Skye carefully turned the coffeemaker and fiddled with the electrical cord at its base.
“See?” she said, pointing. “Bertha.”
Edie looked. Someone had written BERTHA in block letters with now-faded black marker. She smiled. Skye’s eyes were even more interesting this close up. More yellow than green with a ring of brown at the very outer edge. Skye returned Edie’s smile but backed up quickly.
“Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
Skye maneuvered the full coffee perc onto the floor, indicating Edie should pick up the handle on the other side. They awkwardly shuffle-stepped out of the kitchen to the top of the stairs. Edie silently acknowledged she couldn’t have done this on her own. By the second flight of stairs, they’d developed an efficient, synchronized step. As they began the last descent, Edie’s phone signaled a text. It was likely Faina, a friend she had met after her accident. They had become very close in a short period of time. The ringtone chimed then petered off into a strangled electronic whine, like a kid’s toy running low on batteries.
“Sorry about that,” Edie said. “My phone’s been acting weird.”
Skye looked at her sharply. “You mean you didn’t choose that ringtone?”
“The dying Furby ringtone? Definitely not. Though my niece and nephew would have downloaded that if they could find it.”
Skye said nothing, though she looked uncomfortable. Edie sighed. No small talk, no big talk, no personal talk. Apparently they could say hello and talk about coffee. Fine.
Just as they reached the bottom few steps, Dr. Wallace appeared in the doorway.
“I see,” Dr. Wallace said gravely, then gestured for them to follow.
Edie looked at Skye, wondering about Dr. Wallace’s reaction. Skye kept her eyes on the stairs but a light blush coloured her cheeks. Edie wanted to laugh, but that would have made her more uncomfortable. They deposited the coffee perc on the counter, Edie taking a moment to set it just right. When she turned to offer her thanks, Skye looked at her with an intensity that made her want to step away or step closer.
“My best friend,” Skye said. She shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back onto her heels. “My best friend has PTSD, and I started coming here to support her. We served together. But she re-upped a year ago. And I stayed with the group to help out.”
It was the longest Skye had talked, and Edie wanted more. She wanted to ask about Skye’s best friend, about her military past, about the slight strangle in her throat when she spoke. But before she could say anything, Skye turned and disappeared back up the stairs, taking her intensity, her interesting eyes, and her barriers of caution with her.
Chapter Two
Carleton University wasn’t really a beautiful campus. It could have been, given its proximity to the Rideau River. Most of the concrete and brick buildings faced each other instead of anything interesting except the River Building, which housed the pride and joy of Carleton University, the School of Journalism and Communication.
Edie wasn’t heading to the River Building today. She walked to the generic concrete Dunton Tower at the far end of campus that held the Department of English Language and Literature. Maybe one day she’d get a chance to teach in the journalism department where she’d once been a master’s student, but competition was fierce for those prestigious teaching positions. Edie had a long list of things she would fight for in her life. Prestige wasn’t one of them.
Edie hadn’t been here in over a year. She had just finished her first year teaching, all papers graded and marks submitted. She’d been taken off probation and offered a third course, Finding Voice in Creative Nonfiction, the following fall. All in all, she’d been elated. The two years in Afghanistan were shifting and settling into the past, her guilt at leaving with so much left undone was fading. Her gut had told her it was time to leave, but the guilt had ridden her hard for a long time.
The quick pace of teaching had helped her. Seeing the enthusiasm and raw talent of some of her students, as well as the apathy and terrible grammar of others, had begun to heal her. Regret had never sat well with Edie Black.
Determined to not let her past dictate the course of her thoughts, Edie opened the glass doors of the Dunton Tower. One lone student sat on a chair, ear buds in and staring at her phone. Classes were done for the spring semester, and the much quieter summer semester had not yet started. Edie took the elevator to the seventh floor.
Her office was an ugly, tiny space with a huge window just high enough to see the trees lining the path along the Rideau Canal. Four cubicles bisected the space, with a small round table shoved into a corner with a geometric imprecision that had always made Edie twitch. Edie could see the imprint from the Keurig coffeemaker on that round table. Someone had taken it home for the summer.
Edie stopped in the doorway as a ricochet of thoughts and memories, experiences and decisions went through her head. She remembered the last moments of happiness she’d had, confident she’d made the right decision to leave journalism, to leave Afghanistan, and to enter teaching. That happiness seemed distant now.
Tired already of introspection, Edie circled the cubicles until she reached her own in the back corner. The space was completely clean. Not a paper, not a sticky note, not a pen cap, not her I ♥ Carleton mug she’d bought on her first day. Confused, with a niggling thread of concern, Edie backed out of the office and headed to the far end of the hallway. A young woman looked up as Edie approached.
“Can I help you?”
“Hi, yes, I’m Edie Black. I was an instructor here last year—”
“Oh! Yes, you’re the one who got hit by a car. The intoxicated driver. I saw it on the news.”
The media coverage had been extensive after her accident, and this scene had occurred more than once during her recovery. Edie tried to play it like a journalist, shaping the conversation and leading it where she wanted to go. Trying to avoid people’s sometimes intrusive curiosity.
“Yes,” Edie said evenly. “I was wondering if you happened to know where my stuff is from my office? I’m guessing it got packed away.”
“Well, sort of. Your brother came in about a couple of months after your accident last year and said you wanted everything collected. I figured they’d want the space anyway, you know?”
Edie didn’t respond, thinking it was incredibly odd Shawn would show up to collect her things. For months after her accident, she’d been in so much pain, the last thing she would have been thinking about was files in her office.
The young woman chewed a cuticle as Edie’s silence stretched on.
“Maybe you don’t remember?” she said. “Is that a memory thing from your coma?”
A coma. Was that what her story had turned into? Journalists and lobbying groups and concerned citizens had all converged on her once the details of her accident had been made public. The car that hit Edie had been driven by eighteen-year-old Yaz Khalid, member of a minor royal family and the son of an Arab diplomat stationed in Ottawa. He’d been drunk and high, and his diplomatic immunity had completely protected him. The lack of consequences for the young man’s actions caused an uproar. The story had captured the city, the province, the nation. Edie didn’t remember any of it, but for a few months, her life had been headline news.
Edie refocused on the very sweet, nearly vapid young woman. Where had they found her? Edie wished Faina was here with her to witness this odd exchange. They’d laugh about it, no doubt.
“No, not a coma. Did Martine give the okay for my office to be packed up?” Edie said, referring to the department head at the time.
More cuticle chewing. “Well, no one was here except me. I figured you’d want your stuff. He was a nice guy,” she said defensively.
Anger surged in a wave of heat that went up Edie’s collarbone and neck and into her face. She never used to blush. She’d always had absolute command over her expression and body language. Something else the concussion had stolen from her.
“Can you describe hi
m to me? Please.”
“He had dark brown hair and really nice eyes. He even brought his own boxes. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and flip-flops.”
Concerned, disturbed, a yellow flag of caution. She needed to get away from this woman and call her brother. It could have been him. But with that description, it could have been anyone.
“Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome! Happy summer.”
Edie opted for the stairwell over the elevator, needing some kind of movement to untangle her thoughts from her emotions. She’d call Shawn to confirm this story. She’d make a list of everything that should have been at her desk. She would…
What? She would what? Call campus security? Over some curriculum documents and badly written essays and a laptop so old the IT department refused to service it again? They’d look at her the same way the woman at the desk had. They might even bring up her “coma.” They would confirm her paranoia.
“Fuck,” Edie muttered as she rounded the last set of stairs and pushed her way out into the sun.
Thankful she’d been too cheap to pay for parking on campus, Edie began the hike back to her car a few blocks away. This would get sorted out. It was just another example of a minor wrinkle she had mentally turned into an impossible mountain. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to her brother asking him to check in when he had a minute. Shawn was a pediatric surgeon specializing in oncology at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario across town. He might check in three minutes from now or three days from now, depending on his schedule.
He and his wife Anna had two hilarious, bright kids, Elise and Colin, eleven and twelve, who Edie adored. The feeling was mutual. Shawn and his family were Edie’s anchor in her nomadic, swiftly moving life, but they had never understood how Edie could switch locations and careers so easily. Edie had never been able to describe how she made decisions that just felt right. At least they had before her accident.
Edie took a set of stairs down into a courtyard lit up with the morning sun. During the regular school year, every stone bench and table would have been full of students. Today, she saw only two women sitting across from each other, talking. The woman wearing a purple print scarf around her head and shoulders suddenly laughed, a bright sound that echoed in the space, matching the brightness of the morning. Her laugh made Edie smile, even though she didn’t know the joke. Both women looked over as Edie entered the courtyard and Edie nodded a quick, polite hello. Skye stared back at her in frank surprise.
Edie stopped abruptly. Skye had half turned on the bench and they stared at each other for a beat longer than was comfortable. Edie tried a smile, but Skye sat unmoving with no change in her expression. She was just about to break eye contact when Skye stood and walked toward her. Edie met her halfway, acknowledging the little of beat of happiness that ricocheted around her chest.
“Hi,” Skye said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her navy blue pants. She wore a button up grey shirt, sleeves rolled up her forearms. No beanie today, and her sandy hair was styled with a messy, casual deliberateness. Jesus, she was gorgeous.
“Hi. It’s nice to see you again. I never got to say thanks for your help the other night.”
Skye shrugged and half turned away. “No problem.”
Just pulling simple conversation from this woman required Herculean effort. Edie felt the challenge of it. She wondered how she could get Skye to talk without spooking her. To her surprise, Skye spoke first.
“You work on campus?”
“I did. In the English department. I’m hoping to pick up some courses again in the fall.”
“You like teaching?”
“Most of the time. I haven’t been in the gig long enough to be bitter about the amount of paperwork, but some days it’s like teaching a seminar room full of hung-over toddlers, you know?”
Edie laughed to show she was joking, and Skye’s eyes brightened. She even smiled a bit. Edie could get used to that.
“I led a platoon of infantry for five years,” Skye said. “So now imagine armed hung-over toddlers.”
Edie raised her eyes at Skye’s unbidden offer of information. Even Skye seemed surprised at her admission. She blushed and took a step back, looking over her shoulder at her companion still seated at the table. The woman looked at Skye and Edie with curiosity.
“I should let you get back to…working?” Edie said, not quite ready to release Skye.
“Ah…yeah. Sort of.” Skye hesitated, then spoke again. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Edie followed Skye over to the stone table, and the other woman stood as they approached. She was stunning, with rich black hair, wide brown eyes, and honest-to-God dimples. Her skin was a light, warm brown, and she had a lovely smile.
“Edie, this is my partner, Adelah.”
Edie shook the woman’s proffered hand with disappointment. They made a beautiful couple.
“Edie Black. It’s nice to meet you, Adelah.”
“Lovely to meet you, Edie,” Adelah responded in a lightly accented voice. “And just to clarify, I am Skye’s business partner. She may be the handsomest butch in town, but my tastes run more to the femmes, I’m afraid.”
Edie laughed at the unexpected response, then laughed even harder as Skye blushed and looked down at her boots, obviously trying to hide a grin. Adelah’s brown eyes danced mischievously.
“You knew what you were getting when you signed me on as partner, Skye Kenny,” Adelah said with obvious affection. “We’re legally bound.”
“What business are you two in?” Edie said. She was more than curious. She was driven to know Skye.
Adelah looked pointedly at her business partner, obviously waiting for her to answer the question. Edie thought she caught Skye give her a fleeting, pleading look, but Adelah simply raised a sculpted eyebrow. Skye sighed and answered.
“We run a small tech company. Basically, other companies contract us to write and repair lines of code, manage data systems, or develop site-specific software. We just picked up a long-term contract for audio scrubbing, taking out each individual byte of background noise for a production company in Vancouver.”
Skye seemed to relax as she talked about her business.
“And the most unique aspect of our enterprise?” Adelah prompted.
“Our company is entirely virtual and all of our employees have some form of PTSD, anxiety disorder, or some reason why working in a traditional office environment would be difficult. We recently hired two individuals with autism. Between them, they completed a coding contract in three weeks that I told the client would take two months.”
“That’s incredible,” Edie said. She remembered what Skye had said about her best friend.
“We’re looking at partnering with the computer sciences department here at the university,” Adelah said, picking up the thread. “Maybe take on an intern or two.”
“Maybe,” Skye said. “We’re in talks right now.”
Adelah rolled her eyes, a look she somehow managed to make look pointed instead of merely childish.
“We’re expanding into training,” Adelah said with a frustrated sigh.
“We’re moving forward with caution,” Skye retorted.
Adelah gave Edie a quick grin. Edie returned it, fascinated with their volley of conversation. Skye could talk. Interesting.
“So, Edie, you work on campus?” Adelah said.
“Not this past academic year. I was just telling Skye I’m hoping to teach a few courses in the fall.”
“You took a sabbatical?”
“No, I was hit by a car last year, so I’ve been in recovery for the past eleven months.”
“That must have been difficult,” Adelah said.
“I’m sorry, Edie,” Skye added softly.
Edie nodded her thanks to both women, but Skye’s look of intensity truly captured her. She searched for a trace of pity and came up empty. She wanted Skye to see her as whole, not the broken and pieced-together p
erson she sometimes resembled.
“I’ve been lucky,” Edie said. “I keep making small goals for myself and meeting them. It’s not overly dramatic, but it’s working for me.” She laughed self-consciously. Talking about her weaknesses wasn’t easy. And self-doubt annoyed her. She was about to break eye contact when Skye spoke.
“The simple plans are the most effective if you stick to them. Good for you.”
Edie took a breath. Rushing headlong into anything wasn’t an option for her right now. Everything about her recovery was measured: exercise, relationships, reading, sensory stimuli, writing. Skye was an immeasurable quantity.
“I should get going,” Edie said. She turned to Adelah. “It was nice to meet you.”
“It was very nice to meet you, Edie.” Adelah turned and sat back down on the bench, giving Skye and Edie a small amount of privacy.
“Will you have coffee with me after the meetings on Thursday?” Edie said.
Skye seemed completely taken aback. Her eyes widened and she pulled herself up, adopting an almost military stance. She searched Edie’s face for a moment, then she relaxed slightly.
“You mean you won’t have enough at the meeting?”
Edie grinned. “Nope.”
“Okay. Sure,” Skye said. “I usually stay with Dr. Wallace and help her clean up and make sure she gets to her car. After that?” Skye looked hopeful, and her nervousness was adorable.
“Perfect, yes,” Edie said. “See you Thursday.”
“See you Thursday.”
Edie walked away, feeling Skye’s eyes on her back. She was always curious about the minutes after an interview, always tried to imagine the mind-set of the people she had talked to, whether they felt satisfied or concerned or relieved with the conclusion. She had no way of guessing what Skye was thinking. And she really, really wanted to know.
Edie’s cell phone whine-chimed in her pocket. She pulled it out, expecting to see Shawn’s name. It was a text from Faina.
Baby D Dogs playing at the Ambassador at 8. Come with me.
Repercussions Page 2
