public until she had glided effortlessly through a situation that would have thoroughly rattled most people.
The event finally over, she and Brandon lingered at the table for a few minutes talking about everything that transpired during the evening. Brandon had an early morning class the next day, and he stated just how much he would have liked for them to go out for a drink.
As they walked to the door, another one of Brandon’s colleagues approached and asked if he could speak to him for a moment. Brandon responded that he would be with him in just a minute.
“I never got a chance to tell you just how luscious you look tonight.”
Hannah blushed. “I hope it wasn’t too much. One shoulder seems to be missing.” She grinned and winked at Brandon.
“I don’t mind that at all. I just wish we could spend some time alone this evening, so I could express to you in a little more detail just how lovely you look.”
Hannah felt her face turning warm. “Like I told you once before, I take rain checks.”
Brandon winked at her. “I know how you could cash that rain check. Could you stand to have dinner with me again this Saturday evening?”
Hannah gazed up and fluttered her eyes at him. “I suppose I could force myself.”
“We have one good Italian restaurant in this town.”
“I love Italian.”
“Okay if I pick you up at 6:30?”
Hannah stretched up on her tiptoes and returned the kiss. “It’s a date.” Their eyes were still gazing at each other as Hannah took a couple steps away, then she stopped. “I should tell you, Brandon, that’s my birthday. Are you sure you don’t mind that the next time you see me, I’ll have turned 28?”
Brandon winked. “I don’t think that will bother me too much. Maybe, if I think real hard I can think of some special way to celebrate your birthday.” He winked again, then turned and walked her outside to her car.
Hannah walked at his side, but her mind was racing. Did he mean what I think he could have meant? Maybe my wishful thinking is getting the best of me.
As Hannah drove home, her mind was still reeling. She scolded herself for allowing her fantasies and desires to overwhelm her. She was hoping he was implying his willingness, hopefully his enthusiasm, to give her a birthday spanking. As she pulled into her driveway, she began to wonder if he was instead simply hinting at a romantic make out session, perhaps even making love to her. Any of those possibilities were to her liking, and she complimented herself for her good judgment in having gone on “the pill” two years ago and being steadfast about never neglecting to take them as directed.
Hannah had slept fitfully during the night, but wanted to get back to work on her outline. She accepted that she was going to spend the day hopelessly distracted. She began working on another outline for yet another manuscript that had been bouncing around in the back of her mind for a couple of months. The story involved a young couple whose courtship was a series of comical mishaps complicated by her attempt to hide the fact that she had a two-year-old child. The antics centered around her desire to keep the child a secret until she believed her man was too much in love with her to be scared away by the prospect of instant parenthood.
She worked through the morning, but kept starting and stopping her work. By noon she had typed a few lines at an agonizingly slow rate of progress. Her stomach began to growl, so she selected one of many remaining frozen dinners from the freezer on top of the old refrigerator and popped it into the oven.
When the meal was cooked, she decided to surrender to her state of distraction. She carried the dinner and a can of Coke into the living room, turned on the television to watch the news, and sat down on the floor with her back against the end of the sofa.
She switched the channel to a Fort Wayne station, just in time to catch the weather forecast. In spite of the fact that it had been a warm and sunny morning, a storm front was moving in overnight and a couple of inches of snow mixed with freezing rain was likely where she lived. One day of cold wintry weather was expected, before another dramatic warm up arrived for the weekend.
Hannah suddenly remembered that although the cottage had a fuel oil heat source, electricity was still needed to operate the blower. After she finished eating, she put on a jacket and walked out to the small barn to see if her father had been right about the supply of wood awaiting her.
She had not yet ventured into the old structure, and when she opened the side door she had to fumble to find the light switch. She finally located it and gave it a flip and one ancient bulb dangling from a perilous strand of wires gave off a moderate glow. As there were also windows in the two larger hinged doors that opened outward to allow a car inside, she had sufficient light to look around.
Her father’s memory had been true. In the back of the garage was a stack of split firewood taller than her and least eight feet wide, and just as deep. It took up nearly a third of the space in the building, and appeared to have been there since long before the death of her grandmother. She decided that she would take a couple of armloads in to the house to stack on the hearth next to the fireplace, but first took a few minutes to look around to see what else was in the old structure.
Overhead was a storage area likely holding some antiques. There were a few empty wood crates along one side, next to where some yard tools were leaning against the wall. She walked across to the other side to where a workbench stretched for nearly ten feet, cluttered with tools and pieces of wood and metal left untouched for a generation. Beneath the bench was an old barrel filled with wood pieces, next to a stack of mismatched lumber apparently stored away for possible projects that never materialized.
Hannah walked back to the stack of wood and gathered several of the logs into the crook of her arm. She took them inside to stack them on the hearth, then returned to the garage. She gathered another armload and decided that one additional would be sufficient. Within a few minutes she had taken the third and final load into the house.
Looking at the wood piled on the hearth she knew that if the power did fail she would at least stay warm. One thing that she had never thought of was an alternate source of light. She realized that she did not have so much as a flashlight.
For a fle
eting moment she considered driving into the town and purchasing a couple of battery-operated lamps. Then she decided that if worse came to worse, she could survive a couple of days living like a pioneer in reading by firelight.
She went back to her computer and tried to work. She stayed at it until very late in the evening and actually had made some progress on the outline for the manuscript. She went to bed, and just as she slipped under the covers, she heard the patter of rain and sleet on the roof. She knew it could potentially result in a power failure, especially in such an old dwelling. But the thought of being there without power did not make her anxious. Rather, she could not help but imagine what it would be like if Brandon were there with her under such circumstances, and just how romantic that scenario would be. Most of all she could not help but fantasize about their upcoming dinner date that was falling on her birthday. As she struggled to get her mind to slow down and allow her to go to sleep she could not stop thinking about just how endless were the possibilities.
Hannah woke up the next morning feeling well rested once again. To her relief the home was warm, but as she pulled back the curtains on the window next to her bed, she looked out to see that the predicted two inches of snow had indeed fallen, and the surface was covered with a crust of ice. Although her Cadillac had all-wheel drive, she decided to stay in for the day and force herself to get some more work done.
She checked her e-mail to find that she had two more invitations for television interviews to turn down. She knew that she would do so politely, as the recipient of the denial could not see her smile.
Another message was a request from a leading writing magazine for a set of responses to prepared questions. She immediately replied that she would be more than happy to oblige.
She was startled to find that she had not noticed an e-mail from Brandon that had arrived just a few minutes before she logged on. She opened the e-mail and read its brief message: “Ready to grant any special request you may have on the evening of your birthday.”