In Love with a Gentleman (9 page)

My heart almost throbs out of my chest. For days—weeks—I’ve dreamed of Ethan saying something like that. Now it’s actually happening. I’m totally embarrassed. Just to be on the safe side, I don’t say a thing.

Ethan sweeps a strand of my hair off my shoulder and examines it closely. “Your hair is a very strange color, a bit reddish in this low light.”

I swallow. “I inherited the reddish tone from my father.”

“You should take better care of it. You have very dry split ends,” he observes.

He’s right. I should have let the hairdresser cut off the split ends a long time ago, but I always end up postponing it. I curse myself that I didn’t take care of it sooner. I’m sitting next to my heartthrob, and he notices that I neglect myself. I need to do something about it for sure. I vow to go to the hairdresser the very next day.

At some point, Catherine stands up and says she’s tired and needs to go home. She says good-bye to everybody. Then someone else says the same thing. I lose track of time completely. Only when the Bell’s owner rings the bell and announces, “Last orders, please!” do I realize that it’s time for me to go, too.

The bench is less crowded now, so I lean away from Ethan to grab my bag. I feel his arm firmly pull me closer to him.

“Do you really have to leave?” he asks.

“I do,” I say, desperately trying to act relaxed. “We have to go to class tomorrow.”

“A shame,” he says. He lets go of me and stands up abruptly. Once he’s removed his arm from my shoulders, I feel very cold and exposed. His physical proximity was very pleasant.

I say hastily, “But we could meet again soon. That would be nice.”

“Yes,” Ethan says, “maybe.” He makes no further comment. We walk into the cold night air. Everyone says their good-byes. Ethan and the rest of our colleagues go their own ways. I slide my hands deep into my jacket pockets and walk the few hundred yards to Walnut Cottage alone.

When I arrive, I unlock the door and rush upstairs on tiptoes. The house is dark and quiet except for the sound of snoring from Abby and Glen’s room. I am under my mountain of sheets and blankets within ten minutes. Just before falling asleep, I remember I completely forgot to fill up my hot-water bottle. But I don’t need it tonight. I’m as warm as if I had a fever.

Chapter 5

Over the next few days, I hear and see nothing of Ethan, but my thoughts continue to constantly revolve around him. I can’t stop thinking about how wonderful it was to feel him close to me at the pub. I wonder whether I should take the initiative to ask him out on a date, but then I think how embarrassing it would be for him to reject me. I’d rather spare myself the heartache.

Instead, I go to the hairdresser. There’s one here in the village, located on the main street. The shop is tiny and has room for only two clients at a time. The hairdresser is a young, plump blonde woman named Mandy. She seats me in front of a mirror, explaining what she wants to do. She has the high-pitched, squeaky voice I’d expect from an English hairdresser. Englishwomen, as a whole, speak in much higher registers than German women. I wonder why that is.

Mandy interrupts my thoughts. “You’re new here in the village, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you around.”

I tell her that I’m teaching for a year at the comprehensive school.

“And do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” I reply.

“Autumn break is coming soon,” she says. “Are you going back to Germany?”

Good question. Autumn break means I get a week off next week. I’d been wondering whether I should go back to Germany. Catherine is going back home to Brittany. It might be lonely for me here. On the other hand, going home isn’t particularly tempting. My dorm room is occupied, and although it’s nice to be with my parents, when I’m around them for more than two days, they tend to forget I’m already a grown-up. It gets to the point that my mom won’t let me out of the house without a hat, and my father tries to engage me in deep conversations about my future.

“No, I’d rather use this time to see more of England,” I answer. “I was thinking about going to Cambridge.”

“Oh, yes,” she squeaks enthusiastically. “Cambridge is really beautiful! You absolutely must go there. My sister lives there, and I visit every once in a while. Cambridge in autumn is a dream!”

But visiting Cambridge isn’t so easy. “Unfortunately, it’s very expensive there,” I say. “I don’t know whether I can afford to go on my meager budget.”

The hairdresser furrows her brow. “You’re right. The prices are inflated because of all the tourists.” She silently continues cutting my hair. Suddenly she stops and says, “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?” I ask.

“Unless you’re not that picky about accommodations.”

“I’m not,” I say immediately.

“In that case, I could ask my sister if she has a little corner you could stay in. I know there’s a storeroom with a bed in her shared apartment. I’ve slept there a couple of times.”

A storeroom doesn’t sound too good, but I just nod and say, “That would be great.”

“Okay,” Mandy says. “We shouldn’t dawdle. I’ll ask her now.”

She puts the scissors and comb down in front of the mirror, fishes a cell phone out of the pocket of her smock, then finds a number. While she squeaks into the phone, my thoughts drift. Do I want to do this? Cambridge may not be such a wonderful autumn dream if you have nowhere to stay but a storage closet. It also gets dark earlier in autumn—and cold. I can see myself freezing on the university town’s streets because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Perhaps it would be smarter to stick with the Lanes and go to London, or explore the surrounding area.

Mandy claps her phone shut and says, “Okay, it’s a done deal. Emmy says you can come. You’ll need to bring your own sheets, but you can get a blanket and a pillow from her.”

I ask warily, “How much?”

Mandy waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. You can stay for free. She can’t charge somebody in good conscience for staying in that hole.”

Oh great. That inspires confidence. On the other hand, I would have a roof over my head and a bed—for free. With that kind of deal, I could afford to warm myself up in a nice café or restaurant. If it becomes unbearable, I’ll just come back to Gatingstone.

“Wonderful!” I say. “It’s so nice of you to hook me up with your sister. How do I get there?”

“I’ll write down her number and address as soon as we’re done,” Mandy says, reaching for the scissors and continuing to snip. With all the travel planning, I haven’t paid much attention until I realize my hair is much shorter than I’ve ever had it.

“Do you like it?” Mandy asks.

“I don’t know. It seems a bit short to me,” I reply nervously.

“The split ends were quite long. I had to take quite a bit off to get to the healthy hair. Look, you can do whatever you want with it.” Mandy pulls my hair back into a ponytail. Then she discovers something.

“Oh, you have a scar here.” She touches the area behind my ear with her cool fingertips. “A pretty long one. An accident?”

I don’t answer; instead, I say brusquely, “Well, now I’m presentable again. Thanks for the haircut. How much do I owe you?”

Mandy’s a little stunned by my tone but says nothing. She unties the cape from around my neck, shaking the hair onto the floor, and rushes over to the cash register. I pay her, then take the piece of paper on which she scribbled her sister’s information.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll tell your sister you say hi.”

“Oh, yes, please. Have a lovely holiday in Cambridge.”

I smile at her kindly. I’m a bit ashamed of my gruffness. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” I promise, then leave the salon.

Over the next week, the conversation in the teachers’ lounge turns increasingly to the short holiday. Anne is traveling to Scotland to visit her mother, Gill is staying home, and Mr. Henley is going to Paris.

“What are you doing?” Anne asks me during a break.

“I’m going sightseeing in Cambridge.”

Everybody congratulates me.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Henley says. “You’ll like Cambridge. It really is a very lovely city, with all the beautiful, old university buildings and wonderful churches and museums. It’s just unfortunate it’s so difficult to access by train.”

I look at him questioningly.

“Well,” he says, “the whole English rail system is very impractical. All trains go to London. Driving from Gatingstone to Cambridge by car takes an hour, but by train it takes twice as long.”

An idea occurs to Anne. “Ethan is driving to Cambridge next week. His brother’s getting his doctorate at Trinity College, and he wants to visit him. I’m sure he would be happy to take you. I’ll ask him for you.”

Immediately, my heart skips a beat. Ethan. I’ve tried really hard to banish thoughts of him from my mind. I haven’t seen him since the pub. If he were attracted to me, he would have already sought me out. I’ve replayed the evening at the pub in my mind many times, and the bottom line is that he was only flirting with me, nothing more. So later, when Anne tells me that Ethan is willing to give me a ride, I decide not to make a big deal about it.
It’s just a practical arrangement
, I tell myself. But I’m really not being honest with myself. Leading up to my vacation, I catch myself thinking more about the car ride than about my actual stay in Cambridge.

Abby and Glen are concerned about my plans. “I’m worried, love,” Abby says. “It definitely will be terribly cold. The storage room won’t be heated.” As if it’s any warmer in my bedroom! She finds some bed linens and brings them upstairs. “You should at least take one of the wool blankets from your bed.”

Glen also peeks into my room. “Especially since you get cold so easily,” he says, winking at me.

I smile. “Go ahead and tease me! I know where the electric blanket went. No, don’t worry. I can cuddle up with my hot-water bottle.”

“And what are you going to eat there, you poor thing?” Abby asks. “You’ll be completely emaciated when you come back.”

They’re worse than my own parents
,
I think. I secretly hope I come back a little emaciated. Abby’s home cooking is taking a toll on my girlish figure. I intend to live on bread and yogurt in Cambridge. Of course, I don’t tell them that.

Deep worry lines crease Abby’s forehead. “You could catch a very bad cold, perhaps even pneumonia. You eat so little, you wouldn’t have the strength to fight it off. What would your poor parents say if you were to die?”

I laugh and throw my arms around Abby’s rounded shoulders. “Don’t be silly, Abby. Everything’s going to be just fine. I’m looking forward to the trip. You’ll see, I’ll still be my old self when I get back.”
Secretly I think,
Is that true
?
Ethan’s also going to be in Cambridge for a whole week. Will he deliberately stay out of my way, or will we meet up occasionally? I’m falling back into the habit of constantly thinking about him.

On Saturday morning, Ethan parks his MG in front of Walnut Cottage. Abby squints through her sheer curtains.

“You didn’t tell us that you’re going to Cambridge with a young man,” she says accusingly. “I don’t know if that’s right. He even has a sports car. He’ll drive too fast, that’s for sure. What would your parents say?”

I roll my eyes. Glen catches my eye and grins. Unlike Abby, he isn’t worried about my ride. “Let’s leave Lea alone now,” he says to his wife. “I assume she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself.” He reaches for my travel bag. “Come on, dear, I’ll take you to the car.”

Well, this is a little embarrassing. I wanted to walk out to the car looking cool, composed, and sophisticated. Instead, poor toothless Glen accompanies me to the street while Abby shuffles alongside him in her frayed fur slippers.

Ethan waits behind the wheel while Glen puts my bag in the trunk. Ethan’s suitcase is in the back, and next to it is a long bag, perhaps for golf clubs. I also see a pair of rubber boots. He looks as though he’s packed for an adventure.

Abby appraises Ethan thoroughly. When she sees how attractive he is, she wrings her hands. “Oh, I don’t feel good about this whole thing, Glen,” she says so loudly that Ethan must hear her. “Don’t you want to think it over a little more, love?” she asks me.

“No, Abby, I don’t,” I say quite emphatically as I rush to the car. I open the passenger door and fall into the seat.

“Hi, Ethan,” I say simply, then, “Can we get out of here quickly, please?” I slam the door shut.

Ethan grins in amusement as he zips down the road. “I didn’t know that you brought your parents with you to England,” he says.

I force a smile. “The two treat me as if I were their own daughter. Recently someone did mistake me for their daughter. Abby was overjoyed.”

“Of course she was. Nobody would ever believe that old crow could have such a beautiful daughter.”

I turn to stone. What a weird compliment. I don’t know what to think of it. I’m delighted to be called beautiful, but to say something so mean about Abby hurts me, too. I study Ethan’s face uncertainly. He can feel it and smiles at me. I instantly melt. He has long, deep dimples when he smiles. He’s unbelievably handsome. Insulting Abby was probably just a slipup. What he said might make sense if a person only saw her and wasn’t familiar with her dear, sweet spirit.

As Ethan drives, I occasionally wince and push myself deep down into my seat.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

I cover my face with my hands and squint through my fingers. “I can’t get used to driving on the wrong side of the road. I constantly have this feeling that someone is going to hit us head-on.”

He laughs. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll get you safely to your destination.”

I look at his large, strong hands calmly gripping the steering wheel. I put my hands in my lap and try to relax. We’re lucky—the weather for our trip is perfect. A radiant blue sky arches over us. The sky is so clear that I can see far off into the horizon. In the distance, I see white spots, which are sheep grazing in the green meadows. The leaves of the trees shimmer in various shades of gold. I sigh happily and try to take in all the beauty surrounding us.

“You really like being here in England,” Ethan observes.

“Definitely. I spent a year abroad in Lancaster two years ago. It’s very nice there, too, but I didn’t expect such beauty in this corner of England.”

“It depends on the weather,” Ethan says. “Sometimes it can be just terrible.”

He focuses on the road. We’ve left the main highway and are now winding our way along the narrow country roads. I take the opportunity to stare at him openly. Once again, it occurs to me that Ethan completely matches the mental picture I’ve had of my dream man. It’s as if I created him from a dream-man kit. He has wonderfully mysterious eyes and a great body. He rolls the windows halfway down, and his gorgeous curls dance in the wind. Every now and then, he pushes them away from his face. Any girl would be happy to spend the rest of her life with a man like this by her side.
Maybe, maybe, I have a teeny-tiny chance to be the one. I have to make a good impression on him.

“Satisfied?” Ethan asks.

I blush. “With what?”

“With me. Don’t think that I can’t see you looking at me.”

I quickly look out the window. I’m embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know you well yet, and I’m just curious.”

“I like to hear you say ‘yet,’” he says. “It sounds as though you’d like to get to know me better.”

Oh yeah
, I think.
You have no idea.

After a while, Ethan breaks the short silence. “I feel the same way about you. I like you. You’re not only very beautiful, but you also have a very special spirit, which is appealing.”

Wow! The compliment knocks my socks off, especially since I’ve been wondering what Ethan really thinks about me. I was worried that he thought I was silly, and now this. I feel like I’ve just won the lottery. Nevertheless, I hear a little warning voice inside me say,
Maybe he’s just flirting with you, Lea
.
He’s definitely done that with a lot of women. He doesn’t have the reputation of being a heartbreaker for nothing.

Ethan continues, “English girls are all so desperate to find a man. They put so much effort into it and pursue men so doggedly that sometimes I feel as though I’m being torn apart by a pack of hyenas. It’s different with you. You seem so easygoing. It seems like you really don’t care what men think about you.”