Everything in Between

by Hubbard, Crystal

  She assigned another student to read from Narka, but she didn’t hear a word of it. The students discussed the work, Zae only half listening. She heard herself reviewing the evening’s assignment and answering questions, but Chip and his note occupied her mind. At 11 a.m. she dismissed the class, and in the same breath demanded to see Chip in her office.

  Chip had scarcely closed the door behind him when Zae whirled on him, pitching the apple at his chest. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Laughing, Chip neatly snatched the apple from the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I couldn’t help myself.” He approached her desk, a mahogany monolith more suited to the Oval Office than the tiny, top-floor corner housing the chair of Missouri University’s English department.

  “Well, you’d better help yourself,” Zae warned.

  “Okay.” Chip rounded her cluttered desk and took her in his arms. Zae planted her hands on his chest and pushed him. He landed on her desktop, sending layers of papers flying.

  “I meant you better control yourself,” she explained. “There are strict rules governing the fraternization between faculty and students.”

  “You’re the second person to tell me that,” Chip said, righting himself. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Last fall, a professor who is no longer employed here, or anywhere else, was caught having an affair with a woman in his economics class,” Zae said. “It resulted in a grading scandal the school is still trying to live down.” She sat in her chair, a wide wingchair with bold brass tacks and a high, ornate back. The apple Chip gave her sat in the center of her desk, like a paperweight.

  “You were kind of hard on your last-minute registrants,” Chip remarked.

  “I have one hundred and fifty students in my Comp II class alone.” She held up her hands. “I’ve only got two of these. I can’t hold three hundred hands, and I’m not running a day care. I expect my students to show up prepared.”

  “Even so,” Chip argued, “it’s the first day. You could cut us some slack.”

  “Slack is what some of those kids do best,” Zae snorted. “Today didn’t come as a surprise. They all knew they had class today, and they got themselves there. I shouldn’t have to remind them to come to class prepared on the first day, the last day, and every day in between. You were prepared.”

  Chip sat on the front edge of Zae’s desk, careful not to disturb her haphazard piles of papers, books and knickknacks. “Yeah, well, I’m an adult.”

  “They aren’t children,” Zae declared, pitching her voice higher.

  He stroked the apple with the tip of his middle finger, eliciting a deep sigh from Zae. A wink of light from her crystal desk lamp glinted off the unblemished red skin.

  “So you believe a student should respect his or her instructor enough to show up with the proper equipment for learning?”

  “That’s right,” Zae stated decisively.

  “And properly dressed.”

  “Exactly.” Zae took off her glasses and set them on her ink blotter.

  “So they shouldn’t be wearing jewelry and nail polish, and they should have their obis properly tied?”

  “I don’t have a problem with jewelry or nail—” Zae ended abruptly with a squeak.

  Chip grinned.

  “Why don’t you go someplace?” she snapped, wrinkling her nose.

  “I don’t have another class until two. Would you like to get some lunch?”

  “It’s still early for lunch.”

  “It’s quarter after eleven.”

  “Chip, it’s not a good idea for us to see each other socially on campus,” Zae said, her voice quiet. “I don’t think you should remain in my class, either.”

  He went to the overstuffed sofa propped beneath her windows. After rifling through his backpack, he brought her a pink slip of paper. “I have to agree with you, professor, although it was awfully tempting to cash in that automatic ‘A’ you promised me at the wedding.”

  Zae recognized the paper as a transfer slip. “Great minds…” she murmured.

  “I picked up the form this morning, before class, and turned it into the registrar during the break. Dr. Bligh has already signed it. I just need your signature.”

  Zae picked up a fountain pen. Her hand poised over the proper signature line, she paused. “This is dated three days ago. I could have signed it long before today.”

  Chip shrugged a meaty shoulder. “I wanted to see you in action.”

  Pressing back a grin, Zae signed her name with a flourish. “You mean you wanted to give me a taste of my own medicine.”

  “That, too.”

  “There.” She gave him the form. “You’re now in Dr. Bligh’s Comp II class. Which starts twenty minutes earlier than my class, so have fun.”

  “Thanks, professor.”

  “I can’t say I’m happy about you switching classes,” Zae said, “but it’s the right thing to do. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “You can join me for lunch.”

  Putting on her glasses, Zae replied, “Actually, I think now, I can.”

  Chapter Seven

  Chip had eagerly agreed to help Eve and Dawn move into their MU dorm when Eve asked him. He and Zae hadn’t shared an intimate moment since their interlude in the whirlpool several weeks ago, and he had looked forward to the chance to get her alone—something she had stringently avoided.

  Just as patience was key to good pancakes, it was crucial for a relationship in transition. Chip had never bothered to build a friendship with a woman before jumping into a sexual relationship with her, and he was both shocked and delighted by the ease with which he and Zae had progressed to that point. But he knew it was different for Zae. Accepting him meant letting go of Colin once and for all, and there was safety in clinging to the memory of her first husband. Colin remained a built-in excuse for her not to risk her heart on another man.

  Zae and her children meant too much to Chip to pressure Zae into moving any faster. Her hesitancy actually worked to his advantage in giving him the time he needed to rearrange his own life into something that closer resembled adulthood…and worthy of Zae and her children.

  “How do you like Dr. Bligh?” Eve asked, breaking Chip’s reverie. She hiked up her end of the futon mattress she and Chip carried into the dorm room she’d share with her twin. “I had him last summer for Comp. I and II, and I couldn’t stand him.”

  Once through the narrow doorway, Chip took the full weight of the slouchy mattress and set it on its frame, which sat against the wall nearest the bathroom. “He’s all right,” Chip panted, wiping sweat from his brow. “He’s duller than a bag of rocks, though. His reading list puts me to sleep faster than Ambien.”

  “Mom picks different books every year, and she always chooses authors I’ve never heard of,” Eve said. She moved two big boxes with dawn scrawled on them, pushing them closer to the futon.

  “I liked Narka, the first book on your mom’s list. I finished it, even though I had to read April Morning for Dr. Bligh when I switched to his class.”

  “Get used to the war stories.” Eve smiled. “Dr. Bligh’s got a thing for combat.”

  “Did you take any other MU classes last year, when you were still a senior in high school?”

  “Psych 101, American History, French and Fencing,” Eve said. “I wanted to get the freshman requirements out of the way so I could hit the ground running this term. I want to combine my senior year with my first year of medical school, so—”

  “That’s a mighty ambitious plan, kid.” Chip chuckled.

  “Have you met my mother?” Eve teased. “She graduated from college when she was twenty. Ambition runs in the family.”

  “I’m taking it slow and steady,” Chip said. “I just want to get through the classes I’m taking this summer, and then tackle the fall.”

  “I got an A in Bligh’s class. You can borrow my notes from last year, if you want,” Eve offered.

  “No, he can’t,” Zae said, entering the ro
om carrying a box of small appliances. Her son, CJ, followed her, carrying a black tote bag filled with groceries. “Reading someone else’s notes isn’t the same as learning the material firsthand.”

  “I agree with the professor, kiddo,” Chip said. “I gotta learn this stuff on my own.”

  “I imagine that with your military background, you can offer unique insights to Dr. Bligh’s reading assignments,” Zae said. “If Dennis Bligh is smart enough to take advantage of it.”

  “Which he isn’t,” Dawn deadpanned. She entered the double room, leading Cory, who struggled with a mini refrigerator. “Just set it on the counter there,” Dawn told him, pointing to the counter running beneath a row of wall-mounted cabinets.

  “You could have at least gotten the door for me!” Cory said after placing the fridge in its designated spot. “I missed a study group meeting to help you move in. The least you could do is actually help.”

  “No, this is the least I could do.” Dawn stretched out on the futon and started biting her nails.

  “Dawn acts like she’s the queen of the world,” CJ said, opening a bag of cheese puffs.

  “Are you in a study group, Chip?” Eve asked him. She popped into the bathroom and returned with a paper cup of water for Cory.

  “It’s more a study pair,” Chip answered. “Me and one other kid. Braeden Hayes.”

  Zae turned from the mountain of clothes she’d been hanging in the closet. “When Braeden dropped my class last month, I thought he’d decided to put off Comp II until next semester. I didn’t realize he’d transferred into Bligh’s class. I thought he was enjoying my class.”

  “He was.” Chip moved closer to Zae. “He couldn’t take Elton Dye anymore.”

  “Who is Elton Dye?” Dawn asked.

  “He’s a member of that fraternity with the big house at the far end of the campus,” Eve volunteered. “He’s the pledge master or something. He hangs around with a bunch of MU’s star football players, even though he couldn’t make the team.”

  “How do you know so much about him?” Dawn asked, eyeing her sister suspiciously.

  “I’ve run into him on campus once or twice.” Deliberately avoiding her sister’s gaze, Eve picked up a box with toiletries written on it. “He’s an aggressive, narcissistic personality. I need to put these things in the bathroom closet.” With that, she disappeared into the bathroom.

  “He’s a disturbed personality,” Zae said and rolled her eyes. “That kid makes my back teeth hurt. He never does his reading yet argues with me constantly, and he tries to be cute all the time. I didn’t know he was giving Braeden a hard time in my class. I thought he spent it all on me.”

  “Not in class,” Chip said. “Everyplace else. Over the past month or so, I’ve noticed Elton going out of his way to harass Braeden.”

  “Our Braeden?” Cory asked. “The new kid in my beginner’s class?”

  “The very same,” Chip said. “I was late for our study session at the library, and I caught Elton and some of his cronies playing keep away with Braeden’s books in the parking lot.”

  “Is that why you invited Braeden to Sheng Li?” Zae asked. “To teach him to defend himself from Elton?”

  “He’s a real martial arts nut,” Chip said. “I’d invited him to try some classes before I knew about the bullying. I didn’t think he’d stick with it, but then he saw Eve and Dawn after their class his first night at the dojo. He marched right into Gian’s office and offered to clean mats with his tongue in exchange for lessons.”

  Zae laughed. “What did Gian say?”

  “He said, ‘That won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind.’ And he signed Braeden up for Cory’s beginner’s class.”

  “Braeden is out of shape, but he’s motivated,” Cory said. “His conditioning will improve and he’ll know what to do when guys pick on him.”

  “Run away?” Eve suggested.

  “That’s Plan A.” Cory snickered. “But if that doesn’t work, a good combination of punches is a great Plan B.”

  “Elton Dye’s fraternity was fined last semester for harassing female students who walked by their house,” Eve said. “He and his frat brothers would hold up scorecards, rating the girls.”

  “They sound like seventh graders,” Dawn said.

  “I think seventh graders are more mature than that Dye kid,” Chip replied.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Zae said. “I can’t stand bullies.”

  “There was a kid bullying me last year,” CJ said. “He put chewed up bubblegum in my clarinet, and he mashed ketchup packets in my desk. Mama came to school and talked to the principal and my teacher about him. His mother was so mad, she came to our house and threatened to kick Mama’s ass.”

  “Say ‘ass’ again, and yours will be mine,” Zae said.

  “She thought Mama would get her kid kicked off the football team for bad behavior,” CJ finished.

  “It’s always the football players,” Dawn said. “No wonder Azalea can’t stand them.”

  “I love football players,” Zae said. “As long as they do their own work and their coaches stay out of my business.” She narrowed her eyes at Dawn. “And you know how I feel about you calling me by my first name,” she warned.

  “Mom had a run-in a couple of semesters ago with the MU defensive coordinator,” Eve said, reemerging from the bathroom with an empty box.

  Dawn snapped her fingers and pointed to a long, flat box near Cory. Grudgingly, he shoved it over to the futon. Dawn stretched out on the futon as prettily as Cleopatra upon a litter, and she rested her feet on the long box. “Coach Deen came to talk to Azalea—”

  “You know how I feel about you calling me by my first name,” Zae warned.

  “—about one of his players, this kid named Tyler Jack Vincent,” Dawn continued.

  “Three first names,” Chip said. “That’s never a good sign.”

  “He was a good ballplayer, but he was dumb as hair,” Dawn continued. “I don’t know how he even got into college.”

  “The same way he got into Reichart Academy on a full scholarship for high school even though he could barely write his name,” Zae said. “Recruiters cared more about his talent on the field than in the classroom.”

  Dawn continued her tale. “Tyler Jack was in Azalea’s—”

  “Dawn!” Zae snapped.

  “—Mom’s sophomore American literature class, and she gave him an F on his first essay, which put him on academic probation.”

  “You can’t play on a team if you’re on academic probation,” Eve said softly. “That F cost the Wildcats one of their key players.”

  Dawn resumed the account. “The football coaching staff lost their shi—”

  “Language, Dawn,” Zae cut in.

  “—minds,” Eve said, picking up the tale where her twin left off. “The football players started a petition to demand that Tyler Jack be reinstated on the team, his other teachers stuck their heads in the sand, and Mom had to go before an academic review hearing to prove she gave Tyler Jack a fair grade. Two of Tyler Jack’s teachers showed up to testify that he was a good student, one of his coaches accused Mom of having a vendetta against football players. Mom argued that sports were secondary to education, and that Tyler Jack was functionally illiterate. He was her only witness. She gave him that morning’s Post-Dispatch and asked him to read the front page headline. He couldn’t do it, and that was all the proof needed for the grade to stand.”

  “The whole thing got pretty ugly,” Dawn said. “We were getting prank calls in the middle of the night, someone broke two of our windows. Strangers would cuss at Mom on the street.”

  “She would always just smile and tell them to have a beautiful day,” Eve recalled, smiling in adoration at her mother.

  “I remember all that,” Chip said. “I saw the story on the local news when it all happened. I never did find out what happened to Tyler Jack, though.”

  “After the hearing Mom started working with Tyler Jack
, one on one,” Eve said. “She spent time every day and on weekends, teaching him to read and write. She helped him with all his classes.”

  “He graduated last June with a 2.1 GPA and a degree in communications,” Dawn said. “He was invited to an NFL combine, but he blew out his knee. His professional football playing career was over before it even started.”

  “But he’s still in professional football,” Zae said pointedly, “because he got his degree.” She turned to Chip. “He works in the public relations department for the St. Louis Rams.”

  “I hope he realizes what you did for him,” Chip said, awed.

  “I think he does.” Zae smiled.

  “Where do you think the great seats Mom gets for Rams home games come from?” Dawn asked.

  Chip tenderly cupped Zae’s nape. “The wonder of you never ceases. You were probably the first person to make that kid realize there was more to life than football. Just in time, too.”

  “I was his teacher and he was my student,” Zae said simply. “I owed it to him.”

  Chip impulsively took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Now that you have the house practically all to yourself, maybe Chip can stay the night once in awhile,” Dawn suggested.

  Zae’s head slowly turned in Dawn’s direction. “What did you say?”

  “You and Chip can stop pretending to be ‘just friends’ now that Eve and I have moved out. Everybody knows that there’s something going on between you.”

  An invisible cord of tension seemed to connect Zae and Dawn. Physically, the twins were pocket editions of their mother—tall and statuesque, with a sensuality that simmered just beneath a veneer of cool. Where Eve was slow to anger and quietly thoughtful, Dawn had her mother’s short fuse and explosive temper. Chip was none too eager to experience the simultaneous wrath of two Richardson women at once. He gently gripped Zae’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off as he attempted to craft something to say that would diffuse a row before it got started.

  Eve jumped into her mother’s path before she could reach Dawn, who stood to face her mother. “Dawn, you have no right to speak to Mama like that,” she said. “And Mama, Dawn didn’t mean what she just said. We’re both a little weirded out about moving out.” She stretched out her arms, keeping her mother and sister separated.