Chapter Twenty-Six
She wanted to believe him. For hours, she lay awake, listening to the whispering of the trees outside her window. Restless and achy, she rolled out of bed and slid the pane wide open. The night wind lifted her hair, caressed her bare shoulders.
“What should I do?”
The leaves’ whispered reply offered no comfort.
She paced in the darkened bedroom, the wooden floor cool under her feet.
On the one hand, her own experience proved how hard it was to face dating again after losing a beloved spouse. How could she hold it against Nick if, in a vulnerable moment, he gave in to a seductive invitation? She’d done the same thing, hadn’t she? She’d gone to Nick expecting nothing more than an initiation, a re-entry into the life of the flesh. What right did she have to be hurt because he’d had a fling with a grown woman? Okay, a very young woman, but old enough to know what she was getting into.
Clara had been old enough to know better, and she’d fled her professor’s unwanted advance. Had Nick been stupid, blinded by lust, seduced by an ambitious student? Or was he a predator, like Doctor Sanchez?
Clara sank down onto the bed and curled up beneath the covers, questions buzzing in her brain like a swarm of agitated bees.
Could she ever trust Nick again, now this sordid detail of his past had come to light? And had he told her the truth or just polished the facts to make them acceptable? But then, why leave his job in Berkeley and move to Oregon if all he wanted from her was a fling? It made no sense. Heart-meltingly gorgeous, smart, seductive, Nick could have any woman he wanted, and he wanted her.
For now.
“Arrrggh!” She growled into the pillow. “What should I do?”
Just be patient.
She sat up. The inner voice was right, whether it came from her own inner wisdom or something beyond herself.
She didn’t have to decide now. Nick said he’d be back soon. If he was true to his word, if he came back, she’d have time to sort this out. If he didn’t, good riddance.
****
Good thing she’d set her phone to silent: Nick called seventeen times during the night, sent a dozen texts, all pleading for her response.
In the morning, she sent one reply—You need time to sort this out, and so do I. Let’s take a week to think about what we really want. You shouldn’t make a career decision based on a few nights of—
What word best described what they’d shared? Passion? Romance? Possibility? Friendship? No, it was far more exciting than friendship, and more dangerous.
She erased the last line of her text and hit the Send button. And for the next few days, even though she flinched every time her phone buzzed, she resolutely ignored all further communication from Nick.
At work, Margot sulked around the shop with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders.
“What’s wrong with her?” Harry asked. “She’s acting like she’s in mourning.”
“Have you asked her?”
“Of course. She just says ‘nothing,’ but clearly, it’s something. Something pretty big, I’m guessing.”
“I’ll talk to her.” No doubt, they were suffering from the same malady.
She waited until a quiet moment near the end of Margot’s shift. The late afternoon sun streamed through the bay window, painting the whole shop in mellow, golden light. Margot rearranged the front table display, her gaze distant. Today, she’d abandoned her usual dramatic eye makeup and left her blonde hair unspiked. Even her eyebrows were unadorned—no twinkling rings or crystal beads.
“Hey, kiddo. You don’t seem yourself today. You okay?”
Margot shrugged and continued fiddling with the books.
“Harry’s worried about you, and so am I.”
Margot turned with a sigh and leaned one hip against the table. The force of her pouty gesture shook the table and sent an avalanche of books onto the floor. She growled and knotted her fingers in her short hair, then bent to pick up the mess. Clara knelt beside her.
“Damn it!” Margot snuffled into the crook of her elbow and sat down hard, then wrapped her skinny arms around her knees and hid her face.
Surprised by this teary outburst, Clara rubbed Margot’s back and waited her out.
Finally, Margot gave a mighty sniff and looked up, a wry grin on her tear-stained face. “I feel so stupid, you know?”
Clara inclined her head, inviting her to continue.
“It was just a little adventure. Nothing serious. I knew that.” Her brow rumpled as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “She said, ‘Now don’t be stupid and expect to see me again.’ ” Margot snuffled. “Why did she have to be so mean about it?”
“Oh Margot, I’m sorry.”
“I get it, you know? She lives there, and I live here. But to just brush me off, after all the sweet things she said the night before…” She rested her cheek against her folded arms and closed her eyes. “We stayed up all night talking and making love. I thought she really got me, you know? Really saw me for who I am. Was. Whatever.”
Clara winced. Margot’s tale of woe echoed her own situation with Nick. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been so sure they shared a special connection, and now…
But it wasn’t Nick who’d given her the brush-off, it was Darcy. A shiver slid down her spine. Had Nick sent Darcy to deliver the bad news?
Clara sent Margot home early and closed up the shop on her own. She checked each aisle for misplaced books, her echoing footsteps reminding her how alone she really was.
She almost forgot to fetch her phone from her desk, having kept it hidden away all day to avoid temptation. She pulled it from her desk drawer and took a long, steadying breath before opening her messages. Nothing new from Nick, but one from Doug.
—Back home. Sore from the race, busy during last week of school, but can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow night?― Her clenched jaw relaxed into an easy smile. In all her stormy anxiety about Nick, she’d forgotten about Doug, waiting in the wings. Funny, kind, undemanding Doug. Just what she needed.
She quickly texted back—Sounds great. Looking forward to hearing about the race.―
His answer came just as fast—Call?
So much for undemanding. Oh well, it would be good to hear his voice, to get her mind off Nick.
“Clara. Hey. It’s good to hear your voice.”
She chuckled. “I haven’t said anything yet.”
“Good to hear your ring, then.” He paused. “I missed you.”
She realized with a pang of guilt she hadn’t missed him. She’d been too wrapped up in Nick to think of anything else.
“Last week of school, eh? Must feel good.”
“You know it. The teachers are just as excited as the kids. So, you’re free tomorrow night?”
“Sure. This time I’m taking you out, though.”
“Well, that’s not necessary.”
“I insist. Do you like Thai food?”
Silence for a long moment. “We went out for Thai food. Together. Remember?”
“Oh, shoot. Of course we did. Sorry.” She kicked herself mentally. She couldn’t even remember where she’d been with whom. “How about Indian?”
“Clara, as long as you’re there, I don’t care where we eat. Pick you up at seven?”
She weighed her decision for a moment. “Make it seven-thirty. At my place.” She gave him the address. “I’m looking forward to it.”
His warm, rumbly chuckle vibrated against her ear. “Not as much as I am.”
She clicked off. Tuesday was their third date. Not long ago, Margot had explained that young people considered the third date the gateway to sex. Did this mean she’d just unwittingly invited Doug into her bed?
She pondered that possibility as she drove home. Her too-hot reaction to Nick’s touch clouded her judgment, left her vulnerable to deceit. Maybe sex with Doug wasn’t such a bad idea. It might even be the antidote to the muddled mess Nick left behind.
****
Nick paced the hallway outside the anthropology department’s conference room, his footsteps thudding on the worn green carpet. For the past five years, he’d spent more time in this building than in his spacious apartment in the Berkeley hills. Now, with his mentor gone, it echoed—empty, strange, like an abandoned movie set. He had the feeling that, with the slightest push, the wood-paneled walls would collapse around him.
And they would, if the new department chair had her way.
He checked his phone for the tenth time. Still nothing. Clara hadn’t changed her mind. She wanted a week to think about it. But he didn’t have a week. He had to decide now.
Leo would know what to do. Nick hurried down the hallway to his office, locked the door behind him.
His friend’s husky voice boomed through the phone. “Nicolas! I was damned sorry to hear about Enid. Good woman. So, who sits on the throne now?”
“Nancy Lewington,” Nick replied, his voice flat and weary.
“Sorry, man. I take it that’s bad.”
“Yup.” He resumed pacing, much less satisfying in his overstuffed little office. Back and forth he stalked, like a wild animal in a very small cage. “She knows.”
“About your job offer? Good. Let her see that other universities want you. You’re a hot commodity, Nick.”
“Not here, I’m not.” He sank onto the cracked vinyl loveseat and ran his hand over his face. If he wanted Leo’s help, he’d have to tell him about the whole, ugly business.
“You remember that Christmas, when I didn’t come up to Oregon?”
“Right…”
“I said it was because I had too much work.”
“Right…”
“I lied. God, Leo, I thought we’d covered it up. How could I be so stupid?”
His stomach in knots, he told his friend the secret that had come back to bite a big, bloody chunk out of his ass.
When he finished, Leo whistled. “So, you haven’t heard from her since?”
“Lydia? No. She was just as glad to be out of it as I was. I mean, I could’ve lost my job, but she’d be tainted too. She ended up graduating with honors, and she earned it. But if they knew about us, people would always say…”
“She slept her way to the top of her class?” Leo chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. People can be stupid.” Leo’s pencil tapped like a woodpecker, an old habit that showed up whenever he was deep in thought.
“Anyway, Nancy saw us kissing at the Christmas party. Turns out she’s been holding onto that information, waiting for her chance to cut me with it.”
“Well, what you did wasn’t illegal. I mean, you weren’t her instructor when it happened, right?”
“No, just her advisor. But I had been, the semester before.”
Nick gazed at the gnarled oak tree outside his window. A half-dozen students lounged in its shade, reading, dozing, talking, kissing. He remembered sitting there with Lydia, trying to comfort her after an ugly breakup with her boyfriend. The last few autumn leaves shivered above them as he poured his heart out at her feet, told her how the young lovers kissing on the grass only sharpened his ache for Diana. He remembered Lydia’s soft hand on his arm, her liquid blue eyes brimming with tears. It was so easy to fall into her arms. So easy, and so stupid.
Leo’s voice pierced the painful reverie. “So get a lawyer, defend yourself.”
“If I do, the scandal will spread beyond Berkeley. For the rest of my career, I’ll be dogged by rumors, even if I’m exonerated.” He sighed into the phone. “So, Enid’s gone, Nancy’s in, and she wants me out.”
“Well, it’s not just her decision, right?”
“No, but she’s well connected here. Unless I can publish my book before the tenure committee meets, I don’t have much of a chance.” He massaged his forehead, pushing back against the killer headache gathering there. “Enid’s trying to help. She got me an interview for a full-time, tenure-track position.”
“Where?”
“Nebraska.”
“Good God, man, are you daft?” Leo spluttered. “Your family’s here, your friends are here, the woman you want is here. Come to Oregon!”
When Nick didn’t answer, Leo softened his tone. “I know you, old friend. What’s stopping you?”
“Darcy told Clara.”
“About your little peccadillo?”
“Yes.”
“I take it she wasn’t pleased.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Tap, tap, tap. Finally, “Do you want her, Nick?”
His breath came out in a rush. “God, yes.”
“Then come fight for her!”
Nick silently chewed on his pencil.
“As I recall, Diana wasn’t convinced right away either,” Leo added, “but you didn’t give up on her.”
He was right. Back in his undergrad days, his well-earned reputation as a playboy made Diana wary. Convincing her he wanted more than a quick tumble in bed took a lot of time and gentle courtship.
Imagine what I’d have missed if I’d given up on her.
Like a hit of strong whiskey, a flush of energy rushed through Nick’s body, drove him to his feet. “You’re right, my friend. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Will you—”
Nick hung up. He dialed Leo’s department head, accepted the position, then made one last call. For this one, he left his stuffy office, walked out into the brilliant sunshine, and sat on the bench where he’d made the mistake that set all this in motion.
The phone rang and rang. Finally, she picked up.
“Lydia, it’s Nick.”