Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice (31 page)

   Calder tapped her arm. "Can I ask him something?"

   "Sure. Dave, I'm going to switch over to speakerphone. Calder has something to say."

   "Just be aware that lawyer-client privilege can't apply if he can hear it."

   It was a bit late for that. "That's all right." She pressed the button.

   Calder said, "Dave, we're worried about what could happen if the tabloids found out about this."

   "The tabloids? You mean because of her connection with you? Anything's possible, but it's not a very good story from their point of view. An otherwise lawabiding citizen trying to protect her brother isn't very scandalous. If he were a pedophile or something, they'd have a story."

   "Isn't murder scandalous enough?" Cassie asked.

   "Depends on the circumstances. Who did he allegedly kill?"

   "Someone from a rival gang. It was in a gang fight."

   "Now that's the story that would interest them— your brother being in a gang. Not the harboring. That's boring."

   "Are you sure?" Calder asked.

   "I'm never sure of anything, but I've known your mother all my life. I have a nodding acquaintance with the kind of thing that interests the scandal sheets."

   Cassie left the bedroom soon after, giving Calder the chance to talk to Dave alone. She needed a few minutes to calm herself. It had been easier telling Dave about Ryan than it had been with Calder, but her nerves were still on edge. Eventually she went to look for him. He was still on the phone, but he held out his free arm to her. She went to him, linking her hands behind his waist and resting her head on his chest.

   "All right. Thanks for the advice, Dave," he said. "I'll be in touch." He returned the receiver to its cradle and turned his attention to Cassie. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. I need to think about it."

   He kissed his way down her head to her ear, her neck, and then her face. She could tell he was pleased with the outcome. "I'll try to be patient. But I feel a lot better about risking scandal than prison."

   She let him distract her with kisses. His happiness was infectious, as was his desire.

   Without pausing between kisses, he picked her up and took her to the bed. As he lowered his body over hers, she teased, "Didn't we just do this?"

   "That was hours ago." His hands busily worked their way inside her shirt, finding the places that tempted her most.

   "Two hours, to be precise." She nibbled on his lip.

   "That qualifies as hours ago."

   She laughed. "I'm not sure why I bothered to get dressed."

   "Good question. You don't ever need to get dressed on my account. I'm perfectly satisfied by you with your clothes off." He began wrestling with her pants.

   "Satisfied already?" She insinuated her hand between their hips and stroked him through his jeans, an effective demonstration of his lack of satisfaction. To her surprise, he paused and put his hands beside her face.

   "I've wanted to hear you laugh with me again so much. Since that night in Woods Hole, there hasn't been much opportunity for laughter. I love it when you laugh and tease me."

   Looking into his eyes so close to her own was dangerous to her peace of mind. "You'll just have to keep giving me things to laugh at, then."

   He lowered himself between her legs. With a significant look, he said, "Let's see how long you can keep laughing."

Cassie spread her syllabus on the wooden table in preparation for class. Three weeks until Calder came back. Three long, lonely weeks. This plan of seeing each other occasionally to reduce the odds of discovery worked better in theory than practice. Next semester, when he'd be teaching there, they could see each other often without anyone being the wiser. It seemed like a long time away. If only her past didn't have to be such a secret, but wishing that was pointless. It was the price of keeping the respect of her colleagues and students.

   This seminar, Topics in Marine Biology, was usually her favorite to teach, but today the subject matter only made her miss Calder even more. Good thing today's topic wasn't salt marshes.

   It was a small class of a dozen or so biology majors. A couple of students trickled in a few minutes early. Chris was one of them, and he came directly over to Cassie, holding a stack of envelopes.

   He looked nervous. "Dr. Boulton, I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a letter of recommendation for me."

   "I'd be happy to." She'd been waiting for him to ask. Cassie took the pile of envelopes and flipped through them quickly, glancing at the addresses. All med schools. She turned to him in disbelief. "What happened to grad school in biology?"

   Chris shuffled his feet. "There are so many unemployed PhDs out there, and I have debts to pay off. This way I know I'll have a job when I'm done."

   "But is it what you really want? No, scratch that, I know it isn't what you want."

   "It'll be okay." He glanced around at the rapidly filling room with an embarrassed look. Everyone in the seminar knew he'd spent the summer working with Cassie, and it gave him a certain cachet among the serious biology students.

   Cassie set the envelopes on the table. "Let's talk after class. I think you may be overestimating the difficulty of getting a job in biology."

   "Rob told me he'd been looking for two years," Chris said.

   Rob. Just what she didn't want to talk about. "Rob's looking for a very particular type of job. And you didn't hear him having any regrets about his choices, did you? If he knew you were thinking about this, he'd string you up by your thumbs."

   "It's easy for you to say. You've got a job. You never had to worry about ending up broke and working at some dead-end job. But you were at the top of your class in grad school. Rob told me."

   Never had to worry. That was a laugh. What else had Rob told Chris? But the other students were looking at the two of them with avid curiosity, and some were nodding. She sighed and pushed the syllabus to one side, turning to face the class. "How many of you are thinking like Chris is?"

   There was dead silence, then one hand went up and another and another. All students she'd known for years. The seniors had started at Haverford with her—she as a new professor when they were freshmen. She had a sudden vision of talking to Calder in her lab, telling him she taught students how to think.

   "Look, I'm not going to tell you that faculty positions are a dime a dozen. They're not. But it's like anything else in life. If it's what you really want, you'll find a way. If you settle for less, you're always going to wonder what you've missed." She wasn't reaching them. Their blank faces loomed before her. How could she make them listen? What kind of role model was she if they thought it had all come easily to her?

   This was what hiding her past meant. She could teach her students how to think like scientists, but she couldn't teach them about life, because everything she said was a lie. They might not respect her if they knew the truth, but could she respect herself if she wasn't willing to take the risk of telling them? Chris was giving up his career aspirations because she was afraid of what they'd think of her.

   She laid her palms on the table in front of her. Her mouth was dry. "Okay, let's talk about being broke. I'm an expert on it. I grew up in a slum like you can barely imagine. I'm the only one in my family who finished high school. Half the kids in my high school couldn't read. My brother's in prison, and my sister's never held a job." Not one she could mention in front of students, anyway. "But I knew what I wanted, and I never settled for anything less. If I was at the top of my class, it's because I worked harder than anybody else. So if you want to apply to med school, go ahead, but don't tell me it's because you don't have a choice."

   The look on Chris's face was almost comical, a combination of surprise and shame. She shouldn't have spoken so harshly. It wasn't him she was upset with. It was herself, for telling a lie all these years. With an effort, she made her voice gentler. "You have talent and brains, Chris, and you'll do well at whatever you do, whether you're a biologist or a doctor. I'll give you an excellent recommendation for med school, and later on, if you decide to apply to some grad schools as well, I'll be happy to help with that, too."

   "But we have work to do today." She straightened the pile of papers in front of her. "Sherry, is your presentation ready?"

   At the end of class, the students filed out. Cassie opened her briefcase on the chair beside her and looked up to see Tony, a quiet boy who always turned in his work on time. "Dr. Boulton?" he said.

   "Yes?"

   "What you said about how we couldn't imagine where you grew up." Tony stuck his thumb in his belt loop and tilted his head to one side. "I can."

   A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she recognized his street stance. "Well. Congratulations, then."

   "I
am going to med school. I got a job waitin' fo
r me, back home." He straightened his shoulders. "You go, girl," he said quietly and then sauntered out of the room.

   Would her life have been different if she had been able to tell someone about her past when she was Tony's age? Another unanswered question to add to her endless list. But she hadn't been ready then. Too much adolescent shame and desire for acceptance. Wanting to pretend Chicago didn't exist. But after telling Calder the truth, pretending it didn't exist wasn't working anymore.

   Calder. If only Calder were there with her, to talk to her and to hold her in the way only he could.

   
If it's what you really want to do, you'll find a way. If
you settle for less, you're always going to wonder what
you've missed.
She walked slowly down the hall to her office, closed the door behind her, and sat down at her desk. She'd told her big secret. Half the department would know by tomorrow.

   The phone was right there in front of her. All she had to do was to pick it up.

   She reached into her briefcase for her wallet and found the dog-eared card inside it. Holding it carefully, she dialed the number on it and waited, her heart pounding, until Calder answered the phone.

   "It's me," she said.

   "Cassie? Are you all right?"

   She drew a deep breath. "I love you, and I'd like it if you came back."

   There was a long silence on the other end, and then Calder said, "Hold that thought. I'll be there tonight."

"You did what?" Calder stared at Cassie incredulously. Had he heard her correctly?

   "I told them. No more secrets, except about the harboring. No more obstacles. You can stay as long as you want, and it doesn't matter who finds out." Her eyes were dancing.

   It was hard to believe, after all these months of telling himself he could never have her. But he could see the truth of it in how she moved, in the energy that seemed to exude from her. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight, making her laugh as he lifted her so her feet left the floor. "I don't deserve you."

   She caught his face between her hands and kissed him. "Too bad. You're stuck with me now."

   As the weekend progressed, Calder couldn't have been happier. The way Cassie made free with his body—always touching his arm or taking his hand or sliding into his lap—charmed him completely, and he sought out her touch more and more. The intensity of their sexual connection didn't diminish with repetition. He found he was growing addicted to the heady delight of pleasuring her, to the point that she teased him by saying he seemed to enjoy her satisfaction more than his own. He denied this vigorously, but the fact remained. The more he had of her, the more he wanted.