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“Yes?”

“Hello. My name is Daphne Darwell and I work on the staff of the Women’s Faculty Forum. I’ve come to see if you’d be interested in participating in a live videoconference tonight for faculty wives.”

“Oh, I didn’t know...”

“This is being done confidentially. You see there was a rash of incidents on campus during the spring semester involving male faculty members and their female graduate students. The WFF wants to hold a private and off-the-record discussion with as many faculty wives as possible to support those whose husbands may be taking advantage of their position.

“May I please come in?”

Ophelia Zieg hesitated just for a moment.

“Yes, do come in.”

“Dean Whittier will see you now, Ms. McDevitt.”

Sandy rose from her chair and walked into the lavishly paneled office.

Carmelita stood just outside the Linguistics Department building that housed Winston Zieg’s lair. She had made the appointment via his secretary earlier in the day. She knew that an evening session would no doubt have him licking his chops at the prospect.

She could not get the dream image out of her mind.

The bastard’s going to try it again
.
God, I hate this!

“Don’t worry, Carm,” Mike told her. “We’ll be watching everything, and if he gets within a foot of you I’ll be bursting in.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

He gently wiped a tear from her cheek and kissed her tenderly.

She turned and opened the glass door to the lobby.

Winston Zieg had been preening all afternoon, ever since his secretary told him that Carmelita Hidalgo had requested an appointment. He brushed his teeth in the office lavatory, rinsed with mouthwash, and even trimmed a few errant nostril hairs.

“I’ll be home about 9 o’clock,” he had told Ophelia. “I’ve got some papers I have to go over.”

She had seemed strangely delighted to hear he would be late. No matter, in a few minutes one of the most gorgeous graduate students he had ever seen would be, literally, within his grasp.

“Dr. Zieg, I have to say that the last time I visited your office was quite a shocking experience for me...”

The remark brought an instant glare.

“But over the summer I had time to think about your offer of help on my dissertation, and I’ve decided it’s my best alternative.”

He smiled a strange smile, an expression more like a grimace.

“I think that’s a wise decision, Ms. Hidalgo. Shall we get started?”

He got up from the desk and moved closer to her.

“Uh ... yes. I’ve prepared a PowerPoint presentation.”

She dropped her tote bag on the floor, quickly pulled out the tripod, and activated the projector, which illuminated the first slide on the office wall.

Back on Dixwell Avenue, Ophelia Zieg watched the scene with interest.

So did the several dozen students gathered on the Silliman Quad, after Lilly, at Freddie’s direction, had set up the tripod, and it began beaming Zieg and Carmelita in real-time, life-size holograms.

Likewise Roscoe Whittier, dean of the School of Liberal Arts, who sat in his office with Sandra McDevitt, class of 1962 and member of the Dean’s Circle of donors.

Freddie watched, too, in the IT Center, as he relayed the images via satellite to a mountaintop house somewhere in the vast hills of northeastern Pennsylvania.

The three old friends sat around the dining room table, witnessing the scene in Zieg’s office. Edison had reset the projected images to tabletop size. He figured that if things got out of hand it might be easier for Nancy to watch.

He was thinking about himself as well.

Nancy saw the man who would ruin her Carmelita’s life sitting uncomfortably close by her on his leather sofa while she presented her research proposal. Carmelita concentrated on the PowerPoint items while Zieg paid no notice of anything except the curves of her body.

“Oh, Bob, do you think we’ve made a mistake?”

“Don’t worry dear. She can do this.”

Galen stared silently, shaking his head in disgust.

“As you can see, Dr. Zieg, if you compare the natural semantic metalanguage of the Yanomomo tribe of Venezuela with the...”

Suddenly Zieg stood up preemptively.

“All right, Ms. Hildalgo, I’ve heard enough.”

“But sir, I haven’t...”

“Actually you have.”

He was standing nearly to-to-toe with her.

“I told you last spring that this proposal was substandard,” he said curtly.

“Uh ... yes, but you also said...”

“I know what I said. But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think it’s possible to improve this work to the point where I’d sponsor a dissertation.”

“But sir, I...”

“Look, Ms. Hidalgo, let’s be frank here. You didn’t want my help last spring and I’m damned sure you don’t want it now. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it won’t work. Do you understand?”

“Uh-oh,” Nancy said with a start. “Do you think he’s on to her?”

“No,” Galen responded. “He’s closing in for the kill.”

“I hope Mike’s ready to pounce,” Edison added.

Mike Dimitriades was indeed ready, as he stood just outside the front door of the building. He couldn’t see what was going on but thanks to an earpiece he was listening in.

“Professor Zieg, I honestly don’t understand. I thought you said...”

“You know perfectly well what I said—and if not let me show you.”

With that he lunged at her even more ferociously than before, his momentum sending them both sprawling on the floor. She fought to resist, but this time he had her trapped. He used his weight and superior strength to subdue her struggling.

“Mike!” She screamed. “Help me!”

“My God, Bob, he’s got her! Do something!”

“Hang on, honey. The kids are right there.”

At the sound of Carmelita’s distress, Mike went for the building front door—and found it had been automatically locked. He began banging on it frantically, hoping to attract someone’s attention.

“Freddie, Freddie!” he yelled. “I’m locked out!”

“Okay Mike,” Freddie responded via the earpiece, “I’m on it.”

He quickly manipulated the relay station’s touch screen. Suddenly holograms of the students on the quad, of Sandy and Dean Whittier, and of Ophelia Zieg all appeared in Winston Zieg’s office.

“Professor Zieg?” Freddie announced calmly.

The sound distracted the learned professor from his assault of the young woman on the floor. He raised his head.

“Huh? What the...?”

“Professor, you might have noticed that you’re no longer alone.”

Astonished and sheepish, Zieg struggled to his feet, not realizing that he remained ... exposed. Carmelita, suddenly freed from his grasp, got to her feet as well. She straightened her skirt, grabbed the nearest object she could find—a candy dish on the coffee table—and smacked him in the head with it.

“You disgusting pig!”

With that, applause and cheers erupted from the crowd in the quad...

And from the trio at Safehaven.

“Disgusting pig sonofabitch!” Edison yelled.

Winston Zieg was so shocked he could barely move. Shocking as well was the sight of his wife staring at him with loathing in her eyes.

Even more shocking was Dean Whittier beholding him with his pants down.

“Get over to my office, Winston, immediately.”

“She’s okay, Mike,” Freddie told him.

Within a minute Carmelita was pushing open the front doors and falling into his arms. They hugged and kissed tearfully.

“Attention viewers,” Freddie told the audience near and far. “Show’s over. We thank you for your time and interest. Please stand back from the projection devices.”

With that he punched in a code sequence that his Tio Edison had given him and each tripod crackled loudly and smoked profusely as its circuits melted and fused into useless junk.

She held hands with Mike in front of the Jetway as he waited for his final boarding call. She had said goodbye to Sandy an hour earlier when she boarded her flight back to Scranton/Wilkes-Barre. She had driven Lilly and Freddie to the New Haven station for their train to Massachusetts. Now she and Mike were alone in the crowd.

“Are you sure you don’t want to transfer to UCLA, Carm?”

“My new adviser thinks I’ll have my degree by the end of the year. She couldn’t believe how complete my paper was already.”

She hugged him and whispered, “I’ll still come out there in-between.”

Four seniors enjoyed a light breakfast.

“Wonder what’s happening with Zieg?” Sandy asked.

Edison almost coughed up the mouthful of toast and All Fruit Preserves With Fiber he had jammed it into his mouth.

“Why are you bringing up that sonofabitch at this table?”

Nancy finally had had enough of that talk.

“Robert Cornelius Edison, that is the last time I want to hear such language!”

“Yes dear,” he replied docilely.

“To answer the question,” Galen said, “from what Carm said, after he was treated for that bump on his head that she gave him, he skipped town. Word has it that Mrs. Zieg is going to take everything—including his underwear.”

Galen stretched and yawned as he got up from the table.

“By the way, little brother, how did you manage to set up that satellite link? Carm said the campus techs are still trying to figure it out.”

The engineer’s eyes sparkled.

“Big brother, you have your secrets and I have mine. Besides, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Two old men’s faces creased in smiles. Then Galen remembered.

“Cornelius?”

She was back on that hurricane-tossed sea.

¡Me asustan! ¡Me asustan!

“I’m frightened! I’m frightened,” Freddie called to her.

No sea el asustado, pequeño
, she heard herself saying.

All night long she cradled them both, Freddie and Tonio, lashed to their tiny life raft, until she saw it, faintly at first then growing brighter, that beam of light sweeping across the starry sky. Then shortly before dawn she saw the distant shore. And later, the last wave cast them almost gently upon the beach.

Carmelita Hidalgo, doctoral candidate in linguistics, Yale University, lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, pondering her memories and a promising future.

He circled the flower, fearing its rejection...

Missus Edison, I’m going into town for supplies and stuff. Anything you need?”

Lem Caddler stood in the doorway, shifting like a 5-year-old child from foot to foot.

Nancy had returned home just before the weather-beaten farmer knocked.

“Maybe you could let the grocer know to save some of the meat scraps again. We need to restock and I have a feeling this winter is going to be hard on the animals. Oh, and check on getting some large salt blocks, too. We have a new mother and family on the mountain.”

The mention of salt blocks brought understanding.

“We got deer now, Ma’am?”

“Yep, as Galen would say, a female
Odocoileus virginianus
and her brood have moved into the high grass field where the Henslow’s sparrows live.”

“How many, Missus?”

“Mama, a girl and two boys.”

She paused. It hit her.

The cycle repeats
.

She looked up at the scarecrow-tall man.

“How’s Miriam?”

“She’s doing right well. Missus Douglas is sittin’ with her while I head out fer awhile.”

Just then Galen walked up to the two talking in the foyer.

“Did I hear my name being taken in vain? And what’s this about white-tailed deer?”

“We’ve got another new family on the mountain. I forgot to tell you amid all the fuss. Carmelita, Sandy and I managed to spot one giving birth to three fawns, a female and two males, while we were birding.”

She smiled. “See what you missed by not coming with us?”

Galen shook his head and muttered, “A girl and two boys.”

The pattern holds
.

His face lit up in a rare smile.

“Lem, if you’re heading into town would you pick up some stuff for me, too?”

“Sure, Doc. Does Doc McDevitt need anythin’?”

Galen noted the hidden excitement in the other man’s eyes.

“Uh ... yeah. Don’t tell her but she’s a nut for licorice, if I remember correctly. Could you get the good stuff, maybe a pound of it?”

Galen flushed as he saw Nancy’s knowing look. He couldn’t look at her.

“How’s Sadie, Lem?”

Maybe that would change the subject.

Now Caddler’s face turned red.

“Uh ... fine, Doc.”

Nancy glanced at Galen.

The old goat knows something. We’ll save that until dinner
.

They each grabbed Post-it notes and wrote out what they wanted. When they handed the lists to Caddler he turned to leave, and then turned around once more.

“Missus Edison, Doc, I won’t be back ‘til real late, okay?”

Galen laughed and patted the other man’s shoulder.

“Okay, Lem, have a good time and give Sadie our best.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Nancy waited until Galen had taken his first sip of Pu-ehr tea then hurled her first salvo.

“So, who’s Sadie?”

Edison looked up, his mouth still stuffed with fresh biscuit.

“Sadie?”

“Yes, Sadie,” Galen replied. “She works part time at the sandwich shop, and it’s the widow Sadie Brockton. Our Lem met her at AA and I think we have a budding romance on our hands.”

“So, I was right about him, Bear? Can’t picture him going out on a date, though.”

Sandy cast a side glance at Edison and snickered.

Galen had placed two pillows on Sandy’s chair. Now she was almost at eye level with the old engineer.

“I think it’s great,” Nancy said. “Lem’s lived alone for so long, and with Ben gone and his taking care of Miriam, well, he really needs someone.”

“You said AA,” Sandy added. “Is she also…?”

“No, it was her husband Theron, the late Theron Brockton. Used to be a lawyer, until his drinking lost him too many cases. Unfortunately he did his best to defeat anything AA could do for him. He died of cirrhosis, alcoholic liver failure, about a year ago. Left Sadie nothing but bills and heartache.”

“She doesn’t even have a home now,” Edison added. “He lost that by not keeping up the mortgage payments. She spends all her time either at the boarding house or the sandwich shop to supplement her Social Security check.”

He dabbed his face with a napkin and shook his head.

“Strange how the so-called educated ones are the hardest to deal with when they have an alcohol problem.”

Galen nodded.

“Not so strange. It’s the lawyers and ministers and doctors and professors who have the hardest time accepting that they have a problem. They rationalize themselves into thinking they don’t. It’s indirect suicide by intellectual conceit. That’s what happened with Brockton.”

“Uh ... Miss Sadie?”

He hadn’t felt this awkward since he was a schoolboy. He handed her the box of candy and the single pink rosebud he had bought at the florist. Then he waited. He wanted to say more but couldn’t. He didn’t know how to speak to a woman—especially one he loved.

She took the rose from the tall, weather-beaten man, her face almost identical to its color. She held the single perfect bud and felt the smoothness of its petals. She saw the grief, permanently etched on his forehead. She saw the former signs of the drinker but softened with abstinence to the point where only the trained eye could detect them.

Most important, he seemed to radiate an aura of peace and contentment that overcame the sadness. She had never seen that characteristic in a man.

He saw the neatly dressed woman, silver-gray hair highlighting blue-gray eyes. He couldn’t move from behind the refreshment table the first time he saw her at the AA meeting. He had volunteered to tend but he wanted to meet her, to speak with her.

Her pale, sea-green dress, inexpensive yet tasteful, outlined a true woman’s body, not thin, not fat, but as Reverend Dodgson’s Alice would have said, just right for her age.

She smiled. A taste of coffee would break the ice. She walked, not too fast, not too slow, across the oak floor to the tables of assorted juices, coffee and tea. At the last minute she deliberately turned toward his table.

“Hi, my name’s Sadie. May I have some coffee?”

“Hi, Miss Sadie, my name’s Lem.”

He blushed and tried to conceal it by pouring her coffee into a cup that seemed to have a mind of its own. Her hand reached out to steady his before the rest of the coffee poured onto the tabletop.

From then on they visited after the Grange Hall AA meetings. They met at the little sandwich shop. They even met at her boarding house, but being of a different time and background, only in the parlor.

She thought it funny, a throwback to a gentler time that neither of them had really known. Maybe Thornton Wilder was writing the script for them up in Heaven.

She stood there with the rosebud, memories flashing through her mind, and she knew instinctively what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“Where are you living, Lem?”

Strange, she had never asked him that before and he had never told her.

“At Safehaven, Miss Sadie.”

“I’ve heard it’s beautiful up there on the mountaintop.”

“I’m the caretaker,” he said proudly.

“That must be a lot of work for just one man.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Now that my friend Ben is gone, I take care of his Miriam and keep an eye out for the three old folks who live there.”

He paused, seeming to withdraw. Then he smiled.

“Miss Sadie, I’d like you to meet them. I know you’ll like them, and Miriam, too. And I can show you the cottage.”

Once more the shy butterfly-man approached the open flower bud then flew off before landing.

“Miss Sadie, I ... uh…”

“Yes, Lem?”

She already knew—women always do.

“Miss Sadie, would you be my wife?”

“Yes, Lem.”

“I’ll get it,” Galen grumbled. He rose slowly and lumbered to the foyer. He unlatched the door and Lem Caddler greeted him by exclaiming, “Doc, meet Missus Sadie Caddler. We got hitched!”