CHAPTER TWELVE
Dean
April 2
I BEAT UP THE HEAVY BAG at a downtown gym this morning, but I’m still mad. I don’t like Crystal Winter and never will. Not only did she fuck up Liv’s childhood, she failed in the worst possible way to protect her own daughter.
Every time I think about it, rage heats my blood. Every time I think about the fact that she’s here, that she could potentially hurt Liv again, I want to hit something. It’s all the worse because I can’t do anything about it. Because Liv doesn’t want me to.
I force the thought aside. Try to redirect my anger. Everything seemed almost manageable when I was working on the dig and thinking of ways to court my wife again, but now I don’t know what the hell to do.
I’ve been banned from setting foot on the King’s University campus. I’m not even allowed to go to my office or the library. Ben Stafford, director of the university’s Office of Judicial Affairs, set up this “phase one mediation meeting” in a private room in the basement of a downtown bank.
Feels like a goddamn prison. No windows. Fluorescent lights. Stale coffee.
Maggie Hamilton is sitting across from me, next to her father. Edward Hamilton is a big, gray-haired man who looks like he wants to leap across the table and rip me a new one.
Part of me wishes he’d try it so I’d have an excuse to fight back. My fists clench. Frances Hunter shoots me a warning look.
She told me I didn’t need a lawyer yet, and Stafford advised not having one present at this stage of mediation. Though I agreed, I’ve contacted a man whose firm specializes in sexual harassment cases. Edward Hamilton is a lawyer, and he’ll know exactly how to fuck with me. I need all the defense I can get.
After introductions and a summary of the charges, Ben Stafford starts in with questions.
“Miss Hamilton, you say you never established a thesis proposal topic when Jeffrey Butler was your advisor?”
Maggie shakes her head. She looks sweet and innocent in a green sweater and gold necklace, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. She hasn’t looked at me since this meeting began. Hasn’t looked at anyone, in fact.
“That’s correct, Mr. Stafford,” she says. “I did my coursework when Professor Butler was my advisor, but he retired before I could establish a thesis topic. So when Professor West took his place, I thought it would be easy enough to get started writing my thesis.”
“But you claim Professor West has yet to approve your proposal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the suggested topic, Miss Hamilton?”
Maggie blushes. The girl actually blushes. Apprehension digs into my shoulders.
“Well, Professor West suggested I write about Trotula of Salerno, who was a thirteenth-century female physician.” Maggie rubs a finger on the table. “Professor West wanted me to research medieval views of women’s sexuality.”
Shit.
“When I first joined the King’s faculty, you came to me with that topic,” I say, unable to prevent the angry bite in my tone. “You said you’d done some research the previous summer.”
“My daughter said that you insisted on it,” Edward Hamilton snaps. “That you forced her to—”
“Quiet, please, both of you,” Stafford interrupts. “Professor West, you’ll have a chance to respond when it’s your turn. Please remain quiet until I’ve finished questioning Miss Hamilton.”
I sit back and try to inhale. My apprehension deepens.
“So, Miss Hamilton, you claim Professor West suggested the topic of medieval women’s sexuality,” Stafford says.
“Yes. I should have been suspicious, but it seemed interesting at first. Until he started suggesting that I read books about gynecology and menstruation… stuff I wasn’t comfortable discussing with a male professor.”
“Did you tell Professor West about your reservations?”
“No, because I was afraid he’d make me start the process all over again. Then when he suggested that he’d only approve the proposal if I… if I submitted to him…” Her voice trails off plaintively.
The girl missed her calling. She should have been an actress.
“How did Professor West make that implication?” Stafford asks.
“He said that if I did what he wanted, he’d approve my proposal and we’d both be happy,” she says. “Then he tried to kiss me.”
I can’t fucking stand this. Edward Hamilton looks like he’s about to explode. Frances puts a warning hand on my arm.
“Professor West has suggested the opposite took place,” Stafford says. “That you, in fact, offered sexual favors in exchange for his academic support.”
Maggie shakes her head. “No, sir.”
Stafford glances at me. “Can you explain what happened in your view, Professor West?”
“Miss Hamilton and I had had conflict over her proposal all summer,” I explain. “She inappropriately approached my wife and asked for her help convincing me to approve her proposal. My wife told me about the encounter, and I confronted Miss Hamilton and told her she needed to change advisors. She was upset because she said changing advisors would mean she had to take her coursework all over again, and that would delay her graduation schedule.”
“Would it?” Stafford asks.
“Yes, but that was her fault,” I reply. “She had no right to approach my wife. Since Miss Hamilton was placed under my advisement, she has done no valuable research and taken none of my suggestions. So when I told her to change advisors, she got upset and asked me what it would take to get her proposal approved.”
“And you interpreted that as an offer of sexual favors?”
“Yes.”
“At any time did Miss Hamilton explicitly offer sexual favors to you?”
“Not explicitly, no, but the implication was clear.”
“What was your response, Professor West?”
“I asked her to leave my office.”
“Did you ever try to kiss her or touch her?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever make sexual or inappropriate comments to her?”
“Never.”
“Ever do that with another student?” Hamilton snaps at me.
“Mr. Hamilton, please,” Stafford says. “I will ask the questions.”
I stare at Hamilton from across the table. There’s something weirdly triumphant in his expression that makes my stomach turn.
“I must tell you again, Mr. Stafford,” Frances says, “that none of Professor West’s other students have even hinted that his behavior has been anything but professional.”
“I understand that, Professor Hunter, but it’s my job to investigate every angle.” Stafford consults his notes again. “Professor West…”
I hold up a hand to stop him, not taking my eyes off Edward Hamilton. “What did you mean by that question?”
Hamilton jerks his chin at Stafford. “Ask him.”
Stafford sighs. “Mr. Hamilton…”
“Ask West about his wife,” Hamilton orders.
Rage flashes through me. My fists clench.
“What about my wife?” I demand.
“Professor West, you stated that you never had a sexual relationship with a student,” Stafford says.
“That’s correct.”
“But according to official records, your wife was a student when you were a professor at the University of Wisconsin.”
My heart seizes. “Yes, but she wasn’t my student.”
Hamilton barks out a laugh, as if that makes no difference.
“She was a student, Professor West,” Stafford says. “When did you begin a relationship with her?”
A sick sense of foreboding fills my throat. “I’m not talking about this.”
“You’d damn well better talk about it,” Hamilton says. “You have a precedent for screwing students, and if you think—”
I’m out of the chair in less than a second, rage blinding me as I reach for him, wanting to smash that smug expression off his face, shut him up. I hear Maggie’s gasp, feel both Frances and Stafford grab my arms.
“Dean!” Frances snaps. “Sit down.”
“Go on, do it,” Hamilton tells me, his voice hard. “I’d love to hit you with an assault charge.”
“Fuck you.” I want to beat him until he bleeds.
“Dean, sit down!”
Somehow Frances’s voice penetrates my rage. I sit down.
“Everyone, please calm down,” Stafford orders, tapping his finger on a piece of paper. “Mr. Hamilton, if you and Miss Hamilton will sign your statements, I will continue this meeting alone with Professors West and Hunter.”
Edward Hamilton glowers at me. For a second I don’t care what I’m charged with if I can beat him to a bloody pulp. Then he gestures for Maggie to get her things and sign the paper.
As they do, Frances leans toward me to whisper, “Calm down right this second, Dean. If you don’t, they’ll have more ammunition against you and will just dig deeper. Is that what you want?”
I shake off her grip and take a breath. My heart is racing.
After the Hamiltons leave, Stafford sits back down and pins me with a look.
“How the fuck does Hamilton know about this?” I ask.
“He’s looking into things on his own,” Stafford explains, “which is within his rights as long as he doesn’t impede the OJA investigation. I assure you I have not given him any information. Now when did you start a relationship with Olivia Winter, Professor West?”
I dig my fingers into my palms and try to block an image of Liv. “I’m not talking about this.”
“You’ll be impeding the investigation if you don’t,” Stafford warns me.
I shove away from the table and stalk to the other side of the room. I force the words out of my throat. Try not to think about her. Try not to remember.
“September,” I finally say. “The year I started my visiting professorship.”
“So right about the same time you started the job,” Stafford says.
I sense Frances’s sudden wariness.
“It wasn’t against university policy.” I battle another surge of anger. Sweat erupts on the back of my neck. “I checked, before I even asked Liv out. As long as a student isn’t under a professor’s authority and the relationship is consensual, it’s not against regulations.”
Stafford sighs. “I’m afraid that’s not the point, Professor West.”
“What is the fucking point?”
“The point is that Olivia Winter was a student,” Stafford says. “You were a professor. And when I asked you in January if you’d ever had a sexual relationship with a student, you responded that you had not.”
“The question implied a student of mine, which Liv was not.” I want to throw something against the wall. “I have never had a sexual relationship with a student of mine.”
“Any other students, of yours or otherwise, that I should know about?” Stafford asks.
“No.” Goddammit.
Stafford studies me for a minute before collecting his notes. “Well, this discovery has delayed things further, Professor West, and I’ll have to include it in my report. I’d appreciate your cooperation if anything else relevant to this case comes to mind. I should have things wrapped up soon.”
Provided we don’t end up in front of the university’s board of trustees.
Stafford says goodbye and heads out, closing the door behind him.
I try to breathe, but my chest is so tight it hurts. I can’t stand the idea of Liv getting anywhere near this shitstorm. I’d hoped it would be over by now. Instead it’s like a deadly virus that won’t go away.
Frances is still glaring at me. “This isn’t good, Dean.”
Shut up, Frances.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” I tug at the knot of my necktie. “There was never a goddamned thing inappropriate about my relationship with Liv.”
“As Mr. Stafford said, that is not the point. Words are power, Dean, and the words student and professor and relationship do not go well together.”
I stare at the empty whiteboard on the opposite wall. “I’ll quit, Frances.”
“Dean—”
“If it’ll end this whole thing… I’ll quit right now.”
“That’s as good as admitting guilt.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think you do.”
I turn to look at her. “Then what, Frances? I let that girl destroy my career?”
“You need to let the process play out.”
“Bullshit. Her father will take me down, no matter what. You know it as well as I do. Now that he knows about Liv, for God’s sake… I have no defense.”
Which means all I can hope for is that Maggie will withdraw the accusation. And I have no idea what it would take for her to do that.
“Will the administration make a deal?” I ask Frances.
“No. That would look worse for them than having a professor accused of sexual harassment.”
“Then what needs to happen?”
“When the OJA finishes their investigation, they’ll determine if they have enough evidence to pursue the case. If they don’t, they’ll dismiss the charge.”
“Which will never happen with Edward Hamilton breathing down their necks and considering a goddamned donation to the university. So I’m found guilty of something I didn’t do and am fired from my job. Maggie returns to King’s, gets her degree, then goes off to law school with her father’s money.”
Frances doesn’t respond.
I am so screwed. I can’t see any way out of this, except to quit before things get really bad. I’ll liquidate all my assets and leave the country. Take my wife to live on a remote island with white-sand beaches and sapphire seas.
Right as she’s launching a new business venture. Right when she’s finally found something that she wants to do.
I grab my coat. Fight the rage and fear scorching my insides.
If Edward Hamilton gets anywhere near my wife…
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Frances says.
I can only shake my head. I leave the office, pulling in a few breaths of cold air. The streets are almost dark, puddles of yellowish light pooling from the streetlamps.
I walk through downtown fast, trying to force away the sickening realization that I’m stuck in quicksand with no way out.
And now I’m dragging Liv down with me.