Her Last Wish (4 page)

He must have noticed my
apprehension, because he asked, “What number do you need to find?”

“A taxi service. Any of
them. I’m not picky.”

“Oh.” He smiled at me
and put his phone back in his pocket. “That’s an easy fix, then. I can take you
wherever you need to go. Free of charge. I’m done for the day, so it’s no
trouble.”

I raised an eyebrow at
him. Did he seriously suggest he drive me home? I did need a ride, but at the
same time, I thought about Jackson’s words from earlier. It did seem a bit
strange for him to pay any attention to me at all. Did I really want him to
know where I lived? I had never noticed how he ignored the others more than me
until it was pointed out. Even then, he only really started paying noticeable
attention to me less than an hour before. “I don’t know. It’s kinda far away.”

“It’s fine. It’s the
least I can do after my free coffee.”

I knew it probably
wasn’t the smartest idea. But something told me to go with him. I didn’t know
why or what that something was. But I felt as if I
needed
to go with
him. I only prayed that feeling didn’t get me in serious trouble.

Chapter Four

Connor

I didn’t know why she
decided to come with me, but I was ecstatic she did. I also didn’t know why I
even offered to take her in the first place. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t have
gotten her the number to a reputable cab. In fact, I had a few programmed into
my phone for those days when I’d had enough of the daily suffering of life
without Elizabeth and decided to try and drink some of it away. It never
worked, of course, but the bars and taxi services certainly loved me on those
days.

I probably shouldn’t
have offered to take her home. I was pretty sure I’d overstepped some
teacher-student boundaries somewhere. But I couldn’t resist that tiny glimpse
into her life. I knew I shouldn’t care, but I felt drawn to her, as if I needed
to know her beyond her ability to make great coffee and write engaging papers
with extraordinary insight into the subject matter. Why? Well, I didn’t know
that, either. I’d add it to my list of mysteries for the day.

I smiled at her, as I
drove down the highway toward her home. She had said it was a ways away. I just
hadn’t been aware that she didn’t even live in town. But in my opinion, it was
all the better. I could feel her peaceful warmth radiating off of her and
soothing my darkened soul from the other side of the car. Just her presence
comforted me when I had been so sure that nothing could. I wondered what it was
about her that could possibly hold that kind of power over me. She seemed nice
enough, sure. But she also seemed to be … more.

“So,” I began
nervously. “How do you like my class so far? I think this is your second time
in any of my classes?”

“I like it just fine.
Though I’ve always enjoyed literature.” Her smile lit up the inside of my car.

“Me, too.”

She giggled in the most
adorable way. “Clearly.”

“Yeah.” I felt stupid.
Of course, I enjoyed it. I
taught
it. “So do you need any more lit or
composition classes to graduate?”

“No.”

My spirits immediately
plummeted. For whatever reason, just the thought of not having her in any of my
classes after the semester ended cut me deeply. I felt as if I needed her near.
Sure, I wouldn’t be guaranteed that she’d pick any of mine out of all the other
teachers in my department, but that hadn’t entered my thought process.

“Though, I technically
didn’t need this class. I just took it because I enjoy the subject matter. I’ll
probably do the same next term. It’s added some onto my time here and
definitely onto my tuition, but I think it’s worth it.”

I tried to hide my
relief. “I suppose it would be. I also teach other literature classes if you’re
interested in any of those.”

“I hope it doesn’t seem
weird for me to say so, but you look awfully young to be teaching college
courses, let alone head the department.”

I couldn’t stop my
grin. I got that a lot. Lately, it bothered me. Perhaps it was because people
usually said it in a condescending way and I was usually in a piss poor mood.
But for Charlie to say so, I was oddly flattered. In my messed up mind, it was
one step away from her telling me that she thought I was attractive. Besides,
she seemed more curious about me than anything. The others were just spiteful.

“I’m only thirty,” I
said. “Plenty old enough to teach, I assure you. As far as department head
goes, I got very, very lucky.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean anything by it.”

“I’m not insulted, if
that’s what you’re thinking. I graduated early. I worked my ass off. When I was
offered department head, I was thrilled. I think at the time, I enjoyed that
some of the other teachers were jealous. I was more or less a kid, after all.”

“Jealousy is a pretty
negative emotion. It seems a silly thing to enjoy.”

I nodded. “Perhaps it
was. I was a very different person back then. I was young and stupid, despite
my obvious intelligence.”

“So what changed?”

My jaw clenched tightly.
Elizabeth happened. But I didn’t want to talk about her. I couldn’t ruin what
little time with Charlie that I had with sob stories and haunting memories. We
were already getting far too close to her city for my comfort.

“It’s okay. I
understand,” she said quietly. “You don't have to talk about it if it’s a
touchy subject. I was just making conversation.”

I nodded, shocked she
even cared to notice my mood shift. Desperate to change the subject, I asked,
“So what about your boyfriend? I’m surprised he didn’t offer you a ride home.”

“He did, in a way. We
just … Well, sometimes it’s better to walk away for a bit. For both of us.”

Just by the way she’d
said it, I knew they’d had a fight of some kind. It couldn’t have been too
serious, though. She didn’t seem too upset. I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t
feel some jealousy toward him. I’d have killed to have someone as beautiful as
Charlie to argue with. Not to mention, there was always that making up bit, too
…

I tried to pull myself
away from the route my thoughts were trying to take. Nothing good could come of
thoughts like that. She was my student. I had to try to think of her as such,
despite my obvious and puzzling struggle with it. “I hope everything is okay.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Thank
you for the ride, though. It’s very nice of you.”

“It’s my pleasure. You
rescued me from horrifying coffee, after all.”

She giggled. “Then my
work is done.”

I heard my telltale
ringtone, startling me out of my good mood. Keeping my eyes on the road, I dug
my phone out of my pocket. I held the wheel as steadily as I could and stole a
quick glance at the caller ID. Loving Stork Surrogacy. “Do you mind if I answer
this?” I asked.

“Not at all.”

“Thank you. This
shouldn’t take long.”

She smiled at me and
turned her head to stare out the window. It wasn’t quite privacy, but I didn’t
care what she heard.

I slowly inhaled what I
could of the calming atmosphere that had developed over the course of the
drive, knowing I’d need it. There it was. My last chance at making my wife’s
dream of children come true. I prayed to anyone who would listen that they
would give me good news. I needed this to work out.

Chapter Five

Charlie

I didn’t know what
happened on the other end of that phone call. I had no idea what upset him. All
I heard was something about him being a widower, something involving a doctor,
and that was it. After that, he hung up, slung a huge string of obscenities at
nobody
,
and immediately pulled over.

As I watched
helplessly, he punched the steering wheel, over and over. He looked near tears,
but I could tell he fought them with all he had. It hurt to watch him go from
mostly sane to fully breaking down in just the span of a phone call. What was
it that upset him so bad?

Unsure of what else to
do, I held out a trembling hand and gently placed it on his shoulder. I didn’t
even care about getting home at that point. I just wanted his pain to stop. I
wanted him to stop hurting himself. And truth be told, I wanted him to stop
scaring the hell out of me.

He froze on contact.
Under my fingers, I could feel his muscles tense up in his back and shoulder. I
hadn’t meant to startle him. I just wanted him to stop punching things. At
least I’d been successful in that much.

“Professor?” I asked
cautiously, somewhat afraid he’d turn that barely restrained rage and despair
on me. He didn’t seem the type, but what did I know? I didn’t know him outside
a classroom. I only knew what coffee he preferred and what car he drove. That
was hardly enough to qualify as knowing him at all.

He stared blankly
ahead, his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

“Professor?” I
repeated. “Are you okay?”

“It’s over,” came his
emotionally exhausted voice from the other side of the car. “She’s gone.”

I tilted my head in
confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s over? Who’s gone?”

When he looked over at
me, I found his beautiful blue eyes had turned stormy. The sad, aged man that I
saw in class nearly every day had returned, though this time, he appeared as fragile
as a child. How it went from witnessing him giving competent, in-depth lectures
to adult students to seeing him stripped down to almost nothing, I had no idea.
But I did know that I didn’t like it. Not one bit. His pain tore at my very
being, something I found especially strange for someone I didn’t know very
well. I briefly wondered if Jackson was right to feel as put off by Professor
Mason as he had been.

“I need to go
somewhere,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

I stared at him a few
moments, unsure of what to say. My common sense said I should probably have him
just take me home. Or even the next building over so I could walk without him
knowing exactly where I lived. Better yet, I should probably have had him call
a cab for me. But something else, entirely, told me to go with him. Something
insisted
that he shouldn’t be alone at the moment. I simply nodded in response.

He slowly inhaled a
deep, calming breath and nodded back at me. Before I knew it, he pulled his car
back on the road. Fortunately, his driving seemed steadier than his emotions.

About halfway home from
our last stopping point on the side of the road, he turned off onto a small
side road. The open surroundings of the highway were replaced with miles and
miles of trees. I watched in awe as we drove deeper into the wilderness.

After a few minutes, we
pulled into the tiny parking lot of a small chapel. The church, itself, didn’t
appear to be all that spectacular. Stacked rock exterior had been embedded with
several large stained glass windows. I couldn’t see them well from the outside,
but I could tell that from the inside, they’d be stunning.

Professor Mason
clumsily stepped out of the car and stood in front of the church. He never
looked back at me, but I could tell he was waiting for me to catch up. I
quickly hopped out of the car and followed him inside.

Through the doors, the
church was even less to look at. It was tiny, holding only ten long bench seats
in the back and a single podium in the front. However, as I’d suspected, the
sun shone brightly through the stained glass, illuminating the room with
breathtaking rainbows of color.

The calm spell that had
fallen over me when I entered shattered once I saw Professor Mason stumble
weakly to the pew closest to the front. He dropped onto the hard, wooden bench
and stared at the crucifix that hung on the wall in front of him. I wanted to
sit by him, but some level of fear stopped me. However, I walked over to the
side of the pew where he sat and quietly stood watch over him.

Although no music
played, the room had its own sort of ambience. It was almost as if you could
hear the angels through the structure, itself. Despite the fact that the
professor and I were the only two in the room, I felt as if we were not
actually alone. I found it oddly comforting.

“She loved it here,” he
said quietly, never turning to look at me.

“Who?” I asked after
double-checking to make sure he hadn’t actually been talking to someone else
who might have come in behind us.

“Elizabeth.” He was
silent a few seconds before adding, “My wife. This was her family’s church. She
grew up here. We were married here. Sometimes I can still even
feel
her
here. I never understood her fascination with the place. I’ve never been a
spiritual man.”

“Perhaps it’s just
comforting to believe in something,” I suggested. I recalled his conversation
on the phone. He’d said he was a widower. Something clearly happened to her. I
wondered if that was the cause of his despair.