Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2)

by Georgina Guthrie

  “You’re welcome, dear.” I beamed back at him sweetly, batting my eyelashes.

  “You two are so adorable,” Julie whispered. “I can’t wait until you can be a real couple.”

  I shrugged. “Meh, whatevs.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll make you eat those words.”

  My imagination quickly whipped up a variety of scenarios in which Daniel made me do all sorts of naughty things. “I look forward to it.”

  “Ahem, excuse me?” Julie knocked on the table. “I’m still here.”

  “You’re right, Julie,” Daniel said. “Aubrey gets carried away from time to time. I apologize on her behalf.”

  I rolled my eyes and settled back in my chair. The easygoing banter felt good. In fact, I was so relaxed, I’d almost forgotten the reason we were meeting. Daniel had not.

  “As much as I’d love to sit here and shoot the shit for the rest of the afternoon, I’ve been on pins and needles all day thinking about your cryptic message. What the hell’s going on?”

  “You should tell him about your mom’s email,” Julie suggested.

  “Okay, the good news,” I said. “My mom wrote to tell me she and my dad are paying for my trip overseas—as a graduation present.”

  Daniel’s face lit up. “That’s amazing! You, of course, accepted this gift very graciously?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “I did my best,” I said.

  “Good. You must be relieved. I know you were worried about paying them back.”

  I tried to decide if he was getting in a subtle dig about my stubborn refusal to accept money from him, but he looked entirely sincere. I decided to take his comment at face value.

  “It’s a weight off my shoulders.”

  “No doubt. So, let’s hear the weird news. You got a strange email, you said?”

  Julie looked down at her hands in her lap, as if she felt like she was intruding on our conversation. I didn’t feel that way at all. I was infinitely more comfortable with her there. I turned to Daniel and lowered my voice, which was completely unnecessary, but since Cara’s warning I’d felt more paranoid than ever.

  “I got an email from the English department telling me to go over there today to make an appointment. They want to interview me for some reason. My first instinct was that they’re calling me in to question me about something to do with you—with us.”

  Daniel visibly blanched. The blood actually drained from his face. He took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes wearily.

  “I wanted to wait until I knew more about why they want to see me,” I said, “but I knew you’d be upset if I didn’t tell you right away.”

  “No, of course, I’m glad you told me. You have no idea what it’s about?”

  “I made an appointment for the interview after class. Julie came with me. I asked the secretary what it was about. She said she makes appointments, but she’s not privy to the reasons behind them.”

  “I thought maybe it had something to do with her GPA,” Julie suggested. “You know, maybe they want to meet with students who are probably going to graduate with distinction—”

  “But it’s the graduate office, Julie, not the undergraduate office, so that doesn’t make sense,” I pointed out.

  Daniel put his glasses back on and sighed. “When did you schedule it for?”

  “Wednesday,” I said. “After I finish work, I’m heading straight there.”

  “Well, don’t waste time and energy worrying. I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Are you just saying that to try to make me feel better?” I asked him.

  He smiled wryly. “Yes and no,” he said. “I have no clue why they want to see you, but don’t leap to conclusions and start fabricating all sorts of crazy scenarios.” He paused briefly. “That’s my job.” Even though he was smiling, I got the sense he was trying to placate me.

  “But what if something really awful does come out of it?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge if we get to it,” he said. “You need to focus on your exams. Your first one is Friday, right?”

  “Yeah. I had to rearrange my work schedule for the next two weeks. I feel bad for Gisele—my exams totally mess up her routine, but I can’t do much about it.”

  “And you’re going to stick it out there until July even though you don’t have to pay for your trip?”

  “I have no plans to leave. I’d say things are pretty much back to normal with your dad. We’re getting along great, so July will be a breeze,” I explained.

  “Mmm, we’ll see,” he said pensively. He sipped his coffee.

  “Well, that was cryptic.” I looked at Julie. She just shrugged.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to be mysterious. I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind. Speaking of which, I can’t stay long. Martin wants to sort out tutorial grades, participation, attendance, that sort of thing. He’s expecting me any time.”

  Julie cleared her throat conspicuously. “I’m gonna scoot and give you two a few minutes alone. Is that okay, do you think?”

  “I think it’s fine,” Daniel said. “I’ll be leaving shortly, anyway. Thanks for being here today, Julie.”

  “No problem. Okay, if I don’t see you before, maybe I’ll see you at the exam?” she asked as she packed up her bag.

  “I might drop by for a bit, I’m not sure. Once the exam is over, well, I imagine I’ll see you then.” He glanced at me, his mouth turning up in a small, secret smile. God, it was great to hear him say that.

  I stood up to hug Julie.

  “Let me know what happens, okay? And if you get any inside scoops on the exam, text me.” She nodded her head at Daniel with a mischievous grin.

  “She’s the best,” I said as Julie walked away. “Somehow having her here for a bit made me feel less like I’m letting your father down. That probably doesn’t make any sense.” I bit my lip. “So, are you worried about this interview thing?”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Unfortunately, I don’t know what it is.”

  “You don’t think Cara said something?”

  He laughed cynically and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes once more.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Oh, God. Nothing. If this plot gets any thicker, you’ll be able to stand a spoon up in it, that’s all.” He sighed. “Will you call me on Wednesday when you finish up with the interview? I know you’ve been avoiding calling, but I’d like to know what’s going on as soon as possible.”

  He was right. With the exception of the panicky messages I’d left him when he’d disappeared for the weekend, I hadn’t phoned him once since I’d promised his father I’d cease contact. It was ridiculous at this point not to agree to call him. It was difficult spending time with Dean Grant, knowing I was going back on my word, but it was harder still being cut off from Daniel. I’d simply have to live with the stirrings of my conscience. I couldn’t have it both ways.

  “Of course I will.”

  “Good. Thank you. I don’t know how else I’ll get through the next ten days,” he whispered. “If I thought I couldn’t talk to you…” He shook his head, reaching for his bag and rifling through it.

  “Ten days,” I said. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ve been trying not to think about it.” He handed me a large envelope. “But maybe this will help.”

  “What’s this now?” I sighed.

  “God, woman, you are so infuriating!” he said in a tone of mock exasperation.

  “Okay, don’t get all Huffy McHufferson.”

  His brows shot up with amusement.

  I laughed and shook the envelope. It was open at the top, so I peeked inside. It was filled with numerous smaller envelopes.

  “There are ten in there,” he said. “They’re dated. You get to open one every day between now and next Thursday, starting tomorrow.”

  “Really?” My heart lifted a bit. “You’re so thoughtful, you know that?”

 
“Not really,” he said. “I’m actually a selfish bastard. This is to make sure you don’t forget about me while we’re apart.”

  I chuckled. “Don’t even joke about that. That’s not remotely possible.” I glanced into the envelope again. “I’m so excited to have something to look forward to every day.” I stowed it in my bag. “But I don’t have anything for you. What will you have to look forward to?”

  He licked his lips and made a great show of staring hungrily at my mouth before slowly lowering his eyes to my chest and then my legs.

  “Don’t worry, Aubrey. I think I have plenty to look forward to.”

  I was early. Too early. It was too late to walk around the block or something to burn off nervous energy, so I sat in the chair in the English department office waiting room. I clasped my hands together and tried to remain calm. It didn’t work.

  I thought back to my morning and the meeting I’d had with Dean Grant. He’d been awarded the provost position and was leaving Vic. He was thrilled; I was not. The student residence advisor, Elaine Armstrong, had been named his successor, and I was not a fan of her. Matt had experienced her wrath in his first year over alcohol infractions, and she’d been less than compassionate. In fact, she’d been a downright bitch. Working with her would not be pleasant—I was almost sure of it.

  I groaned. Thinking about Elaine Armstrong was not inspiring calmness. I needed a distraction. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and fished around for the two envelopes from Daniel I’d already opened.

  I took out Tuesday’s card. A photograph Daniel had taken of Professor Brown’s classroom was attached to the front. I peeked inside to re-read the Shakespearean quote he’d included with a comment underneath:

  “Did my heart love till now?”

  I’m with Romeo on this one. My unsuspecting heart didn’t know what hit it that day. Nine days, poppet. I love you. ~D

  I ran my fingers across his words, marveling at the way he could communicate so much with the smallest gesture. He remembered everything; our earliest meetings and exchanges were just as etched in his mind as they were in mine. I popped the card back into my bag and took out the one I’d opened this morning before heading off to work. On this one, he’d attached a picture of the old seminar room to the front of the card.

  I gazed at his accompanying words.

  I was inexplicably drawn to you from the first moment I saw you in Professor Brown’s classroom, but everything became clear when we sat together in that seminar room. You were the beautiful, warm, outspoken, intelligent, sexy woman I’d been looking for. I sat beside you, looked into your eyes, and thought, “Well, there you are. Where’ve you been all this time?” Eight days. So very close. ~D

  I was snapped back to reality by the sound of the door opening along the corridor. A man’s voice carried down the hall as he concluded a meeting with someone. The secretary summoned me, and I pushed the envelopes to the very bottom of the bag as I walked, almost crashing into Cara Switzer as she rounded the corner, exiting the office I was about to enter.

  I froze.

  I scanned her face, took in her raised eyebrows and small smile.

  “Cara? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Aubrey.”

  “Aubrey Price?” The man in the office doorway peered out.

  “Yes, that’s me, I’m just—”

  “Good luck,” Cara whispered. And then she was gone.

  Good luck? What the hell for? I turned and made my way unsteadily to the office.

  “Aubrey, I’m Aaron O’Connor, the teaching assistant coordinator for the English department. Please come in and have a seat.”

  This guy was the TA coordinator? Crap almighty. I sat down, my mouth suddenly dry and my pulse pounding in my ears. Was this how Daniel felt right before he had an anxiety attack? Was I about to have one? I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, waiting as the man before me, whose name I’d already forgotten, jotted notes on a piece of paper and flipped through some pages.

  I tried to appear nonchalant as he lowered his pen and leaned across his desk. He had unnerving, beady eyes. I focused on the place where his shaggy eyebrows met at the bridge of his nose.

  “I won’t keep you long, Aubrey. I just have a few questions about Daniel Grant, the TA for the Topics in Shakespeare course you’ve taken this semester.”

  I tried to wet my lips, but my glands seemed to have forgotten how to create saliva.

  “Sure. Okay,” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “I’ve read over a handful of the questionnaires submitted by the class, but I wanted to get a little more information—assemble a more detailed picture of how he did.”

  “Is Daniel in trouble?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to stuff them back in.

  “Why would you say that?” he asked.

  “Oh, no reason. I’ve just never been interviewed about a TA before.” That was better—a reasonable response. “And I like him. I mean, he did a good job.”

  God, woman, don’t you know when enough is enough? Just shut your pie hole and let the man talk!

  “I see. I certainly got the impression from most of the questionnaires that he was well-liked, with only a few exceptions. You got along well with him?”

  “I guess so,” I said vaguely, shrinking into myself. I couldn’t decide what would be worse for Daniel, saying I liked him or saying he’d merely been tolerable.

  “Did you find his evaluation of your work fair?”

  Beady Eyes picked up his pen, ready to write down whatever I said. I’d have to be careful. I gathered my thoughts and did my best to tell a semblance of what I, as a student, saw as the truth. This was essential; if I started blatantly lying, I was sure to turn beet red and start stammering like an idiot.

  “He took evaluations seriously,” I said. “He was very concerned about impartiality. And if you ever had an issue with a mark or a question about something, he was more than happy to meet to discuss concerns.”

  I felt good about this answer. It was all true.

  “And did you ever have cause to meet about an evaluation?”

  Again I told the truth. “Yes. Once.”

  “And the basis for this meeting?”

  “I was confused about the mark on a test that Daniel had evaluated.” Once more, this was not a lie. So far so good.

  He responded to my answer by raising a shaggy brow—or, rather, one side of his unibrow.

  “So, you met with him so you could question him about his assessment?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was the issue, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “There were two marks on my test, and I wasn’t really sure what that meant. Professor Brown had changed the mark on the test.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “Daniel had taken off a couple of points. Professor Brown didn’t agree, and he ended up assigning me a perfect grade.”

  “Oh, I see. Would you have objected to this grade Daniel assigned if Professor Brown hadn’t changed it?”

  Wow. How was I supposed to respond to that? Visions of Nicola formed in my mind. Had people complained about Daniel giving them low marks? Had Cara? Is that why she was here? Was this the secret they shared? But how would that explain why he’d been so sure she wouldn’t speak out against him or reveal our secret? I was beyond confused. I tried to focus on the question, formulating an answer that wouldn’t set off alarm bells.

  “It was only a couple of points. It wasn’t a big deal,” I claimed. “I think Daniel has higher expectations of a few of us in the class, based on what he thinks we’re capable of.”

  I waited for his reaction, wary of saying more.

  “Fair enough. Now tell me, where did you meet to discuss this evaluation?”

  “In the Hart House library?” Why had I said it like a question?

  I wanted to shift in my seat as he scrutinized me again, but I willed myself to remain perfectly still.

  “And was the issue resolv
ed satisfactorily?” he asked.

  “Completely,” I said. “Daniel was very receptive to my concerns. He explained that he was trying to hone his skills using rubrics and benchmarks and things like that.”

  Holy crap, that was a good one.

  “And did you have cause to meet with Daniel on any other occasions?”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. I couldn’t fuck this up. Truth, Aubrey. Find some truth to cling to.

  “Yes, we met to discuss my independent study early in the semester. And another student and I met with him on Monday—we had questions about the exam.”

  I was verging on half-truths now. Okay, maybe they were quarter-truths.

  “And where did these meetings take place?”

  I puckered my brow, trying to look as if I was struggling to remember—as if I couldn’t recall every minute detail of each encounter Daniel and I had ever had.

  “I believe I met with him at the Pratt Library at Vic. That was back in February.” Exactly fifty days ago. “And then on Monday, my classmate and I met him in the Hart House quad.”

  “So, you never met with him in an office during office hours or anything like that?”

  I shook my head. “Daniel insisted on meeting at the library or at Hart House.”

  “Okay. Well, is there anything else you might not have indicated on your questionnaire that you’d like to say about Daniel and his performance as TA? Anything about the way he treated students in tutorials? Any sense that he was playing favorites? For example, you work for his father at Victoria College. Did that pose problems?”

  I wanted to laugh. Working for Dean Grant had posed all sorts of problems, but certainly not the type he was referring to. I frowned, trying to think of some constructive criticism—something that wouldn’t raise red flags, something that might have come across in the questionnaires anyway which would still show Daniel in a positive light.

  “I don’t think my job at Vic had any impact on the way Daniel treated me. I honestly think he did a good job. He was always willing to help—he treated everyone with respect. If anything, maybe he was a little too formal. He was very professional. I mean he wouldn’t even use people’s first names. I think he could relax a bit. That’s just my opinion. I have no idea how everyone else felt.”