CHAPTER 4

MYRA

An odd reaction

I TRIED HARD to concentrate on Professor Edmonds' lecture on Madame Bovary Monday morning, but my mind kept wandering as my hand worked absently at the detailed sketch in my notebook. I normally enjoyed the young professor's classes because rather than attribute deeper meanings to the authors' words, he challenged his students to find ways to relate the books to their own lives. But today he might as well have been speaking a foreign language for all the effect his lecture had on me.

"Are you an artist?"

I glanced up at the guy sitting next to me–what was his name? Something with an R; Raymond, Robert, Ronald… Yes, that was it. Ron Beechman. One of Kristin's friends. Like all of them, he was good looking, with a chiseled body, coal black hair, an d brilliant blue eyes that twinkled mischievously. I felt myself blush and looked down at the sketch I barely remembered drawing, surprised that I recalled the details so clearly. It really was an uncanny likeness.

"I just doodle," I replied, starting to close the notebook.

He reached over and stopped me, looking closer at the page. "It's really good."

"Am I interrupting you, Mr. Beechman, Ms. Landon?" Mr. Edmonds asked.

I slammed the book shut and looked up, feeling my cheeks grow hot as the rest of the class turned to see what was going on.

"Just borrowing a piece of paper," Ron replied smoothly.

"Let's try to do it more quietly," the professor said then resumed his lecture.

Ron turned to me and winked before leaning back in his chair and raising his arms in a wide stretch that emphasized his well-sculpted biceps. I quickly averted my eyes, checking the clock at the front of the room to see class was almost over and I didn't remember anything that had been discussed.

When students started making leaving noises, the professor grabbed a marker and turned to the whiteboard to scribble the day's homework assignment. "Finish Madame Bovary before our next class and be prepared to write a short essay on your impressions."

A groan went up and the professor had to raise his voice to be heard. "It's just a page or two. I want you to concentrate on your theme paper. It's due in two weeks."

Luckily I had gotten a good start on mine over the weekend. "Did you write it?" Ron asked as we made our way up the row of desks .

I turned to him, surprised he was still talking to me. "I'm about halfway done."

"Better than me. You're Kristin's roommate, right?"

We had moved out of the classroom and into the wide, busy corridor. I nodded as someone called Ron's name. He turned around as one of his friends caught up, draping an arm around his neck.

"We're going to MacAllister's tonight. Coming?"

Ron glanced back at me. "See you in class Wednesday." I heard him and his friend discussing plans as I hurried off toward the library to meet up with Kristin to help her study for a philosophy test. The subject was Jung, one of my favorites, and I was actually looking forward to revisiting his work.

I loved the library at Whitfield. With its overstuffed oak bookshelves, intimate lighting, and creaky wooden floors, I could imagine the authors of my favorite classical books haunting its centuries-old walls. What it lacked in modern amenities it made up for in pure romantic character.

Kristin was spread out at a table near the reference room with her friend Lisa, the two of them caught up in a hushed conversation that smacked of gossip. "Ah, there she is," Kristin greeted when I approached. "How is Mr. Edmonds today?"

Lisa grinned. "Probably just as hot as ever. If it wasn't for the fact that I don't want to read eight books each semester, I'd take every class he teaches just for the scenery."

I smiled at her and pulled out my notebook, where I had jotted down a few key notes I remembered from my high school classes on Jung. I flipped through the book, looking for my notes, when Kristin reached across and stopped me.

"Whoa, girl. What's this?"

She was looking at the sketch I had drawn earlier. I shrugged, embarrassed. "Just something I was doodling around with."

I started to turn the page but Kristin grabbed the notebook from me to look at the picture more closely. "Talk about hot. Damn girl, you could be an artist."

Lisa leaned over to get a look at what Kristin was talking about and her face paled. "Where did you get that?"

"I drew it," I replied defensively. "Why?"

"Do you know who he is?"

"No. I just…saw him and he looked interesting."

I didn't know what had made me draw the sketch or why the man had occupied my thoughts so much since I'd seen him at the bar Friday night, but I couldn't get him out of my mind.

"I'll say," Kristin murmured, still looking at the sketch. She glanced up at her friend for the first time and saw the look on her face. "What's wrong, Lisa? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"That man. Where did you see him?"

"At the bar the other night," I replied. "Why?"

Lisa was shaking her head. "I didn't see him there, but I have since."

"Where?" Kristin asked.

Lisa seemed hesitant to reply, and Myra noticed she became more agitated the longer she stared at the drawing. "In my dreams," she whispered.

Kristin glanced from the sketch to her friend. "You dreamed of this guy?"

Lisa nodded and for some reason her hand went to her throat. "It was just so…"

"What?' Kristin asked.

"Real. It's like he was actually there."

Kristin grinned. "Well I wouldn't turn away a dream like that." Lisa started gathering her books and stood. "Where are you going?"

"I…I just remembered I have something I have to do." She turned and practically ran from the library, leaving Kristin and me looking at each other in confusion.

"Tell me that wasn't weird," Kristin said after she was gone.

I had to agree. I reclaimed my notebook and flipped past the page to find the notes I was looking for, but I couldn't deny I was rattled by the other girl's reaction to the picture.

? ? ?

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the library with Kristin, first helping her study, then jotting down notes to finish my own theme paper. Nothing else was said about Lisa's weird reaction, but it was in the back of my mind the whole time. If she hadn't seen the man at the bar the other night, how was she dreaming about him? Maybe she had passed him on the street and he made the same kind of impression on her as he had on me, but that still didn't explain her reaction. It was almost as if she was afraid.

I didn't know much about Lisa, and I didn't think it was my place to ask, but I wondered if there was something in her past that triggered the other girl's reaction. Had she been abused or mistreated by someone?

It was getting close to dinner time when Kristin announced she'd had enough studying for one day and was ready to get out of the library. I agreed; I wanted to go back to the dorm room and type up my notes .

"A few of us are going over to MacAllister's later, if you'd like to come," Kristin said as we headed across campus.

I recalled Ron's friend saying something about that. "No, I want to work on my theme paper and finish Madame Bovary ."

"You work too hard. The world won't end if you're not a hundred percent prepared. Besides, Edmonds is pretty lenient with his students."

"I do have other classes I need to work on," I insisted. "Besides, I like school." And I hated going to bars.

"Suit yourself. But your social life is just as important as your education."

I frowned. "Now you sound like my mother."

"A wise woman. I think I'd like to meet her."

That would be impossible since she's been dead for six years, I didn't say. I followed Kristin up the stairs to our room and waited while she changed clothes and headed out to meet her friends. Once she was gone, I pulled out my copy of Madame Bovary and settled back on my bed, intent on getting in a few chapters before realizing I still hadn't eaten dinner. I grabbed my jacket and tucked the book under my arm, making my way out of the dorm and across the quad toward the cafeteria, figuring I could read while eating.

It was just starting to get dark, and while normally that wouldn't have bothered me since I felt safe among the ivy-covered brick confines of the compact campus, today I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I glanced around a couple of times and, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, chalked it up to the leftover weirdness from earlier with Lisa.