When he reached for her hand again, she did not pull it away, enjoying the warmth that flooded her.Minutes later, they were back in front of her house.
“Do you want me to carry her inside?” he whispered.
“No. That’s quite all right.” She shook Cecelia’s shoulder. “Cece. We’re home. Time to wake up.”She followed her daughter up the steps, then turned and waved at Marcus from the porch.
After working on her lectures, she indulged her curiosity by scanning the faculty biographies in the College Bulletin. It didn’t take her long to find Marcus’s entry. He was only three years older than she and not married.But he seemed so easygoing with Cece, like he’s used to children. Maybe his older brother has kids.
Several days later, Cecelia followed Amanda out of the department.
“Can I walk home by myself now? I know how to get there and everything.”
“No. I want you to come to my office after school unless we make special arrangements.” When Cecelia’s lower lip began to protrude, Amanda continued, “I like us walking home together.”
“Do I have to stay in your office when that man is there?”
“You mean Carlton?”
She nodded. “The man with the black hair—he looks at me funny.”
Amanda looked over at her daughter. Why would Cece say that? “If he’s there, just sit quietly in the other chair.” Carlton had seemed so benign the last time her daughter had stayed in her office, seeming to ignore both of them when she had returned. “You might want to draw a picture of those big boats in the bay for Francie—so you can send it to her. She doesn’t have views like that in Iowa, not like you have here—and from your own bedroom, too.” She rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Beatrice told me that stone statue is of William Shakespeare. Why is his head so much lighter than the rest of his body?” Cece asked.
“Because we all rub it for luck. His hat’s copper.” She grinned. “Just like you and I did the other day. Shakespeare was a famous playwright, so he’s important to our department.” She took Cecelia to the back of the small lecture hall where her students were bent over their bluebooks. “You can sit here. But you must be extra quiet while they are writing.” She pointed to a seat well away from the students.“I have to wait till everyone is done. Then we’ll go home, like we planned, after the exam is over.”
“Mom, I like sitting back here, even if it is kind of dark,” Cecelia whispered. “Better than in your office.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s so small, and that man—he smells like cigarettes or something, and he always tries to talk to me when I’m reading.”
“If he’s in the office, just sit in the small chair. I’ll move it closer to the filing cabinets.”
“I think he’s icky.”
“You just don’t know him very well. Did you know he’s from Wisconsin, not that far from where Grandma lives?”
“I don’t think Grandma would like him, either.”
“Maybe not.” She sighed, wishing she had her own office space or had been assigned to share with one of the other, friendlier faculty members. If only the renovations had been completed before her arrival.
Two days later, she was in her office reading bluebooks when the phone rang.
“Amanda?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Marcus Dunbar. I—”
“Tour guide extraordinare, right?” You with the intense blue eyes and the buff bod. She smiled to herself, glad he had called. He was single, good with kids, and a man who can put together a great article, according to JJ and some of the other faculty. She forced herself to stop reviewing what she liked about him, what excited her about the possibility of seeing him again.
“Well, I do my best, ma’am. How’s that little girl of yours? Still reading the Narnia series?”
“She’s great,” she replied with a delighted laugh.
“I wanted to go over my article about you and what you are doing. Can we meet over coffee, maybe this afternoon?”
Amanda looked at her schedule. “If we can meet at three. I have office hours from two to three.”
“How about if I come over at two? If a student asks to see you, I’ll treat Beatrice to the latest campus news while I wait.”
Amanda chuckled. “I’m sure Beatrice would love that. Sure, come on over at two.”
After her afternoon class, Amanda pushed Carlton’s big computer to the side of the desk and stacked his papers on the wide windowsill. The student who followed her back from class left after a few minutes. Marcus knocked on the door, then entered and took a seat, pulling his interview from his briefcase. His blue eyes sparkled at her.