by R D Hathaway
A big smile grew across Angie’s mouth as she leaned onto the counter. “He said his parents are coming to town in a couple of days. He told me he wanted to tell them something important, but first he needed to ask me something.”
Her voice softened. “I asked him what, and he said in this really cute, devilish way that he would save it for dinner tonight. I don’t know what else it could be.”
“Angie, I’m happy for you. Thanks for sharing the moment with me.”
Rennie chuckled, seeing the innocent little girl in the confident, professional woman.
Angie became serious. “Right, I guess I couldn’t contain it for a moment.”
“Yeah, I’d better get back upstairs. I need to wrap this up. Unless something extraordinary pops up, the mystery of Professor Justus will lie with him.”
Angie couldn’t concentrate. “Okay then,” she said and strolled back into her office.
***
Rennie ran up the stairs and unlocked the work room. Flipping on the light, she laid her bag on a chair, took off her jacket, and surveyed the documents spread out on the table. She removed a file from her bag and reviewed her notes.
“Okay, Doc, let’s finish this up,” she said to an old memo lying on a stack of papers.
After a couple of hours, Rennie left the work room and went downstairs to get some coffee and fresh air. As she was leaving, she met Angie on her way out.
Rennie walked her to the door. “Be sure to tell him you’ll accept nothing less than two carats.”
Angie gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Anything new with the professor?”
“Nope. I’ve got to move on to the real world. At least this century.”
Rennie watched her turn the corner and run lightly to the parking lot.
In a low voice, Rennie said, “Good luck.”
Minutes later, she was refreshed and sitting again in front of the boxes of paperwork and personal items of Professor Justus. She covered her face with both hands, then drew her fingertips through her hair. She got up and walked slowly around the table.
“What’s the angle? Bud always wants an angle,” she muttered.
At the other end of the table, she noticed the leather-bound book with “Field Notes” engraved on the spine. She looked through a few pages of text and photos and tossed it into one of the boxes. She opened a file folder labeled “Staff - Professional Background” and spread the papers on the table.
Rennie read the list of contributions he had made to various journals including titles, “Ephraimitic Sources of Hebrew Wisdom,” “Abram and other Semite Wanderers,” “The Role of Aramaic in a Roman / Greek Near East,” and “The Christian Church of Alexandria – Christ Comes to Egypt.”
Rennie snorted. “Boy, I’ll bet those knocked’em dead.”
She sat down, put on the gloves, and placed all the papers back into the appropriate folders, briefly scanning each one to make sure she hadn’t missed anything important.
Another hour and a half of review passed by. She called her office for messages, then checked those on her cell phone. As the messages played, she wrote notes from the callers on her tablet. She looked at her watch. It was twenty minutes after seven. “Oh, jeeze,” she whined. “I’ve got to finish this tonight. This is not going on another day.”
She jerked the gloves off her hands, grabbed her bag and left the room, locking the door. When she reached the counter, she asked the student on the other side, “Where can I get a quick meal?”
The student was helpful, with directions to a nearby café. Forty minutes later, Rennie returned to the library with an increased sense of urgency. As she dashed through the entry, she nearly ran into a well-dressed man standing near the door.
She hurried up the stairs and settled into her work room. As she was about to sit down, she noticed the “Field Notes” book lying open. The pages in the back of the book were not printed but were lined and filled with handwritten notes. She moved closer to the box.
She lifted the book both hands, as though it were a delicate piece of glass. Rennie studied each word and the artful style of the handwriting. The ink on the page was still sharp. She brought the text close to her face and smelled the page.
She sank into the chair. It’s his journal.
Laying it on the table, she put on the cotton gloves she was supposed to have been wearing. Feathering the front pages of the book, she discovered the printed text and photos only filled the first third of the book. The remainder was left open for a diary or for … Rennie gazed at the wall. “For field notes,” she whispered with a smile.
She turned to the first page of handwriting and read,
“America’s Independence Day is not celebrated in England. I guess I am not surprised.”
“Wait,” she said. “That’s July. He arrived in May!”
She set the book down and stood up again. Looking into the boxes, she found two more books with the same leather covers. Her heart was thumping. Her mouth was dry. Her gloved fingers opened one of the books. Her breathing slowed to a shallow drifting of air through her nostrils. She quickly fanned the pages to find the written text.
“I’m using this fine guide to archeology dig management” wrote Professor Justus, “to document not an historic find, but rather, the treasure of this journey abroad. I shall begin with my notes of the journey from the goodness of Iowa to the grandeur of England.”
Rennie’s eyes widened. Again, she smelled the pages. Turning to the last page, she read the last paragraph.
“The Princess and the Pope have actually become quite enjoyable company. I know they are not liked by many, but for the brief time that I am here, I intend to celebrate the intrigue of their characters rather than judge them. They are brilliant, attractive people and I don’t mind if I am a curiosity to them. I intend to have some fun.”
A mischievous grin grew across Rennie’s face. “We just may have a story,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. “Okay, Bud, this is for you.”
She flipped the pages back to the beginning of the writing and set the book down. She removed her jacket, pushed her chair away from the table, and picked up the book. She sat down and rested her feet on the table surface.
An hour later, she heard a door slam in the lower level of the library. She snapped to attention and laid the book on the table. She looked at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. Rennie listened with intensity as she stared at the door. She placed a piece of paper into the “Field Notes” book where she had been reading.
Removing the cotton gloves, she took her cell phone from her purse and pushed the buttons for “9” and for “1.” She held her finger over the number “1.” Slowly, she opened the door to the work room and looked into the dark library building.
The only lights on in the library were a few security lights and what came in through the windows. However, there were no windows in her room. She thought that if she turned out the light, she would be in total darkness. If she left it on and went out the door, it might draw the attention of whoever was downstairs. She took a deep breath and turned off the light.
She heard someone yell. It sounded like an angry woman. There was shouting. Something crashed to the floor.
Rennie opened the door and gripped her phone. Her eyes, adjusted to the darkness, helped her tiptoe to the stairway. Moving without a sound, she was on high alert to everything around her. Stepping down the stairs, she peered over the railing. Another crashing sound came from the offices behind the counter. She stopped and crouched down.
“You bastard!” screamed the woman.
Rennie recognized the voice of Angie McGrady. She quickly and lightly descended the last few steps. When she reached the counter, she looked for something that could serve as a weapon, just in case. The counter was clear of everything and the cabinets behind it were locked.
“Oh, no,” the wom
an’s voice moaned. “How could you do this to me?”
Rennie clenched her teeth. She focused on the door to Angie’s office. A sliver of light came through a slight gap of the door in the frame. It had not been fully closed. With fearsome energy, Rennie lunged at the door.
“Stop,” she yelled as she jumped into the office.
Angie stood frozen in shock as she stared at Rennie. Her mouth dropped open and she trembled.
Rennie glanced around and saw no one else in the room. She looked down at her own clenched fist then back at Angie.
“What the heck is going on here?” she yelled.
Angie slowly sank down to the floor and put one hand over her eyes.
Again, Rennie surveyed the room. A metal folding chair was flat on the floor and several large books were nearby. A wastebasket was on its side under a table. She looked at the young librarian. Her tears had washed her makeup down her cheeks. Her bright red lipstick was smeared, and there appeared to be a streak of it along one arm.
Rennie sat down next to her. “Angie, what’s up?”
Her voice was soft.
Angie removed her hand from her eyes and turned away from Rennie.
“What are you doing here?” She bit her lip and gazed at the floor.
“I guess I lost track of time. I was upstairs, in the work room, and I heard something. It sounded like a fight or something. I thought someone was being hurt. Angie, are you okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Greg broke up with me.”
Her tears poured out again.
Rennie put her hand on the shaking shoulder of the young woman.
“Oh God, what am I going to do? I thought this was the night, our night. I am so stupid.”
She looked up at Rennie, tears flooding her cheeks. “I lost it right there in the restaurant. You know what he wanted to ask me?”
She turned away again and clenched her fist.
“Tell me. What did he say?”
Angie got up and grabbed some tissues from a box on her desk. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. After a deep breath, she turned around.
“The love of my life, my big hero, that jerk, told me that he was being made a partner at his law firm. He’s never looked so happy. He couldn’t stop talking. He’s going to be working more and traveling to Washington, dealing with big hotshots.”
Wiping her eyes again, she marched up to Rennie. “So, my mister big shot said that it was best if I understood that we might not see each other as much for awhile. His big question was whether that was okay for me! In a year or two, when he made his mark, then he could concentrate on us.”
She held herself and quietly cried.
“Listen, kiddo, you’re not stupid.” Rennie got up. “You are terrific. I’ve been through crap like this before, and I know it’s no fun. Give it a rest and you’ll see it in a new way.”
Rennie laid her hand on Angie’s shoulder. “Maybe you two have a great future together. Guys can be stupid. You can’t figure it out tonight. Just wait a day and give him a call or wait for his call. Then get together and talk about it.”
Angie looked up at Rennie. “It really stinks.”
“Yeah, it does. Relationships can be the worst and they can be the best.”
Rennie set up the folding chair and picked up the waste basket from under the table. She lifted the books from the floor and put them on the desk as Angie wiped her eyes with tissues.
“I am so embarrassed,” she said. Then she laughed. “What were you going to do when you burst in here? Start fighting with someone?”
“Hey baby, I’ve got a mean right hook. You don’t want to get in my way at the wrong time.”
They both laughed as Rennie shook her fist.
“Hey, my ex has seen these knuckles up close.”
Angie was so amused she snorted.
Rennie began to relax. “I think we both could use a drink. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of late.”
“I’m not talking about an all-night binge. Let’s just go out, get a drink, and get out of here. We need a change of perspective. I’ll go upstairs and lock up, then I’ll meet you back down here. Okay?”
Angie dabbed at her nose. “Okay, I can use that.”
Rennie ran upstairs to the work room. She put on her jacket, dropped her cell phone into her bag, and returned downstairs.
As the two women walked out of the library, Rennie asked, “Where should we go?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard some students talk about a place in Indianola called Lucky’s Place. It’s not far away.”
“Okay, I’ll follow you.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting on tall stools at a small round table. Country music rolled through the beer-scented atmosphere. Two young men in T-shirts and jeans, with baseball caps worn backwards stared at them from across the room. One of them lifted his long-neck beer bottle and took a drink. He pointed it at the other guy and made a few comments. They laughed.
“What are you going to have?” Rennie asked Angie.
“I don’t know; maybe wine. Do you think they have a shiraz?”
“Girl, if they’ve got wine here, you don’t want it. It’s either going to be beer or something hard.”
Angie rubbed her eyes. “My dad used to like a brandy old fashioned, sweet. They’re pretty good.”
Rennie gave her a shocked look.
“Okay, brandy old fashioned it is.”
Rennie went to the bar and came back with a beer and Angie’s drink.
Rennie held out her bottle. “Angie, here’s to men and to the women who can live without them.”
“Amen,” Angie said as she clinked her glass against the beer bottle.
“You want to talk about it?”
Angie stirred her drink. “No, I’m exhausted right now. Maybe later.”
“A break is good,” Rennie responded.
A few moments of quiet passed between them. Angie cleared her throat. “So, what happened with you and your ex? I just wondered. You know, this situation with me and Greg.”
Rennie picked at the label on her beer bottle. “I don’t know. It just wasn’t right from the beginning. The heat of the relationship blinded us. We didn’t look at who we were and how we were. We just looked at what we wanted.”
“Everyone does that, and it’s easy to throw blame around; boyfriends, job, parents.”
Rennie raised her beer, “I’ll drink to that. We underestimate the power of our earliest years in forming us. My dad, Walter, is a professor of religious studies at Iowa State and big questions were always on his mind. My mother, Kirstin, was and still is in her 50’s a competitive athlete. She was also a local beauty queen. So, now I’m stuck with competing for answers to big questions. It’s all their fault.”
Angie touched her glass against Rennie’s bottle. “Now, I’ll drink to that. I guess I’m stuck with being mellow because of my hippie parents.”
“Hmm, hippies. So, is Angie short for something, or is that the real name?”
“No, that’s not the ‘formal’ name. It’s just better than what I got from my parents.”
“Really. Tell me more.”
Angie blushed. “If I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone, and you have to tell me a secret about you.”
“Okay, deal.”
“Like I said, my parents were from the ‘60’s, and they were into the flower power thing. They named me Angel. Can you believe that? Do you know how much kidding I got in school when kids found out? ‘Hey, Angel, fly over here!’ So, I use ‘Angie.’”
Rennie studied the label on her bottle. “Names are something. You wouldn’t believe how many times I get messages for Mister Rennie Haran.”
Angie tilted her drink toward Rennie. “Okay, your turn.”
; “Between us, right?”
Angie leaned in for the secret.
“Well, it’s not a big thing. I almost went right here to Simpson College out of high school.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my parents were big in the United Methodist Church, at least our church. This was the only place I was supposed to go. When I was in high school, I even thought about going to seminary and being a minister, but that wasn’t too cool for girls back then. I actually enjoyed studying Scripture. There’s so much history and intrigue in it. I kept wondering what God was trying to tell us.”
Angie sat back and gave Rennie a serious look. “Now wait a minute, that’s no big thing! I want real trash, girl.”
Rennie chuckled. “Okay, give me a minute. Back at the library, I mentioned my ex. I really did deck him once. I found out he was cheating on me. We were at the house and he came toward me in the hallway. He opened his arms up like, ‘oh, baby girl.’ I was so hot, I just reared back and decked him.”
“No! What did he do?”
“Not much. After he hit the wall and grabbed his face, he just looked at me in shock. I was afraid he’d hit me back. He muttered something through his hand covering his bleeding mouth and turned around and walked away.”
“So, what was it like? Did your hand hurt?”
“Yeah, my hand hurt. I had to run it under cold water for a while.”
“I could never do that. I could never hit Greg, even if he cheated on me. Besides,” she laughed, “he’d sue me. So, you really thought about being a pastor? Were you into the Bible and all that?”
Rennie swiveled her beer bottle again. “Yeah, I was pretty much into that, but from an analytical perspective. That probably came from my dad. It was long ago, and I’m not into that anymore.”
“How did you get into reporting?”
“Like everybody else, I went to college, and didn’t know what I wanted to do. I got a degree in history of all things and had no idea what to do with that. I got a job at the paper, and this drive inside me for answering deep questions, truth-and-justice came out. I found I was able to use my reporting as a way of satisfying that drive. It gets pretty frustrating, though, because the powers-that-be don’t really want answers, at least to the dark questions. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be the powers-that-be! We can only do so much.”
