by Eryn Scott
… great grey hills heaved up round the horizon: as twilight deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood…
I glanced up from the pages of Jane Eyre and stared out my window at the shadowy figure of Woodcrest mansion up on the hill. A chill ran straight to my bones.
5
That Monday in Professor Ferguson’s class, we sat with printed rough drafts of our papers in our laps and tears in our eyes. No one seemed to be able to look away from Cole’s empty seat.
Fergie must’ve been notified over the weekend, because her face was puffy and red with emotion like mine. The rest of the cohort found out when Fergie broke the news at the start of class.
“My dears, I have the dreadful task of sharing some devastating news…”
Her watery blue eyes had settled on mine after she’d finished telling us Cole was gone. Devin dropped his head into his hands and wouldn’t look up. Janet burst into tears, sobs wracking her delicate frame. And Andrea seemed downright catatonic. She kept shaking her head, muttering something I couldn’t quite make out.
Fergie cleared her throat. “Obviously we can postpone our peer-editing plans for our time today.”
“Professor?” Janet raised her hand. “I don’t want to speak for everyone else, but I would like to stay and edit. It would be nice to take our minds off… him.”
I gave Janet a small smile and a second vote in the way of a raised pointer finger.
Devin, who stared blankly out the window, said, “I agree.”
“Me too,” Andrea swiped at her misty eyes then picked up the paper in her lap.
Our fearless leader pursed her bright red lips then stood in a whoosh of flowing fabrics. “Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps,” Fergie said, the quote from Jane Eyre serving as our inspiration to push forward.
Pairing up, Devin and I swapped papers first. We clicked our red pens open like swords, ready to question and cut—lovingly, of course.
I dove into Devin’s introduction, intrigued right away by his thesis that the setting of each Brontë novel reflected the true nature of the main love interest.
Marking small notes here and circling the odd misspelling there, I nodded along with his findings. Helen was quite like Wildfell Hall in the sense that most of her heart was shut up, deserted, leaving only small parts open to Gilbert. Heathcliff’s wildness was for sure reflected in the unruly moors surrounding Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange.
When I moved on to find out how Rochester’s dark depths and hidden past were mirrored in the gothic grandeur of Thornfield Hall, I forgot about Cole, about the tightness in my gut. Janet was right; reading was the perfect way to take our minds off our sadness.
For our second round of editing, I longed for Janet, feeling sure I didn't have the strength to deal with Andrea and her intensity today. But Fergie was the queen of pairings, as she made clear with a stern glance whenever anyone made a fuss, and I moved to sit next to Andrea when she gestured for me to do so.
Just read the paper, critique, edit, and don’t look up, I coached myself.
I envisioned lasers coming from my eyes and drawing red lines under each sentence, hoping my intensity might ward off an opening for conversation with Andrea.
At that moment, I located her thesis statement, and reading became even more uncomfortable. Love is only true when manifested as obsession. Blinking, I read it a second time.
It wasn’t as if I’d thought Andrea was well balanced, but this was flat-out nuts.
I devoured the rest of her first page. I was like the wandering, starving Jane Eyre after fleeing from Thornfield, and Andrea’s words were the only sustenance I’d seen in days. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip as I read in an attempt to prevent any snorts or incredulous exclamations at her wild words.
I had to give it to her. For a die-hard Heathcliff fangirl, she did at least mention Rochester and Gilbert Markham. But compared to the three pages she included about Heathcliff, the few sentences were nothing. Once on the subject of Heathcliff, she pulled quote after dramatic quote, her commentary swooning so badly I almost expected the paper to wilt in my hands. And when she wasn’t drooling over Heathcliff’s obsessive love of Catherine, she discussed how their only option was death because they would not be together.
In short, the essay was wacky.
When I’d finished, I felt the need to gasp as if I were coming up for air after almost drowning. Having read it so quickly the first time, I went back and read for sentence structure, spelling, and grammar, knowing I would not change her mind about the content itself.
Andrea was still reading over my pages, marking up whole sections with a purse-lipped expression. She appeared equally appalled by my words, though I doubted my paper gave her the full body shivers as hers had given me.
I got up to stretch while I waited for her to finish. Janet and Devin had moved toward the corner and had their heads bent together while they whispered. After hearing Cole’s name a few times, I wandered over in their direction.
Janet looked up. “Hey, Pepper.” She smiled in a way that was more like a grimace.
“Hi.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“I know we’re supposed to be taking our minds off him, but I just can’t stop thinking about it,” Devin said, shaking his head.
“It’s awful.” I mimicked their expressions.
“I keep wracking my brain for who could’ve done this, but I can’t even remember Cole getting in a single disagreement with anyone.” Janet squinted one eye.
“Me neither.” Devin stood, excusing himself to the restroom.
“What’d you write about?” Janet asked once we were alone. “Andrea looks like she’s about to stab your pages with her pen.” She chuckled.
“She’s probably mad that I didn’t spend the whole time going on about Heathcliff and his hotness.” I rolled my eyes. “Or that I wrote about independence instead of people dying from broken hearts.”
“Yeah.” Janet puffed out her cheeks. “Hers was pretty intense. Not that I expected anything different.”
I agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to read yours yet, but I’m happy you’ll be the last one to read mine.”
Fergie always kept one last critique session for later, after we made the changes from this round.
“Me too. Oh, she’s done.” Janet pointed over to Andrea. “Good luck.”
I rejoined my partner and sat with a wary watchfulness as Andrea flipped my cover sheet back in place. A tentative smile rested on my lips when she looked up.
“Thanks for reading,” I said.
Andrea’s face tightened. “Thanks for sharing,” she said, parroting the line Fergie had ingrained in us to keep up the standards of polite academic discourse. “You want to go first or should I?”
“Uh, go for it.” I gestured toward her.
Andrea sighed. “Okay, well…” She flipped through my first few pages. “It was a little heavy on the women, without a lot of mention of the male characters.”
I cleared my throat, hoping to buy time while my brain grappled with that comment. “Well, it was about how the Brontë sisters wrote about independent women, so I figured it would be best to focus on the… women.” I chewed on my bottom lip, waiting for her to respond.
“I guess.” She shrugged. “But Heathcliff and Cathy used to play outside, running around the moors, getting muddy and up to mischief together when they were younger.”
“Okay… and?”
“Heathcliff treated her like an independent person, not expecting her to be a lady. You could argue that he was just as much of a proponent for women’s independence.”
I almost burst out in laughter, but controlled myself. “Right, but that was when they were kids. Later he imprisoned her daughter in his home until she agreed to marry his son. That doesn’t seem like someone who saw women as independent people.”
“He was worried about Linton, wanted to make sure he got married.” She wrinkled
her nose.
“Andrea,” I said her name as I exhaled. “The man beat Linton and only wanted Catherine to marry him, so he would inherit Thrushcross Grange.”
She sniffed. “Well, agree to disagree, I guess.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose for a second. “Anything else?” I asked, letting my hand fall.
“Nope. You made your feelings clear.” She shoved the paper across the table.
“Thanks,” I said, adding I think in my head.
“What about mine?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
I resisted the urge to throw the thing at her and run. This was already off to a contentious start.
“I would have to say the same. You made your feelings clear and stuck to your thesis very well.” I flipped to the first page. “I wondered, though, about the absoluteness of your statement about death being the only option if the two lovers couldn’t be together.”
I kept my eyes down, unsure if I was ready to meet whatever expression she would wear after hearing my opinion.
Pushing forward, I added, “I mean, Jane and Rochester spent quite some time apart and were able to survive. Sure, they weren’t as happy as they could’ve been together, but they still had productive lives. And Gilbert waited for Helen all those months when she went back to take care of her dying husband. By your logic, he should’ve ended it all when he thought he couldn’t ever have her.” I cleared my throat, knowing this next part was going to be the hardest to say. “And even though Cathy died, Heathcliff didn’t. He went on to live decades without her.” I glanced up.
Instead of scowling as I expected her to be, Andrea smiled—chuckled even. She shook her head. “Oh, Pepper. I’m not surprised you missed it, though I did expect more from someone in our program. Heathcliff isn’t really alive during the years after Cathy dies. It’s why he’s so harsh with everyone else, so angry. He’s only living a half life, barely sustained by the times he sees Cathy’s ghost. The man was too strong, too healthy to die of a broken heart like Cathy did.” Andrea reached forward and patted my hand.
I don’t know why I expected anything to get through to her. Pulling my hand back, I let my fingers curl around my essay. But the reality of Cole’s death cut through my petty feelings, and I remembered that this didn’t matter. Our friend and classmate was dead. It seemed silly to fight over words on a page.
With my free hand, I handed over hers. “Okay, well, the rest is small stuff. I marked it on the pages.”
I stood, ready to leave. My cheeks were hot. I hoped they weren’t too red, hoped they weren’t belying the way her condescending tone had gotten under my skin. I checked my watch.
“Well, I’ve got to get home,” I said, smiling thinly.
I didn’t wait for her to say a thing, instead turning to wave to Fergie and the others. Relieving Jess at the bookstore was becoming a great reason to escape extra time with Andrea. I was counting the days until the end to this unit, when we wouldn’t have to talk about Heathcliff ever again.
I stuffed my paper into my bag and grabbed on to the door, swinging it open with more force than necessary. My heart jumped as I saw Alex in the hallway. Sweet mother of surprises, this was the best one I’d had in a while. After reading about Heathcliff for the last half an hour, I needed Alex’s kind smile.
Rushing over to him, I wrapped my arms around his middle, tight.
“Whoa. Hi, there.” He coughed in surprise. “Peps, I—”
Before he said anything else, I reached up and put my hands on either side of his face. I pulled him into a kiss I hoped would erase all thoughts of literary bullies.
Hesitant at first, Alex relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. His face was flushed and his eyes a little glassy when we moved apart.
“You said the uniform was losing its charm.” His lip twitched up into a smirk, as he motioned down at his dark blue police garb.
Grabbing on to both of his lapels, I said, “Never. This is such a nice surprise. You know I have to go to the store, though. You’re welcome to come hang with me there.”
Alex’s features tightened. His hands dropped to my hips, and he moved me back a few inches. “I’m not here for you.”
At that moment, the classroom door opened behind me. I swiveled to see Devin, Andrea, and Janet walking out.
“Andrea Hall,” he said, stepping around me. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
6
Andrea’s face clouded over, like the wild English countryside of a Brontë novel right before a storm. She glanced from Alex to me, then down the hallway, as if she were considering running.
Janet and Devin flanked her, their expressions just as stunned.
Alex cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Please, follow me.” He gestured down the hall.
Andrea swallowed and proceeded in the direction he’d indicated.
The remaining members of my cohort raced over to me.
“Omigosh, do you think it’s about Cole?” Janet asked in one breath.
“How could it be about anything else?” Devin countered.
I chewed on my lip as Alex and Andrea disappeared around the corner. The three of us stood there for a silent moment, staring after them.
“Maybe he wants to talk with all of us because we’re in the same cohort. What if Andrea was just the first one?” Janet offered, ever the optimist.
“No.” I shook my head. “He would’ve told us to stick around. But don’t worry, Alex knows what he’s doing.”
Janet raised one eyebrow. “Alex? You’re on a first name basis with the cops?”
“Uh…” I cleared my throat. “He’s my boyfriend.”
An odd emptiness wound through my chest, spreading out to my limbs. For the first time since I’d started dating Alex, the word boyfriend didn’t seem like enough. It felt flat, too small.
Shaking away the feeling, I concentrated on Janet, whose eyes were wide.
“I never took you for someone to date a cop, Pepper.” She hugged her books closer to her chest.
“Why?” I asked, taken aback. Was that something people noticed? Were only certain types of people likely to date someone on the force?
“Oh, I—well, I thought you might date a literary enthusiast, like yourself.” Her cheeks turned a light pink, and she looked to Devin as if he would help her dig herself out of the hole she’d dug.
Devin, seeing a losing fight, shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
“Alex is a literary enthusiast, actually,” I said, not that I needed to justify my choice of a partner. Opposites attracted and all that, right? “He reads everything I’m reading for class, so we can discuss it together.” I worked to keep my voice calm, not defensive.
“That’s so cute,” Janet said.
Unable to tell whether she was being honest or sarcastic, my shoulders stiffened. Or maybe it was more about how her comment hit on the already sore spot in my heart about how our relationship was progressing. Not keen on getting in a fight, I decided to get back to the reason we were still standing here.
“Do either of you think Andrea could’ve had something to do with Cole?” I asked, gulping down the other, sadder endings to that sentence.
The lights in Fergie’s classroom went dark, and the door began to open. Our professor was distraught enough about losing one student, I didn’t want to trouble her thinking that another of her students might be guilty of that very loss.
“Hey, why don’t we talk about this somewhere else?” I checked my watch. “I’ve got to get to my store to relieve my employee, but you two are free to come there. I can make us tea.”
They agreed, and before Fergie could see us, we hurried off around the corner. The walk to the bookstore was spent in silence.
There’s a point each winter in Pine Crest where the air turns so cold it stings, and if you let any skin show, it downright aches. Talking in this deep freeze feels like swallowing a handful of needles—and that’s not even
hyperbolic.
So we pulled our collars up and our hats down, tucking ourselves into our winter gear as we trundled across campus and crossed Main Street like a line of arctic explorers.
The jingle of the bell above the front door of Brooks’ Books was the sweetest sound I’d heard all day. Jess smiled up from behind the register, and Hammy came running over to greet me.
“Hi, girl.” I leaned down to pick her up.
I’d told Jess to leave the dog upstairs, so she didn’t have to Hammy-sit all day during her shift, but the woman insisted that having Hammy around made everything better. Being of the same mind, I was inclined to trust that she would put the dog away if she needed a break.
“Janet. Devin,” I said, turning back to face my classmates. “That’s Jess, the best employee in the world, and this is Hamburger, the best dog in the world. I’m incredibly spoiled here, as you can see.” I beamed at my cozy little store, now home.
“Wow, Pepper. This is great.” Devin took in the bookstore.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here,” Janet said, stepping forward to browse the table of new releases nearest to the front door. “I’ve been wasting my money at the campus bookstore.”
I chuckled. “Money spent on books is never wasted.” I turned to Jess. “You can head out if you’d like. Unless you want some tea before you brave the wintry blight. I’m going to make some for these two.”
Jess glanced warily outside, but shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather get it over with. Like a Band-Aid, right?” She laughed, slipping on her jacket.
As much as I loved Jess’s company, I wasn’t too sad she was going to leave right away. I figured it would be easier to chat about what we’d witnessed on campus if it was only the three of us.
After waving goodbye to Jess, I made my way over to the tea and coffee station and made up three steaming mugs. The store was currently empty, for which I was also grateful.
