After a month, Shelby had almost convinced herself that the worst was over.
In her office by eight one Monday morning, Shelby grabbed her mail from the slot and strode toward her door. Finch’s office was dark and silent. He had found her class reviews, finally. But he hadn’t mentioned Katie or any actions he had taken. She brushed away a twinge of worry. Surely he would back her up.
The high ceilinged room was bright with reflected morning sunlight. Shelby tugged open the window behind her desk and inhaled the heavy scent of spring, the tree leaves rippling inches from her hand.
A knock on the door yielded Katie, hair stringy and limp, shadows under her eyes so large they almost touched her sharp cheekbones. An old backpack hung from one shoulder.
“Come in, Katie.” Shelby stood, warily regarding the thin young woman. Her shorts were ragged and her legs bore purple and yellow bruises. Her tank top revealed tattoos of barbed wire circling both biceps.
“I was wondering if you could get the paper we signed, about the schedule for turning in my thesis work. I need to see the original.” Her voice was soft, not as belligerent.
Shelby blinked. “You mean the one you tore up?”
“Right. I’m not going to do anything with it, I just need another copy, for Finch.”
Frowning, Shelby regarded her for a moment. Why wouldn’t Finch have told her that? But then again, he hardly ever told her anything.
“It’s in the office, we can go get it now, if you like.”
Katie sighed and dropped into the armchair by the door. She rested her head in her hands and moaned. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.” She lifted her eyes and asked beseechingly, “Could you go? I’ll stay right here.”
Shelby nodded, sympathy welling up in her for the young woman. “Sure. But Katie, don’t you think you should go to the doctor? You really don’t look well.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, eyes narrowing to slits. Then she sighed again and said, voice much softer. “Sorry, I’m just... tired, like I said.”
Shelby slipped out the door and walked down the quiet hallway toward the office. Katie looked like she was near a mental and physical breakdown. But she couldn’t force her to go to the doctor. If she wouldn’t confide in her, she couldn’t help with whatever was the problem either. Shelby retrieved the original schedule for Katie’s graduate thesis work with a heavy heart. She made another copy, for her files, just in case, and one for Katie.
As she neared her office door, she saw the young woman drop back into the armchair, glancing into the hallway.
“Here you are, and here’s another copy. I really wish things had worked out better. You were doing some excellent research-
“Thanks, that’s what I needed.” She stood up, snatching the paper from Shelby’s hand, eyes already on the door. She shouldered her backpack, and strode out. Shelby watched her leave, grimacing at the sight of the large dragon tattoo around her calf. That girl didn’t have a mark on her when they had first met, three years ago. Now she looked like she should work at the circus. She tried to shrug off the disturbing encounter, but part of her wondered where Katie was going to end up. Lord, please watch over Katie, she whispered to herself. Keep her safe from harm and help her to know your presence in her life. Shelby knew there wasn’t much else she could do, but pray.
Settling back into her office chair she sorted her few pieces of campus mail into piles, turning a manila envelope over in her hands. The name of the sender jumped out at her- Ransom Fielding, Agate Hall. Her heart thudded in her chest and her breath quickened. She hated herself for reacting like that at the sight of his name, She shook her head and ran her fingers around the edges that jutted against the paper, wondering.
She gently unsealed the tape that held the envelope closed and a small leather diary fell into her hand. Dark with age, a few water spots visible on the calfskin cover, the little book looked like a hundred others she’d seen from the Civil War era. The inside page marked it as the property of one Mrs. Bernardette Joliver. A slip of paper fluttered to her desk when she turned the page. Small, spiky script in a familiar hand confirmed the sender.
I found this in Roanoke on the weekend. Thought you might want to see it.
J.F.
She shoved away an image of Ransom and Tasha on a romantic weekend trip. A page was marked near the middle with a yellow post it. Her hands trembled, while her common sense screamed at her that it couldn’t be, that she should not hope. She scanned the spidery text, barely able to breathe. There, near the middle, were the words she sought. Twice, three times she read the paragraph and then set the little book down on her desk. Two years she had searched for the mysterious benefactor’s name. Countless tiny libraries, antique shops, historical sections and museums. She’d read so many dull accounts of every day lives she felt like she was near three hundred years old instead of thirty. And here it was, in the campus mail, from him.
Shelby read the paragraph again and started to laugh. It was beyond a doubt, and she never would have guessed.
Susanna Caldwell is persistent in her petitions for funding. I suggested
that my providing for two schools in the Thorny Hollow region should
exempt me from further requests. She demanded to know, quite rudely,
if I had run out of money. I assured her that I had no such worries,
to which she responded that I must not ‘be a miser’.
She is quite my favorite person. She continues to assure me that no one
will know who is donating the funds. My son would have me declared
incompetent at once. I know I have the chance to distribute money
as I wish only while dear Frank is alive. He does not recognize me at all now,
which pierces my heart, but I know he would have approved.
She closed the small volume and held it against her chest. A woman, almost a widow, racing the moment her fortune would be turned over to her male children. She shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around this new version of the ‘mysterious B.J.’. And that Ransom had solved the mystery for her. Shelby jumped from her seat and flew out the door.
“Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her.”
-Pride and Prejudice
Chapter Thirty Six
Her tentative knock was answered with a brisk, “come in”. As Shelby pushed the door open, Ransom’s expression flickered then melted into a huge smile. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, tie loosened. A mug sat near his laptop, papers stacked neatly to the side.
“Did you get the diary? Do you think that’s who you were looking for?” He rose from his chair and crossed the room, expression hopeful.
She knew it had been a mistake the moment he came close. A thrill went through her entire body, and she wanted nothing more than to meet him as he walked toward her. Shelby clenched the book in one hand and her other made a fist so tightly her fingernails made half moons on her palm.
“Without a doubt. And I wanted to thank you, in person. You must know, you have to understand what this means to me.” To her horror, tears appeared in her eyes and her throat closed around the words. She took a shuddering breath. It wasn’t just the book or the thoughtfulness. There were so many emotions, they seemed to cancel themselves out inside of her.
“Please, sit down.” He tried to steer her toward a seat but she stood resolute.
“No, I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I just wanted to say thank you.” Struggling for control, Shelby tried to focus on the view outside.
His voice was rough and seemed to have dropped an octave. “I wanted... I was hoping to tell you this some other time but I took your advice.”
“Advice?”
“The letter. Well, you never said exactly a letter, but it’s about my wife, and what I had carried after her death.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, searching for words. “You know, I should just save this for a better time. ”
“No, really, I want to know.” Shelby
leaned forward in her eagerness. Was it possible that his pain had been lifted? Could it be that easy?
Ransom fixed her with a steady gaze. “I’ve always been a proud man, Shelby. Always had a hard time admitting I was wrong. But I was unbelievably wrong to hold on to something in her name, something she would have forgiven.” He hesitated, eyes strangely bright. “I wrote that letter and asked for forgiveness.”
Stunned, she felt a delighted smile spread over her face.“I’m so glad,” she whispered.
“Me, too.” His eyes never left her face. “I was so angry with God, I didn’t want to even acknowledge his presence in my life. I thought if he really loved us, he would have saved her. I still don’t understand why everything happened the way it did, but I’m at peace. I feel like I’ve been swimming upstream for so long, fighting with God, and hating myself. But it was like I was welcomed home the moment I reached out.” His eyes shone with joy, his face open with a happiness she’d never seen before.
Shelby’s breath was caught in her throat and she yearned to wrap her arms around this amazing man. He had suffered so much, and then turned away from the only real comfort in this world. His story touched her in a way that was beyond words, beyond fear.
Coming closer he reached out for her hands. “Shelby, I need to tell you-“
As his hands touched hers, Shelby jerked back, her skin on fire. She should never have come, never have met him alone here.
His bright blue eyes went dark, confusion flooded his face.
Shelby searched around the room for some way to make an easy escape. A pack lay against the desk, heavy canvas hung with a canteen and crude metal tools. She grasped at a new thread of conversation, like a drowning woman. “You’re going away for a re-enactment?”
He stared for a moment. “Right, this weekend. Just getting a few things prepared.” Ransom still faced her, eyes shadowed. “Would you like to come along? Dr. Stroud has a terrible need for assistance in the amputation tent.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ll probably lose a limb or two, as usual.”
Her mouth opened to say yes, that she would go anywhere he wanted her to be, but in the end her words were only, “No, I’m sorry. But it sounds like fun.”
A deep chuckle washed over her, she felt as if she was standing in the sun on a cold day. “Liar. I was there when he first invited you. Nothing could have persuaded you to join us.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
Yes, but that was before I knew I wanted to be with you... forever. “Why don’t you ask Tasha? Doesn’t she like your hobby?” So it wasn’t the smoothest reminder, but he needed to think of the woman planning their wedding. A woman that Shelby couldn’t forget.
Ransom frowned, brow creasing, then said, “She would hate it.”
“But it’s good to share your hobbies, right? Especially if you’ll be spending a lot of time out in the field.” Shelby wished he would take another step back, far enough that she couldn’t smell him.
He shook his head. “I’m lost. Why would I be sharing hobbies with Tasha?”
“Well, I’m no expert,” she laughed nervously, “but marriages do well when each partner participates in the other’s hobby, or at least appreciates it.”
“Marriages?” He choked out the word, then started to laugh. ‘What does Tasha have to do with- How on earth-?” Astonished, he tried again, “You can’t possibly think I would marry her.”
Shelby’s face flushed red hot and she fairly shouted, “But she said you were! I know she did!”
“No, you’re mistaken,” he said, infuriatingly calm, as if she hadn’t just raised her voice at him.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “That day we met in the Grind, she said she wanted to get to the Purple Parasol before it closed. She talks weddings constantly! You thanked me for saving your from an evening of wedding details the night we went to dinner! She called your cell phone at midnight during an ice storm!” She knew her voice was rising but was powerless to stop it. She felt like the rules of the universe had suddenly been changed without her permission.
“You are mistaken. We’re related, second cousins on my mother’s side. So, no wedding.”
Her head was swimming, she was at a loss. She put her hands to her cheeks for a moment and they now felt ice cold.
“She’s a wedding planner. And she doesn’t have a thing to say that’s not about weddings. It gets old, fast. And the night she called, she knew I was driving here from Oxford. She wanted the number of a couple we both knew who had just gotten engaged.” Stepping forward, eyes blazing, he said, “ Is that what you’ve thought this whole time?”
She looked up, alarmed. She licked her lips, they felt swollen. Everything was moving so quickly. Just this morning she was resigned to never see him again, and now anything was possible. He had been engaged, an unbeliever, an adversary. And now everything was different. She felt as if every nerve ending was on fire, the diary completely forgotten. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, then to her lips.
Shelby took a step back, her thoughts whirling. She wanted to laugh, to scream at him, to throw herself in his arms. But she had to think first.
“I’ll be right back. I need... to go to the bathroom,” she said in a choked voice. Without a second glance she turned and retreated.
The restroom was blessedly empty. A giggled burbled up from somewhere deep inside and she held her hands to her mouth. Not engaged, not engaged, not engaged. She shook her head, laughter rocking her back and forth. All the times she’d rejected his flirtations, frowned and glared and fretted.
The moment under the tree at his aunt’s house flashed through her mind. Shelby wiped her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, still chuckling. He must think she’s the meanest woman alive.
And he’s still around. Does that make him crazy or just determined?
Deciding to reserve judgment on that last thought, she washed her hands. Her reflection showed a young woman, face flushed, eyes a bit too bright, but calm and composed. Liar, she whispered.
As the door swung open at her touch, Ransom lifted his head. He was still in the same spot she’d left him, eyes dark with emotion but he remained silent as she entered the room.
“I wanted to ask you to dinner. As a thank you,” she said, her voice clear, but her hands trembled. “Do you have a dish you especially like? I can make anything and Rebecca makes a really delicious orange roast chicken that-”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “I mean, yes, I’d like that and no, nothing special. Roast chicken sounds wonderful.” He still hadn’t moved from his position near the desk.
“Um, how about this weekend? Maybe Friday?” she said, trying to be casual and wishing her heart would stop hammering. She could hardly hear him over the sound. How would she ever make it through a dinner?
“Sounds great,” he said. She nodded, and turned toward the door. A last glance showed him seemingly immobilized, but his eyes were bright with some powerful emotion.
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.”
-Mr. Darcy
Chapter Thirty Seven
“I can’t believe you lost another set of keys,” Rebecca snorted.
“They’re not lost, just temporarily misplaced.” Shelby sighed, admitting defeat. “Usually they turn up, but I’ve looked everywhere. I’ll have to tell Finch and they’ll have to change the locks.”
“He’ll make you pay for that. But I’m on my way to campus. I’ll check around Chapman, in case you dropped them.”
“But you said you’d be here,” she said, aghast.
“I never said I’d be here,” Rebecca said calmly. “ I said I’d help make dinner and I have. The angel food cake is done, the strawberries are cut, you just need to make the biscuits and put the chicken in the oven.”
She gripped Shelby’s hand and said, “Look at me. From what you said, there’s nothing keeping you apart. You two need to talk. You really don’t need a chaperone. B
ut you better tell me everything when I get back!”
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to do this alone,” she said.
“I bet it will be awkward for about five seconds, and then you’ll be thanking me. And I like nice jewelry, FYI.” Rebecca grinned and grabbed her purse from the table.
“Very funny, traitor.” She grimaced and headed back to the kitchen.
“Oh, and Mr. Un-engaged is here,” Rebecca called out, laughing, before she opened the front door.
“What? But I haven’t even changed,” she gasped and ran for the bedroom. Her hair would have to stay in its ponytail but she was determined to wear something nicer than old jeans and a T-shirt. She grabbed the pale blue silk dress from its hanger and slipped it on. There was nothing she could do about her make up from the bedroom. A pair of matching sandals and she was ready.
She emerged to the sound of voices. Ransom was laughing easily with Rebecca, who had one foot in and one foot out of the doorway.
His dark hair was still wet from a shower, a light blue button up shirt and khaki pants made him seem like he’d just stepped from a weekender’s catalogue.
“Hi, Shelby. I guess I’m a little early.” He glanced at Rebecca. “I’m sorry you’re not staying. Maybe next time?”
“Absolutely. You guys are adorable, all matchy-matchy.” She gave one last reassuring smile at Shelby. “Have fun!” And with that, she was gone.
Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits (Austen Takes the South) Page 21
