We walked back through the front door and I caught a glimpse of Clarity heading over to greet Jackson. She stopped suddenly when she saw me. Her green eyes refracted a vibrant light right through my chest.
"Whoa, what is going on there?" Jackson asked, slack-jawed.
Before he could say anything else, I slipped past the math professors and caught up to her before she disappeared into the kitchen. "So, just out of curiosity, what are your plans for Thanksgiving break?" I asked.
A delicious pink hue touched her cheeks and I was tempted to feel the heat of her blush with my lips. She blinked up at me and I couldn't read the shifting forest shades of green in her gaze.
"What exactly are you asking?" Clarity asked.
"No pressure, I know it's crazy, but all I'm saying is that we'd have enough time to get to know each other, get out on the West Coast, and fly back before break is over." My mouth belonged to someone else, clearly someone who had not asked out a woman in a very long time. I had skipped the safe drinks suggestion, bypassed shared meals, and went straight for a couple’s vacation. She was going to think I was crazy.
"That's crazy," Clarity said.
"I know you're going to say 'but.' Come on, you know you want to." My chest jittered, unaccustomed to the heady mix of recklessness and excitement. It had been way too long. "Dean Dunkirk, I'm sure you have a few great suggestions for places to go in California."
Clarity's creamy skin went pale as the Dean of Students joined us. She swayed back a bit, so I wrapped an arm around her waist. Suddenly my suggestion didn't seem so insane. She fit against me so perfectly, I knew I needed her there.
Dean Dunkirk smiled, too engrossed in his own advice to notice me pulling Clarity close. "Personally I'd head right to Napa Valley. The wine country there is something to see and there are great, hidden towns to stay in while you explore. My daughter has always wanted to go there. Isn't that right, Clarity?"
"Clarity? Your daughter?" My words weren't coming out right. I dropped my arm from around her waist. "You're Clarity Dunkirk?"
"Beautiful name, isn't it? One of the only things her mother and I agreed on," Dean Dunkirk said.
Beautiful, and I knew the moment she marched up to me that she wouldn't hesitate to challenge me. It was something about her that I felt with certainty and knew I needed.
My mind switched into tactical mode, determined to work around the obstacle and complete my mission. Why Clarity was a top priority mission didn't matter. It felt good to want something again.
And I liked Dean Dunkirk. The Dean of Students was easy to talk to, full of practical but light-hearted advice, and he obviously had a healthy respect for his daughter. I figured a few more friendly conversations and I could work my way up to asking permission to date her.
"Well, thank you both for a wonderful party. I'm sorry to leave so soon, but I have an early class in the morning," I said. I needed to go, get a little distance, and see if I could form a plan that would work.
I marched out the front door, the sense of purpose giving my muscles new vitality. The last few years, I had drifted along at Landsman College and avoided most people. Jackson was a rare exception.
My phone rang and it was the only other person I voluntarily talked to. "Hi, Liz, how's my baby sister?"
"Are you at a party?" she asked.
"Just leaving, and no, it's not what you think. Just a faculty get-together with some of the Honor Council students," I said.
"Then why do you sound so happy?"
"I'm excited for class to start tomorrow," I lied.
Liz chuckled. "I still can't believe my big brother is a college professor."
"This is year three," I said, and felt the old, familiar pang.
"Don't you miss it? You were a great journalist, Ford. I still don't understand how you got let go for doing too good a job," Liz said.
"I'm living proof it's possible to know too much," I joked, but my little sister didn't buy it. I heard her sigh. "We've gone over this a hundred times, Lizzy: no one's going to hire a discredited journalist, alright? I'm happy enough where I am."
I reminded myself of that fact when I unlocked the door to my apartment. I kicked off my shoes and settled down in the office chair next to my dining room table. The new semester's syllabus was laid out along with mountains of supporting texts and articles. I opened my laptop and got back to work.
It didn't matter how much I wanted to be a journalist again. That was over. Now I was a college professor, and the money was good. My paycheck gave me enough to send some to Liz each month. She needed help with medical school and I was determined to keep my head down and my paychecks coming.
As I added notes to my lecture topics, the image of dark-red, wavy hair and forest-green eyes kept appearing. I wasn't working my dream job, but at least now I had the dean's lovely daughter to help me get through the school year. For once, I was looking forward to my first class early in the morning.
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