by Kenna White
“Tell me one thing. Do you love me?”
“Shannon, please.”
“Tell me, damnit. Do you love me?” she insisted.
Dana could see Morgan laughing from the deck, still involved in her own conversation. She was standing at the railing, flipping her hair, and posturing as if she was flirting with the person on the other end of the phone. She seemed confident in her existence and for that Dana was jealous. Morgan threw her head back and laughed wickedly.
“You bad girl, you,” Morgan said then gave a lusty groan.
“Dana, are you there?” Shannon said impatiently.
“Yes. I’m here.” Dana leaned her forehead against the refrigerator door. The stainless steel was cool and comforting.
“Do you love me, baby?”
“Yes,” she finally replied. “I have to go.” Dana hung up the phone. She stepped into the bathroom to blow her nose and splash water on her face. She didn’t want Morgan to see how much Shannon had gotten to her.
“Dana? You here?” Morgan called from the living room.
“Just a second.” She checked her looks in the mirror. Her eyes were red and her face was pale. Maybe Morgan wouldn’t notice. “Sorry about that phone call,” she said, coming out of the bathroom with as much confidence as she could muster.
“I swear, honey. I didn’t give her your phone number. I didn’t even tell her you were the one living on the houseboat.”
“I know you didn’t. Don’t worry about it. I think she tried to call this morning. Actually I’m surprised it took her until today to get it.”
“Sounds to me like Shannon still loves you. Or at least she still lusts after you. From what I could tell, she wants you back.”
“Yeah.” Dana turned to wash out the cups.
“Is that why you’re here? Are you trying to decide if you want her?”
“Something like that.”
“If you’ll excuse the pun, there are a lot of fish in the sea. If you don’t like the one you caught, throw it back and wet your hook again.” Morgan chuckled at the innuendo. Her cell phone rang again. “Oh, God. It’s Sharon. I’ve got to go. I told her ten minutes. I don’t want her to start without me.” She winked and then gave Dana a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before hurrying out the door and up the dock.
Chapter 4
If Dr. Jamie Hughes thought she could get the upper hand, forcing her money on Dana, she had another think coming. The more Dana thought about the fifty dollars, the more determined she was to return it. She would march right up to her, offer a polite thank you, slap the money in her hand and say no in a tone that left no doubt she could pay for her own key replacement. Dr. Hughes would have no choice but to accept. The professor’s scientific knowledge and big vocabulary were not going to intimidate her. At least that was the plan.
According to Dr. Hughes, she spent the academic school year teaching advanced biology courses at Capital State University in a small town fifteen miles south of Olympia. She spent the summer doing research. Dana assumed that meant at the university as well. An online check revealed Dr. Jamie Hughes had an office in the science building.
Dana entered the campus just after two. It was elegantly landscaped with thick stands of trees separating the buildings, much like the New England colleges nestled in the Berkshire Mountains. Meandering sidewalks lazily criss-crossed the manicured lawns. A majestic bronze statue of a war eagle with a lightning bolt clutched in its talons stood proudly on the front lawn. The mathematics and science departments were housed in twin brick buildings on opposite sides of the common. Dana climbed the steps to the science building behind several teenagers on a guided tour of the university.
“Built in 1952, Phelps Hall houses the university’s biology, chemistry and physics departments. Capital State University was the first privately owned university in Washington to have a scanning electron microscope,” the guide announced, leading the group down the hall. Dana could hear her listing the faculty achievements as they disappeared around the corner.
“Can I help you, miss?” a woman asked as she descended the marble staircase to the first-floor lobby. She was carrying a stack of mail.
“Dr. Hughes’s office?” Dana asked.
“Dr. Jamie Hughes? Second floor. Room two-forty-one. Up the stairs, turn right, second to last door on the left. If she’s not in her office, try the last door. I saw the light on in her lab when I left her mail.” The woman gave a polite smile then continued down the hall.
The second-floor hallway was dimly lit. Dana’s steps echoed on the marble floors as she passed empty lecture halls and laboratories. A janitor was kneeling next to a floor polisher, changing the pad.
“Good afternoon, miss,” he said kindly.
“Good afternoon.”
“Are you looking for Dr. Hughes?” he said, slipping a pair of pliers into his back pocket.
“Yes. Two-forty-one?”
“That’s her office, but she’s in there.” He pointed to a door directly across the hall. “SEM room.”
“Oh.” Dana didn’t know what SEM meant and whatever it was, she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt Dr. Hughes at work.
“Scanning electron microscope,” the janitor said, seemingly reading the doubt on Dana’s face. “You can knock but she probably won’t hear you.” He laughed.
“Is it a loud machine?”
“No. But sometimes she gets so engrossed in her work she wouldn’t hear a freight train bearing down on her. I can run the polisher while she’s reading a scientific magazine and she never bats an eye. Says she doesn’t hear it. Come on. Let’s see if she’s at a stopping spot.” He wiped his hands on a rag then knocked on the door. When no one answered, he knocked again then opened the door a crack and peeked in. “Dr. Hughes, you’ve got a visitor.”
Dana stood behind him, nervously waiting for Jamie to appear but there was no response.
“Dr.Hughes,”he said,raising his voice.“Visitor,”he practically shouted then knocked again on the open door. “Dr. Hughes.”
“Oh, Harley. I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” Jamie said from somewhere inside the room.
“You’ve got a visitor, Dr. Hughes. Shall I have her wait in your office?”
“Yes. That’ll be fine. Who is it?”
The janitor looked back at Dana.
“Miss Robbins,” she said.
“Miss Robbins,” he repeated through the opening in the door.
“Who?” It sounded like Jamie didn’t remember her. Dana couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
“Oh, Dana Robbins?” Jamie said.
The janitor looked back and Dana nodded.
“That’s the one,” he reported.
“Have her wait in my office. I’ll be right there.”
The janitor showed Dana to Jamie’s office then went back to his polisher. It was several minutes before Jamie crossed the hall. Time enough for Dana to read every certificate, diploma, chart and poster in the office. Dana was beginning to think Jamie had forgotten her when the office door opened and she stepped in.
“Miss Robbins.” She placed a box of microscope slides on the desk and then offered Dana her hand. “What brings you to academia?” Jamie was dressed casually in well-fitting jeans, a white polo shirt and boat sandals. She didn’t look anything at all like Dana expected a college professor to look.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“No. Just printing some test results. I had to wait for the printer to catch up.”
“I thought the SEM was a microscope.”
“It is. Scanning electron microscope.” Jamie pointed to the color photograph on the wall. It looked like a group of orange pod-shaped bowls with blue electrical cords plugged into them. “We can print images from it.”
“Very nice.” Dana liked the abstract shapes and bright colors in the photograph even if she didn’t know what it was. “What is it?”
“Fibril secretion from the Piriform glands of a Micrathena gracilis.”
“Silk being secreted from the spinneret of a Spiny Back Spider,” Jamie clarified.
“That’s a spider?”
“A very small part of one, yes. The fibrils are bundled together to make the strand of silk. Those are actually Glandula aciniformes, the glands that produce the threads for encapsulating the spider’s prey.”
Dana wondered if that was a direct reference to predators and prey or just a convenient coincidence.
“The female Spiny Back Spider is a fickle creature. She doesn’t know whether to copulate with her mate or eat it. Now, what can I do for you, Miss Robbins?” Jamie sat down at her desk and motioned for Dana to take the chair opposite.
Dana pulled the fifty-dollar bill from her purse, smoothed it and placed it in front of Jamie.
“This is yours. I don’t want it. I’m returning it to you in person so there’s no misunderstanding.”
Jamie leaned back in her chair and locked her hands behind her head as if she was keeping them as far away from the money as possible.
“I thought we settled that the other night.”
“No, we didn’t. You walked away before I could give it back. I am not a charity case, Dr. Hughes. I don’t need your money.”
“I didn’t say you were. I was just trying to ease the burden a little.”
“And I appreciate that. Really, I do. But I can’t take this. I barely know you. I can’t accept fifty dollars from a person I just met.”
“You’d take it if I drove my car into yours.”
“That’s different.”
“I don’t see they are that dissimilar. I was merely offering reparation for your loss.”
“Are you also then accepting a share of guilt?” Dana asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jamie adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat.
“Okay, I feel marginally responsible for your keys ending up in the bay.”
“Thank you. But you were probably right. I shouldn’t have been waving them around like that. Setting them on the railing was inviting disaster.”
“So it’s agreed. You’ll keep the money and replace your keys,” Jamie said, pushing the money across the desk toward Dana.
“No, it’s not agreed.” Dana pushed it back. “You keep the money. If you ever smash your car into mine, then we’ll talk about it.”
“Now look, Miss Robbins.” Jamie bristled.
“It’s Dana and save your breath, Dr. Hughes.”
“It’s Jamie, and this topic has become far more protracted than necessary. Take the damn money and forget it.”
“No,” Dana said stubbornly.
Jamie dug in her pocket and pulled out a money clip.
She counted out twenty-five dollars, slapped it on the desk and thrust it toward Dana.
“There. Half. You pay half the mailbox key. I pay half. Agreed?” Jamie’s furrowed brow told Dana she wasn’t going to budge. This was the best she could do.
“Okay,” Dana said finally. “Agreed.” She picked up the money and slipped it in her purse.
“Have you told her yet?” Jamie asked, pocketing the fifty.
“Told who what?”
“The one who gave you the key chain. Have you told her it was lost in a fit of overblown exuberance?”
“No. I haven’t talked to her about it.”
“It looked like a nice gift. It’s too bad it’s gone.” Jamie went to the small refrigerator in the corner and looked inside. “Can I offer you some iced chai tea or maybe a yogurt drink?”
“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.” Dana was thirsty, but neither of those sounded good.
“Is it lunchtime already?” Jamie said, looking up at the clock on the wall. “Two o’clock. That can’t be right.”
“Yes, twenty after two,” Dana checked her watch.
“I thought it was about eleven.”
“Don’t you wear a watch?”
Jamie looked down at her bare wrist then rubbed it as if checking for a watch.
“Yes, sometimes.” She scanned the desk. “Do you see a square watch with a black leather band? I don’t remember where I left it.”
Dana looked under a stack of papers.
“This?” she said, pulling it out.
“That’s it. Thanks,” she said, buckling it on her wrist. The uniform tan on Jamie’s arms told Dana she didn’t wear it very often.
“Didn’t your stomach tell you it was lunchtime?”
“I got busy on the microscope and lost track of time. Are you sure I can’t get you something? I can run downstairs to the pop machine if you want a soda.”
“No, thanks anyway. Maybe I should go and leave you to your work.”
Jamie checked the refrigerator again. She spied a bottle in the back and pulled it out.
“How about some Saki? One of my students gave this to me when she finally passed advanced MB.”
“Advanced marine biology?” Dana said.
“Yes. She took it twice and finally squeaked through with a C minus.”
“Sounds like a tough course.”
“Not if you read the textbook and come to class. Studies show perfect classroom attendance can be worth an entire grade point, perhaps two, to a student’s overall grade. That course is a prerequisite for the summer internship in Australia studying the Great Barrier Reef. She wants to be a marine photographer.”
“Have you been there? The Great Barrier Reef?” Dana said, her eyes widening.
“Yes,” Jamie replied, reading the label on the bottle. “I’m not sure but I think this is supposed to be served hot.”
“I think so, but no thank you. No Saki for me.”
“Dr. Ito has an article coming out next month on crystal formations. It’ll be her first publication. Maybe I should give this to her as a congratulatory gift.” Jamie slid the bottle back in the refrigerator. “Wait.” She pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Dana. “How about a bottle of spring water? Of course, for all we know it was bottled from some city’s tap water. But at least it’s cold.”
“Thank you.” Dana hated to turn it down after all the effort. She opened the bottle and took a drink. She wondered how long it had been lurking in the back of the refrigerator behind the Saki and specimen bottles.
Jamie went back to her desk and began rummaging through the drawers.
“Three crackers and a package of Tic Tacs,” she said, giving up in disgust. “I’ll grab something later, I guess.”
Dana remembered the granola bar she had dropped in her purse yesterday morning. She quickly dug it out.
“How about this?” She held it up proudly. “It isn’t much but maybe it will ward off starvation.”
“I don’t want to take your last granola bar.”
“It isn’t my last one. I have more.” Dana passed it across the desk.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Help yourself.”
“Want half?” Jamie said, opening the package.
“No. You eat it all. And don’t argue,” Dana teased.
“Thanks.” She took a bite then began reading the ingredients on the wrapper. “Not bad. Oats, molasses, nuts, soy, yogurt.”
“That brand isn’t bad.”
“Then there’s monoglycerides, lactic acid, high fructose corn syrup, glycerol, partially hydrogenated coconut oil, calcium lactate.” Jamie continued reading the fine print.
“Do you know what all that stuff is?”
“Yes. The monoglycerides are—”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t think I want to know. They’re all probably terrible for me. I’ll drop dead before I’m forty from ingesting protein bars.”
“I doubt it.” Jamie ate the last of it and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “That really was pretty good and the ingredients aren’t terrible. Thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you for the H2O,” Dana said, glad to show Jamie she wasn’t a complete idiot.
“You’re welcome
. By the way, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
“Nosy about what?”
“The key chain. It’s none of my business if you tell whoever it is about losing it. I guess I was just feeling a little guilty.”
“That’s okay, and don’t heap so much guilt on yourself. It was just one of those things that happen. Anyway, I overreacted. I’m sure Shannon will understand.” Dana didn’t intend to drop her name. It just slipped out.
“Shannon? Is she the other heart in the engraving?”
“Yes.”
“Is she the one you were seeing before you moved into the houseboat?”
“Yes.”
“Fairly recently?”
“It’s been three weeks,” Dana said. “Three and a half, actually.”
“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” Jamie’s questions were right to the point, something Dana wouldn’t have thought she wanted to answer but they were phrased so simply it seemed easy to reply.
“Twice. Three times if you count yesterday.”
“So the interlocking hearts haven’t been completely severed.”
Dana looked down at the strap of her purse where she normally clipped the key ring. Jamie had asked a question she didn’t know how to answer.
“You still have some contact with her, right? That’s why you said she’s going to kill me.”
“Shannon’s very observant. I’m sure she’ll notice I don’t still have the key ring.”
“So you and Shannon haven’t completely cut things off?”
“It depends on your definition of completely.” Dana squirmed a little in her chair.
“I’m making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I guess it’s the scientist in me. I’m trained to ask questions, to dig for all the answers. Sometimes I forget not all topics are any of my business. Just tell me to shut up.”
“I think I did that the other night.” Dana smiled shyly.
“Oh,right.You did.And it was probably completely justifiable, given the circumstances.”
“It’s just I’m not sure how to describe my relationship with Shannon right now.”
“That bad?”
“Not bad, exactly.” Dana thought a moment. “Strained, maybe.”
“That’s why you preferred not to answer questions about it at the party.”