Londyn Falls Page 10

“It’s obvious to me that you can read, Miss Patterson. You are, after all, attending Harvard. What is not obvious to me is how, after attending two semesters of courses with me, you are not clear on my expectations. Any fool off the street can read the instructions I’ve provided and regurgitate them to me with modest success. You know I have exacting standards. That nonsense you handed me yesterday was insulting. I am not your high school English Lit teacher. What worked for you then does not work for you now. Tell me exactly why you selected my course.”

  The girl’s bottom lip starts to quiver and I fear she will collapse in a pool of tears at any moment. I sit quietly hoping she can find her voice.

  “I took the course because I love Italian literature.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Yes! Why? Why do you choose to spend hours upon hours reading books in a foreign language that is hardly spoken anymore? Why do you practically live in the library and give up any semblance of a personal life to keep up with my demanding workloads? Why, Miss Patterson?”

  “I…love it,” she stammers.

  “Why?!” The professor slams his hand down on the desk, causing the girl to flinch.

  “It moves my soul. The words, the imagery. These books sweep me into a different world. A better one.”

  “Ah. Perhaps we are getting somewhere. What else? Think hard. Why are you putting yourself through this? Why do you repeatedly subject yourself to my classes? You could read these books on your own time.”

  The girl shifts back and forth from one foot to the other and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. I can feel her desire to please the professor radiating from her.

  “I want to know everything there is to know. I want to think about it on a whole new level. You do that for me. You bring the stories to life. Your passion for the subject fills the room. It’s contagious.”

  “Yes, yes. My passion is evident. It is my chosen profession. I live and breathe this stuff.” He plants both his hands on his wood desk and leans towards the girl. She moves back just slightly, her blue eyes wide. “Why do you do it?”

  “Passion,” she whispers.

  “Yes!” The professor claps his hands. “Passion, Miss Patterson! You must be passionate about this topic or it’s simply a chore. The paper you gave me yesterday reflected the work of someone who sees this as a chore.”

  “I’m sorry,” the girl finally cries. “I tried so hard to write the paper how I thought you wanted. I’m not good enough for you!”

  Oh my. Not good enough? This is intense. In all my years of dealing with professors, I’ve never seen an interaction quite like this. At any moment, I’m expecting the girl to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

  “Pull yourself together, Miss Patterson.” The professor sighs. “Go back to your room. Write from your heart. Feel the subject. Sink into it. Think of the aspects that move you and let that emotion reflect in your work.”

  The girl nods her head, sniffing her nose. “Okay.”

  “Come back tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Professor.” She turns back to me and I smile. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her. She smiles back, just a small smile, but it’s there just the same.

  I watch her walk out and the professor sit down and go back to his work. I want to address what I just witnessed, but how? On the one hand, he is definitely a demanding professor. Yet on the other, I saw how much he cared and how he wanted to bring out the best in that student. He doesn’t want her to fail. I am suddenly quite interested in sitting through his lecture.

  “I know you are dying to comment, Miss Harper. So go ahead and say what you need to say,” the professor says, interrupting my thoughts.

  He is right. I have so much to say. “I think your approach is harsh. That poor girl nearly fainted.” He looks up at me, one eyebrow lifted. I know I must speak again before he does. “However, I see that you were trying to push her to dig deep. I think you were successful.”

  “I’m glad my tactics meet your approval,” he says with absolute sarcasm in his tone.

  Ooh, this man is infuriating! “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

  “I’ve been a professor since you were still a teenager, Miss Harper. I believe I know what I’m doing.”

  “I am quite sure you do. And you’re wrong. I wasn’t a teenager anymore when you received your first teaching post at Harvard.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know your career. I was twenty at the time. That was five years ago. Two years ago, you were granted the position of department head. Last year, you received the Outstanding Academic Leader award. You’ve published five articles, three books, and are working on your next book; expected publication date is next year. You are the youngest department head at Harvard, but well respected by your peer group. You are known for being highly demanding and pushing your students to academic excellence. Everyone speculates that you will head this entire university by age fifty.” I stop and smile.

  “Well, that is quite impressive. Is there anything else you would like to tell me about my own life?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you get all of this information?”

  “The internet.”

  “It seems the internet would have told you that I wasn’t gay then.”

  When I look at his face, I detect a slight grin. “There is little to nothing about your personal life. I’m sure that pleases you.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Why are you so private?”

  “Why are you so nosy?”

  “I prefer the term inquisitive.”

  “Semantics, no?”

  “You are an interesting man.”

  “Am I?”

  Professor Di Roma’s gaze pierces through me. I can’t read his tone or expression. I’m not sure if I should keep talking or stop whilst I’m ahead.

  “Yes.”

  “Not nearly as much as you think.” I sense a slight sadness in the delivery of his last sentence. “Shall we get back to work? Enough banter for the morning, no?”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  I GLANCE ACROSS THE ROOM at Londyn, doing my best to hide my amusement with her. The timid girl with no backbone is gone and this high spirited, vivacious girl is in her place. I always feared we would have nothing to talk about, but the truth of it is I could talk to her for hours.

  Her intelligence is almost startling as is the fact that she isn’t afraid to tell me what she thinks. Quite refreshing! Still, we’ve only just met and I don’t know her well enough to put my guard down completely. God only knows what that would take.

  The next day, Londyn and I settle into our morning routine. About mid-morning, Miss Patterson appears in my doorway. I know her name is Julie, but I like to reserve the formality between myself and my students. I believe it creates the right tone for our interactions. She appears disheveled with dark circles under her eyes. I can tell from looking at her that she’s been awake all night. I’ve seen this expression on the faces of many of my students. I motion for her to enter.

  “I have my paper, Professor,” she says, handing it to me. I notice Londyn’s attention locked on the student, an expression of pure sympathy all over her face.

  Glancing down at the paper, I study it for a moment. It’s twice as long as it was and I’m pleasantly surprised at the level of detail Miss Patterson has for each section of her proposal. She finally gets it.

  “It’s very nice, Miss Patterson. Much better.” If I’m not mistaken, Londyn had the same sigh of relief as my student did. “Would you like to submit this to me now?”

  “Is there anything you think I could improve on?” she asks softly.

  I look down at it again. I know from her words she poured her heart into it just as I asked her to do. I would be hard pressed to find a better constructed paper proposal.

  “I think you have done what was asked of you. Your passion for your topic is evidenced in your paper. I would not ask for any chang
es.”

  A smile spreads across her face and I can see in her eyes her sacrifice of sleep was worth it to her for this moment. I hope she knows I didn’t put her through this to torment her. I did it because I want her best.

  “Thank you, Professor Di Roma. Thank you so much. It was so much easier after I spoke with you yesterday.”

  “Good. I will expect this same level of work for your final paper due in December.”

  “Of course. See you in lecture.” She turns around and waves happily at Londyn, who returns the gesture.

  Miss Patterson leaves and Londyn returns her attention to her tasks.

  “Do you have anything you want to say about that interaction, Miss Harper?”

  She looks up at me, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight that streams through the window. Her expression indicates that she is thinking of her response.

  “I’m happy for her. I enjoyed seeing that situation turn out so well. You are an amazing professor and I wish I had someone like you during my studies. I wasn’t always challenged.”

  Her response takes me aback. I wasn’t expecting such kindness. “That is a fine compliment and I am humbled,” I say, placing my hand over my heart.

  Her smile fills her face before she looks down again. I’m startled when I find myself very much wanting that smile directed at me again.

  “SO? HOW WAS YOUR first month working for Professor Di Roma?”

  I sit across from my brother, sipping a latte, and watching people pass by the café where we sit. “Fine. We seem to be finding a rhythm. He’s not so bad.”

  “Is he not?”

  “No. It took a few days, but I believe we’ve developed a mutual respect for each other.”

  “That’s bloody fantastic. I’m quite proud of you, Londy.”

  “Thanks, Dev. I am too. Fall classes start next week and I think we’ll be fine.”

  “Glad to hear it. Anything else new with you?”

  “Nope. That’s it. How about you? Dating anyone new?”

  “No. You know it’s so hard for me with my hours. I wish I could meet a nice girl, though. I’m getting ready to settle down.”

  “All work and no play, Dev,” I say teasing.

  “Yes, I know. I don’t know what type of woman it would take to put up with my hours.”

  “I’m sure there are plenty. You’re handsome, friendly, and faithful. You work hard, you’re wicked smart, and you’re rich. There are a million women who would line up for you.”

  Devon laughs. “I do sound like quite the catch when you put it that way.”

  “You are. Especially to Maddie.” I immediately study my brother’s face for a reaction. He simply smiles.

  “Maddie is just flirting. She does that with all the boys.”

  “That’s true, but you are special to her. Surely you know that?”

  “She’s special to me, too.”

  “But do you like her? Romantically.”

  Devon’s eyebrows raise and just as he parts his lips to answer me, his phone rings loudly, vibrating across the tiny café table. “Dr. Harper speaking,” he answers.

  I sit and drink my coffee as Devon takes his call. I already know he’ll be leaving as soon as he hangs up. Duty calls.

  “Alright, thank you for calling. I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up. “Sorry, I have to run.”

  “I figured. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Ciao, Londyn,” he says before kissing my cheek and heading off down the pavement to his car.

  I finish my drink, pay our tab, and make the short walk back to my flat. I’ve decided I’ll spend the remainder of my weekend reading and relaxing. I know once the semester starts, things will be nonstop at the job.

  “Good morning, Professor.” I greet him as I enter the office, noticing the lack of music straight away.

  “Miss Harper,” he says, without looking up.

  I sit in my chair and notice his clothing. He’s wearing a crisp white button down shirt that has tiny gray pinstripes down it and he’s paired it with gray slacks. My eyes drift down to the black Italian loafers that grace his feet, then slowly back up to where his collar is. Traveling up further, I notice his hair is shorter, tapered nicely with a slight waviness to it. He’s wearing his glasses and looks far more like a model than any professor I’ve ever seen. It takes me a minute to realize I’m staring at him and surprisingly, he returns my stare.

  “May I help you with something, Miss Harper?”

  “Um, er, no. You look nice today.”

  “Classes start today.”

  “Yes. Do you always dress so well for classes?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  I can’t remember what he was dressed like before, other than the day of my interview, but something about the way he looks today has captured my attention. I recall Madeleine’s comment about his clothing. She wouldn’t know how to act if she saw him today.

  “There is no music playing today,” I observe.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  The professor looks up at me. “Classes start today,” he repeats, as if it should be self-evident.

  “So, everything changes now that school is in session?”

  “Yes, everything changes.”

  “Okay. What shall I change?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay.”

  I log into my computer and read the emails that have come in for the professor. There must be twenty of them with questions already.

  “Professor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Shall I answer these emails or do you like to do that?”

  “Do I look like I have time to answer emails full of questions I am quite sure have already been answered?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You will find that many of them are asking questions about the syllabus, the lecture schedule, the reading list, and the participation score, all of which you are capable of responding to.”

  “Shall I answer as me or as you?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I just mean, should they think the email is from you or me? I’ve found in my schooling that people trust the response more when it is coming from the professor. It prevents additional questioning.”

  The professor’s face breaks into a smile and for some reason I feel a strong sense of pride as a result. “Miss Harper, I knew hiring you was a wise move. I just had a feeling.”

  Now I am downright beaming.

  “Answer on my behalf. They’ll only know it isn’t me because I’m positive your response will be far more kind and patient than mine.”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  “I will be in meetings today starting at one. I don’t know how long they will go so feel free to leave at four when my office hours end. You can take lunch around eleven. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “What will you do until then?”

  “I have plenty of administrative bullsh…” he pauses. “Paperwork.”

  I suppress my grin. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “If you are already getting one, then yes.”

  “Okay. Be right back.”

  I head over to the lounge and see Ella inside talking to a man. I haven’t seen him before, but since he’s in here, he must be a professor or an assistant.

  “Hi, Londyn!” Ella exclaims. “Come over here and meet Dixon.”

  I walk to where the two stand near the coffee machine. “Hi, I’m Londyn.”

  “Hello, Londyn,” Dixon’s strong New England accent takes me aback. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You as well.”

  “Where you from? That’s quite an accent you have,” Dixon asks.

  “I could say the same to you.” I smile to ensure he knows I’m friendly. “I’m from England.”

  “Maine.”

  Ella quickly interjects. “I’m from Somerville, right here in good ol’ Mass.”

  “I’ve not been there yet
,” I say.

  “You aren’t missing anything,” Dixon adds, laughing.

  Ella nudges him with her elbow. “It’s not so bad.” She turns back to me. “Dixon is the new audio/visual tech assigned to our building.”

  “Oh? That’s great. I have a note to call today to ensure the lecture hall is set up for Professor Di Roma tomorrow.”

  “You work for him?” Dixon asks.

  “I do.”

  “I’ve already been told unless I want my balls handed to me, that room better be set up right. Is he the ass everyone says he is?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t call him that, but I’ve only worked with him a month. I think he’s been fine. A bit brutish here and there, but not worthy of being called an ass.”

  “Last year, after winter break, he hired this girl named Vanessa,” Ella explains. “Three days into it she came stomping in here and said she wished she had some rat poison to stir into his coffee. She hated him. It was only a week after that she stopped coming altogether. Professor Lance said when she asked Di Roma that he said he fired her for incompatibility. So at a minimum if you are getting along, you must be compatible.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ll go over and set up the lecture hall today,” Dixon says.

  “Thank you.”

  I make the tea as Dixon and Ella talk. I can’t be sure, but it seems she is flirting with him. He’s quite handsome, though, with his blond hair and blue eyes. I smile and say goodbye as I head back to the office.

  Handing the professor his tea, I hover for a moment, waiting for additional direction. He reads a paper before taking a quick sip of tea. His eyes finally look up and gaze into mine.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to help you with something, if I can. Besides the emails.”

  “You have plenty to do and the emails are a huge help. If I have anything else, I will let you know.”

  “Okay.” I head back to my seat to get to work.

  “Miss Harper?”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “Thank you.”

  I smile in response. I don’t think he’s an ass at all.

  As I work on the emails, I have to laugh to myself. The professor was right. Every question was answered in the welcome packets for the class. I respond to the last email just as the office phone rings.