Chapter 1

As a professor of history at Wyndham College, Evan Anderson enjoyed teaching the introductory courses to the freshmen and other undergraduates as much as the seminar courses with the post-graduate students. He knew he was a marginal salesman, but hoped his enthusiasm for his discipline would transfer to a few of the undergrads and lead them to the major. It was during one of these large seminar courses that he’d met his precious Emily.

It was fate, he believed, that place her in the 10:55 class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The next event would be lunch. Although not shy, Evan did have some sense of professional standards. He didn’t invite her to have a meal with him until after the mid-term exams. The pretext had been to discuss the interesting essay she produced on colonial trade between Europe and the Western Hemisphere. In reality, her essay produced no new information, but was well organized and quite passably written. Evan smiled as he remembered that first date, although, officially, it wasn’t a date. He’d begun by telling her that she seemed an unusual student with some potential for further study in the discipline. She admitted to having taken time after her high school graduation to assist her aging parents before enrolling six years later than most other freshmen. Evan acknowledged his preference for students who had some seasoning in real-world experiences. They knew, he told her, that grades were earned rather than given out based on the subjective influence of the faculty. Mentally, he calculated the age difference and, although it spanned seven years, it was half the usual spread of the standard freshmen women in his introductory classes.

Lunches became a regular event for the two of them and topics ranged far beyond the narrow subject of academia. Evan was thrilled to hear she had no regular relationships. She claimed that she had little time or interest in the drama of the typical student and infrequent contact with graduate students who might be closer to her own age. She seemed to welcome the interest of her history professor. Even on those days after class when no arrangement had been made, Emily waited by the door for him as he gathered his notes, packed his briefcase, and prepared to leave. Unless a departmental luncheon meeting intervened, Evan was always glad to accept her unspoken invitation to their every-other day assignation.

Her face, Evan decided, was more delicate that those of the models he’d seen on various magazine covers as he passed the checkout counter at the small grocery store that served the campus. Rather than the harsh, angular features that seemed to be the style of the day, hers was more rounded. Her eyes had a sparkle that consistently intrigued him. Her nose was small and belied the roundness of her general facial appearance. The lips had a semi-permanent curl of a smile touching the corners, with lips proportionate, neither pouty nor thin. She looked, Evan thought, natural. She had dark hair, brown, without the insane multi-coloring that seemed to be all the fad among her younger classmates. She usually wore it either loose, attractively draped from a slight side-parting, down across her shoulders, or in a tight pony-tail. It was a reasonable length, he thought, quite sensible. In fact, he mused smiling, everything about Emily seemed reasonable.

He anticipated a miserable summer session without their semi-regular meetings. The days after the semester closed out seemed endless and exceedingly dull. He was surprised and delighted when she arrived at his office in mid-June and tapped lightly.

“Emily!” he nearly shouted in joy. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be taking the summer off.”

“Come have lunch with me, Professor,” she said. “I’ll explain everything.”

She had decided to continue with a series of electives and basic courses during the summer semester, she told him, in an effort to shorten her course of study. “It isn’t that I don’t enjoy being here,” she said, “but I do have to get on with my life.”

“What life are you planning, Emily?” Evan asked her.

“I’m not sure, precisely,” she responded. “My parents left enough for me to finish my degree and a little more to establish myself. I just believe I should get on with it as soon as I can.”

Their occasional lunch dates expanded to virtually daily encounters between student and mentor. Evan recognized that the feelings he was developing for Emily went far beyond those he had experienced in the past. He felt a sense of joy and peace whenever she was present. When she was away he found himself befuddled and disorganized. He became increasingly aware that he not only enjoyed having her close by, he needed her.

“Evan,” Emily said, causing him to pause with the spoonful of his white-chili soup halfway to his mouth. In the two years they had shared their regular meeting, she had never called him by his first name. It had always been “Professor.” He looked at her, seeing her in a new light.

“Evan,” she repeated with greater emphasis.

“Emily?” he responded, taking in the vision of the beauty seated next to him. She’d worn her hair gathered today, the pony-tail tucked in the opening of a beige ball cap.

“It’s been two years,” she stated. “I’m not your student anymore.” It was true. Emily had declared Business Administration as her major. It was a disappointment to Evan, but he understood. She would, after all, probably be seeking employment in the business sector.

Evan put his spoon on the plate beneath the bowl holding his soup. “You’re right,” he said. I don’t call you Miss Patterson. The familiar names are probably more appropriate at this juncture in our relationship.”

“So, you recognize that we do have a relationship,” Emily said.

“Yes, of course,” he said, his heart racing a bit.

“Evan,” she said, as if testing the sound of his name coming from her lips, “I want to talk to you about, our relationship.”

Evan’s heart began to pound as he nodded. “Very well,” he said.

“Do you love me, Evan?” she asked.

He was shocked and quite surprised with the question. “I certainly treasure our time together,” he said carefully.

“But, do you love me?” she pressed him.

“You’re quite obviously very attractive,” he said. “I find you extremely attractive.”

Emily sighed. “That’s not what I asked you, Evan,” she said. “Do you love me?”

“You are quite dear to me, Emily,” he responded, obviously uncomfortable by the directness in her line of questioning. She demanded he confess the innermost feelings of his heart.

Emily bridled. Evan could tell she was becoming impatient.

“It is a simple question, Evan,” she insisted.

“The ramifications are many, Emily,” he said uneasily.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ve decided what I want to do with my life, Evan. But, before I can move in that direction, I need to know the answer to my question. So, please, just a simple yes or no. Do you love me?”

Evan sighed, looking down at the table. The answer was clear. The confession, he knew, would mean major changes in his own life.

“Yes, Emily,” he said, so softly that she could barely hear him. “I do love you. I have been in love with you for some time now.”

Emily’s eyes began to sparkle even more brilliantly than usual. “I’ve known it, too, Evan. I’ve loved you for months and months. I thought you felt the same about me, but I need to be certain.”

“You’re in love with me?” Evan asked, a little astounded at her revelation.

“Yes, I am, Evan, my dearest. That’s why I’ve decided what I want to do with my life. I want to be your wife, Evan. I want to be married to you, to take care of you, and to love you with all of my heart.”

“But, Emily,” he said, attempting to sound reasonable, “you are so young and so beautiful. Surely your prospects go beyond a stodgy old history professor in the cloister of academia.”

Emily laughed, her voice sounding like golden bells to Evan.

“You’re neither stodgy nor old, Evan. You are exactly what I want in a husband and life mate. You are intelligent, quite funny in your own way, and you care so deeply. I have desperately wanted to be the one woman who is the object of your gentle and intense affections. I have wanted you to love me for the longest time. I am so happy to hear you finally say it.”

“And you, my dearest Emily, are so bright, so intelligent, so beautiful and engaging,” Evan said, emptying his heart of the feelings he’d held so tightly under control for so long. “How could I not fall in love with you? I have been bereft when we’ve been apart, unable to concentrate on anything, and constantly thinking of you and how dear you are to me.”

She reached for his hand. He was amazed at how warm and soft it felt in his own. He realized that this was the first time they had actually touched one another in the long months of being together.

“I am yours, Evan Anderson,” she said, “to have and to hold forever. Please let me love you and be with you from now until you tire of me.”

“I will never tire of you, my darling Emily,” he told her earnestly. “You will be my love and my life from this day forward. All that you need and want will be yours as I am able to provide it.”

“All I want, dearest Evan, is for you to love me as I love you, completely, totally, insanely. As I am able, I will never be far from you, and will hold you fast in my heart and my mind,” Emily said, tears of joy breaking loose from her sparkling eyes and easing down her cheeks.

Evan looked at her for a long moment, reveling in the joy, beauty, and devotion of his newly declared love.

He had been correct in the assumptions that his life would change. Emily insisted that she surrender her small apartment and that they would share a small house near the campus. Though he protested his lack of interest in any particular dwelling as long as she was happy, she dragged him through the process of finding exactly the right house for the two of them. It turned out to be a two-bedroom, two story structure. The second bedroom, Emily decided, would be his study. The kitchen was small but efficiently laid out. There was a dining room off the great room that would comfortably seat six so that he could entertain the dean of his college or two fellow faculty families if he desired. Emily assured him she would become the perfect faculty wife, attending the various functions on his arm and graciously providing for small gatherings as her husband thought advisable. The yard was small, but the back yard held a spacious patio and deck for larger gatherings during the summer months.

She furnished the bedroom with a dark wood bedstead replete with sturdy columns nearly as tall as she was. She made him test a variety of mattresses until they found one that was firm enough to support them, but soft enough for comfort. She selected a matching bureau and chest of drawers and one easy chair. The bedroom featured a split closet. “Your suits will go here,” she said, indicating one side, “and my clothes will fit nicely in here.” Evan reveled watching her joyfully go about the process of making them a home.

They agreed to be married in the campus chapel in the Spring. It would be a small, late morning affair. The invited guests were Evan’s dean and his wife, the chairman of his department and his spouse, and one or two of his colleagues. Emily asked the wife of dean of the business college to serve as her matron of honor and two of her classmates to be bridesmaids. Rather than a gown, Emily selected a simple white dress with matching shoes. She insisted Evan wear a tuxedo, that he select a best man and at least two ushers to accompany the bridesmaids. The reception was held on the patio of their new home, and was a simply catered event with hors d’oeuvres and a variety of wines, including champagne.

The cost of all this would have been staggering if Evan had not lived such a meager existence before meeting his new wife. As it was, he had substantial savings which easily absorbed the cost of the wedding, as well as the furnishings and supplies Emily purchased for their house. She maintained that her needs were simple and that once the initial costs were handled, that she and Evan would be quite comfortable and parsimonious in their daily lives. Evan smiled wanly, wrote the checks, and watched joyfully as his wife distributed the funds as carefully and frugally as if they were down to their last few dollars.

“I didn’t marry you for your money, Evan,” she reminded him. “I married you because I love you.”

For his part, Evan was astounded at her business acumen. She seemed to make it all come together with elegance and style that would indicate a much more liberal application of funds. He had to acknowledge that Emily had excellent taste, an eye for the attractive, and a remarkable ability to organize and arrange that far exceeded his own. As he watched her, he loved her even more deeply and with unbounded devotion.

The physical element in their relationship was extremely limited. “We’re adults,” Emily told him. “We can restrain ourselves until the proper time.” Toward that end, they limited physical contact to the holding of hands and the occasional kiss. They held each other only briefly, yet constantly sought the reassuring contact of hand-in-hand whenever they were together.

The wedding night was as spectacular as the months of restraint promised. The guests had all departed by seven o’clock. Evan helped Emily cleaning up the patio once the caterers had removed their serving trays and additional tables. They loaded the dishwasher with the odd assortment of articles left behind by their guests.

“Are you happy, Evan?” Emily asked him.

He nodded and smiled at her. “Yes, my dear. I am at home with the wife of my dreams and the love of my life. I’m quite happy. Are you?”

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Soon,” she said. “If you’ll let me, I’ll go get ready for bed. Come up in about fifteen minutes and bring me a half a glass of the white wine” she ordered, “and we will make the months of waiting worthwhile.”

He nodded gently and leaned forward to kiss her. She returned the kiss more warmly than he had experienced.

“This will be wonderful,” she promised, “for you and for me.”

She twirled out of his arms and nearly ran toward the stairway to the second story of the house.

Evan poured himself a half a glass of the dark wine. He didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to lack the acidic bite of the white. It was mellow. That matched his mood, he thought. He selected a book from the shelf Emily stocked for him in the living room and pretended to read. His thoughts kept drifting to the vision of his bride, as lovely as he’d ever seen her. He mused over the past two-and-a-half years, thinking back to the first time he noticed her. He remembered thinking how lovely she appeared. He was not surprised to find that she was older than the other freshmen in the class. She was a woman among girls.

He reached for the tie still fastened on his neck and pulled at one of the ends. Emily had insisted on a real tie for his tuxedo. No metallic clips for his wife. He smiled at the thought. His wife. In spite of all the changes in his life he felt quite comfortable. He glanced at the grandfather clock and realized that ten of the fifteen minutes had already passed as he remembered the developments of the past. Taking mental inventory of his emotions, the primary feeling he recognized was joy. He and his beloved Emily were married.

He stood up, replaced the book on the shelf, and sought a clean glass for her requested Chablis. He found one and recovered the bottle from the bottom of the refrigerator door. He poured carefully. She’d asked for a half a glass. He eyed it carefully, thinking to himself, this is for Emily. It had to be perfect. He took the glass and carried it up the stairs to the bedroom she had furnished with such care and style. He looked around the room, his eyes taking in the semi-darkness, alleviated by soft illumination of lamps on each side of the massive bed. He looked for his bride. She was not in the room.