Uncross My Heart (27 page)

“True.” She shrugged and I laughed.

* * *

The board was in session when I entered the room, directed to do so by a young man obviously tapped to be doorman for the occasion.

All the elderly faces looked appropriately grieved and somber, and the session opened with a prayer for the soul of Roger Thurgood Sr.

The vibrations in the room weren’t exactly friendly toward me, but somewhat fearful, for reasons I couldn’t ascertain. Unless they were picking up on my having had more sex in twenty-four hours than all of them had most likely had in a year.

The interim-interim chairman, a short pudgy man introduced as Mr. Rockwell, called the meeting to order and asked that the treasury report be read. Despite the elaborate dissecting of funding, it was apparent that there was only one key donor family, the Thurgood Trust.

The chairman introduced me, saying I needed no introduction and therefore making me wonder why there was one. He then laid out the opportunities for the university and, in addition, the problems. Among the latter were image and reputation. The axe loomed above me as I envisioned that the next words would be about my negative contribution in those two arenas.

“At the urging of the Thurgood family, we are considering you, Dr.

Westbrooke, for the chancellorship of this fine institution.” Pendergast looked down at the floor, pressing his long white beard tightly against his chest, obviously unable to even look at me. Vance Shepherd’s Tourette’s shoulder bounced up and down as if in medical protest.

My mind froze. “I’m quite confused by this. You’re aware that my contract is not being renewed.”

Several board members exchanged glances as if I’d resurrected something they’d hoped would remain buried. “We have no knowledge of contractual issues and frankly, for purposes of this discussion, the past is the past. It’s the future we are most interested in.”

“Future” seemed to be an igniting word that blasted them out of their worry, and Pendergast said, “The future is where we will make a difference.”

An older man in the back said, “The future is everything for this school.” And everyone nodded and signaled agreement over a phrase that seemed infantile in its vision.
Of course the future is everything
, I thought.

“And so that brings us to why you’re here. We want to congratulate you on making the short list, and we want to make certain that if made chancellor you will abide by the oath of chancellor and—” Mr.

Rockwell intoned.

“Do you have a copy?” I asked.

“A copy?” he parroted.

“Of the oath,” I probed.

“Well, no…the gist of it is that you…” He stumbled and hemmed and hawed.

“I think he’s petered out,” Pendergast joked, then realized perhaps he’d chosen an inappropriate euphemism.

“What we’re saying is…” Vance Shepherd jumped in. “You would have to
remain
chaste as so many before you have done to put the church and God first.”

“You mean turn my back on my sexuality? Or make love in the closet and lie about it so we can all feel pious?” I said the words pensively and quietly. “I think not. But thank you for considering me.”

I got up and walked out of the room to a chorus of male voices asking me to please come back and finish the conversation.

I lay curled up in Vivienne’s arms. “Can you imagine giving this up for the praise of old farts?”

“Something bigger than the board is going on. You know they don’t want you to be chancellor. They’d rather have a guy who’s driving around town in the wrong underwear or even name Ketch before they’d appoint a gay woman.” On cue, Ketch whined.

“You see, even he doesn’t want the position,” I said. Ketch got up and trotted into the living room. Since that was generally a sign of visitors, I jumped up and followed him. Out the front window, I saw a black Town Car pulling into the driveway.

“What is it?” Viv called.

I ran back to the bedroom. “A limo.” I jumped into my jeans and a seminary sweatshirt, checking my hair briefly in the mirror. Viv was pulling on her sweats.

“Find out who it is before you just open the door and let them in,”

Viv said with some suspicion.

When I got back to the living room, the woman who had grilled me in the chancellor’s office was climbing the steps.
Thank God she’s
not a man or I’d think they’d sent her to assassinate me.

I opened the door before she could knock and greeted her with a quizzical smile.

“May I come in? I’m Margaret Thurgood, Roger Thurgood’s sister.”

My mind flashed back to her interviewing me and my telling her how I disliked her brother and her nephew.

“Come in. Could I get you some coffee or tea?” I asked as Vivienne came out of the bedroom looking spectacular. I introduced them and they shook hands. Margaret took a seat on the couch after I brushed off the dog hair. “Sorry,” I said as I let Ketch outside. “He pretty much has the run of my life.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but the decisions I have to make have immediate consequences. I’m the controlling interest in the family trust. So, in short, the seminary gets its money only if I say so.”

“Please don’t judge the seminary on recent events. Many wonderful things have come out of—”

“I have no interest in the seminary personally or religiously, for that matter. I find the entire institution archaic and dreary. Nonetheless, places like that seem to thrive, and my role in all this is to determine how. I heard the board had a special little party for you today.”

“They wanted a celibate chancellor.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to look as gloomy as some of our past chancellors unless you aren’t getting any.” Both Viv and I laughed.

“You’re the seminary’s nemesis,” Margaret said to me, then suddenly looked at Vivienne. “I like you quite a lot. Heard you on the radio.” Viv thanked her.

“So, Alexandra, if you were I and could change the academic structure of the seminary, how would you do that?”

“I would teach nothing as truth, but all things as possibilities.”

“You
are
disruptive.” She laughed slightly and in that instant I felt a connection. A kindred soul had surfaced, and I relaxed. “My teachings would make no sense in the context of a seminary. The power of thought—quantum theory, feminist studies, things that would ball up the traditionalists’ shorts. Curriculum that won’t be popular for centuries and today would be asking to be attacked by parents, peers, and press.”

“A bit radical even for me. What do you think of all this?” Margaret addressed Viv, and for a second I thought she gave her a physical once-over, like sizing up a racehorse she might be interested in purchasing.

“I think light has truly arrived at the seminary.” Viv grinned.

Margaret Thurgood’s gaze stayed just a moment too long on Viv for my liking before she spun to rivet me with it.

“I want you to become the chancellor of Claridge, Alexandra.”

“I can’t,” I said, stunned.

“I want you to do this as a personal favor,” she said to me, then turned to Viv. This time I felt a twinge of jealousy, as the look seemed sensual. “You’re lucky you’ve found each other. I make do with young friends who are merely entertaining and like money.”

Suddenly it was over. Without waiting for my answer, or perhaps assuming she’d gotten it, she told us good-bye, climbed into her carriage and rode away. I was dumbstruck.

“What do you think?” Viv asked.

“She’s insane. I’m not chancellor material.”

“Unfortunately, darling, you are. And it will be your biggest battle yet.”

“You don’t even believe—”

“Alex, it’s not the church that holds us back. It’s ourselves. You of all people should be able to get that across, don’t you think?”

“What will we do about your house?” I asked, and Viv laughed.

“So it all boils down to real estate?”

“Well, we both have inherited family homes. You don’t just dump those.”

“You’re making an assumption that we’re living together,” she said.

“You don’t think I’m letting you go home?” I kissed her. “I’ll do anything…including burn your clothes.”

“How about a city house for entertaining, so people like Margaret don’t have to sit on dog hair, and a country house for those of us who happen to thrive on hair seats.”

“Okay.” I let my breath out as if that had solved something monumental and then pulled her down on the bed, stripping off her sweatpants. “Chancellor is nice, but I prefer this position.”

* * *

Nervous, worried, and upset, I couldn’t fall asleep. Stressful meetings, finding the lover I had never dared dream of, and having an opportunity to be chancellor all in the same month, week, hour, was a ten on my personal Richter. I lay awake trying not to move and awaken Viv. I shifted slightly to be able to punch the light on the side of the clock that would allow me to see the time. It was after one a.m. and now I fretted that I would look like hell in the morning.

After yet another flop onto my stomach, and then back, I felt Viv fling an arm over me, kiss me, then yank me out of bed. “Come on, throw on your jeans.”

“What are we doing?”

“Something other than toss and fret and sweat. We’ll go for a ride.”I yanked on my jeans and tennis shoes and threw on a T-shirt.

“What’s open at this time of night?”

I followed her out the back door to the pasture. “Come on.” And with that she grabbed halters and bridles and headed out toward the horses, who walked toward her in the moonlight.

“What are we doing? I don’t ride that well even in the daylight.”

“Good. This will give you something else to think about.” She put the bridle on both horses as I watched, not believing what she was doing, then pushed on Mac, angling his body up against the fence, and ordered me to use it to climb on. There was no way. Mac stepped deftly aside each time, so Viv pushed Ghostie against the fence. I hoisted myself up and she surprised me by getting on in front of me. “He’s big enough to handle us both, and we’ll just walk him.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and put my cheek on her small back and was ready to ride off into the moonlight. She turned Ghostie away from the house and took him through the pasture at a lazy walk. Mac trudged along at our side to be with his friend.

“I feel as if you and I have ridden this way before. Centuries ago. Isn’t that odd?” I said.

“We probably did. It’s all connected, darling.”

The moonlight was spectacular, and all my anxiety passed through my body, dissipated through this massive animal, and disappeared into the ground. “This is God, Alex. This is where God lives. In these gentle animals, in our love, in us.”

* * *

An hour later I was back in bed, curled around Viv again, only this time without a horse under us. I slept better than I’d slept in my entire life and awoke feeling like my world was about to change.

As the sun rose, Viv insisted she had to stop acting like a lovesick teenager long enough to go to her office and get some work done.

She’d told her coworkers she was taking a week off to be with her lover—a truth so bold that I blinked when she confessed it. I asked if she thought there might be a verbal line drawn, at which point sharing was unnecessary. She said they were dying to have her return so they could quiz her.

“Now I can tell them my secret love is a priest,” she teased. At my alarmed expression she said, “Face it, dear, you’re out.”

I kissed her good-bye and headed over to see my father. He was recuperating now in an intermediary rehab facility and would, I hoped, be back in his home with in-home care soon. I wanted to tell him that I’d been asked to be chancellor, something he’d always said would happen. I could imagine the surprise and pride on his face, and the idea of witnessing his reaction made me happy I was going to see him today.The corridors in the facility were filled with bulletin boards and photos of the recuperating—mostly older people demeaned, I thought, by the forced fun of unnatural poses, childish games, and non-events. I never wanted to live long enough to have someone put me in a finger-painting class.

I rounded the corner to room 272 where my father, wearing his own robe and sipping tea, was watching television. He greeted me with a smile and I gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek, then told him I was so glad he was alive and well. After reciting the weather, which seemed to be a preoccupation for the elderly even though they wouldn’t experience it firsthand, I launched into the meeting with Margaret Thurgood and her request. “She wants me to become”—I paused to let him get the full impact—“chancellor.”

“Margaret Thurgood is an idiot,” he said, and as a first response, it stung. “She is only in charge of the trust because all the sensible men are dead. I’ve known of that family for years.”

“Well, idiot or not, she’s asked me to take the highest position the seminary offers, Father, something you always said you wanted.”

“That was long ago. You’re not suited to it. Particularly in light of the path you’ve taken lately. It could only come to a bad end.”

“Well, obviously, I’m not the conservative choice for a seminary chancellor.” He said nothing.
Does he know what he’s saying to me?

Are these just more ramblings from a disconnected mind? Why do I
care if he’s pleased? Why can he still hurt me with his assessment of
me?
I sat contemplating these questions as he continued to watch a mindless game show on TV. The nurse came in and offered to help him urinate into a plastic urinal so he wouldn’t have to get up. I turned my head away out of respect. What irony, a man who had to have help peeing into a plastic beaker had such a psychological grip on me. Anger welled up inside me and I wanted to shout at him that he was mean-spirited and uncaring, but then I might give him a heart attack.

After twenty minutes of silence, I stood up and said good-bye. He barely noticed as I walked to the door, and it was as if an invisible hand stopped me and turned me around. I walked back to his bedside, took the remote and flipped off the TV, then stepped into his line of vision and spoke quietly.