By Jove

by Marissa Doyle

  “Not to mention the porcupines and moose,” she murmured.

  “And the porcupines and moose,” he agreed, his mouth curving into the smile she hadn’t seen since fall. “Maybe you’ll be able to teach the moose to pronounce their s’s and t’s.”

  A feeling of unreality washed over Theo. Once she would have danced with happiness at this invitation. But now? A fleeting vision of impossibly blue water and white stucco walls beckoned in her mind, hot sun on her shoulders and chill pine-scented wine on her lips.

  “Olivia’s thrilled at the idea,” Grant continued enthusiastically. “She can’t wait to meet you. In fact, she said she’d come back here with me after spring break to—”

  “What?” The seductive visions of Greece abruptly vanished. Olivia, coming here? Theo could just picture Olivia eyeing her with June Cadwallader’s ice-pick gaze, her perfect lips curling in barely concealed disdain as she held out a limp hand in greeting.

  “Olivia called and told me today that she’d come for a visit. She used to teach here, remember? So she’ll get to see her old friends and have a chance to get to know you before the summer.”

  “Whoa. Wait one minute. I haven’t said I’m going anywhere.” Theo rose and began to retrace Grant’s path around the couch, too agitated to sit still. Olivia? Here? No. This was her place, her turf. Things were strained enough between her and Grant without adding Olivia to the mix.

  “What? But don’t you want to—”

  “We shouldn’t be talking about what I want, when we still don’t know what you want. I won’t commit to go with you to Eleusinian for the whole summer when I don’t even know if we’ll be speaking to each other come the end of the month.”

  Grant stared at her. “But—Olivia—” he began weakly.

  “This isn’t about Olivia! I’d go to Eleusinian because of you, not her. And I don’t have any idea whether or not I want to risk it. Do you have any idea what it’s been like these months, when I’ve waited for you to take what I’ve held out to you with both hands. My arms have gotten awfully tired, waiting for you. Maybe it’s time for me to give them a rest.”

  Grant’s face was white, whiter than she had ever seen it. “Your arms are tired? You need a rest? You have no idea what I’ve been through these last weeks, for your sake,” he half whispered.

  “No, because you haven’t seen fit to tell me. So you’ve been pushing me away for my own sake? You have a strange notion of love, Grant.” She was no longer there, though she didn’t notice. Nor was she talking to Grant. She was talking to years of being ignored and slighted as a frumpy teacher of a dead language. Feeling the pain of falling in love too fast and deep with a man who couldn’t seem to return her love. Watching her dreams of happiness with him turn to ash—or worse, fade to nothing, because they’d never been real in the first place.

  Grant sat still on the couch, elbows on knees, gripping his head. “Theo. I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong,” he said into his hands. “I should have waited to ask you about coming to Eleusinian until later. I should have done it differently. But I was so happy, with Olivia saying she’d come—”

  “You can continue to be happy that she’s coming. Be thrilled,” she retorted. Then it was as if the fire in her went out. She stared at him, her hands rising to her burning cheeks. Then she fled the Great Room.

  Chapter Eleven

  On Tuesday Theo slunk out of her room to attend classes and slunk back as soon as they were over. But by Wednesday a little pride had spread, scab-like, over her pain. If this was how things were going to be, then so be it. She would have to get through the rest of the year coexisting with Grant in the department, and she might as well begin today. But she was careful not to pass by his classroom door on her way to teach her Latin class, and after class went straight to Dr. Waterman’s rhetoric class without looking to the left or right.

  By evening she was feeling even braver. So she packed up her reading and grimly marched over to Hamilton Hall, to study on her accustomed couch in the Great Room.

  To her relief, the room was empty. “Though it’s nothing to me if he should choose to work here. It’s time for me to get over it,” she told herself sternly, fluffing the cushions on her couch before she made herself comfortable.

  The room was quiet. It generally was, but tonight the silence seemed almost tangible. She glanced around her, then over at the other end of the couch. Right there was where he had sat the other night, clutching his head like it was about to explode, his face a mask of misery—

  Wasn’t she miserable too? Hadn’t she cried her share of tears? Hadn’t she been feeling like dirt since before Christmas?

  You were miserable, yes. But you weren’t ill and confused and unsure how to handle things. There were a few things, though, that you were. Impatient, unfair, unkind. Too ready to see injury and insult where it probably wasn’t intended. Too busy feeling your own sadness and hurt to be mindful of someone else’s.

  Dammit, he’d hurt her! He led her along, let her think he loved her, and then behaved like a kid in a candy shop who can’t make up his mind about which sweet he’d rather have. Was it her or Olivia? It—it just started to hurt too much.

  So you lashed out in return.

  “Stop it,” she said aloud to the calm impartial voice of her conscience in her head. “I won’t listen any more.” She slid down in her seat and curled up into a tight ball of unhappiness, putting her hands over her ears as tears squeezed from the corners of her tightly shut eyes.

  “Theodora?”

  “No. No—” she said to the voice calling her name. She didn’t want to listen to it anymore, listen to it explain to her exactly how she’d messed up things with Grant even worse—

  Hands closed over her own, gently but inexorably pulling them away from her ears. She struggled, but the hands raised her to her feet. Even before she opened her eyes, even before the arms had gathered her against him she knew who it was, and let herself collapse against Julian’s chest.

  “Ssh. My poor Theodora, it’s all right. It’s all right,” he murmured, holding her tightly as he stroked her hair. “That’s right. Let it all out.”

  The rich clear voice rumbled under her cheek, and she felt the tension leach from her under the spell of his words and his hands until her bones themselves seemed to dissolve. Only his words and arms kept her from falling to the floor. Her tears gradually ceased, and she felt empty and peaceful, like a bubble floating above a stormy sea. She would be content to stand there all night, safe in the harbor of his arms, if staying there would keep the voice of her conscience at bay.

  After a while—she was not sure how long—he drew back to look at her. “Better?” he asked softly.

  She nodded and reached up to brush away tears. As she did, she saw Julian’s face change. He was staring at her hand with an unreadable expression on his face.

  “Julian?”

  He took her hand and examined it closely. “That’s an unusual ring,” he said at last. “Where did you get it?”

  Grant’s ring. She had forgotten about it. Or had she left it on in unconscious hope of—of what? “It’s Grant’s. He gave it to me. For Christmas. I—I’m not sure if I should still be wearing it, though.”

  “I see.” He stared at it for a moment longer, his face still carefully blank, then let it go. “It’s an interesting piece…but I’m more concerned about you. What made you so very sad?” He pushed her hair back from her face, then softly touched her cheek. His eyes were so close, closer than they had ever been. She could fall into them, like sliding into a warm tropical sea, let their blue depths hold her

  “It’s Grant. I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “He—I don’t know if he loves me or not.”

  “Do you love him?” His voice was gentle, but demanded an answer.

  “Yes.” To her surprise, the word came out with no hesitation. “And I thought he loved me. But he’s been so strange lately that I don’t know what to believe.”

  “P
erhaps it’s time you two spent some time apart, to give you some perspective.” He was rubbing her back gently, rhythmically, so that she wanted to purr like Dido.

  “We sort of were. But then he asked me to come to the Eleusinian Institute with him this summer.”

  Julian’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think that would be wise? Olivia—” He sighed. “I dislike speaking ill of colleagues—even former ones—but Olivia is not to be trusted. She—well, the word ‘man-eater’ comes to mind. I was actually relieved when she left here. She did not reflect well on my department.”

  Theo winced. How could Grant not see that? “He insists that they’re just friends.”

  “Hmmph. He may think so, but I’m not convinced. What did you say to him?”

  “I didn’t. I was too upset. I can’t—won’t—go to him, if he’s in love with Olivia.”

  “Of course you can’t, if that’s the way things are. My poor sweet Theodora.” Julian was silent for a moment. “You know, you really must think about coming to Greece with me this summer,” he finally said. “I think it would do you a world of good.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “There’s time for you to think about it. I’ll hold a place for you until the moment we step on the plane. I want you to do what will be best for you. Not that I don’t think that coming with me isn’t the best choice you could make.” His voice smiled. “Come to my office tomorrow afternoon. We can talk about it a little more, and I can show you the new trip brochures that just arrived.”

  Yes. Tomorrow. Tonight she didn’t want to have to think anymore. The pressure of his hands on her back increased and she gave into it, resting her head on his shoulder again. Her eyes felt incredibly heavy. “Yes, Julian,” she whispered.

  “Go get some sleep. You’re worn out with all this upset,” he said, a few minutes—or was it hours?—later. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, yes? Will you let me take you out to Dmitri’s for a quiet evening?”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” She lifted her head and smiled at him as he released her.

  “Then it shall happen. Good night, my dear.” He lifted her hand and kissed it in a charmingly courtly gesture. Only when she was partway home did she realize that it had been her left hand. The one without Grant’s ring on it.

  …

  Theo slept well that night, better than she had for a while. She ran back to her room after her final class of the day with Dr. Forge-Smythe to dress for dinner with Julian, choosing again the turquoise scarf to casually drape over her shoulders, then ran back to Hamilton Hall.

  On the second floor she tiptoed past June Cadwallader’s office on her way to Julian’s. Walking past June’s office always gave her an uneasy feeling. This time was no exception. She could feel the woman’s cold eyes on her as she passed, and would have sworn that the temperature immediately outside her door was lower than in the rest of the hallway. Unfortunately, the department mailboxes were in June’s office. Theo usually waited until June was at lunch to check hers.

  At the end of the hall she saw that Julian’s door was half closed. Should she come back? Then she heard Renee’s voice coming from behind it. She smiled and started forward.

  “What do you mean, why didn’t I tell you who he was before? You never asked me,” Renee was saying plaintively. Theo stopped.

  Julian’s voice answered, low and angry. “I distinctly remember commenting to you on several occasions that he seemed familiar. Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “I didn’t think it mattered. I assumed you’d figure it out yourself. After all, I never forget a man, even if I’ve never touched him. Marlowe knows, and so does Arthur, I think. Why don’t you yell at them? I didn’t think it mattered anymore, anyway,” she repeated. Theo could hear the pout in her voice.

  “Of course it matters! The only one to defy me and get away with it—”

  “He didn’t precisely get away with it, did he?”

  Julian ignored the interruption. “—was right there before my eyes, the one they gave him when he returned to Athens! I thought he was some minor nobody from somewhere else. Concealed himself well, though not well enough. The unmitigated gall of him, daring to come here and interfere in my business, just like before! He’ll regret the day he set foot in my department. I’ll see to that—”

  Theo backed down the hallway. Who were they talking about?

  Julian’s door opened. Theo ducked hastily into one of the seminar rooms and peeked around the corner just in time to see Renee go striding down the hall, her cheeks an agitated cerise. What was going on?

  She stayed in the seminar room to give Julian a few minutes to compose himself, and puzzled over what she had heard. Who had defied Julian, and concealed himself, and was interfering with him again? When she had counted ten minutes on her watch, she slipped out of the room and returned to Julian’s door.

  “My dear Theodora,” he said as he rose from his desk with a smile, looking cool and unflustered. If she hadn’t just overheard his conversation with Renee, she would have assumed he had spent a quiet afternoon alone in his office.

  “Look at these. Don’t they tempt you a little?” he said, spreading a sheaf of color brochures before her, all white and blue and gold, just as she as dreamed it.

  Theo picked one up. “Of course they do. I don’t need these to be tempted to come. I just don’t know that I can afford to go.”

  “And if that were not an issue? Would you come then?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not a simple yes-or-no decision.” She traced a finger over the arc of the Ionian Islands on the map on the brochure’s reverse.

  “I understand. Keep this and look it over. If you have any questions about the trip, you can ask me any time. Think about it over spring break next week. You’ll be here?”

  “I’ll be fish-sitting for Dr. Waterman,” she reminded him.

  “Ah, yes. That’s right.” He sat back down in his chair, looking thoughtful. “So you will. Hmmm.” He made a steeple of his hands and stared down at them for several long seconds.

  “Julian?” she said softly.

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry. Wool-gathering for a moment. Yes, think it over during the break. Perhaps something will happen to help you decide.” He smiled. “Wine, Theodora?”

  …

  On the Friday morning before spring break, Theo found an envelope on her desk when she came into her Latin class. She gave the students an impromptu translation exercise and opened the note.

  Dear Theo,

  I know that you’ve been avoiding me this week. Truth be told, I’ve avoided you as well. Not because I didn’t want to see you, but because I didn’t know what to say. I’ve hurt you, and for that I am more sorry than words can express. Pain has been my companion for so long that I can tolerate it well, but I should not expect that of others. And I love you too much to ever want to see you hurt in any way. That is the first point of this letter: to tell you that I love you, despite my behavior over the last months that might say otherwise. And despite what you may think about my feelings for anyone else. I will say it again: I love you, you alone, forever.

  Second: Some weeks ago you said that you would give me until the end of spring break to pull myself together, and that we would decide then if we had a future. I know I feel quite certain of what my decision is, but I understand that you might not be so sure. Will you hold to that promise, and let me prove to you that I am capable of loving you as you deserve to be loved? Meet me Sunday night at the end of break, and you will see then the new man I have become.

  I leave for Eleusinian this evening. If you wish to reply to this note, leave one in my department mailbox. I’ll check it after lunch and brave indigestion at June’s hands.

  Third: There is no third point. So I’ll reiterate the first. I love you, Theo. And I live for Sunday, when I’ll finally be able to prove it to you.

  —Grant

  Theo reread the letter three times, feeling her throat tighten and ache with each reading. Did he lov
e her as he said? Would he be able to prove anything to her by next Sunday? Would she be able to listen, to expose her still-raw wounds to him once more and trust him not to etch them deeper?

  No. She couldn’t sort all that out right now, not with her Latin class sitting before her, shifting and sighing as they scribbled in their notebooks. There would be time enough for thinking it over next week. She pulled a piece of paper from the back of a notebook.

  Dear Grant,

  Thank you for taking time to write me before you leave.

  She nibbled on the end of her pen. Might as well be honest.

  You’re right; I was hurt. I’m sorry for having struck out in my hurt, like an injured animal at bay, but that’s precisely how I felt. I’m looking forward to a quiet week at Dr. Waterman’s to lick my wounds and help me feel a little more human again.

  There. He’d know where she was, just in case.

  I will do as we agreed and meet you on Sunday, and will listen to all that you wish to say to me. I’ll see you at eight o’clock in the Great Room, if that’s okay.

  Close on a gracious note. This would not be the place to express her hope that Olivia sat on a porcupine next week, or was mauled by a bear in drag.

  Safe trip to Eleusinian.

  —Theo

  Chapter Twelve

  “One teaspoon, once a day. Maybe a little more in the tanks in my room and the kitchen; they tend to eat a little more—”

  “—and don’t forget to keep an eye on the heaters for the tanks on the three-season porch. It’s all right, Dr. Waterman. I know the routine. I’ll take very good care of your fish.” Theo grinned at him.

  “I know you will. I just worry about my little friends here. Can’t help it.” Dr. Waterman shrugged sheepishly and rumpled his hair.

  “I understand. I hated leaving my cat with my parents when I came here. I miss her dreadfully, especially when I’m going to sleep at night and don’t feel her lying on my feet so I can’t turn over.”