A Kiss Remembered (3 page)

She didn’t say anything until after the harried waiter had served them their coffee. Shelley stirred cream into her cup and said gently, “They’ll get accustomed to seeing you around. News that you’d be joining the faculty this fall spread through the campus like wildfire last spring. Once you’re here for a while, the excitement will die down.”

“My classes filled up quickly. I don’t find that flattering. I realize most of the students who registered for them did so out of curiosity. I saw the cowboy sitting next to you sleeping today.”

She smiled, glad that he didn’t have that intense, guarded expression on his face any longer. “I don’t think he appreciated the finer points of your lecture.”

Grant returned her smile briefly and then gazed at her earnestly, searching the depths of her eyes with an intensity that made her quail. “Why did you take my class, Shelley?”

She looked down into her coffee; then, thinking that silence would incriminate her, she said spiritedly, “Because I needed the credit.”

He ignored her attempted levity. “Were you a curiosity seeker, too? Did you want to see if I’d grown horns and a long tail since you’d seen me?”

“No,” she cried softly. “Of course not. Never.”

“Did you want to see if I’d remember you?” He was leaning forward now, his forearms propped against the edge of the table. The distance between them was visibly decreased, but rather than shrinking from him, she felt an irresistible urge to move closer still.

“I … I guess I did. I didn’t think you would remember. It’s been so long and—”

“Did you want to see if I remembered the night we kissed?”

CHAPTER 2

H
er heart slammed against her ribs. The noise of the room diminished under the thundering pulse in her eardrums. Her mouth went dry.

“Look at me, Shelley.”

No, no, don’t, Shelley. You’ll be lost. He’ll see. He’ll know. Her eyes disobeyed the frantic order of her brain and lifted to meet his. She saw her reflection in the greenish depths, a shattered expression, a face full of sadness, of perplexity.

“I remember kissing you. Do you remember it?”

She nodded before she spoke. “Yes.” Momentarily she closed her eyes as a wave of vertigo seized her. She prayed he’d drop the subject, go on to something neutral that they could discuss openly and easily. She didn’t think she’d survive reliving that life-altering night while he sat just inches from her.

The times she had reviewed it privately were innumerable. The memory was locked away in the most secret part of her being, a treasure trove that no one knew about. She had been miserly with that memory, bringing it forth and reliving it only when she was alone. But discussing that night with him would be like undergoing a medical examination. Nothing would be hidden. She couldn’t do it.

He was unmerciful. “It was after the championship basketball game. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” she answered, forcing a leaden dullness into her voice to keep from screaming. “Poshman Valley won.”

“And everyone went crazy,” he said softly. “The band must have played the fight song ten times in succession. Everybody in town was there, yelling and screaming. The players were lifting the coach over their heads and parading him around the gym floor.”

She could see it all. Hear it all. Smell the popcorn. She could still feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet as everyone stamped in time to the blaring music the band was playing.

“Shelley, go get the victory banner,” one of the other cheerleaders had screamed into her ear. She had nodded and fought her way through the rejoicing spectators to the office where the cheerleaders had left the banner.

Shelley had been dashing out the door with it tucked under her arm when Mr. Chapman came running in. He had been sent for the trophy that was to be presented to the victors.

“Mr. Chapman!” Shelley had shrieked excitedly as she rushed toward him.

He was as caught up in the enthusiasm of the victory as anyone. Without thinking, he clasped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the floor, and whirled her round and round, their laughter filling the small confines of the office.

When he set her back on her feet, he paused a moment too long in releasing her. When his arms should have fallen to his sides immediately, he hesitated and they remained locked behind her back. The moment was unpredictable, possibly unfortunate, certainly unplanned. That one heartbeat in time was both her death and her birth. For in that moment, Shelley was forever changed.

Astonishment choked off laughter. Silence, except for the dull roar coming through the walls from the gym, reigned. Their hearts seemed to pulse together. She could feel the pounding of his through her sweater with its stiff felt “PV” appliquéd in the center. The hard muscles of his thighs pressed against her legs, bare beneath her short wool skirt. One of his hands stayed at her waist while the other opened wide and firm over the middle of her back. Their breath intermingled as his face lowered imperceptibly.

They stood frozen, staring at each other in mute wonder. He tilted his head to one side, as though he had just been struck between the eyes and couldn’t quite figure out yet what had hit him.

Then swiftly, almost as if just realizing the precariousness of their situation, he ducked his head.

His mouth touched hers, sweetly, sweetly. It lingered. Pressed. It parted her lips. Then the tip of his tongue touched hers. Sizzling electricity jolted through both of them.

He released her with jarring abruptness and stepped away. He saw the mortified tears spring into her frightened eyes and his heart twisted with self-loathing. “Shelley—”

She fled.

The banner was still tucked under her arm when she ran headlong out of the gymnasium to her family’s car. When her worried parents found her huddled in the backseat a half hour later, she told them she had become ill and had had to leave.

“I terrified you that night,” Grant said now. He didn’t touch her, though his hand lay close to hers on the table-top. If he were to lift his little finger and move it a hair’s breadth, he would be touching her.

“Yes, you did.” Her voice had deserted her. She could barely croak. “I told my parents I was sick and stayed in bed for three days during Christmas vacation.” She tried to smile but found that when she did, her lips trembled.

She had lain in her bed, confused and distressed, wondering why her breasts throbbed each time she remembered the way Mr. Chapman’s lips felt against hers. Why, when her boyfriend’s anxious groping had never done anything except irritate her, had she longed to feel Mr. Chapman’s hands on her everywhere. Stroking. Petting. Closing over her breasts. Touching their crests. Kissing them. She had wept with shame, huge, scalding tears that were absorbed by her pillow.

“You weren’t the only one who was terrified. You scared the hell out of me,” Grant said quietly. Shelley looked at him in bewilderment. He laughed without humor. “Can you imagine what a community the size of Poshman Valley would have done to a teacher seen kissing one of his students? I would have been lucky to die quickly. Thank God no one saw us that night. For your sake more than mine. I could leave. You couldn’t.”

“You left right after that.” She had dreaded going back to school after that holiday. How would she face him? But she had learned before the first class convened that Mr. Chapman would no longer be teaching at Poshman Valley. He had resigned to accept a post as a congressional aide in Washington, D.C. Everyone had known that he was marking time teaching until he could go to the capital, but everyone was surprised that he had left so suddenly.

“Yes. I went to Oklahoma City over the holiday and pestered my contacts until one of them finally lined me up a job. I couldn’t go back to the high school.”

“Why?”

He pierced her with his moss-colored eyes. His voice was quiet and intense when he spoke. “You may have been an innocent then, Shelley, but you aren’t now. You know why I had to leave. That kiss was far from fraternal. It had never occurred to me to touch you like that, much less to kiss you. Please believe that. I hadn’t harbored any lecherous thoughts about you or any student. But once I held you in my arms, something happened. You were no longer a student of mine, but a desirable woman. I doubt I would have ever been able to treat you as a schoolgirl again.”

She thought the pressure in her chest might very well kill her. Yet she lived long enough to hear him ask, “Are you finished? More coffee?”

“Yes. I mean yes, I’m finished, and no thank you. No more.”

“Let’s go.”

He stood and held her chair for her. She rose quickly, careful not to touch him.

“Whew,” he said, pushing open the heavy, brass-studded door and escorting her outside. “Fresh air.”

“Hello, Mr. Chapman.”

A coed paused to speak to him as she entered the restaurant with three other girls. Her eyelashes were heavy with mascara; her mouth, glossed with vermilion, was wide and full; her hair was layered and permed to give a tousled effect. Shelley wondered if the girl had been welded into her jeans, for surely no zipper would stand that much strain. Her generous breasts were un-confined by a bra beneath her crocheted sweater.

“Hello, Miss …”

“Zimmerman. Monday-Wednesday-Friday, two o’clock class. I certainly enjoyed your lecture yesterday,” she cooed. “I’ve checked out some of the books you recommended from the library.”

“But have you read them?”

The girl blinked dully for a moment, stunned by Grant’s derisive question. Then she smiled lazily, deciding to take his jibe with good humor. “I’ve started them.”

“Good. When you’re done, I’d like to hear your impressions.”

“Oh, you will. You will.” Her cunning glance slid over Shelley, who was treated to a chilly evaluation. “See ya,” she said as she followed her friends into Hal’s.

They had walked half a block down the bookstore-lined sidewalk before Grant said lightly, “No comments?”

“On what?” she asked breezily.

“On the dedication of some students.”

She looked up at him scoffingly. “I’m sure Miss Zimmerman is dedicated to many things, but I doubt that scholastics is one of them.”

He laughed, taking her arm and leading her across the street. “Where are you parked?”

“I’m not. I walked to campus today.”

“Commendable. Which way?”

The safest, wisest, easiest thing to do would be to part company here and now. Shelley Robins always did the safest, wisest, easiest thing. She paused on the sidewalk and faced him. “Thank you, but I can go the rest of the way alone.”

“No doubt. But I want to come with you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a teacher and I’m your student,” she said, dangerously close to tears for reasons she couldn’t name.

“As we were before. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I guess so. Yes.”

“With one vital difference, Shelley. This time we’re both mature adults.”

She hedged, gnawing her bottom lip.

Taking advantage of her indecision, he pressed his point. “Believe me, the last thing I need in my life is a scandal. I wouldn’t do anything to compromise either of us.”

“That’s why we shouldn’t be seen together off campus at all.” His position at the university was shaky at best. Why would he jeopardize it? Along with his problems, she had to analyze what his being in her life again would mean to her.

No. She couldn’t become entrapped again. She’d have to bring things to a screeching halt now. Why she had ever let him talk about that kiss ten years ago, she couldn’t fathom, but …

“I need a friend, Shelley.”

Her head snapped up to see the lines engraved on either side of his mouth and the deep furrow between his brows. He had suffered. He had known untold trouble. Had he made a romantic appeal, she would have rebuffed it. Probably. Maybe.

But that simple, pitiable request for friendship couldn’t be denied. He was something of a celebrity, yes. But he was also a victim of his own notoriety. Someone of his caliber didn’t inspire friendship in ordinary people who lived mundane lives. It was inverted snobbery. The fact of the matter was—he was lonely.

She looked up into the alluring, knowing eyes and saw a hint of insecurity. “All right,” she agreed softly and began walking again.

He matched his stride to hers. “What are you majoring in?”

“Banking.”

He stopped in his tracks.
“Banking?”

She stopped, too. “Yes, banking. What did you expect me to say? Home economics?” There was undisguised asperity in her voice. To her surprise, he burst out laughing.

“No. I’m not a chauvinist. It’s just that I can’t see you as a stodgy banker in a gray pin-striped suit.”

“Lord, I hope not,” she said, relaxing somewhat. They started walking again. “I want to specialize in banking from the woman’s point of view. Many banks now have departments that cater to women, particularly women who have their own businesses or divorcées or widows who for the first time are having to manage their money. Often they don’t know the first thing about balancing a checkbook, much less opening a savings account or securing a loan.”

“You have my wholehearted approval,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Thank you.” She dropped a curtsy.

The sidewalks were all but deserted now. The sun had set behind Gresham Hall and the sky was tinted a pale shade of indigo. Oaks and elms, their leaves burnished by the cool fall weather, overhung the sidewalk, lending it intimacy. Indeed one couple had found this romantic aura too difficult to resist.

Grant’s and Shelley’s footsteps echoed hollowly on the cracked, lichen-covered sidewalk as they approached the couple. The young woman’s back was pressed against the trunk of a tree as the young man leaned into her. His feet straddled hers. Their heads were angled, mouths fused. Their arms were wound around each other.

As Shelley guiltily watched them, the man’s hips rotated slowly and the woman’s hand slipped lower from his waist to apply encouraging pressure. All the blood in her body rushed to Shelley’s face and bathed it with a bright stain. She risked looking at Grant out of the corner of her eye and was further embarrassed to see that he was studying her reaction closely. He smiled crookedly and picked up their pace until the oblivious lovers were left far behind.