Kestrel's Eye

by Anne Spackman

  * * * * *

  That Wednesday, Ms. Taylor again sat at the back of the class. And she was gathering her pens and paper to put it into her rucksack when Dr. Ainsley cast her a worried look from across the room. Ms. Taylor got up, and waited for all of the other students to leave.

  “Dr. Ainsley, I see that you are worried about me—”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the professor.

  “I didn’t wish to affect your classroom or to incite your concern.”

  He took her arm to try to hold her steady. “Are you well?”

  “Professor, please don’t touch me, it’s already hard enough seeing you and saying nothing of what I feel—”

  “What you—feel?” Ainsley was puzzled, and surprised.

  “I am in love with you,” blurted Ms. Taylor.

  “You can’t be serious!” said Ainsley. “You’re a student, and only a young woman, whereas I, my dear, am an old bachelor…”

  “I’m thirty-seven, Dr. Ainsley, but I was divorced years ago, though that is of little matter to me.” Ms. Taylor returned. “You see, I’ve never met a man whom I respect as much as I respect you. I’ve never met anyone with whom I felt comfortable bearing my soul when I speak of poetry and the things that matter most to my heart. I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer. May I kiss you?”

  “Ms. Taylor, I couldn’t possibly let you do that while you are my student.”

  “Then I shall withdraw from the class. I only took it because I enjoy reading literature, and it has been years since I attended my first university. I merely wanted to refresh my memory with what I had once learned.”

  Dr. Ainsley was stunned. “I cannot let you—”

  Samantha leaned forward and kissed him—on the lips. “Please don’t be offended.”

  Dr. Ainsley had actually stopped breathing for a moment. He was in a state of deep shock. He blinked, his mouth still ajar.

  “Good, then you don’t object.” Said Samantha, and she leaned forward and kissed him again. “You are a marvelous teacher, and are so sweet to your dogs. Shall we be friends, or shall you love me in return, because really now this suspense is too much for me.” She said, waiting.

  He looked at her. She was a lovely woman, that was certain, but he had not seen her as a woman, but as a student.

  “You will have to quit my class if you expect to kiss me in public,” said the professor.

  “Yes, I know.” She said.

  “My young lady—”

  “Sam. Or Samantha.”

  “I am quite shocked. I have not entertained the thought of having a woman in my life in a decade, perhaps longer.”

  “Do you like me, at least?”

  “I do—well, you were my best student.”

  She blushed, and smiled. “I shall have to pick up French again now. I will expect to see you tonight, at the pub, for a dinner. And if you do not come, I will know that you don’t want to pursue this.”

  He came, shaking his head at himself all the way to the pub.

  * * * * *

  Ms. Taylor and Dr. James Ainsley were married within three months. James Ainsley had never been happier than the time in which he spent getting to know Samantha better, over the course of the last three months. He had always been reserved, but he discovered that he loved Samantha, and enjoyed being kissed, and having romantic nights together as well. And Samantha walked with him sometimes at night, and spoiled him with homemade jams and dinners. And she had a light, sweet laugh that was delicate and kind.

  And she was lovely, well-mannered and well-dressed, and spoke French fluently. James discovered that Samantha had been an athlete as well, and had maintained her physique by doing ballet and running, which she did twice a week intensively, as she did everything.

  They lived happily ever after, though Ainsley sometimes slept in his armchair, with the dogs curled at his feet.