Found in Understanding: Refuge Series Book Three by Debbie Zello (31)

Chapter Thirty-One

We spent the night locked in each other’s arms at the hotel. I held my hand up to the small sliver of light from the streetlamp outside of the window. My ring sparkled and I watched the prisms dance across the ceiling. Understanding took my hand and kissed it. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure which one to buy. You don’t wear much jewelry and for me to guess your style was a stretch.”

“I love it. It’s perfect for me. I’m just worried about the extravagance. I didn’t need a ring,” I said still unable to stop smiling.

“I needed it. Despite what my mother thinks, the bone-crushing business is doing quite well. I wanted you to have the tradition of an engagement ring. The symbolism behind it and the promise it carries with it. We’re tied together with this ring,” he explained holding my hand.

Once we were home, we fell right back into our normal routine. My fall classes began and as quickly as the seasons change, I was receiving my advanced degree. Understanding was right there celebrating with me and the hundred or so other students receiving their degrees. I liked the smallness of the ceremony. After graduating with thousands in May, it was nice to have so few.

With the realization that I was beginning my doctorate, came the apprehension that I had to have my dissertation theme and plan completed, turned in and accepted by Professor Miller in less than three months.

I had such a high opinion of him and genuinely liked him as a person, I wanted to live up to what I knew he would expect of me. After weeks of agonizing over my topic, I finally wrote my proposal.

I want to examine the differences and similarities of love and deep friendship. I will accomplish this through the writings of poets and storytellers from the 1600’s to 1900’s. I find this period to be where the most change took place in society’s definition of love. When women began to demand more from a relationship than mere security.

After several discussions with Professor Miller, and rewrites back to him, just before fall classes began, I had an accepted proposal in my hand. Now the real work began.

I walked into the Professor’s first lecture of the year much the same as I did for the first of his lectures my first year. This time, I sat in the far back of the hall. As his research assistant, I was there, more or less, to observe. I half expected to see Royce walk into the room as he did for my first lecture. Instead, Professor Miller’s face smiled back at me.

He began by introducing himself as “The old crusty curmudgeon in the English department.” He was far from all of that. He was tough but fair. He knew his subject forwards and backwards and you needed to keep up with him or fall behind at your peril. He made me smile at his characterization.

Keeping up with the work he gave me, my own class work, and my research on my thesis proved to be exhausting. Understanding began taking me on a brisk walk several times around the neighborhood every morning. He explained this would clear the cobwebs and put some balance between sitting all day in class and the need for movement. He was right, of course. I felt better on the days I walked than on the days I didn’t.

I got home to find Understanding in the back yard pulling up a dead bush. His dark shirt was soaked with sweat and stuck to his skin. I watched the workings of his heavily muscled back, beginning to sweat a little bit myself. Just how this man could turn me on without even making eye-contact astounded me. I was about to go and get him something to drink when he turned around and smiled at me. I opened the slider and said, “Hi. I’m going to get you something to drink.”

“Thanks, I need it. I’m almost done here. I’ll be in, in a minute.” He turned back to dig up the other side of the bush. In the kitchen, I made some lemonade from a powder. With ice cubes in a glass, I poured the mixture in and took a sip. It tasted okay so I filled another for Understanding. He came in just as I had finished. Taking a gulp that emptied half of the glass he said, “That tastes good. Nice and cold. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to see that bush gone, it was an eye-sore. How long have you been at it?”

“Not long. You weren’t here when I came in so I went out back and dug in. I’m going to shower and I’ll be right back,” he said walking to the stairs. I watched him go up and smiled. I decided I’d join him in the shower.

“This is an extremely nice way to spend a late afternoon,” Understanding said stroking my arm. I gave him a one-armed hug across his chest. I was listening to his heartbeat with my eyes closed.

“Agreed. Making love with you is a great stress-reliever.”

“You’re stressed, Baby? Is all this too much? I’m putting too much pressure on you?”

“Not really. I want this too. The sooner I finish; the sooner I can begin my forever life with you. Holding the baby that is part you and part me is something I want very much.” His arm went down to my waist as he pulled me to be on top of him.

“Have you ever wondered what another man would feel like? Are you sorry that I have been your only lover? I guess I want to know if I’m enough. I’m not looking for compliments. I want an honest answer,” he said quietly. I felt his body stiffen in a bracing feeling. He was nervous at my answer. I raised my head to look directly in his eyes.

“When I was with Royce, I wondered a lot what it would be like with him. After he passed, I continued to think about what I would have felt with him. He was still with me when I met you.”

“When you danced with me and kissed me, I saw him backing away from me,” I said feeling small tears beginning to run down my cheeks. “He was letting go of me and I was doing the same with him. I stopped feeling him completely the day we first made love. It felt like he made sure I was happy and cared for and then he could leave.”

“I haven’t felt him since and I hardly ever think about him anymore. When I do, it’s a memory, not a longing. As far as any other man goes~never. I have never wondered, wished or thought about any man except you.” I finished kissing him.

“I’ve been bracing myself to hear you say that you were thinking about how another man might feel. I wasn’t sure that just having one reference would sit well with you. I know how you are with your research.”

“For facts or history, I search. For love, I’m good, right here.”

Professor Miller’s book was a joy to research. His focus was an extension of the work Royce was doing. Miller wanted to dive into the number of women that wrote under male pseudonyms to escape society’s trappings of what a woman should concern herself with or write about.

I spent hours as did he looking into authors’ backgrounds to determine their true gender. Not an easy task with the records being over four-hundred years old. Some ending with no birth, marriage or death record at all. Those were the ones I concentrated on because making up a name was easy, a complete identity not so much.

We made our way through the winter and as spring approached, I turned in both my work on my thesis and the findings I had for Miller. I had decided to take the summer off from classes and focus on my research and writing. I had a final meeting with Miller.

I made my way down the hall towards Miller’s office. I rounded the corner to see the boy from the coffee shop walking towards me smiling with recognition. He was accompanied by who I thought were his parents and another student. As we got close I said, “Hi. How are you?”

“Hi. I’m good. You look good. You’re still here?” he said stopping in front of me.

“Yes, I’m working on a doctorate in the English department. Are you thinking of coming here?”

“I’ve been accepted. These are my parents, John and Lynda Greenberg. Mom, Dad, this is Neomi Dillon.” We all shook hands with an appropriate greeting of ‘nice to meet you.’ My attention went back to him.

“I look forward to seeing you around then. I’ll be Professor Miller’s TA in the fall. If you have him, you’ll see me. Have a great summer!” I said smiling.

“You too. I’ll see you around,” he said walking away. I began to walk to the end of the hall where Miller’s office was when it occurred to me that I don’t think I know his name. And yet…he knew mine. I suppose he knew my first name from my tag at the coffee shop. My last name from my graduation, I guess. Maybe I was told his and simply forgot. I knocked on the professor’s door. “Enter.” I opened it and walked in.

“Hi, Professor Miller. How’s your day going?”

“Good Neomi. How’s yours?”

“Good. I’m finishing up some stuff. I’m glad to have this summer off. I need a little down time,” I confessed as I slumped into the chair.

“Now I’m sorry to have to give you all of this,” he said pushing a pile of papers and notebooks my way.

“What’s all that?”

“I’ve just accepted teaching another summer course in England. It will cause me to miss the first six days of class here. I’m trusting you with the task of beginning the year alone.

“Now, don’t panic. I have all of the lesson plans done as well as the prep for the first quiz. I thought you might like to borrow Royce’s idea of a get to know you essay. It’s six tiny days. You’ll do fine!”

“Six tiny days that just happen to be the first six tiny days of school and the six tiny first days of me teaching anything! Only you could call them six tiny days,” I said exasperated.

“Three classes are first year students and one is second year. You can do this with your eyes closed,” he cajoled.

“Good! Because they just might be closed.”