by Nan O'Berry
He turned.
His secretary stood in the doorway. Her arms crossed over her chest. Her stare as intense as a cross examining attorney.
He gulped, then pointed at the file cabinet. “I hit my knee.”
“I see.” She blew out a breath and stepped inside shutting the door to the outside.
Great! He thought glumly. I’m about to get my backside chewed out.
As if to bolster his thought, she moved to the chair turned before his desk and announced, “We need to talk.”
Jericho flung himself back into the chair and turned, so they were staring eye to eye. He placed his elbow on his desk and his left hand on his cheek as she moved around and took a seat across from him.
“Professor Brown, your bedside manner is atrocious.”
“I don’t have a bedside manner,” he shot back. “Those are for doctors.”
“Humph!” she snapped. “You have sent two freshmen and a junior out of this office in tears. I hope you are proud of yourself.”
The taste in his mouth went sour. “They were annoying me. I have a midterm exam to write.”
Her brow lifted.
Jericho shifted in his chair and wished he’d engaged his brain before opening his mouth.
“You’re reputation as a fair minded Professor of history is crumbling. I’d like to know what’s wrong. Who has stepped on your toes?”
“Nobody has stepped on my toes,” he fumed. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
The answer did less to satisfy her. Perhaps, he should have kept silent.
“I have a feeling this has to do with Ms. March.”
Heat rose up Jericho’s neck to settle into his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He glanced down at the first paper on his desk and tired to ignore the drumming of her fingers on the arm of the chair.
“I see.” Her words were laced with sarcasm.
Jericho dampened his lips as she rose.
“I think you are hiding from your true feelings, young man.”
He kept his head down as she walked out, only glancing up as the door slammed.
Pushing his chair back, he stared at the door. Part of him knew Mrs. Davidson had hit the nail on the head. He was hiding from his feelings. Mainly, because he didn’t know what his feelings were.
“Ah, shoot,” he grumbled and stood up. He grabbed his book bag and stomped out the door.
Mrs. Davidson was busy typing on the computer and didn’t look up as he slunk past.
He nearly made it out the door when a familiar voice hailed him.
“Jericho?”
Alyssa. He swallowed and turned. “Hey, there.”
“Hey,” she replied and hurried toward him.
Jericho glanced around to make sure no others were in the hallway.
“Are you ready for Tuesday?”
He blinked. “Tuesday?”
Her brow furrowed. “Halloween? We were going to hand out candy with Molly. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He adjusted the hold on his bag. “I didn’t know if you had something else to do or not.”
Her mouth grew slack. “Something else to do?”
“With Allen,” he added and surprised himself with the venom laced in the words.
“Why would I be doing something with my boss?”
Jericho looked around. “You’re not going to date Allen?”
Alyssa shook her head. “I have my standards.”
He swallowed. “So Tuesday, what time shall we meet?”
“Kids start at dusk and have to be home by eight p.m. Shall we meet around four thirty? That way, we can set up and get Molly dressed.”
“Yeah. I think that will be okay.” He turned to leave. Her hand reached and lightly touched his sleeve. Jericho’s heart turned over. He glanced down at the long slender fingers then let his gaze wander up her arm to her face filled with concern.
“Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry. I thought we had a good time the other night. I guess I pushed it. Can we pretend it didn’t happen?” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
He felt like he could kick himself. “It’s not you, Alyssa,” he admitted. “It was me. I’ve got lots to do before midterms.”
She lifted her lips in a half hearted attempt to smile. “I understand.” She took her hand back. “See you Tuesday.”
“Yeah.” Jericho stood his ground as she walked around him and headed out the door. From the top of the stairs, he could look out of the plate glass on the front of the office building and see her, head down walking with her shoulders slumped toward her car.
“I’m a heel,” he grumbled.
What he needed was a drink. What he needed was an ear to listen. Heading out the door, he started his car headed toward home. Maybe if he was lucky, he could find a sympathetic sounding board in Chandler.
Jericho let Molly out of the car. As the dog ran barking toward the little boy in the backyard, he caught sight of his brother-in-law in the garage. Stuffing his hands deep into his jeans pockets, he shuffled over to where Chandler was working. “Hey?”
His brother-in-law looked up and paused.
“Hey. Sanding?”
Chandler grinned. “Yeah, pulled the old shutters off the house. I promised Wallis I’d give them a good coat of paint before winter.”
“Ah.” Jericho nodded. “Honey do list.”
“Exactly.” Chandler chuckled.He picked up the piece of sandpaper and tore it in half. Holding it out, he lifted a brow toward Jericho.“If you’re seeking me out, I’m betting you need advice.”
Jericho took a deep breath and reached for the sandpaper. “Yeah, yeah I do.”
Chandler pointed to the second shutter on the opposite side of the sawhorses. “Just take the first layer of paint off.”
“Right.” Jericho put his heart and soul into his work. Up and down, he followed the grain of wood. The dark paint dulled, then peeled away. Focusing on the job at hand, his insecurities seemed to grow lighter.
“So, what’s the problem?” Chandler inquired. “Would it be your friend, Alyssa?”
Jericho glanced over his shoulder. “Am I that obvious?”
“No.” Chandler folded the paper he was working with over to reveal an unused portion. “But, when two people are attracted to one another….” He let the sentence hang.
“Who said I was attracted to her?”
Chandler gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, because I don’t think you are as stupid as that sounds.”
Once again, heat found its way to Jericho’s cheeks.
“Yes, I thought so.”
Jericho looked across the yard, through the open garage doors and watched his sister play with the dog and Tate. Suddenly, the want to have that same type family life washed over him like a tidal wave.
“It’s not as hard as it looks,” Chandler whispered. “When you find the right girl, it all seems to come together.”
“But how do you know?” Jericho asked quietly. “I don’t want to make a mistake again.”
“I hear that, but from what I’ve seen, Alyssa is not Charlotte.”
Jericho nodded.
“Uncle Jericho, watch this,” Tate shouted and with his mother standing behind him, he tossed the plastic disk across the yard and Molly jumped up, catching it with her teeth.
“Way to go, Sport!” Jericho called out. Then, in a softer voice, he spoke to Chandler, “We’re doing Halloween at my house. But one of the other professors wants to ask her out.”
“Hmm,” Chandler mused. “How do you feel about that?”
Jericho’s brow grew tense as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit.”
“Why?”
He blinked and turned to face his brother-in-law.“What do you mean, why?”
A quizzical smirk pulled at Chandler’s lips. “Why does it bother you?”
Jericho’s nerves jangled. “I don’t know what you mean?�
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His answer evoked a gruff laugh from the man standing beside him.
Jericho gave a dark look at his brother-in-law.
Chandler placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “Jericho, my dear brother-in-law when you figure that out, you’ll have your answer.”
“Huh?” Jericho stared at him confused. He might have questioned him further except for Tate’s question.
“Uncle Jericho, Tuesday’s Trick or Treat Day!”
Jericho knelt down to be eye level with his nephew. “It sure is. You still going as a mummy?”
Tate nodded furiously. “I can’t wait. Momma says we are coming by to see you. Will Alyssa be there?”
“Miss Alyssa to you, young man,” Wallis corrected.
“Miss Alyssa, will she be there?”
Jericho nodded. “Yes, she will be there.”
Tate smiled. “Good, I like her.” Turning in a flash, he ran back to where Molly was waiting.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Chandler murmured and turned back to the shutters.
“What?” Wallis and Jericho asked in unison.
“Boo!” Alyssa cried as she poked her head into the office where Mrs. Davidson was working.
Turning, she smiled as Alyssa stepped in dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.
“I brought you something.” Alyssa held out the basket.
“What in the world?” Mrs. Davidson remarked. She rose from her chair and hurried to the doorway to take the basket Alyssa held out. Pushing back the red and white checkered cloth, she was surprised to find pretzel sticks dipped in green icing with an almond sliver on the end.
“Witches fingers.” Alyssa giggled. “My grandmother made them for us when I was little.”
Mrs. Davidson held one up. “Oh, my, gosh! You’re so creative. I think the Dean should have put you on the committee for the holiday fundraiser.”
“Oh, is that what the meeting was all about?”
Mrs. Davidson nodded. Walking back to her desk, she placed the basket on the corner and turned to Alyssa. “Yes, a bunch of professors have no vision on what to do.” She cocked her head and stared at Alyssa. “Let’s take lunch together today and brainstorm.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You think we should?”
“I know so.”
Setting the time, Alyssa said her goodbye to Mrs. Davidson and hurried to her office. She had just finished logging in on the emails when Allen Crane wandered in.
“Hello, Ms. March.” He smiled.
“Professor Crane.” She stood and handed him the morning messages.“Most are from students who have not finished their projects and are asking for more time.”
“Don’t they always.” He sighed and sorted through them. “Thanks.”
Moving past her, she watched as he entered his office. Alyssa turned back to the correspondence she needed to complete.
“Ms. March?”
She glanced at the doorway.
“Sir?”
“Do you have plans for November the fifteenth?”
“Fifteenth?”
“There’s a small get together at the Bistro. I was wondering if you’d like to go?”
“Go?” She blinked. “With you?” Alyssa’s eyes widened as she realized the sound of her words.“I-I didn’t mean that.” She stammered.
Professor Crane held up his hand and silenced her. “Ms. March, no need to say another word. I pride myself on being a good judge of character.” He shook his head. “Does Jericho realize how lucky he is?”
“Jericho?” she repeated the name.
He stepped into the doorway. “Ms. March, I have the feeling you are not even aware that you’re in love with St. Helena’s Community College confirmed bachelor.”
“Confirmed…” She shook her head. “No, we aren’t in love. We—we are just friends.”
She watched Professor Crane’s brow arch toward his hairline.
“My dear, if you believe that, I’ll sell you a bridge in Brooklyn.”
Alyssa looked up from the notepad beside her salad as Mrs. Davidson slid into her seat.
“Oh good, you’ve started.”
Alyssa gazed down at the one word she’d written on the paper, Christmas In St. Helena. “Well, it’s a start.”
Mrs. Davidson smoothed her napkin on her lap. “Lots of things go on in St. Helena during the holidays. We need to find a way to weave the celebrations together.”
“What if we got the other events to donate a portion of their take to charities? We could pick five of the most needy charities and get the events to donate ten percent of their earnings, then divide it up between them.”
“You are suggesting the college be one of them?”
Alyssa nodded.
“Good start. Let’s brainstorm charities.”
As they consumed their salads, they compiled a list of charities near and dear to everyone’s heart.
“I like that you thought of the animal shelter. Every year, they have to beg for funds from the city council and other places,” Mrs. Davidson commented.
“I love animals.” Alyssa sighed. “I wish I could take one in, but with my grandmother being ill, I didn’t feel I would do the animal justice.”
Mrs. Davidson leaned over and patted her hand. “Those dark days are gone now. Perhaps you’ll find the animal of your dreams.”
“Maybe.” Alyssa smiled.
“I noticed you skipped over the cancer fund. Why?”
Alyssa sat back. “You know, they get a lot of money over the year. I think some of these smaller charities would be better served.”
“Like the Fireman’s Relief Fund?”
“And the Battered Women’s Shelter,” Alyssa agreed.
“So, now that we have our charities, what idea have you come up with?”
Alyssa gave a coy grin at the other secretary. “What if we got the vineyards involved?”
“The vineyards?” Mrs. Davidson echoed.
“They could pick times, like Victorian, Elizabethan, etc. The choral groups and musical groups at the college could walk around singing carols of that period and be dressed in costumes.”
“Oh! I can see it!”
“See what?” a male voice asked.
Alyssa and Mrs. Davidson turned to see Dean Stockwell holding a tray and gazing over the tops of his glasses at them.
“Dean Stockwell.” Alyssa gulped.
Mrs. Davidson put her hand on Alyssa’s and she stilled. “Dean Stockwell, won’t you have a seat. I think, we’ve got something exciting to show you.”
With a skeptical look, the dean took a vacant seat and Mrs. Davidson began explaining their idea. As Alyssa watched, the dean’s brows rose in surprise.
He reached out and pulled their pad to his side of the table. “I like this,” he whispered. “It would certainly involve just about every aspect of the college. I’m pleased that we can involve other charities so that we don’t look like our hand is out competing against all these worthwhile causes.” He glanced over to both of them. “Perhaps I should have given this to you ladies in the first place.”
Alyssa couldn’t help but blush with pride. “It was Mrs. Davidson’s idea to get together on this.”
“Well, Irene, I didn’t think of you as a visionary.”
“I like to keep you on your toes, Dean.”
He chuckled. “Mind if I keep this?”
“No sir, we don’t mind at all,” Alyssa replied and she couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
Dean Stockwell walked them back to the history department office. “I’ll leave you ladies here.” He lifted the pad. “Thank you for a wonderful idea.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What’s going on?” Jericho asked as he rounded the corner.
“Your secretary and Professor Crane’s secretary have come up with the perfect idea for fund raising.”
Jericho glanced at Mrs. Davidson. “I’m not selling donuts or candy bars.”
“Humph.” Sh
e glared. “I doubt you could sell any of it.”
“Ye of little faith,” Jericho teased.
They all laughed.
“No,” Dean Stockwell explained. “They’ve come up with a Tour Through Time. Guests tour the local vineyards, with our students showcasing their talents. We split the money with various charities.”
“That is a good idea. Half a good idea,” Jericho replied.
“What do you want to change?” Alyssa inquired.
“Instead of a flat fee, why not sell tickets at a flat price to all. With the money going to charity, I bet we could get one of the travel agencies to throw in a trip to San Francisco for a weekend retreat. With every vineyard visited, they get their tickets or passes punched and turn them in on the last vineyard.”
“Then we draw a winner!” Alyssa’s excited voice finished his thought.
“Exactly!”
“That is brilliant!” Dean Stockwell exclaimed. “I knew I could count on you, Jericho! I’m going to call the travel agency and see what I can get. Mrs. Davidson, you get on the horn to the vineyards and see if they are up to the challenge.”
“On it,” Mrs. Davidson said raising her hand and hurrying into the office.
Jericho stepped up to her.
Alyssa turnedto him in expectation.
“You were brilliant,” Jericho replied and engulfed her into a deep hug.
The hug seemed to linger. Alyssa clutched him tighter inhaling the spicy scent of his aftershave. When the hug lessened, she drew back. His eyes found hers. A vague sensuous light flashed. Suddenly, she wanted nothing than the feel of his lips upon hers. She gazed straight into his eyes and her heart turned over.
Jericho leaned close.
She closed her eyes as his lips brushed against her cheek sending shivers down her spine. She heard his voice whisper in her ear.
“I’d love to do something more, but we are here, at work.”
“I know.”
He pulled her tight once more, then with the greatest reluctance, they parted.
Chapter 8
Tuesday, Alyssa hurried home. She slipped into her Dorothy outfit then hurried to grab the bag of candy and Molly’s costume. The air was brisk and the shadows were already lengthening on the sidewalks as she walked down the block to the street where Jericho lived. A minivan was parked in front of his house as she walked up.
