"Here's to mischief making, naughty – men"
Professor Everett busied himself with opening the wine bottle while Nanny brought the salad plates to the table and lit the candles. It took her two strikes of the match before the match lit, and the Professor noted her hand shook slightly as she held the flame to each wick. He found her nervousness calmed his own nerves a bit, reassuring him that he wasn't alone in his keep awareness of the novelty of the situation they were sharing. As she started to seat herself, he stopped what he was doing and moved to the back of her chair.
"Allow me," the Professor said gallantly holding her chair out for her.
"Thank you, Professor," Nanny said. "But I will be up and down all evening serving the dinner, and you might find you gesture, however much appreciated, to be very tiring for you."
The Professor laughed. "Point taken." He returned to finishing opening the wine. "Well, as long as you realize the intention is there. Voila!" The cork came free of the bottle and he poured a small amount of burgundy liquid into Nanny's glass. "For you approval, Miss Figalilly."
Nanny sipped at the wine, then gave the Professor a bright smile. "Excellent. A wonderful choice, if I do say so myself."
The Professor smiled back then filled both of their glasses. "Nanny," he asked, "is there anything you don't know?"
Her smile turned demure, almost shy. "There are many things, many people I wish I knew more about."
"Really?" The Professor asked as he seated himself. "Like what? Like who?"
"Oh, any number of…" she stopped herself, considering. "Like you, for instance, Professor."
"Like me?" he paused, his fork half-way between his plate and his mouth. "What could you possibly want to know about me that you don't already know? Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do myself."
He winked at her, teasing her, but he was curious too. What did she want to know about him?
Nanny set her fork down and looking at him intently took another sip of wine. Her eyes sparkled in the low light. "What I meant was… have you enjoyed being acting department head? And how was the department's function this evening?"
That was not what she meant, and both she and the Professor knew it. He sensed there was something more on her mind, just as there was more on his, but neither was going to be the first to broach the topic…yet.
"Well," he decided to answer the easier of the two questions first. "Tonight was the same tedious going away party we've had for the departing faculty for years. Same finger food, same punch, same conversation." The Professor rolled his eyes. "If it wasn't for Don Stinson getting drunk and my having to take him home, I'd still be there smiling until my face hurt."
"Sounds like a real disaster in the making," Nanny laughed, rising from her chair and removing the salad plates from the table.
"And I've found I can't wait for Fairbanks' return," he said. "Burst appendix or not, if I have to conduct one more faculty meeting with a staff more immature than the students…"
He broke off as Nanny returned with the main course. A broad smile spread across the Professor's handsome face.
"Oh, Nanny," he said enthusiastically. "That looks and smells just wonderful! I have been looking forward to this all day. I could just kiss you for…"
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The casual phrase seemed to hang in the air between them as Nanny paused in the act of putting his plate in front of him.
But true to form, Nanny recovered quickly and smiled through the awkward moment.
"No need for such drastic action," she told him. "A simple 'Thank you' will do."
The Professor decided to turn his accidental comment to his advantage. Looking her in the eye and grinning, he said, "Well, that all depends on what you've prepared for dessert."
By her startled look, he knew he had taken the right chance.
XXXXXXXXX
The coq co vin was delicious, restaurant quality really, and the Professor told Nanny so. Dinner conversation was familiar, ranging from the usual topics of the Professor's office politics, to the washer needing repair, to the weather. The day had been unseasonably warm and humid, with short rain showers in the late morning and the late afternoon. They were both concerned that the boys would remain warm, dry and safe.
"Conrad Wagner is an excellent scoutmaster," the Professor told Nanny. "His father was actually my scoutmaster when I was a boy. In fact, I remember one trip where all three of us – Bob, Ben and I – were determined to create as much havoc as possible so when we got to the campsite we split up and took…"
He broke off, noticing Nanny listening to him carefully and looking at him with affection. Her half-smile was warm and contagious.
The Professor smiled back and covered her hand with his. "I talk too much, don't I? About myself I mean. What I've really wanted to say all evening is there are also things I want to know about you."
"Really?" Nanny echoed his earlier inquiry. "Like what?"
"Like who you really are. What you did before you came here." The Professor shifted in his chair looking earnestly into her eyes and unconsciously tightening his hand over Nanny's. "I know so little about you. Where do you come from? Where do you want to go?"
He wasn't certain why he asked that last question or what he meant by it, exactly. All he knew at the moment was he had the opportunity here and now to finally ask this lovely woman some direct questions and was going to try his best to get some direct answers.
"Professor," Nanny started to stand. "I think we can continue this conversation over coffee and brandy – and dessert – in the living room in front of that beautiful fire you planned."
The Professor released her hand. "You're being evasive," he began defensively. Then he frowned. "How did you know I planned to set a fire in the fireplace this evening?"
"It's only logical," Nanny replied innocently, "to ward off the chill and the impending damp. It is raining, you know."
A clap of thunder accompanied her statement and the Professor resisted uttering an annoyed growl. He should be used to her weather predicting accuracy by now, even when the channel three weatherman didn't confirm it.
"I'll help clear the table," he began.
"No, no Professor," Nanny picked up their plates and blew out the candles. "You set that lovely fire and I'll bring in the tray." As he departed for the living room she stopped him by saying, "And some soft music would be very relaxing."
"You knew about that, too?" The Professor didn't know whether to be annoyed or delighted. If she could intuit his plans for the fire and the music, would she object to a slow dance or two?
XXXXXXXXX
As the Professor started the fire in the fireplace, he noticed the brandy decanter and two glasses on a low table next to the loveseat he had moved. When had that happened? He had moved the seat before going upstairs to change, and would have noticed the brandy and the glasses then, wouldn't he? And Nanny had been upstairs with Prudence the entire time he had been upstairs changing, and she had come down the stairs with him. The Professor stared so long at the gleaming brandy decanter and glasses he almost burned himself on the lit fireplace match. Then shaking his head in confusion, he started the fire, watching it catch until it created a warm glow.
Moving to the phonograph, the Professor noted Nanny had been right about the encroaching chill. The fire would be both mood-setting and practical. Mood setting? As the Professor had cautioned Butch this morning, he asked himself now: was he thinking before acting? Or was he just enthusiastically grabbing at an opportunity and not too terribly concerned or conscious of any consequences? He honestly didn't know.
All the Professor did know was spending time alone with Nanny was what he wanted to do right now, and that all of his actions felt right to him. He wasn't absolutely certain if she and he were on the same page as far as where those actions might lead them, but he was determined to take those steps anyway. She certainly hadn't objected to any of his suggestions so far, but he had to admit, nothing had gone further than the most innocent of social gestures. Even his hint of kissing her in gratitude for the dinner seemed more amusing than challenging to her, although he had managed to startle her twice in two days.
"Dear Diary," the Professor joked to himself, "today I startled Nanny – again."
Another clap of thunder called the Professor's attention to the window as lightening lit the room. The illumination showed rain was beating against the windows now, coming down in sheets. He looked towards the stairs, hoping the thunder and lightening wouldn't wake Prudence.
"She's sound asleep, Professor," Nanny said as she came into the living room bearing a tray with coffee and dessert. "And Prudence never wakes during thunderstorms."
"I certainly hope not," the Professor said mildly. Not wanting his daughter's sleep disturbed was not his only concern this evening. He may not be one hundred percent sure of what he wanted the evening's outcome to be, but he was certain he didn't want any interruptions tonight.
Nanny straightened from where she had been preparing their coffee and looked at the Professor from across the room. She stood very still, and their eyes met, although shadows fell across both of their faces. The Professor was struck again by how beautiful she was, almost ethereal in the firelight, a vision or specter instead of a flesh and blood woman.
"I'm real," Nanny spoke so softly that the Professor wasn't certain if he had heard her.
Instead of responding, he occupied himself with the stereo. The smooth beginning strains of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" came from the phonograph speakers and Harold Everett grinned.
"In honor of Butch's four a.m. breakfast making fiasco," he said, lightening the moment.
Nanny smiled and handed the Professor his coffee. As he reached for the cup, he noticed two slices of fudge cake sitting on china plates on the tray.
"You did make my favorite dessert!" the Professor said, excitedly. "Well, I don't know why I should be surprised. Nanny, you do think of everything. Were you ever a Girl Scout?"
"Girl Guide, Professor," she corrected. "And yes, I was. I do believe in being prepared. Is this more of your attempt at getting to know me better?
"Could be. But there are probably more direct methods. I never did get those references, but then, you never did poison me either." He reached for his cake and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Then he took a large bite.
"Hmmm. Delicious," the Professor rolled his eyes in comically exaggerated appreciation.
Nanny laughed, "You certainly do live dangerously, Professor," she said and stirred her coffee.
"Do I?" the Professor leaned closer to Nanny on the loveseat, his grin and the look in his eyes mischievous. For a moment, Nanny was reminded of Butch's trouble-making streak and the look he would get in his eyes when making up one of his schemes.
"Yes," she answered, chuckling. "And now you look like a naughty little boy with a plan for getting into trouble."
Nanny watched as the Professor's eyes turned dark and his smile faded. Something in his intense expression sobered her, and she found she couldn't look away from his eyes.
"I can't say I feel much like a boy right now," he told her, one corner of his mouth tugging towards a grin again. "But I do feel like making some mischief." He reached past Nanny for the brandy decanter and filled a glass for each of them. As he did so, the Professor brushed close to her, and she could smell the clean, woodsy scent of his aftershave. He handed her the small glass, then touched his glass to hers in a toast.
"Here's to mischief making, naughty – men," he said in a low voice.
Nanny tasted the brandy, feeling the slight burn of the amber liquid as it warmed her throat. But the continuing, spreading warmth she felt was not because of the alcohol, but due to the Professor's deep, rolling tenor. His low voice often produced a reaction inside of her, a melting feeling as if he were whispering directly into her ear instead of seated a foot or two away. And that warmth produced a flush she couldn't control. Nanny knew the Professor was observing her reaction to his words and his tone, and she damned her fair complexion for giving her away.
"You're blushing," he whispered, almost surprised he could elicit that response from her.
"I'm not used to brandy," Nanny tried to explain." And it is warm here by the fire."
"Then let's get up and dance," the Professor stood up and reached for Nanny's hand. "We should get in some practice before dancing in public tomorrow night." He grinned at her again. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you by stepping all over your feet."
XXXXXXXXX
Thunder rumbled and rain beat on the windows, but the noise didn't drown out the soft music coming from the stereo. Periodic lightening flashes and flickering firelight created shifting light and shadow on the floor, walls and ceiling, but those interesting patterns when unnoticed by the couple dancing in slow circles on the living room floor.
"It must be getting very late," Nanny murmured, her cheek resting against Harold Everett's shoulder. She felt, more than heard, his answering "hmmm" as a vibration through his chest. Neither made a move to part, instead the arm around Nanny's waist seemed to tighten and pull her closer. She sighed, not exactly in resignation, and let her eyes slip closed again. Since the Professor had taken her into his arms, she had been drifting in and out of what seemed to be a dream state. One song after another blended together and as they continued to dance, Nanny felt herself melting deeper and deeper into his embrace.
"I love dancing with you," the Professor seemed to whisper, his voice soft and low so close to her ear. "You have such presence in this home, such a strong and powerful spirit, that I forget how tiny you really are." He pressed his cheek against her soft hair and held her hand a little tighter. "Our size difference should make dancing difficult," he turned her in a graceful half circle,"but here we are, a perfect fit." Moving his lips against her temple he whispered, "That doesn't make sense."
Nanny laughed lightly. "Some of the nicest things – the biggest surprises in life in fact – don't make sense. They should just be accepted and enjoyed."
"True," the Professor agreed, "so true." Then he matched his movements to the increased tempo of the music, swinging Nanny effortlessly. He heard her breath catch in her throat, but she kept up beautifully, settling into the new rhythm he'd set.
"I've heard it said,"Nanny began, looking up into the Professor's eyes, "that music and dancing are the oldest forms of social communication."
"Which one of your relatives said that?" the Professor asked, smiling down at her. "I'm guessing it was Aunt Agatha."
Nanny was surprised. "How did you know that?" she asked.
"She seemed the most 'social' of all of your relatives," he told her. "And she's correct." The Professor bent his head to whisper directly into her ear. "There is a clarity to our communicating when we're dancing – finding the right words can be so hard."
Nanny shivered, both from the warm breath in her ear and the impact of his words. "Most communication is non-verbal, maybe that's why dancing was invented." She caught the Professor's eye again. "It is a wonderful social lubricant."
He grinned at her again. "If that's so, why are you in lecture mode Professor Figalilly?"
"Are you saying I talk too much?" Nanny asked him teasingly.
"Only when holding you in my arms answers more of my questions than all of your evasive, indirect verbal answers combined," then he softened his works by gently saying in her ear, "And right now I'd say we were communicating beautifully."
The music changed again. Mellow, harmonic male voices began singing, "When I Fall in Love". The couple fell silent, continuing to move across the floor, but listening to the song's tender lyrics.
"When I fall in love
It will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love"
The Professor slowly moved his hand in a light caress against Nanny's back. He was reminded again of how small she was and how his large hands could easily span her waist. He knew he was unconsciously trying to communicate to her through the music and the words of the song. He was falling in love with her, and perhaps had already fallen in love with her completely. It was true all they had shared was some harmless flirtation and this one romantic evening. Still, they had lived together for over two years in his home, sharing a harmony that had eluded him during his marriage. And despite the social distance that was required between them as employer and employee, tonight those barriers easily and totally shattered.
Nanny made a soft sound, and shivered in his arms. He didn't believe she was cold, but he held her more closely anyway, enveloping her hand in his and bringing it to his chest. Were her feelings for him anything like what he was feeling for her? For all her knew she was still engaged to be married. She could still be subject to a wanderlust that could take her from him and from his family at any moment.
"And the moment that I feel that
You feel that way too
Is when I'll fall in love with you"
The music ended and Nanny raised her face to look at him. Her eyes were wide, luminous and a clear, deep blue. She gave him a gentle smile and her lips parted, looking soft and moist in the firelight. Thunder rumbled again as if reminding the Professor there were some forces of nature that couldn't be resisted. He bent his head and kissed her.
He wanted his kiss to be gentle, tentative, even hesitant, giving her plenty of time to pull away or resist or even return the kiss softly. But the moment their lips touched, his mouth became hungry for hers, pressing and opening her lips under his, stealing his breath and capturing hers.
The instant the Professor realized he was clutching Nanny and crushing her mouth in a bruising kiss he loosened his hold on her and prepared to apologize. Then his contriteness
turned to amazement as he realized she was passionately returning his kiss. Her arms wound tight around his neck and her hot, open mouth under his was as welcome as it was surprising. He held her impossibly close once again, matching her desire with his own urgency.
The Professor dimly heard the cuckoo clock in the hall. It hadn't sounded past eight o'clock in the evening for years, yet now, on this midnight, at this moment, the sound of the clock entered their new and fragile little world. And as if the clock had the power to break this spell of passion and intimacy around them, he felt Nanny's arms slip from around his neck and her mouth pull away from his. For a moment she looked at him dazed and bright-eyed, her lips swollen from his kisses and still parted enticingly. Then she broke away from him, and like Cinderella, ran up the stairs before the clock completed its midnight call.
