That confused me. “How can you say that, Evangeline? My father dedicated his life to my mother, to finding a cure for her alcoholism. His love for her was overwhelming.”
Evangeline cocked her head and her mouth formed a slight bitter smile. “For Thad I fear it was not so much love as penance.”
“Penance?”
She rose. “Wait a minute, there’s something I want to show you.”
She left me on her patio with the sun warming the blossoms around me.
When she returned, Evangeline held a framed photograph in her hand. “Thad made me swear never to tell you this, but I think it’s important you understand how he really felt.” Evangeline ran her fingers over her hair and took a deep breath. Then she handed me the photograph of three people standing under a tree. A young Evangeline next to a young and very handsome Thaddeus Solaris and a beautiful blond woman I had never seen before.
Evangeline put her hand over mine. “Before he got his doctorate, your father was deeply in love with another grad student at his university. She was a gorgeous Ph.D. candidate in Literature, and they were planning to get teaching jobs at the same university. I always hoped they would marry.”
I stared at the photo. The woman next to my father with her arm around his waist was stunning. But it was the expression on my father’s face that shocked me the most. I had never seen such joy in his eyes and his smile.
“What happened to her?”
Evangeline sighed and sat back in her chair. “One evening Thad and his beloved quarreled and she broke up their relationship. In despair, your father went to a bar, where he encountered Emily. They got drunk together and she invited him to her home. Their one-night stand left her pregnant with you.”
So, I was not the only woman in my family to get pregnant by accident and outside of marriage.
I was astonished to learn my mother had not been the love of my father’s life. “I never knew he had loved another woman.”
“No, you didn’t, but I did. She was terrific and just right for your father. However, despite my pleas and my frequently spoken misgivings, your father insisted upon doing the decent thing. Thad never tried to reconcile with his one true love. He married Emily.”
“I always thought he worshipped my mother. Drunk or sober.”
Evangeline looked grim. “I assure you he never worshipped your mother. He felt obligated to care for her. He seemed convinced her drinking was caused by their required marriage. After you were born, you became the light of his life. He adored you. You centered him, Meredith. You gave him hope even during his darkest times with Emily.”
How about that? Here I had thought for years that, when it came to my father’s love, I came in second. And then, just as I had with Sadie, I burst into tears. I wept not only for myself but also for my father, who had given up his happiness to raise me and take care of my dreadful mother.
My aunt was a good listener. I told her I was pregnant and talked nonstop for an hour, finally getting to the core of my anguish. “I’m not sure I will know how to be a good mother. Mine didn’t set a very good example.”
“No, she didn’t. I sometimes wished I had found a way to make friends with your mother, but I loathed her drinking and her selfishness. If I hadn’t disliked her so much, I could have spent more time with you. You were such a sweet, bright little girl, and it was clear you were lonely. Even your father couldn’t make up for those hours when he was working and away.”
“I worry I won’t be any good at raising a child.”
That brought a smile back to her face. “Don’t worry, Meredith. You are a strong, intelligent, rather remarkable woman. You’ll be a great mother. Now tell me more about the man responsible for this happy event.”
So I told her about Joe and how he was smart and kind and good-looking and brave. But I left out the part about wondering how he would take the news of the baby and whether or not he would stick around.
Evangeline invited me to stay the night, but I knew I had to get back to school, and I wanted to be there for Rosie if she needed me. I drove back over the mountains just as the sun was setting and the late spring dusk was silhouetting the trees against the sky.
When I entered my empty house, my mood had shifted and I found myself experiencing an unexpected sense of optimism. Sadie and Evangeline were wise women and they were both right. I was going to be fine. With or without Joe, I would get through this pregnancy. My father had once said, “Never be afraid to do what you truly want to do. Plant your garden, write your book, take your trip, have your child.”
I could almost hear his voice in my mind until a short sharp bark intruded. Charlie was hungry and I was late.
I filled his bowls and made myself a sandwich and a glass of milk. “No more red wine for me. Not for months.” Charlie pretended attentiveness.
After supper, I went to my home computer to tackle what I figured was a day’s worth of unanswered emails. Several complaints about Boerum’s appearance, plus a few about the deans’ meeting work. Just as I was about to put the screen to sleep, a final email popped up. It was from Rosie Jenkins. I read it, then read it again:
“Red, I interviewed Danica Boerum over the phone this afternoon. Tomorrow I’ll send a draft for you to look at. She was very formal with me and not especially open or articulate, so I tried something to shake her up a bit at the end. I asked her if she had ever lived in LA and she said, ‘No, why do you ask?’ I said she reminded me of a woman with long black hair I had known in my old neighborhood a few years ago, and I wondered if she had a relative there. She hung up on me. I don’t know what that means, but I guess I said something pretty stupid.”
I sat back in my chair and felt my earlier optimism drain away. Oh, Rosie, you sure did say something stupid. You effectively asked a dangerous woman if she was related to a sex trafficker.
Chapter 9
Nell was waiting in my office the next morning, excited about finally finding a place to hold her wedding. So absorbed in her good news she didn’t even ask how I was feeling or how things had gone at my doctor’s appointment.
“It’s just beautiful, Red. And the courtyard will be wonderful in October with all the maples in orange and red.”
October. When the baby was likely due. But Joe still didn’t know and it was too soon to tell Nell or any friends other than my dear wise women. Wait until the end of the first trimester before you tell the world, Helen had advised. Just to be sure.
I told Nell I was happy she had found her wedding site. She held a folder out to me. “Remember, you’re meeting with the Faculty Senate at ten. Here’s the report you wanted me to type up.”
I took the folder. “You haven’t seen Rosie Jenkins around here, have you?”
“No. Were you expecting her?”
“She emailed me last night. I emailed back and called her once last night and again this morning. No luck.”
I thumbed through the folder, checked my messages and tried to focus on my report to the Senate. Each semester it was the custom of the Senate to invite the dean of each of the colleges to attend a meeting and give a progress report on the activities and coming events the college planned.
My thoughts kept drifting back to Rosie. I left my desk and went into Nell’s office. “While I’m at the Senate meeting, could you please see if you can track Rosie down? I really need to talk to her as soon as possible.”
The Mountain West Faculty Senate met in a large conference room on the third floor of the library. Through the tall windows overlooking the campus, I could see the snow still on the tops of the Sierra against a bright cloudless sky.
Shelby Vane, a friend and ally, had recently been elected Chair of the Senate. He lumbered into view as I entered the conference room and stared at the scene outside. Shelby’s rumpled features formed a warm smile and his big arms went around me for a hug. “Ah, Queen Red, my favorite dean,”
he murmured into my ear. “So good to see you.”
I kissed his cheek and returned the hug. “How’s life at the top of the Senate?”
“Bureaucratic,” he said leading me farther into the room. “When it’s not hopelessly political.” Shelby and I had served on a quarrelsome committee last year formed to improve the university’s procedures for sexual assault. He had also helped Joe, Wynan and me search for a missing student. I had grown fond of him.
He escorted me to a seat at an enormous round table. Thirty faculty senators either stood chatting or sat reading notes around the circular mahogany table that had a hole in the middle making it into an enormous “O.” Inside the circle was a smaller round table holding audiovisual equipment. The table shape, resembling those used for diplomatic conferences, had been designed for the Senate and was intended to make sure no one senator seemed more important than any other.
I waited patiently through ten minutes of Senate business, and then Shelby introduced me. I stood with notes in hand, but it was only a second or two before it became clear the Mountain West senators were not the least bit interested in the doings of the journalism school. Danica Boerum was on the minds of all in the room.
Shelby recognized a senator from Economics, no doubt a pal of Bridget’s. “So, Dr. Solaris, we hear you are in favor of a white supremacist bigot speaking on this campus. We appreciate journalism’s defense of free speech. God knows we need it in our classrooms. But really, Danica Boerum? Isn’t that going too far?”
I put down my notes and adopted my most patient and conciliatory tone. My questioner was known as a provocateur. “I’m not in favor of her opinions. I’m just not opposed to allowing her to speak. What I’m in favor of is the First Amendment.”
Another senator rose, reading from a document, “Have you read the Purist manifesto? Listen to this: ‘Article One: We believe that the United States originated under European civilization and that the American people and government should remain European. We adamantly oppose the immigration of non-European and non-Western peoples, enforced if necessary by placing troops on our national borders. We believe that non-Europeans already in America should be encouraged to return to their own countries…’” He looked up from the document. “Need I go on?”
Shelby interrupted, “Tom, I think we are all well aware of the Purist beliefs.”
Undeterred, the senator flipped to another page of the document. “How about this then? ‘Article Twelve: We also oppose all efforts to mix the races’…or ‘Article Fifteen: We oppose the destruction of the American family through toleration of interracial marriage and homosexuality…’” The man’s face was turning purple. “Those are fighting words and should be banned from this campus.”
Shelby interrupted again, “Tom, we invited the Dean of Journalism here to speak to us about her school. Are we going to let her talk?”
The man sat down, still huffing as if he had climbed three flights of stairs.
“Not if she supports that garbage,” said a woman sitting next to him.
I took a breath and began, “I don’t support any of the Purist philosophy, nor am I the least bit happy about Boerum’s impending appearance and the publicity it seems to have generated.”
The room quieted down but murmuring continued.
“Senators, this is a university. We believe in freedom of expression. We debate ideas here. We cherish our ability and our willingness to disagree. We encourage our students to examine ideas and theories that make them uncomfortable.”
The murmuring came to a stop and then started again.
An older senator from across the room spoke up. “What if the ideas make them more than uncomfortable? What if the ideas dredge up painful memories from someone’s childhood?” I thought about my friend, Phyllis Baker, whom I had not spoken to since our encounter in the elevator.
A young female senator chimed in, “What if the ideas make them feel diminished or hurt and angry?”
I took a deep breath. “I grant you, there are a number of ideas that make me very angry. But I’m not sure suppressing them, much less pretending they don’t exist, is the way to go. Our students need to examine even the most hateful ideas while they are here in our classrooms, where it’s safe to examine and argue about them. We do them no favors when we send them into a world of cruel and stupid ideas they have never encountered. They need to be armed with information and critical analytic abilities.”
An African-American woman sitting next to Shelby raised her hand. Her nameplate identified her as Dr. Thea Gray, Vice Chairman of the Senate. “I think Dean Solaris is right. We should give our students more credit. They are stronger than we may think. We’re worrying—I know I have been worrying—too much about the effect Boerum’s speech might have on our community.”
“Perhaps the major effect it will have is to bring us closer together,” said a senator near me.
Dr. Gray again, “Even if it doesn’t, Boerum’s dogmatism may give us an opportunity to teach a pertinent lesson about the value of diversity and the true events of American history.”
“Yes, we can put some focus on those nasty quarrels between the Founding Fathers,” said a history professor nearby.
But the woman next to the economics senator would not be quieted. “Teaching moments be damned. I still think we should have a motion to request the president ban Boerum’s appearance on campus. Let them listen to her somewhere else.”
“So moved.”
This called for a vote.
“I think we should do this by secret ballot,” said the economics professor.
That chewed up another half hour. In the end, the motion did not carry, and after a little grumbling, Shelby said, “Are we now ready to listen to the dean’s report on the School of Journalism? She’s been waiting patiently for over an hour.”
After my report, the senate recessed for ten minutes. Shelby headed over as I was leaving. Another hug. He whispered in my ear, “Nice work, lady. That vote might have been much closer without you here. In my opinion, the Red Queen rules.”
Nell was waiting for me in the hallway outside the Senate conference room. Her face was ashen and her hands were clenched against her chest. “Oh, Red, I’m afraid I have bad news. Rosie’s in the hospital.”
“What? Why?”
“She was shot last night. She’s barely alive and they don’t know if she’ll recover.”
Nell held out my car keys. I grabbed them and raced out of the building to the journalism parking lot. I drove like a madwoman to the Landry hospital.
I made it to the hospital in ten minutes, parked illegally and raced through the double doors. I was frantic with worry and the nurse at the emergency desk was much too calm. “Are you a relative?” she said quietly after I had almost shouted Rosie’s name.
“I’m her guardian,” I lied.
“One moment,” said the nurse in her infuriatingly even tones. She reached for her telephone and took forever to punch in three numbers. “I’ll call the doctor.”
I paced the floor until a thin woman in green scrubs appeared in the waiting room. “Dr. Solaris?”
“Is Rosie Jenkins alive?”
“Yes. But she’s critical. She was beaten and shot twice in the abdomen.”
“Will she live?”
“We’ve removed the bullets and her major organs seem to be intact, but she’s still critical. She lost a lot of blood and her ribs are badly bruised. We’ll know more in a few hours.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”
I sat on a worn couch in the general waiting room and wept. When I could catch my breath, I called Joe from my cell. It went to voicemail. No chance I could reach him soon.
I called one of the members of Joe’s detective squad and asked what had happened to Rosie Jenkins. I was put through to a friend on Joe’s team,
Detective Norman O’Hare.
“Sorry about your student, Red. All we know so far is that Rosie Jenkins was found in the parking lot of her apartment house early this morning around five o’clock. Two other tenants reported hearing shots and went down to see what was up. When they found Jenkins, they called us. But she was unconscious when we got there. It was still dark at that hour and no one saw anything.”
“Did any of your people check out her apartment?”
“Yes. It was in shambles. Furniture knocked over, broken glass. There was certainly a fight. Our guess now is that someone broke in on her. It looks like she fought back but they beat her up. Then she either ran to the parking lot or was taken there by her attacker and shot. But that’s all we know now. We’re still investigating.”
I told O’Hare about Rosie’s email message to me the night before.
There was silence on the other end for a moment. “We don’t know much about Danica Boerum’s past. But we do know those around her are a rough bunch. If your friend’s questioning alarmed Boerum in any way, that might explain what happened last night. But Red, shooting a young woman because you didn’t like an interview question? I doubt it. That seems pretty extreme to me. I’m checking out other possibilities.”
“Can you check Boerum’s people out?”
“We can. But there’s something else we both have to consider. Before she came to the university, Rosie Jenkins was a juvenile prostitute for two years then was rescued and sent to rehab.”
“I know all about that. What’s the relevance?”
Norm coughed. “Last night could have been a guy from her past who’s pissed off because she left him. May not have had anything to do with Boerum.”
Norm’s resistance irritated me. “Rosie’s been away from that life for six years. The timing would seem to suggest a more recent event, like her interview with Boerum.”
“I’ll do what I can, Red. But no one saw anything last night and unless Rosie can identify her attacker, we have nothing to go on right now.”
Red Solaris Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 53
