BushWhacked by Susan Schreyer

Author:Susan Schreyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic mystery, mystery series, paranormal mystery, humorous mystery, horse mystery, northwest mystery, thea campbell mystery
Publisher: Susan Schreyer

Chapter Twenty-Three

The tightness in my throat and the burn of tears I refused to shed were anger and frustration with Mother -- not Paul. What could she possibly know about anything Paul did at Christmas? What could she possibly know about his ex-wife? The answer was nothing.

Instead of driving home, I found myself headed south on Highway 9. Traffic occupied my attention, particularly when I reached the University District in Seattle. Finding a parking place was a non-issue. I pulled into the first lot close to campus, paid the going rate -- an amount I would normally object to -- and speed-walked to the stately old brick building where Paul taught his class. I wasn't sure which room he was in, but got lucky with the fifth door I cracked open. I recognized his voice. It was a lecture hall, so I eased in as quietly as possible and slid into an empty seat at the back of the room. When I looked up, his eyes were on me -- as were those of most of the students'.

"Sorry," I muttered.

He smiled slightly and continued with something or other about the Cretaceous Period and extinction. I didn't listen, except for the rhythm and resonance of his voice. The way he projected his voice while he lectured, the way it came from deep down and carried with such seemingly little effort, reminded me of how he sang in the shower. The intimate detail stirred a pang of tenderness inside me. I watched him, looking for … I don't know what.

Sleeves rolled up a couple of turns, he gestured as he talked, an accompaniment to his mildly restless pacing in front of a white board full of scrawled words, arrows and lines. From time to time he consulted his notes, dragging his fingers through his hair or rubbing a hand over his mouth.

All the while I watched, the anguish grew until it became a rock-hard lump in my throat. He needed to believe I had no interest in Jim, not let Mother get to him. I believed he was faithful to me, despite her taunt at the senior center. He’d never given me reason to think otherwise. I was not being blind. With a determined effort, I dragged my eyes from him, stared out the window and counted the trees. Then I just stared.

The noise level of the room increased -- chairs scraping on the wood floor, shuffling of papers, chatter from the students -- and brought me back. I stayed in my seat and waited. Paul spoke with a couple of students, pulled an appointment book out of his briefcase and flipped through the pages, nodding as a student talked. He made a comment, then jotted a note on a page. As the last of the students filed out of the room, his eyes sought mine and he smiled.

"This is a nice surprise." Jacket and briefcase in hand he skirted the desks and ambled toward me. I rose to meet him.

"Just thought I'd stop by.

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