Heart of the Matter

by KI Thompson

  “Nice? Nice?” Linda sat back in her chair, a disappointed frown on her face.

  “Well, it was,” Ellen insisted. “But…oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s been so long I was scared more than anything else.”

  “Scared? Scared of what? Look, Ellen, you’re out of practice, that’s all. But honey, it’s like riding a bike. You just get back on and start pedaling, and before you know it, you’re coasting.” Ellen stared at her blankly. “I don’t quite get the analogy.”

  “Whatever.” Linda shrugged. “You know what I mean.” Fortunately Ellen was saved by a knock on the door. At Ellen’s invitation Jenny stepped in and Linda jumped up.

  “Hi, Jenny. Gotta run to my class, we’ll talk later,” she said pointedly to Ellen.

  “Have a seat, Jenny. You all ready for finals?” Jenny slumped in the chair across from Ellen’s desk, her gaze focused on the floor. When she looked up, Ellen noticed she could barely keep her composure.

  “Jenny? What is it?”

  Jenny’s face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.

  Ellen got up and closed the door, then knelt beside Jenny’s chair.

  She smoothed her hair down her back and coaxed her into talking.

  Between sobs, Jenny managed to divulge that her father’s health, which had always been precarious, had worsened. She had a younger brother in high school, and her mother had asked her to come home to Connecticut to help out. Hopefully she would only have to stay through the summer, and once her father improved she could return to school in the fall to continue her research for her thesis.

  “I’m so sorry to cancel out on you at the last minute.” Jenny sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  “Jenny, my research should be the least of your concerns. Of course you have to go home and be with your family now. Can I do anything?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Thanks, Professor Webster, but I need to pack. I’m flying home tomorrow morning.”

  “Well, you have my cell number. Call me if you need anything, all right?”

  Jenny managed a weak smile. “Thanks, I will.” After Jenny left, Ellen gathered the term papers and grabbed her purse. She still had to head over to Admissions to talk to her contact about Sandra’s son. On her way back to her office she would swing by the history department office to see if she could find a last–minute replacement for Jenny. She didn’t have much hope, with most students either already employed or headed home for the summer, but she could try.

  Her friend in Admissions didn’t know who had Jeremy Powell’s file, but said he would look into it and let her know. He gave her a recommendation form to complete and she said she would touch base with him Monday. At the history department office, she asked if anybody knew a graduate student who wanted to do research for her during the summer term, but the response wasn’t encouraging.

  Ellen figured if it was meant to be, she’d find someone.

  Otherwise, well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done research on her own. She did hate eating by herself in strange restaurants and having no one to talk to when a particularly interesting document came to light. Such important finds thrilled Ellen, and being able to share them with someone, particularly someone who understood, made such discoveries all the better.

  When Ellen returned home after her mother’s appointment, she started preparing dinner for herself and Kate. She looked forward to spending time with her, and that familiar flutter in her stomach reasserted itself whenever she thought of her. Tonight she planned to make chicken Marsala, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus.

  Filling, not too fattening, and yet a tad more elegant than the usual.

  A nice bottle of merlot and perhaps some candles on the table…

  Ellen shook herself out of her reverie.

  This isn’t a date, Ellen. Kate was no more interested in her than Ellen was in Joan’s coterie of men. Still, she wanted the dinner to be nice. She hoped Kate could find something relaxing about her time in Ellen’s condo. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be cooped up day after day. It still bothered her that Kate had chosen to escape her problems in this particular way, and she hoped she could help get her out and into the world again.

  Kate arrived at seven and brought a bottle of champagne and glasses. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,” she said, popping the cork and pouring it into champagne flutes.

  “Congratulations on the end of classes, and here’s to a fruitful, productive sabbatical.” She touched her glass to the rim of Ellen’s and took a sip.

  “Thank you, Kate, how thoughtful. But you should be saving this for your next important career move.” Ellen had intended to ease into the topic, but her words popped out at the first opportunity.

  “Yes, well, the champagne won’t keep that long. There’s no use in letting it go bad.” Kate took another sip and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Ellen cook.

  “Surely there are other things you can do. If not in television, then what about newspapers? You’re extremely talented and smart, Kate. I bet lots of people would love for you to work for them.” Kate’s irritation rose. What did Ellen know about her life and her ability? “Look, Ellen, I appreciate what you’re saying, but television was my life. I focused my entire career on getting into broadcast journalism. Starting with college at Northwestern and the Chicago Tribune, then into research and reporting at the Post, and finally with Channel 5. A couple more years there and I would have been on national news. But that’s over now. No one’s interested in an anchor with a five-inch scar across her face. It just isn’t happening.” Ellen finished chopping fresh sage and dropped it into the frying pan. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So what are you going to do?

  Sit in your dark condo for the rest of your life? You have too much to offer, Kate.”

  “Actually”—Kate poured herself another glass of champagne—

  “I have quite a bit of money put away. At some point I’ll travel. I’ve always wanted to go to the Far East. Who knows, maybe I can open a liquor store in Bangkok.” She hooted at the thought.

  Ellen sighed. Kate obviously wouldn’t take the conversation seriously. And Ellen didn’t have time before she left to solve Kate’s problems for her.

  During dinner, Ellen decided to shift the conversation to less controversial subjects. “You went to school in Illinois. Is that where you’re from?”

  Kate nodded. “I grew up in Chicago. You?”

  “Virginia girl,” Ellen replied. “Just across the river in Alexandria.”

  “So that’s where your love of the Civil War comes from. You leave in three weeks and you’re on the road by yourself for a while. I’ll bet that’s relaxing.”

  “Well, my research assistant was supposed to go, too, but she had to cancel at the last minute. I prefer the company. It gets lonely after a while.”

  “When I did research for the Post, I thoroughly enjoyed the solitude. Just me, my computer, and a vast library. I could’ve stayed like that forever, but of course I didn’t see a lot of growth potential there.”

  Ellen stared at Kate, her fork frozen in midair. Kate took a bite of mashed potatoes and looked up at her.

  “What?” Kate’s hand flew to her scar.

  “You loved doing research?” Ellen asked.

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “How would you like to get outside, into some fresh air?” Ellen beamed. “Virginia isn’t exactly the Far East, but it is lovely this time of year.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  It took quite a bit of convincing, but Ellen finally managed to get Kate to agree to come along. She didn’t know how good Kate would be with the research, but she didn’t care. She wanted to get her out of the house—mission accomplished.

  Ellen sang while cleaning her house that morning and continued to hum as she walked up the street to Lambda Rising. The small bookstore’s rainbow flags drifted in the breeze out front. She waved hello to the staff behind the counter and began to peruse the lesbian sectio
n. Last night at dinner, trying to find an excuse not to join Ellen on her trip, Kate declared she knew nothing about the Civil War other than the North won.

  “Hey, Ellen, can I help you find something?”

  “Good afternoon, Heidi. I’m looking for something on the Civil War, but fiction, if you have it.”

  “We just got one in that might be what you’re looking for.” She led Ellen over to the new releases section and handed her a book.

  “Have you read it?”

  “Not yet. We just unpacked them this morning and put them on the shelf. But I’m taking a copy home.” Ellen scanned the blurb on the back cover. It sounded interesting, and it took place in Washington and Richmond. They would visit many of the locations included in the book. Hopefully the novel would interest Kate enough to divert her attention from her problems. Ellen picked up a copy and paid at the front counter.

  ❖

  Kate sat at her office desk staring at the computer screen, her eyes glazed over at all the Web sites devoted to the Civil War. No way in hell could she ever absorb enough of this stuff to help Ellen.

  What the hell was I thinking? Ellen was this brilliant professor of history and Kate knew squat. She’d be totally useless—useless as a researcher and useless as a news anchor. She turned her monitor off in disgust and pushed away from the desk.

  Wandering around, she headed for the bar where she poured herself a scotch. The first sip instantly calmed her and she thought about calling Ellen and telling her the deal was off. It was one thing to know your life was a failure and an entirely different thing for someone else to know it.

  But she was relieved to be going with Ellen. Not having her to talk to, even only once or twice a week, was almost unbearable. She was still a little afraid to go outside, to be around strangers, people who might know who she was. They would point and say, “Hey, remember her? What’s her name? She used to be a news anchor, but look at that face.” Kate’s stomach turned over.

  Ellen hadn’t finalized her plans yet, so Kate planned to pack enough for at least two weeks, hoping that would be enough. They wouldn’t be far from home, though, so she could come back and regroup. The doorbell rang as she stood in her bedroom, and she went to answer it, knowing it was Ellen.

  “Hey, I brought you a present.” Ellen handed her a book.

  “What’s this?” Kate read the title.

  “It’s a pizza, what does it look like?”

  “Very amusing.”

  “It’s set during the Civil War in the Richmond and Washington area. Since nonfiction can be dry, a romantic fictional approach might interest you more.”

  “I hate to say it, but this is more my speed—history lite.” Ellen chortled. “That’s okay. It’ll be fun to have you along.” Kate felt odd. No one had ever said she was fun. No one would have dared. Clearly Ellen didn’t know her that well…yet. “Thanks, I’ll start reading it tonight.”

  “Enjoy.” Ellen turned away.

  “Hey.” Kate called her back. “Uh, you feel like having dinner?”

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m having dinner with my family and some of my father’s associates. Believe me, if I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t. I’d much rather be with you.” Kate felt inordinately pleased. “Well, if you get home early, perhaps a nightcap?”

  “Uh, well, my friend Sandra will be with me.” Kate felt the thud in the pit of her stomach. “Oh.”

  “Another time?”

  “Yeah, sure. Well, have a good time.” She closed the door and leaned against it. So Ellen had a girlfriend. Why shouldn’t she? She was stunning, intelligent, kind, and thoughtful. But Sandra didn’t deserve someone as fantastic as Ellen.

  Kate returned to the liquor cabinet. It was ridiculous, really.

  She didn’t even know the woman, but somehow she knew she wasn’t right for Ellen. And now Ellen was taking her home to meet her parents. Could it get any worse?

  ❖

  Ellen stepped out of the shower and toweled off. She had bought a new dress to wear tonight and was hoping Sandra would find it alluring. Plus, she couldn’t wait to prove to Joan that she could find an attractive, accomplished woman, better than any of the men her sister continued to try to set her up with. Her parents would like Sandra as well, especially her father, who had been a federal judge.

  She put on the black, low-cut dress, accentuating her best features. A pair of diamond stud earrings and a spritz of Chanel and she was ready to go. The phone rang and, glancing at the caller ID, she saw it was Sandra.

  “Hi,” she said warmly.

  “Hey, Ellen. Look, I hate to do this to you at the last minute, but something has come up at the office and I won’t be able to make it after all.”

  Disappointment seeped into Ellen but she tried not to show it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Sandra. Do you think you can make at least part of the evening? Dessert?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’ll try. Things are hectic right now. The senator is facing an important challenger this year, and they’ll be debating next week in Albany.”

  Ellen waited for her to offer to get together at another time, but when she didn’t, Ellen hurriedly reassured Sandra, if not herself. “I understand. Politics waits for no one, I suppose. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

  “Sure, sure. Have a good night.” The line went dead.

  She listened to the dial tone for a moment longer, then put down the handset. She needed to shake off her unease. Sandra had to work late, that’s all. No big deal. Ellen was used to structure, academic calendars, regularly scheduled departmental meetings. She wasn’t familiar with the hectic, ever-changing pace of Washington politics.

  She couldn’t begrudge Sandra her work. She’d have to adapt.

  Besides, everything was new and eventually things would settle down. She’d have to go without Sandra, and the thought of Joan pressing men on her made her shudder. Next time, she’d have a gorgeous woman on her arm. That would shut Joan up.

  ❖

  “So Joan tells me that you’re a history teacher?” Ellen glanced at the middle-aged, balding man who had taken up residence on the sofa next to her. He had introduced himself by handing her his business card: James Guilford III, Orthodontist. If he hadn’t given her his card, she could have easily identified his profession by his glaringly perfect set of teeth. Having spent the entire cocktail hour boring her with the details of his work, he had surprised her by asking her a question.

  “Professor of history at Georgetown, actually,” she said with a trace of acid in her voice.

  “Being a teacher is a wonderful occupation, especially for women. Students learn more from women and appreciate the feminine touch.”

  That did it for her. “If you’ll excuse me, I really should be helping out in the kitchen.”

  As she struggled to keep from running from the room, it dawned on her he probably thought her being in the kitchen was equally “feminine.” She sighed and pushed open the swinging doors. The caterers were finishing dinner while her mother gave last-minute instructions.

  “Oh, good, Ellen, come taste this. Is it too salty?” Ellen dutifully sipped from the spoon her mother held out to her. “It’s fine, Mother, don’t worry. Everything is perfect, but the guests want to spend time with you. So come out of the kitchen and join us.”

  “All right, all right. Let’s begin dinner in five minutes.” The caterer nodded his agreement.

  “I thought you were bringing someone with you tonight,” Barbara Webster said as they strolled into the dining room.

  “I was, but something came up at the last minute.” Ellen picked up an olive from the dish on the dining room table and popped it into her mouth.

  “Someone special?”

  Ellen could hear the hopeful tone in her mother’s voice. “Too soon to tell, but it has possibilities.” She didn’t want to get her mother’s hopes up, let alone her own, but a part of her wished to have one special person to fill the void in her ot
herwise full, rich life.

  “Well, I hope we get to meet her next time.” Barbara squeezed her hand.

  “Thanks, Mom. I hope so, too.”

  Ellen switched place cards at the table so she wouldn’t have to sit next to the orthodontist, as Joan had evidently planned. After dinner, when they all retired to the living room for coffee and dessert, Ellen excused herself.

  As she exited the bathroom off her old bedroom, she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse on the nightstand and was surprised to see Kate’s name on the caller ID. “Kate, are you all right?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine. I was wondering, that is, if you don’t mind, I was hoping on your way home you could stop at the CVS down the street.”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “I’ve run out of bandages and need an assortment of different sizes.”

  “What do you need bandages for this late at night?” Ellen tensed at the possibilities. “Have you hurt yourself?”

  “Oh, it’s just a little cut, no big deal. Once it stops bleeding it’ll be fine.”

  “What do you mean, ‘once it stops bleeding’?” Ellen panicked.

  “How bad is it? What did you do?”

  “Now calm down, Ellen, it’s just a cut. Although I think I can still feel some glass in there, I—”

  “Glass? In the wound? I’ll be right there.” Ellen picked up her purse.

  “No, Ellen, I didn’t mean for you to leave your party.”

  “It’s almost over anyway. I’ll be there as quick as I can.” She dug around in her purse until she found her car keys.

  Making excuses to her parents, she almost avoided Joan altogether but was cornered at the front door.

  “Ellen? Where are you going? It’s still early.” Joan looked anxiously over Ellen’s shoulder into the living room beyond.

  “Something unavoidable has come up, but I made my excuses to Mom and Dad.”

  “But Jim Guilford was just saying how impressed he is with you. Do you want me to give him your number?” Ellen folded her arms across her chest. “Over my dead body, Joan. I am not in the least bit impressed with Mr. Guilford.”