"Well, while there are some parallels between As You Like It and Twelfth Night as far as theme and device, the two plays address markedly divergent . . . Sorry, it doesn't matter."
He laid the papers down, took off his reading glasses. And prepared to face the consequences of his actions. "I want to apologize for-"
"You already did. Do you apologize to every woman you kiss?"
"No, but under the circumstances . . ." Let it go, Carter. "Anyway. What can I do for you?"
"I dropped by to give you this. I was going to leave it at the front office, but they told me you had a free period, and were in here. So I thought I'd give it to you in person."
She offered him a package wrapped in brown paper. "You can open it," she said when he only looked flustered. "It's just a token-appreciation for letting me dump on you the other night, and for the hangover you spared me. I thought you might like it."
He opened it carefully, peeling up the tape and flapped ends. And took out the photograph matted in a simple black frame. Against the black and white of snow and winter trees, the cardinal sat like a living flame.
"It's wonderful."
"It's nice." She studied it with him. "One of those lucky breaks. I took it early yesterday morning. It's no belly-crested whopado, but it's our bird, after all."
"Our . . . Oh. Right. And you came in to give it to me." Pleasure flustered him nearly as much as embarrassment. "I thought you'd be angry with me after I . . ."
"Kissed my brains out," she finished. "That would be stupid. Besides, if I'd been pissed, I'd have kicked your ass at the time."
"I suppose that's true. Still, I shouldn't have-"
"I liked it," she interrupted, and rendered him speechless. Turning, she wandered the room. "So, this is your classroom, where it all happens."
"Yes, this is mine." Why, dear God, why couldn't he make his brain and his mouth work together?
"I haven't been back here in years. It all looks so much the same, feels so much the same. Don't people usually say the school seems smaller when they go back as an adult? It actually seems bigger to me. Big and open and bright."
"It's a strong design, the building I mean. Open areas, and . . . But you meant that more metaphorically."
"Maybe I did. I think I had some classes in this room." She walked around the desks to the trio of windows along the south wall. "I think I used to sit here and look out the window instead of paying attention. I loved it here."
"Really? A lot of people don't have fond memories of high school. It's often a war of politics and personalities, set off by the cannon fire of hormones."
Her grin flashed. "You could put that on a T-shirt. No, I didn't like high school all that much. I liked it here, because Parker and Emma were here. I only went here a couple of semesters. One in tenth and one in eleventh, but I liked it better than Jefferson High. Even though Laurel was there, it was so big we didn't get to hang out all that much."
She turned back. "Politics and warfare aside, high school's still a social animal. Since you're back in the classroom, I bet you loved every minute."
"For me, high school was a matter of survival. Nerds are one of the low levels on the social strata, alternately debased, ignored, or reviled by those on others. I could write a paper."
She eyed him curiously. "Did I ever do that?"
"Write a paper? No, you meant the other part. Not noticing is different from ignoring."
"Sometimes it's worse," Mac murmured.
"I wonder if we could go back to the other night, and your 'I liked it' response. Could you be more specific, in case I'm misinterpreting?"
He just made her smile. "I don't think you're misinterpreting. But-"
"Dr. Maguire?"
The girl hesitated in the doorway, radiating freshness and youth in the prim navy uniform of the academy. Mac noted the signs-the rosy flush, the dewy eyes-and thought: serious teacher crush.
"Ah . . . Julie. Yes?"
"You said I could come by this period to talk about my paper."
"Right. I just need a minute to-"
"I'll get out of your way," Mac said. "I'm running behind as it is. Nice to see you again, Doctor Maguire."
She strolled out, passing pretty young Julie, and made the turn for the stairs. He caught up with her before she'd made it halfway down.
"Wait."
As she stopped and turned, Carter laid a hand on her arm. "Would not misinterpreting include it being okay for me to call you?"