10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

F orrest arrived at the office five minutes after noon with his mind singularly focused on the sandwich sitting in the office fridge for his lunch. His stomach had been growling so loudly, he was sure the first three rows had heard it throughout the lecture he had just delivered. He'd skipped breakfast that morning, having overslept after reading three chapters instead of one in the Whitman book he retrieved from Lucy's place the night before. The extra reading wasn't because the book was a page-turner. Even to an expert in 19 th -century American literature, it was the sort of book that generally aided in sleep. But Forrest had found himself wound tight after his conversation with Lucy.

It wasn't particularly unusual for he and Lucy to talk, and for the most part, the things she had shared about her mother's passing had not been news to him. After all, he had been there from the day she heard the diagnosis to the graveside service. All of them had been.

No, it wasn't the content of the discussion that had kept him awake. It was the electricity he had felt in the air much of the evening. It was how much he'd wanted to make her laugh or make her see herself through his eyes. Though he wanted to deny it, Forrest was forced to acknowledge that he was seeing Lucy differently

He'd always known she was beautiful, always suspected she didn't know it, but now her beauty had become intoxicating, keeping him up late into the night no matter how many pages he read. He deeply wished she was cognizant of how vibrant her unruly, strawberry waves were and how rich was the green of her eyes. He wanted to thank her for only wearing clear lip glosses that didn't hide her perfectly tinged lips from his view.

And Forrest wouldn't even allow his mind to start enumerating the many desirable attributes of the rest of her body. He didn't tower over her like he did most women, and when she'd fallen into him, each part had lined up perfectly with him. Those were the thoughts that were strictly off limits.

No, he couldn't allow it, because Lucy was so much more than any of the women he had casually dated over the years. Each break-up had been a mildly irksome loss at worst, and more often, a relief. Losing Lucy would be catastrophic, and Forrest was not a man prone to hyperbole.

As he entered the office, Forrest was surprised to find their normally bustling office apparently abandoned. He saw a sticky note with Lucy's handwriting stuck to his door, so he went to retrieve it. It said, "Forrest, your dad called, and he has a doctor's appointment next Friday. Good, right? I'm out for the rest of the day. See you tomorrow, Lucy."

It was good. Forrest felt a small tension release.

He then headed towards the office mini-fridge to get his lunch. As he bent over, Forrest heard whispers coming from Dr. Hubert's office. Obviously, the office was not empty after all. Curious, Forrest decided to poke his head in and see who was still around. He walked over and knocked gently. The whispering stopped instantaneously.

"Hello?" he said.

Dr. Hubert's booming voice vibrated through the door, "Come in."

When Forrest opened the door, he was surprised to find not only Dr. Hubert, but also Edith and Porter gathered around his desk. They all wore the expressions of cheerleaders who had been caught gossiping about the coach.

"What are you all up to?"

Porter's eyes darted back and forth between Dr. Hubert and Edith, both of whom were ignoring him. Dr. Hubert had picked up a student's paper from his desk and was staring at it intently without his eyes moving in the slightest. Edith was suddenly engrossed in her cuticles.

Forrest expected Porter would be the easiest to break. "Porter? What’s going on?"

"Nothing. We're just chatting. Weren't we?"

Dr. Hubert cupped a hand around the back of his ear to signal he hadn't heard a thing. The old man could hear better than any of them.

Forrest looked to Edith whose face hid nothing of the battle that was clearly taking place within. Looks like he'd miscalculated. Edith would cave first.

"Come on, boys. Let's just tell him. We don't even know if it is anything to worry about."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's just Lucy," Edith said.

"What about Lucy might not be anything to worry about?" He was worried. Worst-case scenarios stampeded through his mind. Was she moving? Ill? Had some ridiculous online dating app paired her with a sleazy jerk?

Porter said, "Edith had the quarterly department chairs' meeting today, and she overheard Dr. Burke's secretary announcing she is retiring and that they’re hopeful Lucy would be taking her place."

Forrest felt something worse than panic. It was a squeeze right in the center of his chest, a hurt. What would this office look like without Lucy in the center of it? As sad of a commentary as it was on his personal life, this office was his life, and it was a life he liked. Trying his very hardest to not sound like a petulant child, Forrest said, "That can't be. She would have told me. We talked last night after the game. She was with me and Porter. Tell them, Porter. She didn't say anything about leaving us."

Porter glanced at Dr. Hubert and Edith again, but his expression looked somehow guilty. "You're right, Forrest. She didn't say anything. But it may not be a done deal, or she may not be ready to tell us. It's likely she hasn't even made the decision. We just don't know."

"And guys," Edith said, "we can't ask her. Do you hear me, Forrest?"

"Why not?"

"Because, Porter's right. She might be thinking this through. She's probably trying to make a decision, and she doesn't need us influencing her thinking. This is for her to decide."

"Yes, but we should let her know that we don't want her to leave. That we love her being here." It was official. He had crossed into petulant-child territory. But what else was he to do when they were all looking at each other as though he was a child? Why was Edith lecturing him on what to say or not say?

Dr. Hubert had been silent, but Forrest knew it wasn't because he couldn't hear. Surely, he would understand the gravity of the situation. "Dr. Hubert?"

Dr. Hubert crossed his hands along the top of his broad stomach, leaned back in his chair, and shut his eyes. Dr. Hubert often shut his eyes when he was about to say something important. He was known to have delivered entire lectures without opening an eye. "Forrest, son, you know perhaps better than any of us how brilliant our Lucy is. She deserves promotions and money and accolades and all of the good things a career can offer. All, unfortunately, things we do not have the capacity to give her."

"Of course she does," Forrest said in almost a whisper.

"If she feels this job opportunity would open doors or be fulfilling or offer challenges she would be eager to meet, we must give her our full blessing."

He was right, of course. Forrest wanted Lucy to have all the good possible, in her career and every other arena of life.

The professors sat in silence, each one processing Dr. Hubert's words. Finally, Porter said, "We all know she is too good for this job. She should be no less than the chief-of-staff for the White House."

Edith smiled ruefully as she said, "Yes, but we also know that this office does not run without her."

"Can you even imagine the job posting we'd have to write to have any chance at replacing her. All applicants need a background in child care, editing, trauma counseling..." Porter eyed Edith significantly. She rolled her eyes in return.

Then, Dr. Hubert said, "And geriatric care."

They all were briefly stunned before laughing. Clearly, his wisdom did not stop at self-awareness like so many.

As the laughter died down, Porter said, "As much as I worry about how we will manage without her - and believe me, I’ll be losing sleep over it - I’m more worried that one day a dream job will come knocking at her door, and she'll turn it down because of us."

His eyes singularly focused on Forrest, making Forrest squirm. Lucy's devotion was spread equally among them all. Surely, if they were holding her back, the fault didn't lie solely at Forrest's feet. Unable to bear Porter's scrutiny any longer, Forrest averted his eyes only to find Edith and Dr. Hubert also staring at him.

"What?" He threw up his hands. When had he lost all impulse control? "I promise. I won't say anything to her."

"Alright," Edith said. "It’s agreed. We all stay silent and hope for the best. For Lucy. Whatever is best for Lucy."

They each nodded in agreement, even as Forrest wondered why he'd been the center of their collective focus.

***

Lucy left the office a little before lunch. Forrest had been in the office about an hour that morning, and they seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement that all was fine. Just fine. Things were completely normal. Lucy was content ignoring whatever bothersome tingles she had felt in her apartment the previous evening.

Lucy still hadn't made a decision on the President's Office job, and for reasons she preferred to ignore (just set them over there with the tingles), she had yet to tell anyone in her office that the prospect was on the table. As of now, she was quite certain that she, Miriam, and President Burke were the only people privy to the knowledge.

Needing to get away from the office and any residual tingles she might or might not be feeling while sharing that space with a certain professor, Lucy took off the afternoon. She planned to lunch with her father, a ritual they had every time he came to town for university business. Later in the afternoon, she’d head over to Trinity Episcopal to help Miriam. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and Miriam was panicked over the chaotic state of her church's food pantry. Lucy planned to spend the rest of the day and perhaps into the evening at the church helping Miriam completely take apart and then put together the pantry in preparation for the holiday rush.

But first, lunch. Her father was driving up from Tennessee for a PSU Board of Trustees meeting, and Lucy hoped to use the time to determine just how much her shiny new job offer had to do with her father’s position.

Lucy wasn’t sure she’d learn anything that might bear on her decision. However, she felt like she needed to know. Nepotism made her uncomfortable, and she supposed a part of her just wanted to be certain she had earned the job offer on her own merit.

Lucy arrived at the same cafe where she had lunched with President Burke. As she was turning off her car, her father pulled up next to her and parked. They both got out of their cars and greeted each other in front of the cafe.

“Hello. How’s my Lucy?” he said as they embraced.

“I’m good, Dad. It’s nice to see you.”

It was good to see him. Although they only lived a little over an hour apart, they didn’t see each other often. Lucy always got the sense that her father didn’t quite know what to do with her. Perhaps it was that she was female or her bookish nature (he was a business man through and through) or how different she was from the Southern-Belle-type women to whom he was accustomed. Whatever the cause, meaningful conversations and deep connection were elusive in their relationship.

However, they shared the harrowing experience of the six months that led to Lucy’s mother’s death. And although he had not been the world’s most attentive father, he had always been kind to Lucy. If he were a more emotive, outspoken person, Lucy suspected he would have curtailed some of her mother’s more drastic attempts at improving Lucy (weight loss shakes for a high school student’s breakfast?). Unfortunately, his withdrawing personality was no match for the battle engine that had been Lucy’s mother.

Small talk surrounding the weather, PSU sports, and the afternoon’s Board meeting took them through the walk to their table and waiting for their food. Since her father was there for a board meeting, he was dressed in a suit. It looked good on his tall frame. Lucy’s body type and reddish-hair had both been gifted from her father. She was happy to note that he looked healthy and strong, but this thought was immediately followed by concern for Mr. Graham. With each phone call, his voice seemed weaker and more gravelly.

Once the food arrived, Lucy decided it was time to dive into her question.

“Dad, I had something I needed to talk with you about.”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Dr. Burke met with me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes?”

“And he offered me the job of running the President’s Office. It comes with a significant pay raise.”

Her father’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful, Lucy. Just wonderful. No one deserves it more than you. There isn’t a single time I step on that campus that I don’t hear someone sing your praises.”

“It is wonderful. An honor, really. I was just wondering, Dad, if maybe you had anything to do with the job offer. It sort of came out of the blue.”

He set his utensils down, giving Lucy his full attention. “Lucy, I confess Dr. Burke did tell me about the job, but only after he’d asked you.”

Lucy pushed up her glasses as a smirk lifted one side of her lips. “So the surprise you just expressed was entirely feigned?”

He picked up his fork and stabbed a tomato. “Yes. How’d I do?”

“Oh, very convincing, Dad.”

“Thank you. You know, I starred in my high school’s production of The Music Man many years ago.”

“So you’ve said a time or two.” Or a thousand.

His smile clearly conveyed that he was reading her mind.

Lucy was glad to hear the offer came before her father knew of the position. At least nepotism was, for the most part, off the table. Lucy would be worried the offer was still only connected to her father’s status if she were not confident in the job she’d done and continued to do for the English Department.

They ate a few more bites in silence, and then her dad asked, “Lucy, will you take the job?”

The hesitation in his voice gave Lucy pause. It was not in her father’s nature to push his opinions on her, but she realized she very much wanted to know what he thought. “I feel like you have an opinion, Dad. I want to know what you think I should do.”

“Lucy, you are so gifted. You should be moving up whatever ladder you happen to be standing on. I hope you take it because you deserve no less.”

“Thank you, Dad.” His compliment was sincere, and so was his wish for her future. While it had not been in his nature to stand up to her mother’s more harmful traits, it was not because he had shared her opinions. Lucy suspected that for all the flaws her mother had seen in Lucy, her father had seen only the good. As much as she mourned the loss of her mother, she was grateful that she was finally hearing her father’s voice in her life.

“You never answered my question, though. Are you going to accept the job?”

Lucy wanted to run her hands through her hair like Forrest did when he was stressed, but her bun would never survive the assault. Instead, she put a hand on each side of her face and said, “I just don’t know, Dad. I don’t know.”

“What’s causing you to hesitate?”

“I love the people I work with. I love my job. I’m not a huge fan of the unknown, as you might remember.”

They both smiled. Lucy had never been an adventurous child. She was always too careful and mindful to throw caution to the wind.

She continued, “I still have a couple of weeks to decide. I can’t imagine that anything would happen in the next few weeks to alter my decision. Unless the heavens open up and an angel tells me what to do, I’m sort of stuck making a decision with a lot of good points on both sides.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, Lucy. Just make sure you’re not holding yourself back because you don’t trust yourself or you're scared. If you take this job, you will be wonderful. Okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

Yes, his voice was good to hear.

***

Lucy pulled into a parking space in front of the vivid red door of Trinity Episcopal Church. It was a Gothic-inspired behemoth of a building. A particularly whimsical architect built Trinity Episcopal Church in the 1920s with the goal of making Western Kentuckians feel they'd walked out of their American landscape directly into an ancient, Anglican cathedral in the motherland.

The grounds were immaculately manicured, and Lucy weaved through the stone walkways to the parish offices, the entrances of which were in the inner courtyard. Lucy pushed on a heavy, solid-wood door cut into a pointed arch. Black brass hinges stretched dramatically across the wood planks.

A secretary greeted her with an overly-friendly smile. "Hello, Lucy. How are you today?"

Lucy came around enough that the staff knew her, but she was unsure of their names. Southern church ladies had always made Lucy nervous. They were so often reflections of the woman Lucy's mother had wanted her to be. However, Lucy reminded herself that anyone overly judgmental was unlikely to last in a church where Miriam Howatch was leading. Unable to recall the woman's name, Lucy said, "I'm good, thanks. Is Miriam in her office?"

"She's already headed over to the food pantry. Do you know your way?"

"Behind the kitchens?"

"That's correct! Let me know if you girls need anything."

Lucy thanked her and headed back across the courtyard to the fellowship building that housed the kitchen and food pantry. Lucy was not a regular member in the way Porter was, but on the Sundays Miriam delivered sermons, Lucy often came to hear her friend. Knowing Miriam as well as she did, she could listen to a sermon and hear all the places where Miriam was tempering herself. She could hear where Miriam would have used profanity in normal conversation to emphasize a point, or where her sermons were translating her rage over an injustice into a measured but forceful message to which her congregants would be more receptive.

Miriam was a justice-oriented individual, and it seeped into everything she did. But where she might rant and rave about racial discrimination or poverty on a Saturday night, her sermons were highly controlled, structured to deliver the message in a way that was affective without alienating. She stepped on toes, and Lucy knew Miriam dealt with more blow-back than she told Lucy about, but she was very good at preaching a gospel of love and justice with a precision that brooked no argument.

When Lucy arrived, Miriam was already busy carrying food out of the pantry and laying it on the tables in the fellowship area. There, they would inventory and sort before rearranging it all. Miriam's sleeves were rolled up on a sky-blue clergy shirt with a tab collar. Just beneath the rolled sleeve, Lucy saw the roots of the tree that was tattooed on her upper arm. It had taken a few Friday nights over the course of their senior spring semester for Miriam to have that tattoo completed.

"Are you ready for some help?"

Miriam had not heard Lucy approaching, and she startled slightly. "I am ready for you, but this place is a disaster. You might not be ready for me."

"Bring it on. I could use something to get me out of my head for a bit."

"Well, in that case, do I have some grunt work for you." Miriam pumped her arm, looking like an oddly devout Rosie the Riveter. Lucy chuckled as she entered the pantry and lifted a heavy box of canned corn.

For the next few hours, Miriam and Lucy worked companionably side by side, carrying food into the fellowship hall, organizing it, and documenting the church's inventory. Then, it was time to take it all back into the pantry, but to return it with a level of organization that made Miriam and Lucy both feel they had accomplished something significant.

After the work was done, Miriam called in a pizza for delivery, and they opened a bottle of wine. Thankfully, the stereotypes about Episcopalians and wine are deeply rooted in truth. There were always a few bottles lying around.

Sitting at a table in the large, empty fellowship hall, Lucy stared at the loaves and fishes mosaic beneath the point of the vaulted ceiling. Ornamentation had not been spared in the non-worship spaces. There was no spot in Trinity Episcopal Church where one did not feel transported to a different time and place, a place where reverence was shown tangibly, where the spiritual and the physical were intrinsically connected. Except for the pantry, that is. The pantry was a pretty normal pantry.

"What are you smiling about?" Miriam asked as she returned from the front of the church where the pizza had been delivered.

"Nothing, really. Just enjoying the space. I was thinking about how divine it all is."

"Well, it wasn't all divine until the past hour. Now, though, the pantry is truly divine."

Lucy snorted as she reached for a slice of their favorite spinach alfredo pizza. "You're right. The whole place was a dump until we organized the pantry"

For Miriam, bulldozing her way through a seemingly insurmountable task was the best way to spend a day. Being her friend could be exhausting with so much energy pulsing through her at all times. But Lucy admired her friend's intensity. It was a direct contrast to the ideals of femininity she herself had never been able to achieve. Unlike Lucy, Miriam never even reached for such ideals. She'd rejected the entire premise from the beginning.

Having the space to themselves, they each used a chair to prop their feet up as they ate their pizza and sipped on wine. They talked about the sermon Miriam was currently writing and Lucy's most recent thoughts on her job prospect.

Lucy said, "Did I tell you I talked to my dad earlier this week?" Lucy and her father talked on the phone about once every week or so. Although she missed her mother, she was grateful that in her absence, she now got to hear her father's voice more often.

"Oh yeah? Did he know about the job offer?"

"Apparently, Dr. Burke told him after he'd offered it to me. I know it's vain, but I was relieved the offer didn't originate with my dad."

"It's not vain. What does he want you to do?"

"Take it, for sure. He said all sorts of nice-dad stuff about how gifted he thinks I am, and how I should be getting paid more, and so on." Although Lucy's tone was making light of the conversation, she appreciated his affirmation. When her mother had been alive, he'd been quiet in the onslaught of her constant criticism of Lucy. Now, he seemed to be making up for the lost time.

Miriam said, "Did the conversation give any clarity? Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Nope." Lucy didn't have much more to say than that. She and Miriam had already thoroughly hashed out the pros and cons. Now, Lucy was waiting for the clouds to part and a divine message to be delivered in indisputable terms.

Miriam set down a half-eaten slice of pizza and wiped her fingers on a napkin. She said, "How was the basketball game last night? I was sorry I missed it this year. It's always fun to see a bunch of English professors outside of their natural habitat."

"Oh my goodness. I forgot to tell you. Dr. Hubert let me paint a Wildcat paw print on his bald head."

"No! And I missed it? Stupid deacon's meeting."

Lucy laughed. "You probably shouldn't say that too loud in a church building."

"I've said way worse, and lightening hasn't struck yet."

"That I believe."

"Was there anything else I missed out on?"

Lucy thought about Forrest's leather and pine scent lingering in her apartment for hours after he left as she lay sleepless on the sofa. "Forrest liked the bookshelves we built."

Miriam's eyes bulged. "Why was Forrest Graham in your apartment?"

"To get the Walt Whitman book. It was nothing, really. We just sat for a while talking and then he left."

Miriam sipped from her wine glass and pursed her lips in thought. "No itty-bitty zings?"

Lucy didn't respond immediately. No, there had not been itty-bitty zings. That was not what she would call what had happened when she'd found herself pressed against his body or when they had brushed against each other in the kitchen. Nor was it the appropriate label for the moments of shared laughter or reminiscing about her mother's death. Bigger words, words rife with meaning and significance were needed. Words that she could not yet identify and that she wasn't willing to share even with her dearest friend. Finally, she said, "No itty-bitty zings this time."

Miriam's eyes were knowing. Without words, she communicated her awareness that the answer was incomplete, but that she wouldn't press further. For all of her aggressive energy, Miriam never turned it towards individuals, towards manipulating or pressing others. Instead, she exhausted it on messy pantries. Lucy rested in her grace, appreciating the space to not speak.

Finally, Lucy said, "I need to head home. Clark is probably about to explode."

"With desire for companionship or pee?"

"Take your pick. I'll see you Saturday night?"

"Absolutely. My place this week. What are we watching? It's been a while since we watched Pride and Prejudice ."

Lucy thought for a moment. "No, let's do something else. Maybe... Saving Private Ryan ?"

"That isn't our normal fare."

"No, but a change of pace sounds nice."

And now was just not the time for Elizabeth Bennett, Mr. Darcy, and a thousand zings.