Katherine Rawson

Ally Foster despised social gatherings but she’d convinced herself that driving back to campus after dark was for the sake of her career and she could survive a couple hours mingling at least one night a year. The semester was almost over and she would have the winter break to relax and finish her latest book. None of these people knew who she was anyway and thank the gods for that. Otherwise she would be forced to pay attention to names and social predilections of people that have probably never read one of her books, or the cover for that matter. They swayed to the sound of the band’s saxophone playing soulful notes as if they had any sense of culture passed their fur coats and diamond chokers. Then a paid Sinatra wannabe began singing Moonlight in Vermont forcing a prejudiced smile onto her face.

She glanced at her watch and counted two slow seconds tick by, shifting uncomfortably in her cocktail dress. It was so tight it felt like it was fused to her skin. Jeans and a simple t-shirt was her wardrobe of choice. She fantasized about getting home, relaxing with a cup of tea and her old friend William Yeats.

Everyone seemed to be watching her, questioning who she was and why she was there. She didn’t even know why she was there herself. The room was a fish bowl and she was the very small clown fish hiding behind the plastic fern. An approaching piranha brought a cringe but as carnivorous fish go, Barbara Benton was relatively harmless on the outside. She was tall with the body of a heroin-addicted model although now she was almost full term with her second child. You could barely notice the bump from the front angle and Ally chuckled at what creepy one pound worm could be growing inside her.

It was her innocent doe eyes that kept Ally from hating her. Instead, she felt a cold insignificance toward the woman who, to all outward appearances, was ignorant of her husband’s unsavory character. Ally couldn’t fault her for that. She was flawless in that new money, weekly spa treatment sort of way. Her skin glowed in a bronze shade like she just stepped out of a Hawaiian Tropic commercial. Ally looked self-consciously at the back of her forearms with their pale hue feeling silly and inadequate.

“Hello Allison,” Barbara looked over her flute of cranberry juice as if Ally couldn’t tell she was sizing her up looking for the one flaw and sure enough she reached up and smoothed a stray hair from Ally’s face. “I didn’t see you come in, have you been here long?”

The stick insect touched her long fingered hand to Ally’s arm. Everything on her seemed freakishly long, from her twig legs to the giraffe’s neck holding up her perfect head of chin-length black hair that never moved. Her eyes were big chocolate discs with an inch of lashes fluttering in their ignorance. “I’ve been here for an hour at least. How are you Barbara?”

“Fabulous,” she flashed her bleached teeth. “Have you seen my husband?”

“I’m sure he’s off somewhere, passing the collection plate.” She added the last part under her breath of course. Ally forced the question from a churning stomach of hors d’oeuvres, “how is the baby?”

“Wonderful,” she laced her fingers across the belly covered in black satin. “My cesarean is scheduled for next week. The doctors didn’t think I could give birth naturally, you know with my small frame.”

“Of course.” Fucking twig, and here comes her lesser half in his Armani suit. His hair was a dark shade of peppering gray. He was perfectly handsome although he lacked that romantic sort of tortured sophistication a young co-ed dreams of her professor. He was all polish now like all quarters shine in the bottom of a water fountain.

“Allison,” Dr. Graham Benton sauntered toward her with a half drunk look on his face. “Dr. Allison Foster, this is Mrs. Anna Corrigan and Mrs. Isabel Corrigan-Clark. The Rosemont-Corrigan family opened the University back in 1779.” Benton leaned closer to her ear like she had no idea who the family was. “They practically own the place,” he whispered with the sweet breath of red wine.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ally offered her hand to the older women each in turn. The first with shiny silver hair cut stylishly short. She had skin as soft as peach skin and a delicate elegance draped in dark blue chiffon. Her necklace of sapphires and diamonds twinkled in the soft light. The latter wore her dark brown hair, obviously a salon-job in long curls just below her shoulders. Both must have been over seventy but Isabel looked barely a day over fifty-five. She had high cheek bones and a superior way about her. She appeared to be interested in Ally, her piercing hazel eyes didn’t seem to blink in their intensity. She wore a strapless black dress hanging from her breasts to the pointed tips of her paten leather pumps. Ally shifted uncomfortably in her own demure ballet slippers, unaccustomed to the scrutiny.

“The pleasure is mine,” Anna Corrigan responded with sparkling blue eyes. “I have been dying to meet you. I can’t believe we have such a talented and established author on the faculty here.”

“I had no idea I had a fan in the alumni association.” Ally could not help returning the jovial smile. She almost forgot Benton was standing next to her.

“My son owns each of your books. He’s always loved history. I was just saying to Graham that I would like to have you out to the house. Are you available for lunch this week?”
She took one look at Benton’s expressionless face and wide eyes and knew the answer he wanted to hear. She also knew the house Mrs. Corrigan so subtly termed was a thirty-two acre colonial plantation. “I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” Anna gave Ally’s hand a squeeze. “I have a business proposal I would like to run by you.”

“What type of proposal?” She almost didn’t ask.

“I don’t want to get into specifics here, but I was hoping you would be available to write the Twin Shadows Plantation history.”

“I think I can save you the trouble Mrs. Corrigan. I don’t write family chronology or genealogy, but I can give you a few names of some fabulous authors who are experts in that field.” Ally forced a smile through Benton’s cold stare.

“Oh no, that won’t do at all.” Anna frowned. “I want the best and you are the best.”

“Even if that were true, and you do flatter me greatly by saying so, I am unavailable to work on any projects other than my current book. I’m under a deadline for a textbook due to print by the end of January for the Fall semester.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Benton interjected.

“I’m sure we cannot Graham.” Ally forced another smile speaking between gritted teeth now. “I’m sorry Mrs. Corrigan but I have a deadline.”

“We’re not on any sort of time line for this, what if you worked on our book when you have time?” She had a hopeful, determined expression.

She shook her head. “I would still love to have lunch with you this week and we can discuss options for other authors.”

“That is very kind of you. I can reach you at the University?”

“I actually have a card with me.” Ally opened her small sequined purse, took out two business cards and handed them to Anna. “My cell phone is the best number to call.” She never gave her cell number away. What are you doing?

“Wonderful,” Anna tucked the cards in her satin purse. “It was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to lunch.”

“As do I,” Ally offered her hand again before giving Benton a nod and heading toward the door.

Anna watched the young woman leave with little annoyance. Allison Foster would be responsible for the history of Twin Shadows. She would make sure of it. Allison had been through a great deal in her short life, had come a long way and there was no one else Anna would entrust with the Corrigan family’s history.

Ally gave her obligatory two hours at the annual alumni dinner and was not about to spend one more minute in the stuffy room in an uncomfortable cocktail dress. Benton had no doubt planned that meeting before she could make an exit. She was not going to stick around to hear his condescending remarks on how she could have handled the situation better. She could make tenure easily with a family like the Corrigan’s behind her, he’d say. That was his dream not hers but, with a sigh, she recognized how her dreams had eluded her for quite some time.

Standing on the front steps of the Dean’s house she looked across the lawn to Jefferson Davis Library. The final scene to the happiest and saddest chapter in her life. Allison didn’t often make it to this area of the campus. There was no need since most of the dormitories filled this end flanked by the concert hall on one side and football stadium on the other. She preferred to stick to Eaton Hall that housed the history department and most of her classes.

She never liked the library with its towering walls that captured the wind in a continuous and eerie whooshing sound. There was always something especially ominous about it whether it was the old paper that smelled of dread or that each book felt like a pair of ghostly eyes on her. Stair wells echoed in a deeper tone and the lights appeared just a little more yellow. She’d spent so many nights in that building hiding from the world. Then one night out of hundreds changed everything. It was creepy in the basement archives and she couldn’t wait to leave that night. She had a date after all but that didn’t stop Ally from wondering, after all these years, what if?

“Allison, wait.” Graham shrugged on his overcoat and stepped toward her.

“I don’t want to talk about Twin Shadows Graham.” Stick to your convictions. He doesn’t control you.

“I didn’t come out here for that.” He offered his arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Stubborn fool, let him walk with you.

“Allison, you’ve been standing out here for ten minutes staring at the street.”

“I was thinking,” she started.

“I know what you were thinking about.” He took her arm and led her down the steps.

“What would have happened that night if I’d waited to leave the library?” Ally turned her head to stare at his face hoping to see some familiar tenderness.

“Or what if you hadn’t gone to the library at all? What if you’d fallen in the shower that morning or had a different sandwich for lunch?” He dropped her arm as if her touch hurt him in some way. “It’s pointless Allison. I don’t know why you torture yourself.”

“I can’t help it.” She sighed. “So many things have changed since that night and yet in some ways time has stood still.”

“I don’t want to talk about this Allison.” A frown spread anxiety over his face.
There was no humor in his voice anymore. She found him resigned and that in itself earned her pity. “Does your wife know about us?”

“Allison,” he stopped their pace.

He looked at the parking lot and then the moon low in the sky. Ally knew he was contemplating leaving her there alone. He was so good at running away. She hated him for it but hated the thought of being alone more. She felt her purse instinctively as if the whistle she held there could have disappeared. It was a shallow comfort that if he left her she wouldn’t be completely alone. She could take it out now just in case but then he would see it and think she lost her mind.

The parking lot was half full and her car was parked at the far corner. If she had arrived early she could have gotten a closer spot, she cursed herself. There was a campus van but it was three cars away. She timed her footsteps. Her automatic car starter would work from ten feet away. It would be close but she might be able to get inside and lock the door fast enough. Her pulse quickened, rapping in her head while Graham stood for another long minute in silence.

“Answer the question,” she pushed.

“No, she doesn’t know.”

Like a switch had been turned on, he began to walk a faster pace and Ally had a hard time keeping up with him. “Does she know about what happened?”

“Allison,” he stopped again and glared at her with stoic eyes.

She used to find them sexy. She used to find many of things about him attractive like his determination and passion. It all seemed extinguished now that he had achieved his coveted title. Ally wondered how much of his drive was due to where he came from. Of course she had no idea where that was, only that he was not as privileged as he would like people to believe. No, Graham was sprinting from a past he would like to forget but then again so was she. “Answer the question,” she repeated.

“Why do you think I’m out here walking you to your car?” He huffed. “Of course she knows what happened to you.”

“I see,” Ally nodded. “So if your stick figure of a wife hadn’t made you walk me to my car you wouldn’t have offered would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” He walked two steps ahead of her leaving only the back of his perfectly cut hair and runner’s stride for her to watch.

“Why didn’t I see it before?” She asked and watched him turn, hands on the hips of his suit that cost more than his salary could afford. He wouldn’t look at her so she stared at his profile instead. He had chiseled features that she still found alluring in that angry, hard sort of way. He could still make her feel like Ingrid Bergman walking into Humphrey Bogart’s gin joint.

“What didn’t you see?” He finally asked.

“What a bastard you truly are.” She pressed the remote button that started her car engine.

“Listen,” he grabbed her arm jerking her toward him until she felt his hot breath on her face. “You got pregnant, you lost the baby and that’s it. It never would have worked between us anyway. Barbara doesn’t know about it and I don’t want you mentioning it to her or anybody.”

“Oh, you mean she doesn’t know how you used to sleep with your students?” Her chin jutted up in challenge.

“One,” he shouted then tuned his voice down to an expert whisper. “You were the only one Allison and you know that. It would ruin me if people found out and don’t think it wouldn’t ruin you too.”

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” She twisted her arm free pressing the unlock button this time.

“You saw what you wanted to see just like everyone else.” He turned back to the house without pause, leaving Ally alone under the stadium lights the University added because of her. Scrambling to climb into the safety of her car, she didn’t see him stop and look back. Sometimes he recognized an innocent forgiveness flash in her eyes like a knife to his gut but he preferred her usual disgust that kept the demons of his past at bay.

Copyright © 2009 Katherine Rawson. All rights reserved.