The Right Time (58 page)

After ditching her shorts and T-shirt, Hennessy slipped back into bed, gratefully snuggling up against Kate’s warm body. “I made sure to be back before your parents woke up.” She rested her hand on Kate’s belly, smiling when she squirmed at the chill. “We’ve got a whole week to store up some lovemaking. I’d say twice a day should be the bare minimum.” She tickled all around Kate’s mouth with a finger, giggling right along with her when she grabbed the hand and bit it playfully.

They always wound up this way. Kate on her back, with Hennessy snuggled up against her side, head resting on Kate’s shoulder. In fact, Hennessy’s was broader and stronger, but that didn’t matter. Kate’s body wasn’t bigger, but her aura was.

She let her fingers trail along Hennessy’s cheek, a tender touch that made goosebumps break out along her arms and shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Kate asked softly. “To live with me?”

Hennessy shot into a sitting position and stared at her. “Of course I am!”

“Don’t overreact,” Kate soothed, tugging her back down. “I’m just checking. This is going to be a big change for you. Living with a lover, being far away from your old roommates, your classes. Having to cook for yourself. It’s not going to be easy, Boudreaux.”

She loved it when Kate called her that. She pronounced it with such a French flair it was more a term of endearment than a surname.

“I know that.” Kate had rented a place and furnished it all on her own. Hennessy had never even been to the neighborhood, but it was affordable and close to the hospital. “Having you gone so much is going to be an adjustment.” She touched Kate’s chin, turning it so she could look into her sparkling blue eyes. “But you’re the one who’s going to be working eighty hours a week. It’s important for you to be close to work. I don’t want you nodding off on the T.”

Kate’s gaze traveled all across Hennessy’s face, clearly looking for signs of doubt. “But you’re used to being around a lot of people. A little one bedroom in Allston might seem like a prison cell.”

Hennessy placed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I won’t let it. When you’re not going to be home, I’ll hang around campus. My course load isn’t too bad this term, so I’m going to get started on my dissertation. That’ll keep me more than busy.”

Kate let out a laugh. “Isn’t it commonplace to be accepted to grad school before you write your dissertation?”

“You think my mind’s as slow as my speech,” she teased, putting her accent into overdrive. “I’m going to hit the ground running when I get into grad school.”

“I don’t mean to be a downer, but I think a committee has to approve your topic, baby.”

“They do. But I’ll have this so perfectly presented they won’t have the nerve to turn me down. It’s all about selling it.” She shifted her weight to drape a leg over Kate’s, took her hand and placed soft kisses all over the palm. When Kate’s avid gaze met hers, she playfully batted her eyes. “I’ve got something I’d like to sell you right now. What are my chances?”

“Good,” Kate purred, grasping her by the hips and pulling her fully onto her body. “Real good.

Five Years Later

Townsend threaded her way
through the throngs of people milling about atop seemingly every square inch of Harvard’s venerable campus. It was, frankly, amazing what a celebration it was.

She’d watched the morning exercises as they called them, on TV, very glad she hadn’t been compelled to get to campus to see the huge procession of graduates led by bagpipes, flag bearers and a host of angels playing harps.

Maybe she’d imagined that last part.

But when the huge outdoor theater was filled with students and families, and the bell in Memorial Chapel began to ring, chills chased down her spine. So much cooler than her own measly graduation. Of course, Harvard students worked a hell of a lot harder, if one particular student was representative.

Once the actual ceremony began, she took off, trying to time her arrival close to the end of morning exercises. To avoid the crush of traffic, she rode her bike, managing to arrive while the throng was still gathered.

She’d started to walk her bike to Sanders Hall when church bells started to peal. Every damn church in Cambridge got in on the action, the whole town vibrating with the joyous proclamation that a new bunch of Harvard grads were now officially ready to rule the world. It must have been nice to be part of something with so much tradition.

It took a while to find a place to stand. Her goal was simple, to get a look at Hennessy in her ridiculously cool outfit, and to somehow check her marital status. She wasn’t sure why that one little detail bugged her so much, but she simply had to know.

The whole family, gramma, grandaddy, and daddy had come to Boston for Hennessy’s undergraduate graduation, so Townsend doubted they’d make the trip again. But you never knew about the Boudreaux clan.

Shaking with anticipation and a hearty fear of being spotted, she skulked around the building, trying to get into position to see, but not be seen.

Even though she was early enough to make sure her plan went off without a hitch, she was sick with anxiety. Seeing Hennessy again, after so long, made her heart flutter. But she’d promised she’d always be there for her, and she was going to keep that damned promise if it killed her. Getting to the undergrad commencement nearly had. She’d told Jenna, hellbent on being completely honest with her, and it took weeks, maybe months, for things to settle down. Jenna didn’t get angry, of course—she never did. She got hurt, which was twice as bad. And having hurt feelings when you were so far away and had your mail monitored… That taught Townsend a valuable lesson: don’t overshare. If you had to scratch an innocent itch, just scratch the damned thing and move on. Today, she’d told no one she was going. Her dirty little secret was now attending graduations on the sly. That was a long way from the bad old days, but probably better for her health.

They had this stuff down to a science. At 11:20 on the dot, all of the candidates for terminal masters and PhDs from the graduate school of arts and sciences marched up the walk, with one beautiful, dark-haired woman standing out above every other sap. Hennessy had somehow managed to get significantly better looking over the last few years. Her hair was shorter now, and had been trimmed by someone who knew what she was doing. It bounced around her shoulders as she walked, the dark strands standing out against the crimson robe trimmed with black velvet. The woman looked damned fine in red. She should throw out every other color from her wardrobe and turn it into an all crimson affair.

Townsend only got to enjoy her for a moment, as the procession moved along pretty quickly. But she wasn’t done. Rushing over to a classroom building, she locked her bike up and went inside to watch the hooding and degree awarding on big screen TVs.

Sitting there, listening to some guy drone on, she decided it was kind of nice she hadn’t been able to score tickets to the actual ceremony, even after offering pretty big bucks on Craigslist. That meant people valued attending more than cash, which was surprising, but nice.

Finally, they started to call the candidates up to receive their degrees. They went in alpha order, and the third person was the beautiful, super-smart, very hard working Doctor Hennessy Boudreaux. Even though the room Townsend was watching in was quiet and nearly full, she stood up and clapped, letting the tears flow as she watched Hennessy duck her head down to receive her doctoral hood. The smile on her face was nothing short of luminous. It was so damned nice to see her look so proud of herself. That was the highlight, what Townsend would remember about the day: Hennessy standing tall and taking a victory lap.

After that, she returned to Sanders Hall, where she staked out a perch behind a stately oak tree. Finally, the graduates emerged, each of them searching for his or her people. Hennessy’s people, led by a whooping, clapping Kate, stood off to one side, waiting for her.

Townsend tried to ignore the sick feeling that made her stomach grip as Kate threw her arms around Hennessy and picked her up off her feet. She couldn’t hold her for long, but she was so overjoyed she obviously couldn’t help herself.

It wasn’t a surprise they were still together. Hennessy was so damned lovable, Kate would have been an idiot not to know what a prize she had. But Hennessy looked equally happy to be in her arms, and that was harder to take. Seeing a woman take your place was never going to be a day at the beach.

Townsend got tears in her eyes once again as all of the Boudreauxes stepped up and tentatively offered hugs. They couldn’t possibly have afforded the airfare. Damn, this must have meant a lot to them to all pile in that fish-befoulded truck and drive all the way. But they loved their baby girl, and Townsend was really, really glad they’d made such an effort.

Then three more people appeared, all getting in line for hugs. A tall, sandy haired man with a pretty, model tall blonde woman who might have been in their fifties. Next to them a good-looking guy, also blond.
Damn.
Kate’s whole family had come. You didn’t go to Boston on commencement weekend unless you were crazy about a graduate. Or related—by marriage.

She could have stayed and watched the happy group. Seeing Gramma all dolled up in a somber suit she probably saved for funerals was worth the price of admission. But Townsend had seen enough. If they weren’t married, it was a technicality. Hennessy and Kate were still very much together. Hennessy hadn’t lied. She wanted to spend her entire life with the first and only woman she ever made love with, and damned if she wasn’t going to do it.

Hennessy sat in an uncomfortable chair and drummed her fingers on the nearby side table. She should have been better at this, but there were some things that hard work alone couldn’t give you. Being comfortable bragging about herself was never going to be easy, but it was something she was going to have to get better at doing.

The door opened, and the Dean of the English department walked in and sat opposite her. Before he’d spoken a word, her stomach was in knots.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” he said, only a portion of his attention on her.

She made herself smile, even though she was fairly sure she looked like she was sitting on a bale of barbed wire. “It’s no problem. I have nothing planned for the rest of the day.”

“Well, we won’t need that long.” He thumbed through a stack of papers that rested in a manila file folder. “This is a little different,” he said, when he lighted on something. “I don’t see a lot of dissertations focusing on Kate Chopin.”

Might as well sell the Southern angle. She amped up her accent just a bit, making it sound like it had when she’d first arrived in Boston. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m from the South.”

“I could tell that.” He laughed a little, giving her hope that maybe they were going to click. “It’s a biography?”

“A literary biography. I didn’t uncover much new information about her life, but I tried to put her writing in the proper context of her time and her contemporaries. I chose her because I felt an obligation to honor one of my favorite Southern writers.”

“Harvard is publishing it,” he said, his eyebrows hiking up. “That’s pretty impressive.”

She shrugged, unnaturally skittish about being complimented. “It probably looks good for them to publish as many of their own dissertations as they can.”

He lowered the file folder and looked at her for a few seconds. “You
do
know you’re competing against dozens and dozens of aggressive East coasters, don’t you?”

A deep flush was crawling up her cheeks. She could feel it. “I know that. Believe me, I know that. But I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable selling myself like I know I should. Some people are better at courtship, others are the ones you want to marry.” She swallowed, sat up taller and tried to put some punch behind her words. “I’m the latter. I may not be great at promising the world, but I do my best to deliver it.”

“That’s better,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He continued to look at her CV. “You’ve taught thirteen different sections of creative writing?” He ran his finger along her application. “Are you really only twenty-six?”

“I got started early. Creative writing is where my true love lies, so I’ve made it a priority to teach during the summer, winter break, anytime I can find someone who’s committed to putting their thoughts on paper.”

He dropped the folder to the desk and leaned back in his chair. He had kind eyes, along with a fairly laid-back style. Not nearly as aggressive as many of the people she’d interviewed with. “How have you found the time to write a publishable dissertation and teach during your off time?”

“My partner is in the last year of a fellowship in surgical critical care at Brigham and Women’s. She’s taught me you don’t need to sleep at all.” She hoped that wasn’t wedging the issue in too firmly, but she was determined to be one hundred percent out of the closet.

There was a definite twinkle to his gaze when he nodded decisively. “I think I’d like to take a look at your dissertation.”