When she thought of her daughter, she had to fight back tears. Cecelia at home, but never alone now. Cecelia eager to play soccer. Cecelia who wanted a dog. Cecelia—how badly had she been damaged by Carlton and the aftermath of the accident? Amanda shuddered involuntarily. It felt good to be back on campus, but how long would it take before she relaxed enough to stop worrying about her daughter every waking minute?
Marcus kept warning her about being overprotective, but he had no children. How could he possibly know how her heart clutched whenever she thought of what had happened and what might have occurred?Still, he had been a rock of stability for her, and for Cece, too. And, she did not want to lose him—or what they had. She blushed, her mind revisiting how they had been before Cece’s accident. When might they have that again? Where would their relationship go, now that Carlton was no longer around?
An hour later, she took her seat in the conference room with the rest of the faculty, a final meeting to review Evan Workman’s qualifications. Greg listened as each person spoke.
“Amanda? You’ve been pretty quiet. Have you anything to add? You know more about his background than the rest of us.”
“I think he’ll be a great addition to the department. And once his mysteries are published, it won’t hurt our reputation that he’s on the faculty. Will he be offering classes other than those in creative writing?”
Greg nodded. “He’ll carry his share of the general offerings. You know my views on prima donnas, actual and wannabes.”
Petite Jessica Jameson cleared her throat before patting her salt-and-pepper bun and smoothing her dark skirt.
“Is something on your mind, JJ?” Greg asked.
Her face was serious, but Amanda thought she detected a mischievous twinkle in those dark eyes when the senior professor stood to speak. “I’d like to sign on as his teaching assistant if he needs one.”
The men around the table chuckled.
“You and at least half the undergrad majors,” Andy Beasley deadpanned.
Greg brought them back to order with a smile. “JJ, perhaps you could write a poem that speaks to the issue you were imagining.”
She laughed with the rest of the faculty. “In rhyme or free verse?”
Greg asked for the vote. Evan Workman was approved. “With no other business to discuss, we are adjourned.”
The conference room cleared as the rest of the faculty exited, and Greg asked Beatrice to invite Evan, waiting in the outer hall, to join him in his office. Amanda turned toward her own office, other priorities on her mind. She and Cece were going to the pound this afternoon.
The spotted dog with the wiry black and white coat was standing next to the door of his cage when Cecelia walked up. She bent down and put her hand next to the wire mesh. He sniffed her hand.
“Look, Mom. This one likes me.”
“Are there any others you want to consider?” Amanda looked around. The barking from the other pens was distracting.
“No. I like this one.”
An attendant approached Cecelia. “His name is Skipper. He’s been here a week. Would you like to take him for a walk? He hasn’t had one today.”
“Can I, Mom?”
She nodded as Cecelia was handed the leash and the dog headed for the door. “Be careful you don’t trip, Cece. It’s only been—”
“I know. I’ll be careful.” Her daughter disappeared out the door with Skipper leading the way.
Amanda turned to the attendant. “What do you know about that dog?”
“He’s a stray. A dairy farmer brought him in. He was chasing his cows. He had no tags, but his name was on his collar and he’s house-broken. The vet who checks our animals says he’s maybe two or three years old.He knows simple commands, and he’s crate-trained, so he probably was someone’s pet. And, for a terrier—he’s not a purebred, but he seems pretty calm. You notice he didn’t bark when your daughter came up to his cage.”
She nodded.“Is there an adoption fee if she likes him?”
“Yes. It covers the shots he’s been given already, neutering, and his tags.”
“All right. I’ll wait out there.” She pointed to the waiting room, out of sight of the pens and away from the incessant barking.
Minutes later, Cecelia walked back into the waiting room, her face flushed. She was limping slightly.
“Cecelia! Did you hurt your leg?” Amanda rose from her chair and went over to her.
“No. I got tangled up in the leash, but Skipper stopped and licked my knee where I scraped it. Can we take him home? He likes me!”
The attendant leaned over the desk. “I see the two of you are getting along just fine.”