21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

P resident Burke's office suite made the PSU English Department's quaint corner of Hart Building look like a cheap studio apartment. Since her father was on the Board of Trustees, Lucy had often heard about the money woes that plagued all universities in the current economic climate. However, no expense had been spared on President Burke's quarters. According to her father, it was generally agreed that it was in the best interest of PSU to project an image of refinement and success in their highest levels of administration.

Since Lucy now served the highest levels, she sat beneath vaulted ceilings in a beam of light pouring from a towering window. Her desk was a massive oak piece that sat in front of the imposing double doors that led into President Burke's office. It was certainly grander than that from which she’d come. Here, she often needed a sweater.

Within this embodiment of strength and power, Lucy set chewing on the end of a pen. She knew it was a horrible habit, just a notch above smoking a pack a day. But really, what was she to do? Dr. Bugs was now aware of her heartache. Dr. Bugs?

An hour earlier, Lucy had been walking across campus, returning from the nearest Starbucks (a ten-minute drive from campus) where she’d been picking up a coffee with organic almond milk and two raw sugars for President Burke. In what she was now referring to as her former life, Lucy had never been asked to drive across town for organic almond milk and raw sugar in coffee. Dr. Hubert always raved over the kiosk coffee with hazelnut-flavored powdered creamer, the kind she had seen used on MythBusters to create bombs. Granted, combustible food products were probably not the smartest dietary choice, but when she’d surprised the professors with kiosk lattes instead of their normal coffee she made in the office, they’d all acted like she'd brought them David Sedaris for their own personal book-reading.

As she walked back to the Administration Building from her parking space with the six-dollar coffee and a grudge that her upward-career move was best encapsulated in slightly higher-class coffee runs, Lucy looked across campus towards Hart Building. She wouldn't say she was looking with longing. Her eyes definitely did not look like Clark's when he could hear Billy and Luke playing outside. They weren't near so sorrowful.

But she was gazing at the portico and the exceptionally heavy wooden door that she had always had to lean her entire body into to get it to open, and she was thinking about all the cheap-latte-loving people within when she saw Forrest walking towards those very doors, his chin resting on top of a Mt. Everest stack of books, his arms stretched to their limits in order to fit the volumes between his grip and his beard. Despite the fall wind blowing relentlessly and leaving Lucy's bun in shambles, Forrest looked perfectly put-together, each hair in place and his beard meticulously groomed. It had been two weeks since his father's funeral, two weeks since she had last kissed him and been kissed by him. Not that she was keeping count of that sort of thing. But he definitely seemed to be holding up well.

And just when she was finishing up her analysis on the condition of Forrest's hair, who should walk up to her but Dr. Bugs? Or, Dr. Wray, rather.

"Ms. O'Shields. How are you doing today?"

Lucy had jumped at the question, taking a moment to process that she’d just been caught staring (not lusting, staring ) at Forrest by his most recent lover. Also, she had to process how innately cringe-worthy the word lover is and ask herself how she might be able to avoid thinking the word in the future. Lastly, she had to do a little mental gymnastics of Dr. Bu-Bu-Bu-Wray before she could make a somewhat coherent greeting. Belatedly, she said, "Dr. Wray, nice to see you. I'm doing fine today. Just enjoying the scenery for a second. Nothing beats PSU in the fall, right?"

"Oh, yes. This year the dry conditions later in the summer coupled with an earlier-than-usual fall created the perfect conditions for the carotenoids and anthocyanins to really shine. Magnificent showing."

Lucy blinked at least four times in rapid succession.

"Also, Dr. Graham makes for a good view, as well."

Lucy blinked considerably more than four times. Dr. Wray likely knew the exact biological mechanism that was causing Lucy to turn shades of red not even seen in the best Kentucky foliage.

Dr. Wray continued in her monotone, scientific drone, "Mrs. Applebaum told the library's acquisitions director, Mrs. Lourdes, who texted her husband, Dr. Lourdes, the chair of my department, who told our department secretary who just texted me that Dr. Graham was seen in the marriage and relationships section of the library perusing the books."

Lucy took a gulp of scalding coffee, coughing at the shock of heat. Then she remembered it was President Burke's coffee. Yes, powdered creamer, explosive or not, was better. Clearing her throat, she choked out, "His research often takes him into uncharted territory."

"That may be the case. But if one was to consider a scenario in which he was in fact researching that topic for very personal reasons as opposed to an academic endeavor, I would hypothesize that he was not doing that research with the possibility of rekindling our relationship on his mind, which was the supposition of our overly-romantic secretary. She was an art major in college."

Lucy harnessed all will-power she would normally use to not eat a second donut to instead resist rolling her eyes. She said, "And in this scenario in which For-, Dr. Graham is not doing academic research, what do you believe drew him to that section of the library?"

"Likely the person who he spent much of our relationship praising for her apparent secretarial super-powers. I am not prone to jealousy, but our six months together did at times remind me of the evolutionary reality of jealousy. You see, it developed within humanity because of our distant ancestors' need to maintain access to potential viable mates."

"Evolution?" Lucy was trying to follow, but, really, science had never been her forte.

"Yes, but seeing as how I do not personally see a need or have a desire to reproduce, my jealousy, while natural, was in fact unnecessary."

"Like an appendix?"

Dr. Wray's face suddenly lifted, breaking her usual inscrutable expression. "Exactly. Like an appendix."

"Dr. Wray, why are you telling me this?"

"Because, while I do not desire Forrest's services for procreation, I would like to see him happy."

Despite having whimpered over him into her dog's fur for the better part of two weeks, Lucy, too, wanted to see Forrest happy. Perhaps, that was a universal response to the brown eyes and deep dimples that still hinted at the boy who had endured a less-than-ideal childhood.

Dr. Wray continued, "And as for you, although I don't know you well and I've never been near as adept at reading people as I am at reading insects, I would say that the expression on your face moments ago was not one born of appreciating foliage. If there is a way to make one person happy that would also make a second person happy, well, those are good numbers."

After a brief pause, Dr. Wray straightened her already-straight shoulders, and said, "Well, I had best be off. I have a lab at ten o'clock, and my students, seeing as they are college students, are all quite eager to learn about the mating habits of beetles."

Lucy had wished Dr. Wray a good day, and then taken the immense mental and emotional load Dr. Wray had so concisely dropped in her lap to the presidential quarters. Having forced herself to put down the now thoroughly chewed pen, Lucy decided that since she was by all accounts a very good secretary, perhaps she should apply to her love-life (yet another distasteful term) the skills she brought to her occupation. So, Lucy pulled up an Excel sheet and started cataloging all that Dr. Wray had said under the headings of Likely , Unlikely , and Confusing . It was likely college students found mating habits of just about anything interesting. It was unlikely, surely, that she had been the reason Forrest checked out a stack of books on relationships. All else fell in the last category.

After exiting out of the document without saving its contents, the nine-foot tall solid wood door at the entrance to the office creaked opened, and none other than Edith Rose leaned her head through the crack, her straight bob falling like a stage curtain.

Lucy's eyes burned, although for reasons entirely different from the usual reason people cried around Edith. She was lonely and her new job was just her old job without any of the fun and she was still in love with Forrest and she had no idea what to do with all of the information Dr. Wray had given her this morning and even an Excel document had not fixed this mess. Before she could convey any of this, much less a hello, Edith whispered, "Meet me in the broom closet down the hall in five minutes. Also, that top is stunning on you."

Lucy was just about to say, "Well, you did pick it," when the door shut and Edith was gone. Lucy was wearing a boldly graphic black and white top with burgundy pants. It was one of the many pieces Edith had helped her pick on their shopping trip to Memphis. Lucy took out her "Be Back Soon" sign and propped it on her desk.

The broom closet was three doors down from President Burke's office. When she reached its door, Lucy checked each direction down the hallway before sliding inside. Immediately, Lucy felt overwhelmed by the smell of bleach and lemon. Sure enough, Edith was waiting in the dim, dusty interior.

Lucy said, "Edith, how do I keep ending up in closets with you?"

"Porter's pantry wasn't exactly a closet, but this," Edith moved the handle of a broom stick that had fallen onto her shoulder and rolled back a mop bucket to give Lucy a little more space, "This is definitely a closet."

"What are we doing in this closet?"

"Lucy, you have to tell me the absolute truth."

This sounded ominous. "Okay?"

"Do you like your new job? Is it something you want to do long-term?"

Lucy thought about the coffee run that morning, about the pristine office devoid of chaos, but also devoid of warmth. "No. I don't want to do this long-term."

"Good." Edith clapped her hands together, causing the broomstick to land again on her shoulder. Standing it back up, Edith said, "That's what I want to hear. So, you know how I've published a thing or two in my day?"

How many times in this single day was Lucy going to have to stop herself from rolling her eyes at a professor? Did Lucy know? No professor let a publication go unnoticed. Lucy had ordered a cake every time any of them had received word they were getting something else published. "I'm aware."

"Well, I was talking to a friend of mine in the publishing world about your particular talents..."

Lucy was intrigued despite herself. "Yes?"

"How you’re the reason my work always looks so nice and shiny, and she has a friend at Dohlman Publishing..."

Now Lucy was more than intrigued. Dohlman Publishing was a titan in the industry, publishing books of all genres.

"And they are looking for editors to work remotely for their branch in Louisville. You would just have to go there a few times a month. But you would be an editor. If you're interested, they said they would like to have your application."

"I'm interested, Edith. Very interested."

Edith took Lucy's hands, squeezing a little too tightly. "You've been doing amazing work for me and Porter and Forrest for ages. It's time you share that talent with the world."

Coming from Edith, Lucy took the praise for the authentic expression of appreciation it was. Edith, after all, was not one for empty flattery.

"Thank you. So what do I do now? How do I apply?"

Edith gave Lucy the specifics. Then, as she wrestled the broomstick once again, she said, "Why don't you come by the office Monday after work and we'll go over some of the finer details? You know, in a place that doesn't smell of various antiseptics."

After bidding Edith goodbye, Lucy returned to her desk where the chewed pen remained in the center. She still had no answer on the Forrest front, but perhaps that was the hand she had been dealt. No one got everything they wanted, right? Lucy saw hope for a career that would be fulfilling and challenging, a career that would utilize her specific skill-set. Perhaps it was too much to ask for love, as well.

***

"She looked stunning - naturally, I had picked out her clothing. But she also looked miserable. Like a wilted flower. A sad, wilted, well-dressed little Lucy flower."

Dr. Hubert and Porter listened to Edith's assessment. They'd both been thrilled to hear her contact in publishing might have a job opportunity for Lucy. At one point in time, each of them had taught Lucy. They were more aware than most of her talents and eager for her to explore new ways to use those talents. However, that was not the only reason they were intrigued. They were also glad for the excuse for Edith to check up on their Lucy. After a week without her, it was time for a little reconnaissance to make sure President Burke's office was treating her right.

As the three stood around Lucy's desk, the area emptied of her decorations and scented candles and coffee mugs with Jane Austen quotes, Porter wanted clarification. "Sad about her job or sad about Forrest?"

"It's difficult to say for sure. A broom kept falling on me, so I had a hard time focusing and thinking of the right questions."

Dr. Hubert's eyebrows rose like a schnauzer who had just heard a rustling. "A broom?"

"We were in a broom closet."

The eyebrows inched further. "A broom closet?"

"It seemed like the best place at the time. I didn't want anyone overhearing us in the bathroom."

Porter pushed further. "So you told her about the job prospect and asked her if she was happy working with President Burke and she said..."

"She said she didn't care to do it for long."

"Did she say anything about Forrest?"

Edith crossed her arms and shot Porter her most disapproving glare. "You do realize two women can have a conversation that does not include talking about a man?"

Porter collapsed into Lucy's chair and laid his forehead on the desk. "You know I know that, Edith. I'm not a total douche. I just need them to fix the shit between them." He looked up at Edith. "I'm trying to make sure they don't collide at my place which requires all kinds of planning and forethought, and the kids are confused why Uncle Forrest and Aunt Lucy aren't around as much. And it just feels like we're in some messed-up shared-custody situation. Seriously, when we have incompetent students, we have to stop making jokes about them probably being from broken homes."

"Now this really is sucking the joy out of life."

Dr. Hubert patted Porter's shoulder. "I know this is hard for us all, but we might have to let Forrest and Lucy work this out on their own."

Both Porter and Edith scoffed. Loudly.

Edith said, "Boys, it's time we stop complaining and take charge. I've already fixed our first problem."

Dr. Hubert and Porter both looked at her in confusion. "Which was?"

"The problem that is this: if Lucy O'Shields isn't working for us, she had damn well better be doing a job worthy of her, not some slightly more hoity-toity secretarial gig."

Dr. Hubert said, "I've always wondered what hoity-toity means. What are the origins of that particular phrase? Do either of you know?"

Edith paused for a short breath and then plowed ahead. "Now we need to deal with the fact that two people we all care deeply about are clearly in love and need to be together."

Porter's forehead returned to the desk. Then, in his best impression of Luke after trying and failing to tie his shoes, Porter said, "We tried, Edith. Dr. Hubert and Mrs. Hubert and I gave it our best shot."

Dr. Hubert said, "It is true, Edith. I'm not sure what else we can do."

Just as Edith was about to demand greater effort on all of their parts, Forrest walked in carrying a small library in his arms.

***

Forrest walked into the office with his arms outstretched, barely able to hold the fifteen or so books he’d checked out from the library. This was his second library haul for the day. He wasn't able to carry everything after his morning visit, so he'd picked up the rest after his afternoon class.

It had been difficult to navigate the doors into the building and into the English Department suite, but each time, a student had walked up at just the right moment and offered to help. Tom, an English major who’d taken several classes from Forrest, had apparently read some of the titles. With a smirk, he'd said, "Can't wait to take the next course you offer, Dr. Graham."

"Thanks, Tom." Undergraduates could be real schmucks at times.

When he walked into the office, Dr. Hubert, Porter, and Edith were all gathered around Lucy's desk. They’d yet to find a new secretary, so it was still Lucy's desk. Heck, it would always be Lucy's desk. Perhaps, creating a plaque that said "Lucy's Desk" and hanging it on the front would be the kind of grand gesture that would show Lucy how much he loved her. Surely there was a chapter in one of these books on grand gestures. He'd check the indexes just as soon as he got to his office.

Forrest paused for a moment as the three looked at him, taking in the books he was carrying. They were suspiciously silent.

The spines to each book Forrest was holding were facing outward for all to see. Suddenly, Forrest felt very vulnerable. After all, there wasn’t a person in this room who was unaware that he’d recently slept with their secretary and that it had led to them losing the greatest secretary in the history of university departments. Forrest had no hard evidence to support that ranking, but it felt sound enough. He finally decided to break the silence. "Hey everyone. What're you doing?"

They all remained silent, staring. Finally, Dr. Hubert said, "We were just discussing...," he cleared his throat, "things."

"Alright, then. I'm going to head into my office. I have some reading to do this weekend, and there's no time like four o'clock on a Friday to get started. Am I right?"

Crickets.

Forrest walked into his office and shut the door. Immediately, he heard the buzz of frantic whispering. It was as if the department had a ticking time-bomb, and it was up to Dr. Hubert, Porter, and Edith to stop detonation. Forrest decided that whatever was going on with them was less important than the task at hand. He took off his sports jacket, hung it on the back of his leather chair, and sat down. Leaning back comfortably, Forrest took the first book on the stack, Building Lasting Romance in a Chaotic World , and opened to the index.

Halfway through his first paragraph of reading, the door to Forrest's office burst open as all three of his esteemed colleagues stormed into the very small amount of floor space leftover after accounting for his bookshelves and whiteboards. Porter, usually smiling even when his kids were dismantling the world around him, looked as though he'd passed through Dante's inferno before arriving in Forrest's office. He was the first to speak. "Forrest, you have to do something. Everyone is miserable."

Dr. Hubert echoed, "Quite right. Completely miserable."

Porter continued, "We can't go on with you and Lucy being at odds. That is not how this department works. Or family works, for that matter. There is no part of my life, Forrest, that is not more stressful because of you and Lucy right now."

While he was talking, Edith walked over to one of the whiteboards and erased the notes Forrest had been taking on one of his more obscure research ideas. "Wait a second. What are you doing?"

Without speaking, Edith put down the eraser and picked up a marker. Then, at the top of the board, she wrote "Get Lucy Back." Turning to him, she said, "Alright Forrest. It’s time to turn that brilliant mind of yours to this task and this task alone. You must get Lucy back. Not for the office. We want more for her than to be a secretary for the next thirty years. But we want her to be in our office, stopping by, still being part of this circle. And we want the two of you to have the damned love story you both deserve. While I might have written thousands of words against the patriarchy and romance and sentimentality, it doesn't mean I don't have a heart, Forrest. Have you considered my feelings?"

Forrest could honestly say the words Edith and feelings had never entered his mind in the same thought. Porter and Edith were both breathing hard from their individual meltdowns. Forrest turned his gaze to Dr. Hubert. "Has my love life inconvenienced you, Dr. Hubert?"

"Actually, Forrest," Dr. Hubert stood taller to deliver his verdict. "I have not truly enjoyed a glass of bourbon in over a week. It is not the same without Lucy here to promise she won't tell Mrs. Hubert. It tasted better when it was our little secret."

"Okay," Forrest said. "So everyone’s miserable."

They all said in unison, "Yes."

"Well, imagine if you were the one in love with her." His hands flung up and landed hard on his desk. "And what do you think I'm doing with twenty books on relationships. I'm trying, people. I'm trying. I'm just working with a very low level of emotional competency here."

Everyone was quiet. Everyone studied their own shoes for a bit. Then Edith said, "I could take one or two of those books and make a list of bullet points, a cliff-notes of sorts. Let's face it: I could probably use the education myself."

Dr. Hubert and Porter each took a few books off the stack as well. Dr. Hubert said, "We might need to use more than one of your whiteboards, son."

"Yes, sir." Forrest swallowed hard. "Thank you."

***

The sun had set several hours ago. Extra chairs had been brought in, and the professors were positioned in a semi-circle reading around Forrest's desk. Occasionally, one would stand up and jot a note onto a board, the marker squeaking in the silence.

After laying down Commitment Is for Lovers , Forrest said, "What if it doesn't work? What if I do all of the studying, but I don't ace the exam?"

Porter smirked over the edge of Saying I Do to Love . "Seriously, Forrest. Has that ever happened to you before?"

"No, but Lucy isn't exactly an essay question, and she doesn't come with multiple choice answers built-in, either."

Without raising her eyes from Magical Ingredients for a Marvelous Marriage , Edith said, "If Lucy were a test, she definitely would not be multiple choice. Those are for ninnies."

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. Clearly, Lucy would be essay questions. Long and involved essay questions.

Dr. Hubert set Lifelong Partnerships are Possible! onto his knee and cleared his throat. "Forrest, you and Lucy are people with much love to give. I, personally, have benefited much from my proximity to you both. To continue your metaphor, we will help you study for this exam of sorts because it will boost your confidence in your own ability moving forward. But if Lucy accepts your love, it will not be because you earned it, son. It will be because her heart is big and generous, and you are the one on whom she has chosen to bestow it. You will be worthy not because of something you did, but because of who you are, a person with a heart as big and generous as her own. You are each magnificent exactly as you are."

He picked up the book from his knee, likely the first book Dr. Hubert had ever read with an exclamation mark in the title, and resumed reading.

Forrest grabbed the next book on the stack, Tango Partners in the Dance of Life , and lifted it until his eyes were adequately hidden behind its cover.