TREY HUNTED FOR A TABLE IN THE STUDENT UNION AT THE height of lunch hour. Spying a group that appeared to be done, he hung nearby until they stood, then commandeered the table before someone else could approach from a different direction. He texted to tell Molly and Timmy where he was and started on the pizza slice he’d bought.
He overheard a voice nearby.
“I’m not sure I want to work with Professor Patterson though.”
Trey let his gaze drift briefly to two female students sitting at the table next to him.
“Because of the affair with Dean Woods?” the other woman said. “I don’t see why that matters.”
“She’s not well respected in the field. Everybody knows she slept her way to tenure—”
“Are you serious? I didn’t realize that.”
“A letter of recommendation from her would mean nothing. I’m working too hard to earn a PhD and become a professor at a top university to have it tarnished by working with the wrong person.”
“I see your point. If that’s the case, who would work with her?”
“No one who knows any better. I was talking to—”
“Hey, you.” Molly slid into the seat next to Trey. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh. Nothing.” Trey couldn’t shake their words. “Well . . .” He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “The women to my left were talking about Ellen. About what happened with my dad. I knew his reputation had taken a hit, but I didn’t realize Ellen’s had too.”
“Oh, yeah,” Molly said. “I think hers took a worse hit because people feel she was promoted because of it.”
“How did you know that?” Trey asked.
“I’m fairly sure we talked about it.”
“I’m fairly sure we didn’t,” Trey said. “I would’ve remembered that.”
Molly shrugged. “What’s the big deal anyway?”
Trey pondered it. “I think it’s sad that people are talking about her like that.”
“Sad?” Molly deadpanned him. “I thought you couldn’t stand the woman.”
“That was before. But she’s basically part of our lives now because of Brooklyn.” Trey glanced at the women as they left. “Ellen has such a cut-and-dried demeanor, like nothing fazes her. But I wonder how she’s really doing. You know? I wonder if she has people she can talk to.”
“Okay, really?” Molly said. “She’s a grown woman and university professor, and you’re wondering if she has someone to talk to?”
“Sometimes people assume other people have someone to talk to, and all the while they’re languishing,” Trey said. “I know about things like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Molly said. “If I didn’t have you to talk to, I would’ve been seriously languishing. And talking to Heather a couple weeks ago gave me an understanding I’d never had.”
Trey sipped his Coke. “You know, I’ve never prayed for Ellen. Not once. I don’t know if she knows the Lord or not. I’ve only focused on Brooklyn.” He sighed. “I’ve got to do better. I’ve been praying to have the heart of a missionary, to really care about people’s souls . . . and I’m not even starting at home, so to speak.”
“Friends, Romans, countrymen . . .” Timmy plopped down beside them with a hoagie. “What say you this fine afternoon?”
“Sometimes I think you’re still on weed,” Molly said.
Timmy lowered his sandwich, looking at her. “Fairest one, why dost thou besmirch my good name?”
Molly looked at Trey. “Methinks the lad is ever and always delusional.”
Trey shook his head at both of them. “You two are getting married one day. I just know it.”
Trey took a chance stopping by her office. This was the building his dad worked in—and still had an office in. People knew who he was, and they talked. But that was just as well. Might be a good thing for them to talk about Trey being cool with Professor Patterson.
He knocked on her door and opened at her invitation.
“Trey.” Ellen looked up from a pile of books and papers. “What’s going on? Did something happen with Brooklyn?”
“No, nothing like that.” He walked in farther. “May I have a seat?”
“Sure.”
Trey dropped his backpack to the floor and sat on the edge of his chair. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way . . .”
Ellen laid down her pen. “You and your sister have a knack for starting interesting dialogue.”
“But I’m a lot younger, and I’m a student here, so I’m sure it’s out of place,” Trey said. “I apologize in advance.”
“What in the world is it?”
“I was just having lunch in the union and heard some grad students talking . . . about you.”
Ellen glanced downward. “Certainly nothing new.”
“Well. That’s actually what I figured. I know people talk about my dad.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ellen asked.
Trey searched for the right words. “I just wanted you to know . . . only if you didn’t already . . . that you don’t have to live with the shame of what happened. I’m not saying you feel shame, but if you do . . .” He paused, regrouped. “You can move beyond regret and accusation and live a true life.”
Ellen stared at him a moment. “Where is this coming from?”
“I care. That’s all.” He shrugged, standing. “As you know, we have Bible study at the house on Wednesday evenings. I want you to know you’re invited.”
“That’s rich,” Ellen said. “Wash U professor attends Bible study at family home of ex-lover.”
Trey shouldered his backpack. “The only ones who would say that are the ones talking about you anyway.” He started to the door, then turned back. “I don’t know how well you know Cyd London, professor in the classics department. Even if you don’t come to the study, she’s always there on Wednesdays. She’s a good person to talk to—not saying you need someone to talk to, but if you do.”
He felt her eyes on him as he walked out the door.