10

 

In the morning, Timothy was gone, but there was a note on the kitchen table.

Once again, I’m teaching Dr. Kyun’s theology class. Lunch and shopping after that? If agreeable, meet me in my office at noon.

Timothy

P.S. Thanks for the blanket.

I still wasn’t feeling quite right, so a lazy morning sounded perfect. Sashaying around the apartment in shorts, bare feet, and my hair up in a high ponytail, I made myself at home. At last, there was time to get organized. I’d start by tackling my poor, squished clothing. This whole trip had been a blur, and I was rarely so negligent.

I inspected the closet to find Timothy had pushed his clothing to the back, thus leaving me more than sufficient space for my own. I checked out his shirts and pants. Hmm. More expensive labels than I would have expected, and everything pressed with precision and smelling of sandalwood. I wasn’t surprised at the pristine condition of his clothes. Everyone here of middle-class status or above employed a housekeeper, or so I understood from conversation with him.

After I’d hung up everything that belonged in a closet, I sorted my socks—and why had I brought so many pairs of socks to the tropics?

Timothy had cleared out the top drawer of his dresser for me to use and, since I’d over-packed, I needed the whole space.

How could he be so autocratic and unselfish at the same time? Stilted and thoughtful? Shy and engaging? I suspected the cause to be a remarkable mix of mom and dad, a traumatic childhood, with a pinch of his superior intellect thrown in. Brianna would approve of my astonishing insights.

Sorting completed, I gave the sticky dresser drawer a good tug. It squeaked open, and I started to toss in a few rolls of socks—that is until I noticed the beady-eyed beasty hugging the back corner.

It was hard to tell who was more stunned—the lizard or me. Maybe three inches long, a pale tan color with brown spots, he was a diminutive fellow. For a split second, our eyes locked and then he vanished. I couldn’t remember ever seeing one of God’s precious creatures move so fast. If I hadn’t just peered into those glassy, brown orbs, I might have wondered if I’d dreamed him up.

With everything now in its place, I shifted gears and sat down to paint my toenails a bright, shiny fuchsia. As I primped, I reached down to scratch my ankles yet again. Drat. Three huge red welts and a fourth forming on my elbow. If I ever made it to heaven, one of my first questions to God would be why He’d created mosquitoes.

I’d completed all of my projects, but it was still only eleven. I changed into something pretty, moseyed on down to the religion building, and decided to sit in on Timothy’s theology lecture. He’d invited me to stop in any time, and today was a good day to take him up on it.

I sneaked into the classroom and dropped into a seat in the back row. Within the space of two heartbeats, every head rotated in my direction.

Up at the front, Timothy quaked, amusement written all over his handsome face. “Ladies and gentlemen, please let me introduce our special guest.”

My cheeks flamed, heat climbing all the way up to my ears. I wanted to dissolve through a crack in the floor.

“Shay Callahan has come all the way from the United States to visit us. Let’s please welcome her.” Timothy clapped, and the class followed suit. He threw me another one of his mischievous grins.

After the hubbub died down, he got back to business. “OK, back to one of my favorite theologians. My favorite quote by Paul Tillich is ‘Faith consists in being vitally concerned with that ultimate reality to which I give the symbolical name of God. Whoever reflects earnestly on the meaning of life is on the verge of an act of faith…’”

I squished down in my chair and listened with half an ear.

Timothy was a gifted speaker, energizing the classroom with his commanding personality. The subject matter wasn’t very exciting, but watching the affect he had on the female students captured my interest. Every face enthralled, the women strained forward to catch each pearl of wisdom. Timothy held them in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t have the slightest clue.

By the time the class ended, I wished I were one of his students. I would come early to every class, pay strict attention to the subject matter, and stay late to ask questions. I’d focus my full, undivided concentration on the teacher.

Timothy passed out homework assignments at the door as the students filed out, many with reluctance. Then he centered his attention on me. “I was so happy to see you walk in the door. I hope you enjoyed the class discussion.”

“You’re a charismatic teacher.”

He held out a hand and helped me to my feet. “Thanks. I have one more thing to do, and then we can rendezvous at the office and get going on our date. Sound good?”

Timothy and I were dating? It seemed appropriate since we were going to be married. I chuckled at my own joke—married, ha!

As we ambled out of the building, a football hurtled through the air in Timothy’s approximate direction. With a hustle I wouldn’t have expected from such a brawny man, he zoomed off like a 747, launched himself into the air, and floated down with the ball. On nimble feet, he pivoted, firing the football across the campus in a perfect spiral. Who knew the man possessed such a gift?

I called out, “Let me guess. You were a quarterback in college?”

“Yep.”

I’d never seen him play—he was four years older than I—and though I’d gone to most of the games when I was in school, I didn’t know much when it came to football. I was hardly cheerleader material, and I’d had way more fun besting the boys on the skeet shooting team.

The scrimmage resumed without Timothy’s help. He waved and rushed off to yet another pressing task.

Grabbing the opportunity, I wandered around the grounds and absorbed the atmosphere. The campus was compact, but well laid out, each nook and cranny rife with unfamiliar foliage and lush undergrowth. And it wasn’t even the rainy season yet. As I hiked, I searched for geckos. I found three, not quite as fast as Timothy’s, but close. I’d been so busy checking out the scenery, I’d forgotten the time. I shifted into high gear and took off for the Faculty Center. Whoa, whoa, whoa! I stepped on the self-control brakes and continued at a slower pace. I was leaving here next week. It wouldn’t do to seem overeager, even if he was growing on me.

As I walked down the hall toward Timothy’s office, Jemma glided out of his office on tiny feet, a huge grin gracing her pretty face. What was she so happy about? And once again, why did I give a flip what Jemma thought? Maybe I wanted to be sure Timothy chose well after I left, right? When she saw me, her smiley face morphed back to solemn.

I made an effort and nodded at her.

Having passed that obstacle, I swept into Timothy’s office. He sat in his chair, fingers laced behind his neck, elbows pointed toward the ceiling. He lit up at the sight of me, and I was…charmed. As my mouth curved into a smile, the image of our inexplicable first meeting played in my head. The same idea must have crossed his mind because he reached into the top drawer of his desk and fished out a small yellow package. “Gum?”

I tossed my blonde tresses over my shoulders and declined. I still didn’t know what Timothy had meant when he’d said I was “way too…” that first day. We needed to delve deep into that wretched marriage application discussion. I hoped he didn’t genuinely believe we were going to wed. Nah, uh. No way, not gonna happen. I had to set him straight. I was starting to feel bad about my small deception. It wasn’t fair of me to lead him on. I perched on an office chair and chose a non-volatile subject. “Timothy, may I ask you a question?”

His forehead furrowed. “Uh, sure. Ask away.”

“OK, but I warn you, this is very important, and I’ll not sleep tonight until I have the answer.”

His gaze bounced around the room seeking an escape route. “OK…”

Men were so much fun to tease.

“Did you know you have a spotted lizard living in your bedroom?”

His face smoothed back into shape, his relief palpable. “Ah. I see you’ve met George.”

“He has a name?”

“Of course. His girlfriend, Martha, lives in the kitchen.”

I couldn’t help it. I cracked up. “He has a girlfriend? Good to know. George and Martha. You are ever the historian, aren’t you?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I think I’ve seen Martha scurry up the wall in the middle of the night.” I said with a laugh. “I assume they’re friendly.”

“Absolutely. In fact, they earn their keep. House lizards prey on flies, spiders, and other pesky critters.”

Anything that decreased the spider population was all right in my book. “So what? You just let them wander around the house unchecked? What if I open a flatware drawer and find one staring up at me.”

“Stare back.”

“Cute.”

“Ready to go?” He escorted me out of the Faculty and Student Center.

I wasn’t watching where I was going—OK, I was enjoying the view that was Timothy—when I bumped into a tall, lanky guy standing in my way.

“Hey there, sweetie.”

What was Blaine, the ex-boyfriend who’d deserted me, doing here?