Package Deal(14)

Her mother had spoken through lips thinned by disapproval. “Well, I just hope you aren’t so busy that you can’t come home for Christmas. You’re going to be so far away … all the way out there in Washington state. Don’t they still have Indians?”

“Mother, for goodness sakes! I’m not disappearing into the wilderness. I’ll let you know about Christmas after I see when my classes are over.” She sighed, recalling how many times her mother had hinted, via news about former friends who were now married and having children, that Amanda’s life had taken a wrong turn. First, she got pregnant—a contraceptive failure she’d never expected—then she kept the baby, and now she had obtained an advanced degree. Her mother was convinced she would never find a man interested in being a husband to her and a father to Cecelia.

“Why is that, Mother?”

“Because men don’t like—and sometimes fear—smart women.”

“That’s such an old-fashioned view,” Amanda pooh-poohed, but on nights when she was particularly lonely, she wondered if maybe her mother was right. She squared her shoulders.She and Cecelia were a family. She had no intention of getting close to any man who wasn’t comfortable with a child in the picture.

Now, only two months into her first academic appointment, she had met Marcus. Her heart rose in her throat. Was he worth her interest or was he just checking out the new blood on campus like some of the other faculty members, as JJ had inferred in an offhand comment during a recent meeting? Amanda had asked—casually, she thought—about the marital status of other faculty members.

“Most of us are married, Amanda. A few, like me, are confirmed singles. Did you come here to find a husband?” The dark eyes of the senior professor bored into her.

“No, not at all. I was just wondering. I—I met some of the new people—at the dean’s gathering.”

“I’ll bet one of the others—not so new—was Marc Dunbar.”

She nodded and smiled, her cheeks heating in spite of herself.

“Now that one’s an up-and-comer. Had a six month sabbatical last year. If I were younger,” the woman chuckled, “I’d want to get to know him.”

Amanda hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Why is that?”

“He’s got a body I could go for, and brains, too. I like the way he thinks and his sense of humor—what I’ve seen of it at general faculty meetings.” JJ twirled a pen in her hand. “Has he interviewed you yet for that series he does for The Bay View?”

Amanda nodded. “He asked good questions, right on point.” Except that he got more personal, too.

“Well, he’s one I hope sticks around. I think he’s got a great future. And I hear he’s working on a book I’ve already decided I want to read. I remember my folks hanging on those dispatches Ernie Pyle wrote during World War II.”

Amanda smiled. “He told me about it.”

JJ rose from her chair. “I hope you like it here, Amanda. I’m tickled I’m no longer the only woman in our department. It’s about time Greg looked for candidates in skirts.” She patted the gray-streaked bun at the back of her neck. “Next time you see Marcus, tell him hello for me, will you?”

A knock sounded at Amanda’s office door, interrupting her reverie.

“Come in.” She smiled at the student who stood at the door. The orange and green streaks in her hair reminded Amanda of Halloween.

“Dr. Gardner, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Katelyn. Come in.” Amanda pointed to the extra chair near the desk.

For twenty minutes, she went over the assignment regarding the poetry they had been studying. Three student queries later, she vacated the office for Carlton, who was pacing impatiently in the hallway outside Amanda’s office door.



Saturday evening, Marcus arrived shortly before seven. Cecelia opened the door and appraised him silently.

“Hello. Remember me? I’m Marc.” He put out his hand to shake hers as she stood in the doorway.

“I know who you are. Professor Dunbar.” She remained where she was and continued to study him. His crooked smile seemed friendly enough and she liked how he looked. He couldn’t

seem to make his hair lie down neatly. Her hair was like that, too, even when she wore pigtails. She remembered what her mother had said about being polite. After putting her small hand in his large one, she replied, “You may come in,” and moved aside as he entered.Cecelia’s pigtails tapped her neck as she trotted up the nearby stairs and into her mother’s room. “Mom! Professor Dunbar is here.”