Chapter Nine – Jolene

"And that's why Dr. Harlow is wrong to be doing these experiments," Linda's father, Dr. Ulysses Gregory said to her mother, Sarah and her. They (or her parents, rather) were dining and discussing Harlow's controversial monkey experiments. Linda blew a curl from her forehead and sighed, stabbing a piece of carrot with her fork in mind numbing boredom.

"I agree with you, dear," Sarah said patiently, eying Linda with a frown. "But what if he really does prove that a mother's love is important in the development of a child's emotional and psychological health?"

"He can find another way to do it. I'm telling you, this experiment will be the death of his career. The field of psychology could do without yet another scandal." Ulysses took a sip of his wine.

"Just be glad you're not a part of it, darling. Linda." Linda looked up from the utterly destroyed carrot coin. "Dear, if you don't want the carrots on your plate, leave them alone. No use in torturing them." Linda blinked, as though she didn't quite understand what she was being told, then looked down at her plate.

"Oh, um…sorry." She pushed the plate away. "I'm not really hungry. May I please be excused?"

"Nervous about meeting Peter, eh?" Ulysses said, patting Linda's hand lovingly. "Don't worry, love. You two are a perfect match."

"That's what you said about Matthew, Father." With a weak smile, Linda stood to her feet. "And Thomas." She walked off toward the stairs. "And Colin, and Jack, and Friedrich and..." her voice trailed off, and there was a slam of a door, along with silence.

"Linda hasn't been herself since she came back," Sarah said after a couple of seconds of silence.

"She's probably tired from all of the work she did this term," Ulysses said as he waved his hand. "I wouldn't worry about it, darling. You know Linda gets overwhelmed easily."

"I don't know. Something isn't right."

"If you want, I'll sit down with her and have a session. I have some time."

"No, that's all right." If it was one thing Linda couldn't stand, it was when Ulysses tried to treat her as one of his patients. It might've put her in an even fouler mood.

"It's her first year at university," Ulysses said. "It's supposed to be an intense time. We just need to let her have some space. She'll come to us when she needs to talk."

"I suppose…"

A tall, bald and rather thin butler walked into the dining room. "Dr. Gregory," he said with a bow. "Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne are in the drawing room with their son, Peter."

"Ah, tell them we'll be along shortly. And have someone fetch Linda from her room." Ulysses smiled at his wife. "This is the one, Sarah. I know Linda will like Peter." Sarah looked back toward the stairs, and with a sigh, she smiled and took her husband's hand, walking with him to the drawing room to greet their guests.

In the dim light of her bedroom, Linda held the piece of worn paper to her chest, sighing deeply to soak in the words on the page. Fate was kind enough to give her a stray poem from Chris's notebook (though he most likely didn't realize it was missing from his collection) and though she wasn't sure who it was addressed to, a part of her wondered exactly who was writing about.

Rolling over to lie on her back, she stared at the dark ceiling, contemplating when the reality of her situation would crash down on her, but she continued to float and drift, her mind seemingly oblivious to the truth. And that was just fine with her.

"If her beauty be that of a rose," Her racing heart was even louder in the silence, beating like a mighty war drum inside her chest. "Then I'll be glad to let my fingers feel the pricks-"

"Ms. Linda," a voice called gently on the other side of the door. "Your parents have requested you come to the drawing room." The loss of the moment resonated within her and she sighed, stuffing the poem under her pillow and getting up to go to the mirror and fluff her blonde curls to look presentable for their guests. Back to being Linda Gregory, she thought to herself as she straightened the bodice of her dress and opened the door to go downstairs...

"We are so pleased to have you here." Peter and his parents sat down together on the couch across from Linda and her parents, looking very uncomfortable with their cups of tea in their hands.

"Thank you for inviting us," Mr. Hawthorne said softly, taking a nervous sip from his cup and pushing his glasses further up his nose. Linda couldn't help but think of the family sitting across from her as an odd group. Mrs. Hawthorne's nose was so large and sharp that her profile closely resembled a crow's beak. Paired with a squinty expression and lips that were pale and thin, she looked as though she was constantly in pain. Her husband was no better; Linda was glad for the lack of sharp light in the room; Mr. Hawthorne's head was so shiny, she was sure that the reflection off of it would blind them all. And that large black mustache...distasteful.

But Peter...

Linda had to admit, he was actually quite pleasant on the eyes; compared to Chris, he was quite...

She sighed and stopped herself mid-thought to study Peter. At that moment, to her surprise, he didn't look like the proud gentleman that her father had praised him to be. In fact, he looked rather meek slightly hunched over with his head down.

"How's the medical world, Peter?" Ulysses asked cheerfully. "Being a doctor must be hard work." Peter didn't answer right away; he seemed to be lost in his tea, a strained expression on his face. Mrs. Hawthorne nudged her son roughly, quickly cleared her throat and put her cup to her lips.

"It's trying," Peter finally answered, smiling shyly.

"Linda's studying mathematics." Pride dripped from every word of Ulysses's statement. "I daresay she's smarter than most of her class." Linda clenched her teeth and suddenly gulped her tea, ignoring the burn of the liquid as it went down her throat. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne didn't look the slightest bit impressed at the declaration. They must've been part of the 'other' group that Chris had pointed out to her a couple of months back when they had their first conversation. She fought back a smile at the memory.

"Peter got accepted into a fellowship program in London," Mrs. Hawthorne's voice squeaked suddenly.

"Is that so? Well, congratulations, Peter!" Ulysses suddenly got to his feet. "We should toast the good news!" He got a bottle of brandy from the wine case and six small goblets. "You know," he said on the way back to them. "You remind me of when I was working on my doctorate, Peter." Opening the bottle, Ulysses splashed some liquid in each glass. "I actually met Linda's mother during that time through our parents." Linda and Peter looked at each other, hoping her exasperation wasn't plainly obvious, but he looked like he was going to faint, swallowing as though he was trying his best to keep his composure.

"It was a match made in heaven, wasn't it, darling?" He asked Sarah.

"Perfect," she replied with a smile.

"I'm telling you, this here is how great couples are made." Ulysses motioned around to everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne said nothing, their eyes sliding over to their son, who was growing increasingly pale with each word spoken. "We parents know what's best for our children, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," Mr. Hawthorne whispered darkly. Peter's head snapped around, pinning his father's knowing stare with a vicious glare that made Linda's hair stand on end. Ulysses seemed oblivious to what was happening and passed the goblets around.

"A toast," he called strongly, swinging his goblet. "To Peter's future. May he ever be successful with the right woman by his side," he finished with a pointed look to Linda, who was clutching her goblet with an iron grip. But a shatter of glass broke into everyone's train of thought; Peter had dropped his goblet and he looked at his shaking hand, hiding it quickly by his side.

"I'm so sorry," Mr. Hawthorne said shakily, shooting Peter a dark look. "Sometimes, Peter gets so nervous…"

"That's all right-" Suddenly, Peter's footsteps were out of the room and storming down the hall, leaving everyone to stare at each other in bewilderment.

"We apologize for his behavior," Mr. Hawthorne's voice sounded strangely annoyed. "He's had a hard year."

"Oh, no need to apologize," Sarah fretted, setting her goblet down. "I just hope he's all right."

"He will be." Mrs. Hawthorne shot her husband a look, which made him tense up and look away.

"Um, I'll get Esther," Linda said quietly, setting her goblet down and walking out before anyone could stop her. She walked down the empty hall and was about to pass her father's study, but stopped. Inside, Peter was clutching his head and panting softly, his back to her. Whatever was going on inside of his head was intense enough to make him shake where he stood.

"Peter?" She called softly, making him jump and spin around to face her.

"Oh, Linda." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry about..." he trailed off, licking his lips.

"No, it's fine." She walked up to him, noticing the sweat on his forehead. "I was just worried about you. Are you all right? You look so pale…"

"I will be." Peter attempted a smile, some color going back into his cheeks. With a curt nod, he walked past her, but the soft mutter of his voice didn't escape her ears: "Someday."

The Christmas Eve party was in full swing. The music played loudly as friends, business partners and acquaintances of Linda's parents wandered all around the large mansion, laughing and feasting on the various plates of food and drink that were totted around by the butlers. Ulysses had said the party wasn't appropriate for a young lady to be attending, so Linda was instructed to remain in her room for the rest of the night.

But out of boredom, she managed to sneak downstairs unseen and she sat in the corner chair in her father's study, reading from a book of Robert Burns poetry that she found in the library next to her bedroom. Chris had read Burns's poetry to her many times after tutoring sessions, making sense of the archaic language and giving new life to the words on the page. Even then, as she read silently, she could hear the purr of Chris's voice as if he was speaking right into her ear. A shiver ran through her body at the thought.

"I thought young ladies weren't allowed to this party," a voice said by the door and she looked up to see Peter standing there, his eyes on the book in her lap.

"I was bored up in my room. Thought I would come down and do some reading."

"Reading for fun? Is that even possible?" Peter asked, strolling into the room to sit on the couch across from Linda's chair. He smiled gently, the dimples in his cheeks making him look so much more like a boy than a man. He looked as though he had recovered from his breakdown from the day before.

"I suppose so." She shrugged lazily. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"I'm not interested in Christmas." Peter leaned back. "It's a horrid holiday, in my opinion."

"Well, aren't you just jolly," she said flatly. He smiled at her jab.

"What were you reading?"

"Robert Burns, an old Scottish poet."

"Ah. I thought you were in mathematics."

"I am. I tutored an English major for a bit, and he used to read poetry to me after our sessions. I think it was his way of recovering from the mental abuse I evoked on him." Peter chuckled.

"Gave him a run for his money, did you?"

"He wanted help, so I gave it to him. Good thing I helped him, too; he was bloody awful." A deep chuckle of amusement came from Peter's lips.

"So, this English major..."

"Chris." His name made her heart skip a beat.

"Chris." Peter corrected. "Is he a friend of yours?" She paused.

"Used to be," she finally answered. "Until he got the wrong idea about our relationship and I had to tell him to leave me alone."

"I see," Peter mused, looking very thoughtful. "Why would he get the wrong idea?"

"He really liked me. I suppose that I wasn't exactly...put off by his attention." Linda felt a blush creep up on her cheeks, but Peter didn't look the slightest bit put off by her confession. If anything, he looked more thoughtful. "But I told him the reason I couldn't pursue anything with him."

"Your parents?" She nodded once. "Yes, I suppose that would put a damper on things...Let's just say," he said suddenly, sitting up straighter. "That you had the freedom to accept him…why him?" He leaned forward, as if he was very interested in her answer. Clearing her throat, she shrugged.

"To be quite honest, I don't know. He drives me crazy." In more ways than one, she finished in her mind. "He's wise beyond his years, but he's moody and somewhat arrogant. I daresay he's overconfident in himself to a fault."

Peter smiled. "But there's something about him that you like as well, am I right?" She scoffed and smiled.

"He's passionate. It can be quite a trial to talk to him at times. You think he's quiet at first, but he actually has a lot to say. He's also a blazing romantic, knows exactly what to say to make a girl swoon."

"He has a rare gift most men don't have. He sounds like a very complex and unique individual."

"I've never met anyone like him." Linda's smile grew bigger. "I don't look at life the same anymore. I can't, he's ruined certain elements of it for me."

"In other words, he inspires you."

"In every way," Linda murmured. Peter leaned back on the couch, his hand to his mouth in deep thought.

"It's rare to find someone that you're so compatible with and that you like so much. Isn't it frustrating when you want so bad to return the feelings, but you know you can't?" She stared at him, not expecting the sudden turn of the conversation.

"Extremely," she agreed slowly.

"But you know, Linda," Peter placed his elbows on his knees and took a breath. "Life is about risks, and sometimes the biggest risks of all have some of the greatest rewards attached."

"Our parents don't believe in risks," she said plainly, not really sure of how to respond to the deep statement.

"I know. Believe me, I know…" he swallowed. "But I know exactly how you feel, Linda. I also had my own 'Chris'." Linda blinked in surprise. "Her name was Jolene. She was an art major. Could paint landscapes with her eyes closed, paint people after looking at them once. I remember seeing her for the first time in the art studio," Peter smiled, his expression seeming to brighten at the memory. "She had green paint in her hair, and her clothes looked like the palette had gotten sick and thrown up on her, but she still looked gorgeous. I felt like I made this connection with her that I would never make with anyone else. It didn't take long for us to fall madly in love."

"We dated in secret for about 6 months," he continued. "And when summer holidays came, I told my parents about her. They tried to change my mind by setting me up with all sorts of women, but I wouldn't budge; I wanted Jolene. I thought I was going to go back to uni after the holiday, but..." a look of both seething anger and utter devastation settled onto his face. "My father went behind my back and demanded the university give my records over and I got transferred to a college in Ireland." Linda's heart dropped at Peter's shaky sigh.

"But the time I graduated," his voice dropped in volume with each word. "I went to find Jolene, but she had already married someone else." The last whisper was so quiet, Linda had to basically stop breathing to hear him. She felt her eyes burn with tears. Peter's voice was so raw, so heavy with regret and pain.

"I have never forgiven myself for that. If I had just stayed quiet, Jolene and I probably could've stayed together." He held up his trembling hand to look at it, scoffing. "Every time I think that my wounds have finally healed…I find I'm still bleeding." He laughed bitterly, dropping his hand to his lap. "It hurts my mother that my father and I will never be on good terms again because of what happened, but that's life, I suppose." Linda swallowed.

"I'm sure Jolene still loves you."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Another man has her heart, and I…well, I'm sure I won't be getting married any time soon. Take my advice, Linda: If in the end, you decide to pursue a relationship with Chris, whatever you do, don't tell your parents." He looked at her with the most serious expression. "You can't," he said firmly. "If you do, you will lose him."

"I fear I already have," Linda whispered. "He has a girlfriend. I saw them together before we left for holiday."

"That could change."

"I doubt that."

"If he's as passionate as you say he is, he won't forget you so easily." Peter stood to his feet. "My chance has come and gone at love, but please...don't throw away yours, Linda." She nodded.

"I won't…if he ever comes back around, that is."

"He will. Trust me." With those last words, Peter left and Linda wiped at her eyes, the tale of Jolene haunting her enough to abandon the study and retreat to her room.