by LZClotho
Originally (c) September – October 1999
Disclaimers: The characters of Janice Covington and Melinda Pappas, Xena, Gabrielle and anyone else who are mentioned or appear in the ensuing pages that was on the television series "Xena: Warrior Princess" belong to Renaissance Pictures and the executive and creative talent there. I've created a bit more background to Janice and Melinda and also got them home from Greece in the prequel to this story, Going Home.
ALT - This story at its core is about a relationship between two women. If you are underage, this concept is illegal where you live, or you have a problem with it, then please do not read this story. However, the action will be PG-13 in nature.
SETTING - This story takes place at a North Carolina plantation that I whimsically named Beaufort Oaks. It is moderately modeled on a personal ancestral home Magnolia Ridge that is located in the bayou country of Louisiana. Many of the notes about Civil War-era life and plantation life that Melinda uses in the process of restoring Beaufort Oaks, are from period letters regarding these things.
TIMELINE – This story follows my previous Jan/Mel story "Going Home."
Chapter 1
The blonde sat up in bed, rubbing her shoulder and remembering the warm caressing breeze that had disturbed her sleep. Curiously, she glanced toward the floor length window half-shuttered against the late October chill. The ancient oak trees peppering the grounds of the plantation were only mildly bowed by a breeze that certainly could not be called warm this late into autumn.
Adjusting the shoulder of her cotton nightgown, Janice shrugged off the flower print comforter and sheet. Wrapping a casual grip around a bedpost, she slid to the floor. She padded across the small space rugs and a bit of polished hardwood floor to the window.
She leaned thoughtfully on the side of the opening, crossed her arms over her chest and blinked the sleep from her eyes. The rich green and crisp orange of the foliage delighted her senses. A smile played gently on her lips. Lazily she raised a hand and pushed her fingers through her unbound blonde hair.
"Cup of tea with that view?"
Janice swiveled her head around and bestowed her smile on the robe-clad brunette entering with a small tray. Her long dark hair was loose on her shoulders, a sensuous contrast to the woman's customary bun. It make Janice's heart speed up a little thinking of Melinda just out of bed. She straightened up and reached out to capture a steaming mug from the surface.
Melinda retrieved the second cup and set the tray on the nightstand. Turning back, she joined Janice, leaning casually against the window's edge. She nudged open the shutter and glanced out at the view of the grounds.
The blonde caught the sparkle of gentle reminisce in the cornflower blue eyes. "Mm hmm," she acknowledged. "Are you enjoying being back at your home in your own bed?"
"I missed this," Mel answered in a wistful whisper that still managed to suggest a "but" was coming. Janice sipped her tea and waited. It wasn't long. "Guess I got used to the traveling." She squeezed her shoulders together in a shrug, settling her gaze on Janice's sun-bright green eyes.
The gesture and the wild shock of intense desire brought out a small laugh in the blonde. "If you'd let me stay in your room, I could have remedied that." She grasped Melinda's hand as it came up in a gesture of protest. "But we have to keep in mind your mother, I know."
"I'm sorry. It's just..."
"Too weird for you. I know. Remember we've had this conversation before. The day after we first arrived." She rubbed her hand over Melinda's bare arm, immersing herself in the sensations of touching her lover, more having been denied them by circumstance. The brunette's rose scent filled her nostrils. Her gaze centered on Melinda's lips, having drifted down from the soft lines of her cheeks and aquiline nose. God, I want to kiss her, she thought, resisting only because Melinda had asked it of her in a moment of self-consciousness.
She glanced past Melinda's shoulder and noticed the brunette had thought to close the door to the hallway. Just one couldn't hurt.
She eased her cup to the side, trailing her other fingers up to cover Melinda's cheek. With only slight pressure, as her gaze collided with the brunette's, Janice brought their faces closer.
With a light touch of her tongue she dampened her lips and felt the moment both their breathing changed.
The kiss was charged with coiled energy, restrained and headily passionate at the same time. She moved her lips over the full texture of Mel's and felt the moment her partner pressed herself into the kiss, giving in to the abandon, despite herself, and returned the intimate touch.
Strong, soft hands slipped around Janice's waist, bringing their bodies together and lifting Janice to her toes.
The loud clatter of porcelain on the floor, even muted by the small rug, startled both women. Separating and their thoughts a little blurred, they both looked down to see what had happened.
Melinda looked up from the cup and its spilled contents. Her remaining hand on the blonde's hip caressed gently as she formulated something to say.
Janice's smile stole the pain from taking hold of the brunette and making her feel guilty about the private indulgence. "I'll get a towel," she said, stepping out of Melinda's embrace.
"I think I'll suggest Mother visit Boston sooner rather than later," the brunette replied sucking in a deep breath and groaning, dropping her hand even as she claimed a hasty kiss.
The blonde ducked into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a pale orange hand towel. She bent and patted at the damp spot, letting her body brush up against Melinda, who crouched with her on the floor.
"Melinda Chelle, you get off the floor this instant!"
The chilled, deep but feminine voice caused both women to startle. Though off balance, Mel made it upright first, swiveling on her heels. With a quick hand she guided Janice to her own feet. As Janice focused on the slightly built woman in chestnut hair, Melinda offered a calm greeting. "Good morning, Mother. Would you care for a cup of tea?" Displaying her empty cup, she offered, "I have to go down for another."
"I'll have Vida brew a pot of coffee," she said in a voice that ended the discussion.
"Good morning, Mrs. Pappas," Janice finally offered her own greeting, still a little unsettled from the last few moments. She could see the color rising in Brenda Pappas's face as cool gray-blue eyes leveled on her. Unconsciously Janice straightened under the sharp regard.
"Don't you finally interview for your new job today, Miss Covington? I suggest you'll be late if you don't stop dallying here."
Janice swallowed and started to respond. Melinda's hand on her arm and a step forward by the brunette stopped her though. "I'm taking her in myself," she heard the taller woman say, even as she only watched Brenda's features stiffen at Melinda's calm, cool tone. The older Pappas glanced briefly at Janice then turned and walked away down the corridor, leaving Janice and Melinda alone once more.
Melinda was slightly shaking her head when Janice finally looked up at her. "Well, that went well," she allowed with a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "C'mon, we'd better get downstairs before she sends Vida up to fetch us, then complains that the eggs are too cold because she had to wait."
"I'll be right next door," Mel answered, brushing her fingers over Jan's cheek.
"That's still too far away." The answer slipped out softly as she pressed her lips into the woman's palm. "But I'll manage." She brushed her own palm down the brunette's long lean back as Mel left.
Janice turned to her wardrobe and opened the Carolina fir doors. Looking at the one pair of tan slacks, white collar blouse and Spanish country frock, the blonde mused, "So, what should I wear to the interview?"
It had taken almost all of the week since they had arrived at Beaufort Oaks to line up the interview with the university's history department chair. With no full professorships open, she had agreed to discuss appointment as an adjunct professor, stepping in for Dr. Basil Cuthridge, a Britain and Celtic scholar, who was on sabbatical until the following summer. Today she was expected to essentially survive quizzing by Cuthridge on the names, dates, and important research personalities involved in Celtic and medieval British history. She glanced toward the nightstand, at the tome she had culled from Melvin Pappas's library and rubbed her temple. It had meant quite a lot of heavy reading the last few nights.
Having lost everything on the trip back from Macedonia, Janice felt the pinch to earn her first paycheck. Melinda had not mentioned one word about the expenses, sharing or otherwise. But Janice could feel the judgement pouring from Brenda Pappas, which only aggravated Mel and made Janice more determined that she nail down work.
In the next room, she heard the water start as Melinda began to wash. She went to her own sink and rinsed the last of the night's sleep from her face and neck. Refreshed, Janice slipped on her tan pants and white shirt, forgoing the jacket she kept-with Xena's chakram pieces-tucked in the back of the wardrobe. Ready to face the music, Janice declared silently and headed down to the breakfast nook.
Light salmon drapes were pulled back, tied with elegantly draped strips. The morning light bathed the breakfast nook in sunshine. A cloudless sky outside promised a beautiful, if cold, autumn day.
A small wooden table made of pine, dominated the cozy space, set among matching pine lattice-back chairs. A dark-skinned woman of modest height and garbed in a plain cut tan dress, moved around behind the chairs, laying out silver, small plates and bowls. She looked up at the sound of footsteps from the entry corridor. An expectant smile touched her face briefly then in disappointment she dropped her eyes away and quickly placed everything remaining in her hands on the table before pulling out the chair on her left. "Your place setting is ready, ma'am."
"Excellent, Vida. So, what has cook arranged this morning?" Brenda Pappas settled into the chair as the servant adjusted her chair closer to the table.
"Eggs Benedict, ma'am." She returned to arranging the table, and then moved to the small sideboard. "Juice, ma'am?"
"Carefully cleaned of pulp, Vida?"
"Just how you like it, ma'am." The dark-skinned woman's voice was low, and to anyone else's ears would have sounded annoyed, but Pappas was oblivious as she arranged her napkin across her lap and snapped open to the Society section of the Charlotte Gazette. She reached out as Vida came close and without looking up, took the offered glass and sipped.
"Good, Vida."
"Yes, ma'am."
"My daughter and her friend will be down in a moment. That Miss Covington is going to an interview and Melinda has agreed to drive her. Make sure that Miss Melinda has her hat and coat properly addressed."
"Yes, ma'am."
More footsteps in the corridor made Vida glance up and this time her smile remained in place as the dark-haired tall young woman slipped through the doorway. "Good morning, Miss Melinda."
Adjusting her skirt with a casual hand, Melinda cupped Vida's elbow in her right palm and bussed the woman's cheek with her lips. "Good morning, Vida. Did you have a good night?"
"Yes, miss. You look well this morning yourself, Miss Melinda." Without an exchange of words, Melinda sat at her place and Vida delivered a tall glass of milk and a serving from the teapot. "Did Miss Janice enjoy the tea this morning?"
"Excellent choice, Vida. I think it calmed her nerves considerably. Thank you for your help."
"Coffee?" Brenda looked up briefly and indicated her empty cup with a sweep of her eyes.
"Oh, yes, ma'am." Vida moved quickly to fulfill the request and then walked toward the kitchen door. "I'll return in a moment with the plates. Help yourself to the toast."
Melinda nodded with a broad smile as the dark woman glanced toward her. As she reached for the plate of buttered toast, she heard footsteps marking Janice's arrival. The tread was light, uncertain, a distinct counterpoint to the young woman's usual confident stride. Noticing the diffidence in the blonde's bearing when she looked up, the brunette felt a surge of aggravation at her mother for being so antagonistic toward Janice.
Smothering the inclination to make a scene, knowing her lover needed her concentration for the interview, Melinda smoothed her face into a bright smile, gesturing to the seat beside her. Then she cast about for something to say that would convey her support and not sound inane. "Do you like Eggs Benedict, Janice?"
The blonde settled into the chair and glanced around the room once, orienting herself, then nodded as she put her napkin in her lap. "Sounds fine."
Melinda heard the distraction in her tone and focused her attention on Janice, excluding her mother with subtle body language and intensity in her blue eyes. "Would you like another cup of tea?"
Janice raised her chin to meet Melinda's gaze and smiled her thanks. "Yes, please." The woman took a long breath in and let it out slowly. "Guess I'm a little nervous, huh?" Melinda smiled, victorious in getting the blonde to forget for two seconds that her mother was in the room. As Melinda stood to get the tea, Janice turned back to the table and looked up at Brenda. "Good morning, Mrs. Pappas."
"Morning." The blue-gray eyes narrowed and the expression cooled. "You don't have anything else? That outfit seems a little drab for a university interview."
Cheeks stinging as if slapped, Janice sat straight in her chair, pushing back from the table. Before Janice's brain could unfreeze and she had an opportunity to respond, Melinda's voice was sharp even in its liquid accent. "Janice's attire is entirely appropriate."
"I think I'll grab something at the campus." The blonde swallowed hard. "Excuse me, please." Pushing away from the table, Janice was gone in the next breath.
Her departure left mother and daughter visually squaring off in the small room. "Mother, I cannot believe you did that. I want you to leave. Today if possible."
"You can't force me from my own home, Melinda Pappas."
Melinda set down the cup she had been preparing with tea hard enough for the cup to rattle on the saucer. "I'm a lady. I will not have you treating my friends with such disdain. Just because you don't like the look of her clothes or her having a lack of your definition of 'breeding'."
"She's a leech, Melinda. Mark my words, she'll never repay us-"
"For what? I invited her here, Mother. I practically had to beg her." Melinda pushed off the table where she had leaned to ease some of the anger coursing through her body making her want to swing at something. "She was ready to go back to Philadelphia to no family, no home, and be alone. I didn't want that."
"So you'd rather send me out, alone?"
"That is not what I meant. You're being deliberately unkind. She's bent over backward trying to be polite to you. You didn't even say 'good morning' to her."
"I did," the older woman replied, standing now as well.
"Then you lit into her like she was a sack of cotton."
Both women ground to a stiff silence, eyeing one another. "Her father was nothing but trouble to this family, Melinda. Your father-"
"Is that what this is about? Daddy did work with Harry Covington, didn't he? Some of the business trips he took without us were to Covington's digs?"
"That man was a dreamer. Poisoned your father's good sense with all that nonsense. I tri-"
Melinda straightened with a suddenness that broke her mother's train of thought. "It is not nonsense, Mother. We-Janice and I-found a large cache of the Scrolls."
"Ludicrous." The smaller woman stood and backed up. "Impossible."
"I assure you it isn't. I translated several during the initial part of our trip home."
"Then where are they? You and your friend there came off a train without clothes or bags in hand." Brenda pointed at the entryway. "She's got you dreaming too."
"I told you about the troubles we had on our trip. The boat, the plane crash..." Feeling like she was spinning her wheels in sand, getting nowhere fast, Melinda finally just stepped back with a sigh. "Forget it. Just forget it. Believe what you want. I honestly don't care."
Vida took that moment to come through the doorway with three plates. She looked from one standing woman to the other and instantly stilled.
Having gotten much of her feelings off her chest, Melinda turned on her heel and left her mother standing alone in the small room, breathing hard. She heard Vida quietly offer Brenda a plate. Then she shut the entire unsavory incident out of her mind and went in search of Janice.
Chapter 2
Janice stood on a middle step on the main staircase. The blonde paused, resting a steadying hand on the scrolled banister when Melinda appeared beneath her.
As plainly as if the other woman spoke, Melinda saw and understood the pain that stiffened Janice's back and tightened her grip on the railing eve as she turned a calm face to look at her. But the corners of her eyes were pinched and her nostrils tight. Kindly to allow Janice her silence, Melinda turned her gaze aside and schooled her own throat before speaking. "Come on. There's a coffee shop next to campus." She stepped up to a small closet at the foot of the stairs.
From it she retrieved a navy blue thigh-length twilled cotton coat, sliding it over her blushed rose blouse and dark rose knee-length skirt.
Janice appeared at her elbow as she was tugging her hair free of the coat's collar. The blonde moved past her to open the front door.
Melinda studied Janice's thin white blouse and knew the blonde would need a coat. She stilled the smaller woman with a hand on her shoulder. At the same time, she reached into the closet and pulled out another jacket.
The tan refined leather was a man's short style trenchcoat with wide lapels and a belt at the waist. Her father's safari coat, she remembered it from a trip the family made to Africa when she was a child.
She snapped it to smooth the fabric, and the billowing scent of mothballs hit the air.
Janice's nose wrinkled in an endearing way as she turned at the sound. "For the chill," Melinda offered, holding it out so the blonde would slip her arms into the sleeves.
Moving her jaw in silence as she contained her reaction, Janice did accept the jacket as well as Melinda's help freeing her blonde hair from beneath the material. The brunette's long fingers brushed over her nape and the warmth transferred to the blonde, easing the tension in her neck.
"Your father's?" Janice settled the coat more comfortably on her shoulders and felt the material stretch. Looking down she found the length almost to her knees. Dr. Pappas had been a very slender man, she thought.
"Let's go." Mel led the way down the front walk across the edge of the manicured lawn to the maroon 1940 Ford Deluxe Sedan, one of her first purchases after her father's death. The wide bench seat and extra large back seat had allowed her often to courier many donations for charities hither and yon.
Both women dropped their heads against the breeze coming across the open grounds from the large lake at the northern edge of the property. Janice burrowed deeper within the loaned coat and Melinda was glad she had thought of it as well as been nonchalant about giving it to her. The sun burst on the tangle of Janice's hair as it blew around her face, casting an angel-like halo around the blonde head. Melinda felt renewed anger at her mother.
Reaching the car, she opened the passenger door and gestured Janice inside. Moving around to the other side, she opened the door and tossed her purse on the seat between herself and Janice as the blonde settled against the passenger window.
Intuition made her glance up at the house before sliding behind the wheel. Her mother peered from the gallery window, a tense hand gripped the heavy burgundy drapes. Catching her mother's eye, Melinda turned her head and dropped into the car.
With a quick motion, Melinda shoved the car into gear, and guided it down the oak-lined drive onto the road into town.
Despite her own reaction to Melinda's mother, Janice could only imagine what that morning's scene had done to Melinda's state of mind. She glanced over at the brunette and studied the woman's profile as she drove.
She kept her eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. The driving wasn't complicated, and obvious from Melinda's fingers moving over the wheel's cover, she was terribly aggravated. Janice wondered briefly if some of it was directed at her.
"I'm sorry I walked out," she offered.
"It's not your fault."
"But your mother-"
"Mother can learn to mind her own damn business. Who I choose to bring into my home is my business not hers."
Janice winced at the anger she heard and in confusion asked, "You told her to leave... to go back to Boston. What's in Boston?"
"Her family."
"Why would she go back there? This is her home."
Melinda took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "My father did not leave the house to her, Janice. He left it to me."
"Why would he do a thing like that? Isn't that unusual?" Janice paused. "Didn't he love your mother?"
There was a long silence as Melinda's hands flexed on the wheel, then quietly she said, "I don't know." Melinda shook her head.
Janice puzzled over that. Finally she caught the signs indicated the university town was just ahead. "Can I treat you to a sweet roll and some tea before I have my interview?"
Melinda pulled into a space marked in front of a small shop at the corner of Dunhill and Broad streets. Over the entrance a painted sign proclaimed "Greenley's Coffee Shop." "All right," she said.
Janice stepped out and straightened her clothes. She saw Melinda shade her eyes and glance across the way and up. Following suit, she identified a large face clock over a bank entrance. "7:22... Time enough for a quick bite before my meeting at eight." She linked her arm through Melinda's and led her into the coffee shop.
Both women's spirits brightened considerably as they settled at a small corner window table and a waitress brought two coffees when Melinda gestured with her fingers. Janice ordered, "A couple of the peach pastries?" When Mel confirmed with a nod, Janice added to the waitress, "And cream for my coffee please."
The waitress nodded and went behind the counter where an array of men were assembled, drinking coffee, enjoying platters of eggs, grits and seared ham slices. They were engaged in friendly banter with each other and the cook behind the counter before reporting for their own jobs. Janice turned her attention back to Melinda. "So, who do you have to see today?"
The brunette shrugged. "Just a few of the board members. Let them know I'm back in town, and I have a lunch appointment with the president's wife. She and I are both on the board at the Community kitchen. We're planning the Thanksgiving menu and where to get the supplies."
"That should be a busy day."
"You've got the harder job. Cuthridge is not known for being easily amused. Pretty dry personality. Even my father wasn't crazy about him."
"Well he's going on sabbatical. I have to convince him I can teach his classes, not work with him."
Melinda nodded and chuckled. "You're right. I'll come by the department after I've had lunch with Maryann. Probably around two."
"I think I can handle that. Who knows you might find me settling into my office by then." She smiled at the brunette and reached a hand across the table to pat her hand. "Everything will be fine."
"Except on the home front. What am I going to do about Mother?"
Janice shook her head. "Don't do anything you'll regret."
"But she's deliberately hurting you."
"I'll grow a thicker skin."
There was a long pause of silence as the two women accepted their pastries, Janice stirred in her creamer and Melinda took her first bite. Putting down her fork, Melinda's voice broke the silence in a rumbly caress. "Janice?"
"Mmm hmmm?" the blonde answered, chewing quietly on her pastry.
"I much prefer the skin you've got," Melinda's voice lowered even further, sending a skittering of tingles down the blonde's back as she shot a glance up at the brunette's luminous eyes. They shared smiles and finished their breakfasts in companionable silence.
Half an hour later, Melinda pulled the sedan up to the history building, parked and turned off the engine. Janice looked at her oddly when Melinda quickly stepped out and moved around to the other side, opening the passenger door. From her body language, Janice immediately realized that Melinda was nervous. For her. That revelation struck her silent even as she watched Melinda move around her to close the door.
Without a word, the brunette pulled Janice into a tight hug, nuzzling her chin against her shoulder. She could feel in the power of the embrace, Melinda shiver slightly. She put her own arms around Mel's back and squeezed. "Thanks."
Feeling the breeze on her face Melinda pulled back and pulled her emotions together. "You had better get going. Don't want to be late for your interview." She caught Janice's gaze and impulsively caressed the smooth cheek. "Good luck."
"I'll be fine. Cuthridge just better watch out. I might just impress his socks off." She chuckled, and a moment later, Melinda chuckled too.
"Don't let him get you flustered. He does it to his students too. 'Makes men out of them to face adversity,' he says. We students just called it perversity."
"So you had him?"
"Introductory level class about two years ago. Then I moved onto classes out of his field. Seems that happened a lot. Probably a lot of promising British scholars were driven into French or German studies because of Cuthridge."
Janice made a face of wry amusement. "Next you're going to tell me he's fat, jowled and older than Methuselah."
"No, actually -"
"Just go on. I'll be all right. Heavens, if I can face down Smythe, a farcical slimeball, and come out on top, I can certainly handle a beet-faced Brit with airs." She nudged Melinda's shoulder.
Melinda gave her another quick hug and returned to the car. The blonde watched from the stone steps as Melinda set the car back into gear and drove off. With a quick hand, she ordered her hair and turned to open the large, brass-handled doors.
A weight pushed it open from the other side, startling Janice into jumping backward. She looked up to see a large sallow hand wrap around the edge of the door, holding it from swinging further outward. A sheepish face appeared around that edge, worried brown eyes peering from a thin face with well-groomed muttonchops and dust-brown hair, shot through with a few strands of gray. "My apologies, miss," he said when he spotted her pushing herself off the stone railing. "I didn't expect anyone to be coming in at this hour."
"I have a meeting in the department at eight o'clock," she responded, genuinely smiling as he helped her to her feet.
"Applying to enter the program?"
"Something like that," she answered with a chuckle.
"Well, good luck to you then. I was headed to the dining room for a quick coffee. Department secretary makes a terrible brew." He held the door for her and waved her inside. "Pardon me, but I must be quick. I too have an early appointment."
Janice nodded and watched him hurry down the sidewalk toward the east side of campus. Interesting fellow, probably a graduate assistant, she thought. In the entry she paused, studying the building's interior while she shrugged off her coat and straightened her sleeves and brushed a few wrinkles from her slacks. A set of stairs, with a faded wood banister indicated the route to the second floor. A doorway in front of her had a glass inset for the top panel and a long corridor beyond with widely spaced doorways suggested classrooms. She glanced to a wood placard listing rooms and names. "Department secretary, 201. Okay." She glanced down the rest of the list, absorbing the other names. "Adelbaum, Vorhees, Thomas, Cuthridge, 208. Okay." She went further and saw "Pappas." "Wonder what Mel's father's name is still doing on the placard. He's been dead a year already." Shrugging the question off, though thinking she might file it away and ask Melinda later, Janice sprung to the stairs, bounding up them two at a time.
Chapter 3
Janice entered the secretary's office after checking the small tag on the wall beside the door. She heard movement in an adjoining office and looked around, identifying a pair of chairs to sit and wait.
Just as she settled, debating between a formal posture or a casual one, a woman walked in. She was of medium height wearing her golden brown hair done up in a high bun off a vaguely lined, modestly made-up face. Hazel green eyes widened slightly at spotting Janice. "I'm sorry. May I help you?" She put the small mug in her hands on the efficiently organized desk.
Janice came to her feet and introduced herself, then said, "I believe we've spoken on the phone. I'm here to discuss a position with Doctor Cuthridge."
"Oh yes, the adjunct opening. It would be nice to have another woman around here," she remarked as she settled in her chair and moved two books with notes sticking out helpfully from the pages. Then she scanned over a paper written out in a grid format. "Yes, yes. Here you are. Dr. Cuthridge, eight o'clock." She glanced up at a clock on the wall and immediately stood. "A few minutes past. Oh dear, come with me." Janice followed the woman out into the corridor. "Dr. Cuthridge... intensely dislikes tardiness." She cast a last glance over her shoulder halfway down the hall. An appraising look preceded a conspiratorial smile. "I'll just tell him I held you up with paperwork."
The smile sprang to Janice's lips spontaneously as she felt a connection blossom with their shared possession of the simple secret. "Thank you, Mrs. Collier."
"Call me Bea." She knocked on the closed door of 208. When there was no answer, she knocked once more and then swung the door inward. The office beyond was empty.
Well, empty was the wrong term, Janice realized as she took in the cluttered space. There wasn't any person visible in the four-walled space. Floor to ceiling on three walls were mismatched bookshelves. Each was filled to overflowing, many books lying on their sides atop others lined up in the rows of stacks. She caught a few of the titles and smiled. Philosophy to general history. Thinly bound copies of academic papers sat next to map collections in thick binders.
The desk was also covered in books and papers. She saw a corner of a nameplate and uncovered it with a careful hand.
"Yes, well. This is the place," Janice showed the plate to Bea with a quick smile. "Do you suppose he's buried in here under one of these piles?"
Bea shook her head and backed up to look down the corridor. "He was here earlier. I have no idea where-"
Janice looked up as Bea's voice stopped in mid-sentence and swallowed as her eyes mirrored Bea's.
Both women gaped at a man of moderate height, muttonchops shaped around an expressive face. A familiar face. Janice swallowed again. Bea however spoke first. "Doctor Basil Cuthridge, this is Doctor Janice Covington. Your eight o'clock appointment."
Bea presided as the two shook hands, Janice alternating her gaze between Bea and Cuthridge, instantly recalling their brief encounter on the steps out front.
Cuthridge apparently also recalled it. "Thank you for the formal introduction, Mrs. Collier. Dr. Covington and I briefly met one another this morning." He smiled at her benignly. "But I hadn't the pleasure of exchanging names." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled again. "Thank you, Bea. I'll take Dr. Covington from here."
Bea looked from one to the other, her face concerned. "I'll be transcribing Dr. Leavitt's lecture tapes. In the front office."
Janice kept her gaze even with Dr. Cuthridge's as he assured the secretary, "Thank you, Mrs. Collier. I'll ask if we need anything."
Bea's gaze fell on Janice who spared a smile for the older woman. "Thank you for directing me."
"Of course." The secretary finally responded as she back up to and out the door.
Janice chuckled as Bea disappeared. "She seems to think of you as a bit of a dragon." She herself remembered the smiling man who had so politely bumped into her earlier. Now she turned to see his back to her.
Dr. Cuthridge moved a pile of books revealing a chair with a thick gray overcoat still draped. "Have a seat." His voice held little inflection, instantly making Janice wary. When he looked up expectantly, she nodded, but did not sit. Instead she backed up and watched Cuthridge briefly scan a shelf and then pull a book.
"You probably have a lot of questions for me," she said finally.
"Some," he agreed, calmly flipping through pages. He stopped and passed over the book. "Read this please."
Janice studied him querulously for a brief moment. She remembered Melinda's advice that Cuthridge liked to put people on the spot. Adversity huh? She thought. Lifting her chin, she slipped the book from his hands. She turned it so she could identify the text. The character set was ancient, blocky from being more often carved than written. She blew out a long breath. "First century Gaelic, maybe second." She looked up and caught his nod. Calling up her skill in this area-Melinda was the real expert, she thought-and a little of the cockiness she had used countless times negotiating with her work crews on a dig, Janice began reading the text aloud.
Out of the corner of her eyes she caught a few winces by Cuthridge and modulated her tempo and the accent she found coming more easily. She caught the ghost of a smile as she stopped reading.
"Now translate."
Without blinking she returned to the top of the passage and began the translation. It was a description of a Celtic union rite-a wedding ceremony.
"At once pass the vine among their digits, interweaving as the roots of the willow tree. Incant the soma, or ritual song, with each drinking from the cup of Mother."
He took the book from her hands at that point. "Your syntax could use a little work."
Janice moistened her lips and rubbed her palms together. "My specialty is not Celtic, but there are many universal structures in the ancient tongues. I have a degree in European history and a specialist's in Mediterranean Medievalism, also several advanced degrees in Pre-Roman cultures."
"Read that in your application." He put the book down and edged his hip over the desk. "I liked the amount of practical experience in your resume, Dr. Covington. It suggested an ability to learn and think on your feet."
He was looking at her steadily now. The professorial demeanor left his features, and he returned to that man she had met on the front steps. The one she had mistaken, by the air of youthful excitement about him, for a graduate student. "What do you want to hear then?" Idealism shone from his dusty features which was then given voice, she knew as she listened, from the heart.
"Commitment." He took a deep breath. "Dr. Covington, I'm sure you've heard I'm very hard on my students." He picked up a magazine and flipped through it as he continued. "I'm hard on my students because I want them to succeed. Not for myself. Not for this," he folded the magazine and shook it at her. "For them. I enjoy harnessing an unbound love of history and channeling it into making graduates who will be incisive, investigative, dynamic, and adept at creative analysis." He sighed. "I want them to think. Not just ingest and spit it all back out."
"That's... very noble." She reeled a little at the conclusion of his impassioned speech. "What I mean to say is... If you love teaching so much, why are you leaving?"
"I registered the leave as sabbatical, yes, but..." He trailed off and Janice found herself watching him pace. "I'm sure you determined that I'm originally from Britain. Dover to be exact."
"Yes, I gathered that much. The name, the accent..." Here she paused with a light chuckle. "Sorry, but you aren't the typical American."
He nodded. "And I suspect neither are you, but back to the matter at hand. I don't know that I will return to the university when my sabbatical has passed."
"Investigating a new position?" Janice had heard of colleagues doing such a thing, using paid time off from one institution to cement a position at another. In just a short analysis, she honestly had not pictured Cuthridge as the type.
"No. Well, not an academic one." He paused. "I'm going to join the war effort."
Remember the troubles she and Melinda had just skirting the growing war, the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "That's crazy."
"No, it's patriotism, I suppose. I was... listening to the wireless one evening." He gestured at the radio buried under a small curling stack of papers on the windowsill. "They... the Nazis... bombed Britain."
"Friends?"
He nodded. "My home is a pile of rubble. A hereditary noble's cottage on the edge of Dover. Nothing but a pile of broken plaster and twisted grommets and broken heirlooms." His eyes gleamed a bit greener. "I have to go, but... my students deserve a chance at completing their studies under good guidance." He straightened up and picked up a pencil, twirling it over and through his fingers, then pointed it at her. "You are friends with Mel Pappas, right?"
"Yes, she's better at the syntax than I am as a matter of fact."
"Oh, I know. She's only a credit or two away from completing her studies. She'll probably be able to present a dissertation within the year if she can buckle down and write the thing."
"I can easily make sure she completes her studies." Janice briefly contemplated the nights at Beaufort in the future where she and Melinda could curl up together debating passages and dissecting translations, piecing together life in northern Europe before the dawn of modern history.
"She and my other senior students could also support you. You'll lecture, review my undergraduate students' research procedures, challenge them as well as the graduate students. It's long hours, not a lot of pay and no glory."
Janice smiled, her green eyes taking on the sparkle of accepting the challenge. "That I think I'm pretty familiar with."
"I have all my students' files here. We could go over the course materials and a few of their files. "He gestured. "Unless you have another appointment?"
Janice thought about it and offered her hand in agreement. "I could give you my thoughts on their courses of study. How to guide them to more specific questions. And some content I could bring in to enhance the classes."
Cuthridge took her hand and smiled back. "Then, I think, Doctor Covington, that we can begin."
Together they cleared his desk and found the student files. He offered her a cup from the thermos of coffee he pilfered from the campus's dining hall.
Laughing she declined and they began to work.
Chapter 4
Melinda discreetly uncrossed then recrossed her ankles in the other direction, using a hidden hand to rub her thigh. Unobtrusively she checked her wristwatch and wondered how Janice had been doing for the last two hours.
Though she tried not to, the brunette sighed. Even Cuthridge would have been more fun than this, she thought, watching the others of the board discussing a budget item.
She had come in looking for the college president, just to let him know she was back and inquire if he had managed to reschedule a board meeting she had missed while overseas. She had not expected to hear that if she could wait twenty minutes the meeting could go ahead right now, that morning. She looked up across the table at the impressive figure of a middle-aged man, broad shoulders encased in a double-breasted blue suit, ready wit sparkling from brown eyes as he addressed a point to the dozen gathered board members.
Jonathan Ryder Smith spoke softly, but his tone carried gravity. "A cost of living adjustment is prudent," he said.
"It isn't something we can afford right now," countered Harold Gobal, a widowed businessman. The Raleigh Mercantile owner had both well-developed pragmatism and wealth. He pulled at his salt and pepper beard with thoughtful fingers.
"Everyone is tightening their belt," Cassidy Zeigmacht added. The widow Zeigmacht held a seat also on the Raleigh city council, her one grown son a proud graduate of the university, so she supported it with her money and her incisive thoughts, Melinda thought as she detected the considerations going on behind the slowly scanning gray eyes. Those eyes lighted on Melinda and the brunette swallowed even as she heard herself being addressed. "What do you think, Melinda?"
Melinda felt all eyes shift to her. Having basically inherited the board position from among her father's responsibilities, she tended to remain quiet and observant, not talkative at these meetings. Also as the youngest person on the board, Melinda was often deciding for herself where her own opinion lay, but not typically speaking much unless it was a Pappas endowed chair under consideration. Ziegmacht occasionally had Melinda over for tea following their monthly meetings and frequently admonished her for her silence. Now it seemed since Melinda's return from Europe that Cassidy intended to change tactics. She would draw the brunette out in public.
Studying the fiscal data that Smith had provided, Melinda started in on a listing of facts, hoping it would bolster her discussion. "In the last year we have lost thirteen faculty members." A tapping drew her attention to Smith rhythmically dropping his pencil's eraser against the polished wooden tabletop. "To my knowledge, we have never lost that many in a single year."
Smith nodded and contributed, "With the departure of faculty, our enrollment declines. The attraction to our hallowed halls really is not football, as our coaching staff would have you believe." Melinda noticed Beauregard Collier stiffen up at this remark, then returned her gaze back to Smith. "We have to find a way to keep our faculty," he concluded. "And that means money."
"Then they weren't part of the family," Collier, a very gray-haired wiry man well advanced into his 70s, retorted. "Who needs them?"
Doctor Beauregard Collier, a professor emeritus of English, had been with the University of North Carolina Raleigh faculty since before the turn of the century. Having graduated from the undergraduate program at the UNC campus in Chapel Hill, he had joined the starting faculty at the new campus further inland in 1883. Bolstered by the presence of several doctors of English and in the other disciplines, Collier had spent his young life, married his wife of 58 years, and raised three boys to study within these halls. UNC was not just a place of learning, but a family to the aging curmudgeon.
"Times change, Beau," Gobal interjected. "Money drives an awful lot of things since we worked so hard to recover from the '29 crash."
Collier and Gobal did not frequently see eye to eye and Melinda waited for the inevitable explosion, but Zeigmacht defused it with a wry turn of wit. "Yes, Harry, but we only narrowly avoided our own crash of '39," she admonished with a quirked smile.
Gobal nodded his head and turned to face her. "Have an idea, Cass?"
"Intangibles are often more valuable than money," she suggested. "Let's institute a faculty member awards dinner, and shuffle the department chairmanships a bit."
"Rewarding those who have kept students, or kept students interested..." Melinda began.
"Or become involved in the campus community. As the other faculty have left that's made more than a few of the remaining ones take on club supervisions, a couple have moved into the houses with the students to support them, or foster study groups," Cassidy confirmed.
"I hadn't thought about that," Melinda acknowledged. "The students would certainly point out faculty they have felt the greatest help from."
"We can begin the selection process and have the final vote go to the student body. Probably be able to have a Christmas assembly to celebrate those awarded," Smith picked up the idea with an enthusiastic smile. "I like it, Cassidy. It's new. Quite original."
"And won't cost much more than a few plaques and a special preparation in the campus kitchens," Gobal acceded.
Melinda smiled. This was definitely the way more meetings should go.
Zeigmacht caught her eye and accepted the smile. "Perhaps you will be able to introduce the new faculty members to the student body then also, Melinda." The older woman raised an eyebrow significantly and Melinda instantly wondered where Cassidy had heard about Janice, not fooling herself for a moment into believing that the news of her houseguest had escaped anyone's notice. "A mistress of ceremonies."
"Certainly someone more experienced?" she protested delicately.
"Dear, the rest of us are too old to gush appropriately, besides, I think you have the right... presence, shall we say, to be most appreciated by our student body."
Melinda blushed at Ziegmacht's words. Cassidy relented and changed the topic, though she reached out and patted the brunette's hand on the tabletop. "Well, that settles what's happening at Christmas. Didn't you have a proposal from the student body for Halloween, Beau?"
Dr. Collier nodded. "I'd rather just decline it. I can't see the benefit of letting hundreds of students crowd our campus for the express purpose of drinking and scaring each other to death with hideous masks." He lifted the proposal, formally submitted by the Student Body president. "When I was in college-" he began.
Cassidy settled back and waved her hand generously. "Oh come now, Beau. Don't tell me you didn't kick up your heels as a young man. I won't believe it."
"And I think it's inappropriate to have crowds of people in any one place for such a long night. There's bound to be trouble."
"Trouble? And you've never caused any?" Melinda watched in fascination as Cassidy shifted and put a hand down on the table firmly.
"They're children."
"They are adults," she countered. "How can you justify denying them a party? Typically there's a fall dance as well as a spring one."
"So let's tell them they can have a dance, in town. Halloween night is no time to just open up our campus to revelry."
"Poppycock," Cassidy retorted. "So the fall party will coincide with Halloween. What of it? The spring one coincides with Valentine's Day, so it's not like they're trying to subject the campus to heathen ritual."
Melinda looked to Dr. Collier and saw by his reddening face that Cassidy had hit on probably the key reason for his objection. "It's a carnival they're suggesting, Dr. Collier, not the formation of a coven."
Cassidy nodded at her simple statement with approving eyes. "Melinda's right. If we secure the proper amount of assistance beforehand, I'm sure we'll even have sufficient police on hand to quell anything unruly."
Collier looked from face to face and sat back grumbling. "I won't sponsor this outrage."
"According to their proposal, Beau, the students have all the supplies. They were merely inquiring as to the use of place," Smith pointed out, which only made Collier grumble even more.
Melinda quelled the amused smile that threatened to break across her face as she watched the by-play among the board members. Well, maybe things are somewhat interesting after all.
Smith shuffled his paper and looked at the time. "One more quick item and then I have to get Melinda to lunch with my wife."
Everyone shuffled his or her papers to the next item: the qualifications of a new faculty member. Melinda sighed, and tried to moderate her voice into quiet tones without wavering from the facts in her words. "The position is for a doctor of paleo-culture." Melinda brushed back a strand of her dark hair that had come undone from the bun at her nape. Harold Gobal, the board member who had initially fielded the candidate, narrowed his eyes and returned her regard. "Mister Gobal, the bank won't authorize the fund disbursement unless the trust conditions are met."
Smith spoke to it without preamble. "Lipton's portfolio is impressive. Not as many publications as some, but the insight-" University President Jonathan Ryder Smith challenged her refusal of the candidate.
Of the dozen or so others at the table, Beauregard Collier steepled his fingers. " Miss Pappas, the two paleo-culture doctors declined. They are already in Washington at the service of the government."
"And the applicant has what?" She gestured with the scrip sheet. "No teaching experience. It's been less than a year since his doctorate was conferred... in Norwegian antiquities. Less than two years in the field at obscure digs," Melinda countered. Then she sat back. "Has he been extended an interview?" She nailed her gaze on Smith. He nodded. "When will he be here?"
"Thursday. With Cuthridge's departure at the new year, we need the position filled."
Melinda's eyes widened at the short timetable as well as at the news that meant Janice might not have a position after all. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"
"You were not available for conference," Collier countered. "A research facility was also interested."
The brunette hid her eyes for a long moment before nodding. She hated turning down eager applicants for any of the endowed chairs. The positions held little more than prestige and certainly the money award was more modest than the lure of working for the government. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I'll need to see his full file. See what I can do to convince the fund director that the stipulations are still being met."
"We would like to have the position funded for the beginning of the spring semester," Jonathan concluded as he passed the file via Collier. He pushed to his feet and shrugged his shoulders into his overcoat. "We'll meet again next week after the campus Halloween party has had a chance to die down."
"I won't be back in town from visiting my daughter-in-law and new grandson until the 2nd," Rachel Dumont objected. "Could we make it the 4th?"
Smith shrugged. "Any objections?" he asked of the table. No one responded. "All right then, we'll meet 11 a.m. on the 4th." He moved around the table to Melinda who was collecting her papers and purse as well as trying to shrug into her coat. "Come on, Melinda, I'll drive you over to the house."
"I brought my own car, Dr. Smith," she replied. "I have a friend over in the history department who I should check on first."
"All right then. Where were you meeting Maryann?"
"At the Biltmore Room."
He nodded appreciatively then turned to leave, catching up with Cassidy Zeigmacht as Melinda felt a shadow fall across her shoulder. She smiled warmly at the only other truly young member of the board.
Tyler Jameson stepped up to her. Thirty-four years old, his older brother had married Mrs. Dumont's only daughter and as a banker himself, albeit a young one, he had enough position in town to sit on the college board with some measure of respect. "Miss Melinda, it is very good to see that your trip overseas was a successful and safe one."
"Thank you, Tyler," she responded, tugging her hair from beneath her coat collar and smoothing the nap of the fabric as she picked up her papers. She watched his face pinch and his eyes dart aside for a brief moment. "Is there something else?"
"Yes. I'd very much like to have you to dinner this evening," he gushed. "I was thinking that my mother..."
Melinda smiled. "I'm sorry, Tyler, but I have a houseguest. I should arrange things more in advance for a while. Thank you though, for the kind invitation."
"Perhaps later... this weekend perhaps. Sunday dinner? My mother is having a small gathering."
Shaking her head, she squared her shoulders. "I will have to see, Tyler. Please drop a note by the house tomorrow."
"All right." The blond man had very boyish features and an easy smile. "Perhaps your friend can join us." She thought she detected a note in his tone that suggested he was offering more out of form than any real desire that she take him up on that. Clearly he wanted to have dinner with Melinda... alone.
The brunette was not certain how to take that, as flattery or pushiness. He did not seem to be the pushy type, but she admonished herself with her lessons on the trip home from Macedonia. Appearances could be deceiving. "I'll ask her," she replied, turning her back on him and following Smith and Zeigmacht, who were conversing about some other event earlier in the week on the campus.
She looked back over her shoulder to see Jameson collecting his briefcase and coat, draping the latter over his arm. She thought about Janice for a fleeting moment and wondered what the strong-willed blonde would say to the dinner invitation. A dinner party might be just the thing to give Janice her own contacts within the Raleigh community, Melinda thought.
And had to consider the idea.
Chapter 5
Straightening her coat and chattering over her shoulder to her companion, Janice reached the bottom of the stairs and reached out for the door leading out of the history department's imposing building.
"It isn't as simple as it sounds," she said, just as her hand closed over air and she stumbled forward into another body. A pair of arms shifted around her shoulder in startled reaction and she bolted her head up, slamming her crown into someone's chin.
"Ow!" Her hand closed over an arm in a frantic attempt to find her center of balance before they went tumbling onto the concrete steps.
Janice released her grip and threw herself backward as she looked up. She felt big hands - Basil's most likely since he had been right on her heels - close over her shoulders.
"Janice!" Blue eyes raked her from head to toe as she steadied and gathered her wits.
"Mel!" She was positively happy to see the brunette; excited about the news she had to share.
"Miss Pappas." Basil's drier, lightly accented voice rumbled just off her right shoulder.
Melinda's eyes left Janice's and fell on Dr. Cuthridge where she noted his steadying grip remained on the blonde's shoulders. The position irritated her sense of protectiveness toward Janice. Only with a pause for a breath could she speak. "Good afternoon, Dr. Cuthridge."
"Dr. Covington and I were just headed out for a bite."
"I left a note with Bea," Janice interjected. "The secretary upstairs."
Melinda shook her head. "I know who Bea is." Her emotions upset by the circumstances, Melinda winced even as she heard the cutting tone in her voice.
"Would you care to join us?" Cuthridge intervened. Almost hypnotically drawn to it, Melinda watched his left hand slide down to Janice's elbow where he then pulled it away to support the door.
Janice answered for her. "Melinda already has plans for lunch with Mrs. Smith." Melinda thought she heard a note of pleasure in Janice's voice and considered canceling her plans. She clamped down on the impulse but could not avoid the acknowledgement that the notion Janice would not want Melinda along for lunch hurt terribly.
"The president's wife?" Cuthridge clarified with a nod. "You certainly have connections, Miss Pappas."
Melinda drew her gaze back to Cuthridge's brown eyes with barely concealed annoyance. "We're both on the board of the Community kitchen," she responded, feeling oddly detached as she spoke, caught between propriety, her growing annoyance with Janice, and her anxiety of facing this particular man, who had always managed to overset her when she was in his classes. "We have to plan the Thanksgiving dinner."
Janice's hand slipped over Mel's and the brunette absolutely felt her brain shut down as she looked down into upturned and smiling green eyes. "I got the job," Janice said, her face alight with excitement and pleasure.
A spurt of jealousy that she had not been responsible for that pleasure caught Melinda full force in the stomach. She pulled her hand away and looked up at Cuthridge again. Trying not to notice, she still caught the movement of him sliding around Janice, his right hand guiding the blonde through the doorway.
"Nothing's official yet," he said. "I just have to take her through Personnel."
Melinda considered several things to say next, but none of them found their way to her tongue. She wondered if Cuthridge had told Janice about the board's candidate coming on Thursday. Cuthridge was obviously trying to have someone of his own choosing in place before that happened.
But the uncertainty she always felt around this senior, who was so like her father in so many ways with his careful speech and his sharp gaze, and his formidable intellect, kept her silent. Then too, she realized, catching sight of a clock down the hall, she did not really have time to go into it now.
Melinda turned to Janice and said, "I have to get to my meeting. Will I meet you back here later?"
"No. Basil's given me some notes. I'm going back to the house after lunch to begin pouring through them. Looks like a rainstorm will be coming through."
"Perfect reading weather," Cuthridge commented. "I'll see that she arrives safely."
Melinda felt the words spill forth before she could stop them. "Mother will be happy to see us both for dinner," she looked at Janice briefly. Knowing that was far from the truth, she still hoped Cuthridge would understand he should not linger at the house.
Janice's expression was inscrutable, but she straightened quickly. "All right," she said distantly. "Enjoy your lunch," she added, stepping out onto the building's front steps.
Cuthridge remained in the doorway, allowing Melinda inside to catch a last look at Janice before he stepped away, releasing the door. Melinda's reply was automatic. "You too." And then the two were gone, leaving Melinda studying the door as it fell closed.
Damn.
Janice sat in the front seat of Cuthridge's car puzzling over her words with Melinda. It was an outright lie that Mrs. Pappas would enjoy their company at dinner. The woman had made that clear enough from the first meal that she tolerated Janice's presence and the meals were silent and tense. The older woman ate slowly so that Janice and Melinda escaped for their own evening conversations on the porch outside watching the sun set and the first evening stars appear.
Or more frequently Brenda Pappas would indicate that she had an invitation to this or that home in town. She would make it clear that the other two were not invited.
That had not bothered Janice too terribly, her own preference being to avoid as many parties as possible where she would have to deal with more than a handful of people at a time. But the constant tension had Melinda fairly tied up in knots.
So, that brought Janice back to her quandary: why would Melinda lie? She glanced over to Cuthridge. Melinda had looked askance at him frequently. Perhaps she had hoped to speak with Janice alone? Then again, what was Melinda's relationship to Cuthridge?
Janice revisited her conversations with Cuthridge that morning. They had ranged through various topics, addressing subject matter as well as students in Cuthridge's two introductory classes. She realized, beyond his first mention of Mel's name that he had not delved into her as one of his students as the discussion progressed.
"What do you think of Melinda?" she asked, hoping her voice sounded casual.
"She is a very busy young woman," he replied noncommittally.
"She seemed distracted." Janice crossed her arms over her chest as she observed the passing street sights. "I wonder what happened." The brunette's pulling her hand from Janice's came to mind. "She seemed a little angry."
"Perhaps there is some conflict on the board," he suggested. "Hopefully she will be relaxed later when you see her."
Taking a deep breath, she realized that Cuthridge was right. She could ask Mel later. "So, where's lunch?" she changed the subject deftly.
"Donovan's. It's a popular locale for the students." She smiled. It certainly sounded like a less than stuffy place. "Do you drink?" he thought to ask.
Janice nodded. "Worrying that I won't fit in?"
"Just thought I'd ask. We could go somewhere else."
"I've tossed back a few," she responded with an easy laugh. "Lead on."
"Darts?" He asked as he parked and Janice noticed the small sign on the front of a wood-frame building.
"I'm pretty good at aiming," she answered.
"You shoot?" He sounded surprised. She nodded, wondering what his reaction would be. "Very few ladies I know can handle one without flinching."
"Well, I've been in too many dicey situations to flinch much anymore," she answered with plain honesty.
He nodded. "It's been a while since I saw the dangers of a dig. Perhaps I've made the best decision anyway to get out of the classroom."
Janice shrugged. Cuthridge already knew how she felt about his trip plans. "I'll play you for our first round while we wait for our sandwiches."
"You're on."
They found a table near the boards, Cuthridge nodding to a few students who glanced up with surprised expressions.
"Do you come here often?" she thought to ask as they gave their orders and stood up to collect the darts.
"Often enough to keep them on their toes," he replied. Then he gestured toward the line, shuffling the darts in his hands as she sighted along hers, judging the shafts' straightness. "Ladies first."