wanted to see your house?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You should ask her.”
“But you know.” James put his hands on Jennifer’s shoulders and turned her to face him. The sound of the rain made a quick-time tapping, matching his impatience for the information he guessed she knew. “Tell me.”
“She said your house looks like the house she’s been dreaming about.”
“She dreams about my house?”
“And a man.”
“What man?” He felt the blood under his skin quicken. “What man, Jennifer?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
James grunted in frustration. He locked his office door, and Jennifer followed him into the hallway. He walked to the elevator, pressed the down button, and waited.
“You should tell her,” Jennifer said.
The elevator dinged, the door opened, and they stepped inside. He waited for the door to close before he spoke.
“I’m not telling her anything. She’s scared enough of me as it is. I don’t think I made a very good first impression. Or a good second impression, for that matter.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “I’ll tell her.”
“No!” He said it with such force the steel elevator walls rattled like an earthquake had shaken Salem. He dropped his voice to a firm whisper. “It’ll frighten her too much, especially after the way I treated her.”
“You should give her more credit than that. I told her I was a witch a few days after I met her and she didn’t mind.”
“You didn’t tell her everything.”
“I told her enough. She needs to know, especially if you want to get to know her.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
When the doors opened onto the first floor, James brushed past Jennifer, out of the library, across Rainbow Terrace and College Drive to the North Campus where his classes were held in Meier Hall. Somehow, despite his internal turmoil over Sarah, he managed to talk coherently about William Wordsworth and his 1804 poem “Intimations of Immortality.” He was amused by the title, and the theme, that age causes man to lose touch with the divine. He didn’t tell his students how true that might really be.
CHAPTER 7
The next night James found Sarah in the library, huddled over one of the study desks, a stack of books beside her. She was so intent on her reading she didn’t notice him when he pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said.
Her head jerked up and her mouth opened. As he looked at her lips all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her, but she didn’t look like she wanted to be kissed just then. He pressed the idea aside, though he didn’t want to.
“Jennifer can help you,” she said, turning back to her book. “I’m on my break.”
“I don’t need help. I just wanted to say hello.”
Sarah smiled. It was the same smile he remembered, full, soft, joyful. Again, those lips. She leaned back in her chair and watched him, studying him, as if she were trying to decide which James she was going to see that night, the calm, courteous one or the one who jumped out from the shadows. Her face softened and she didn’t seem annoyed, so he hoped she had settled on the first possibility.
“Hello,” she said.
“What are you reading?”
Her hand went to her cheek and she shook her head. “About the Salem Witch Trials. They really were dreadful, weren’t they?”
He glanced at the book over her shoulder. “I know a lot about that time. Let me help you.”
She looked at him, her chocolate-brown eyes taut in concentration, staring into his, as if she were trying to see his whole truth. But he didn’t want her to see his whole truth. He wanted to be near her too much. He had to strike a balance, appearing available without giving everything away. He didn’t want her to run from him.
“All right,” she said.
He picked a book from the stack and flipped through the pages. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you already
“I don’t think so.”
“You should ask her.”
“But you know.” James put his hands on Jennifer’s shoulders and turned her to face him. The sound of the rain made a quick-time tapping, matching his impatience for the information he guessed she knew. “Tell me.”
“She said your house looks like the house she’s been dreaming about.”
“She dreams about my house?”
“And a man.”
“What man?” He felt the blood under his skin quicken. “What man, Jennifer?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
James grunted in frustration. He locked his office door, and Jennifer followed him into the hallway. He walked to the elevator, pressed the down button, and waited.
“You should tell her,” Jennifer said.
The elevator dinged, the door opened, and they stepped inside. He waited for the door to close before he spoke.
“I’m not telling her anything. She’s scared enough of me as it is. I don’t think I made a very good first impression. Or a good second impression, for that matter.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “I’ll tell her.”
“No!” He said it with such force the steel elevator walls rattled like an earthquake had shaken Salem. He dropped his voice to a firm whisper. “It’ll frighten her too much, especially after the way I treated her.”
“You should give her more credit than that. I told her I was a witch a few days after I met her and she didn’t mind.”
“You didn’t tell her everything.”
“I told her enough. She needs to know, especially if you want to get to know her.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
When the doors opened onto the first floor, James brushed past Jennifer, out of the library, across Rainbow Terrace and College Drive to the North Campus where his classes were held in Meier Hall. Somehow, despite his internal turmoil over Sarah, he managed to talk coherently about William Wordsworth and his 1804 poem “Intimations of Immortality.” He was amused by the title, and the theme, that age causes man to lose touch with the divine. He didn’t tell his students how true that might really be.
CHAPTER 7
The next night James found Sarah in the library, huddled over one of the study desks, a stack of books beside her. She was so intent on her reading she didn’t notice him when he pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said.
Her head jerked up and her mouth opened. As he looked at her lips all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her, but she didn’t look like she wanted to be kissed just then. He pressed the idea aside, though he didn’t want to.
“Jennifer can help you,” she said, turning back to her book. “I’m on my break.”
“I don’t need help. I just wanted to say hello.”
Sarah smiled. It was the same smile he remembered, full, soft, joyful. Again, those lips. She leaned back in her chair and watched him, studying him, as if she were trying to decide which James she was going to see that night, the calm, courteous one or the one who jumped out from the shadows. Her face softened and she didn’t seem annoyed, so he hoped she had settled on the first possibility.
“Hello,” she said.
“What are you reading?”
Her hand went to her cheek and she shook her head. “About the Salem Witch Trials. They really were dreadful, weren’t they?”
He glanced at the book over her shoulder. “I know a lot about that time. Let me help you.”
She looked at him, her chocolate-brown eyes taut in concentration, staring into his, as if she were trying to see his whole truth. But he didn’t want her to see his whole truth. He wanted to be near her too much. He had to strike a balance, appearing available without giving everything away. He didn’t want her to run from him.
“All right,” she said.
He picked a book from the stack and flipped through the pages. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you already
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