Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2) (14 page)

“Good morning, Mrs. Grant. Your husband said you should go right in.” I couldn’t bring myself to call her by her first name.

“Thank you, Aubrey,” she said, heading straight into the office and closing the door behind her.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Something was certainly going on. A momentary flutter of panic swept through my stomach as I wondered if it had to do with Daniel and me. But then I remembered how I’d gotten myself all worked up when Dean Grant had called me in to speak to me the day he’d found out about Mary, and I’d wrongly assumed he’d wanted to confront me about Daniel. My conscience was making me paranoid.

I shook my head resolutely to chase away my gnawing anxiety. It was difficult to distract myself from the unnerving silence of the office. If Daniel’s parents were arguing, they were sure making quiet work of it.

When Daniel crashed through the door, my anxiety roared back.

“Daniel!” I rushed over to the counter to meet him.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad called half an hour ago
demanding
I come in to see him. He hung up on me before I had a chance to ask any questions. I dropped everything and bolted. Is he in there?” he asked, motioning to his father’s office.

“Yes, he is. So is your mother,” I whispered.

“What? Christ. I hope everything’s okay. Why do I have a bad feeling something’s happened to Patty?”

“I don’t know, Daniel. Something terrible
has
happened, for sure. You don’t think—”

Before I could finish, the office door opened, and Dean Grant stormed through it.

“Oh, good, Daniel—you’re here. Come in, please. And Aubrey? Can you lock the front door? We’d like to speak to you too.”

Daniel set his mouth in a grim line as he held his hand up to me. “I’ll get the door.”

Daniel met us in the inner office and stood in the doorway, facing his father.

“What’s this all about, Dad? You could have elaborated a little more on the phone. This wasn’t exactly a great day to be driving with the fear of the devil in me.”

“I’m sorry about that. Your mother just called your cell phone to tell you to take your time. Obviously your phone isn’t on.”

“I don’t even have my phone. I dropped what I was doing and ran out of the condo like a bat out of hell.”

“I’m sorry. That was careless of me. But you’re here now.”

Panic and dread mingled in my stomach. Someone must have seen us somewhere together and reported us. Dean Grant sat behind his desk. Daniel anxiously looked at me as we moved to sit side by side in the chairs across from his father.

Gwen was perched against the low shelf behind her husband’s chair, her arms crossed. She didn’t walk over to greet her son but simply stood there, her expression weary. Daniel leaned forward in his chair, eager to get to the bottom of things.

“Is Patty okay?” Daniel asked.

“Patty’s fine, to the best of my knowledge,” his father said. “I was at her house this morning, in fact. The high school kid who normally clears the driveway is away for spring break. I didn’t want to wake her, but I swung by to shovel after last night’s snow.” He looked at each of us in turn. “I came across the strangest thing on the driveway.”

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out my striped glove.

“I believe this is yours, is it not?” he said, turning to me and holding up my lost glove. He placed it on the desk.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I looked over at Daniel, who had his head in his hands. There was no mistaking the fact that this was my glove. And his father knew it.

“I, um, I don’t know…” My head was spinning. “Daniel?” I whispered.

He glanced at me quickly before turning to his father. “Yes, that’s Aubrey’s glove,” he said flatly.

He offered no further information. The two of them just stared at each other.

Gwen stepped forward and placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “What does this mean, Daniel?” she asked. “What’s going on here? Why on earth would Aubrey’s glove be at my mother’s house? Help me understand.”

Daniel raked his hands through his hair. “I gave Aubrey those gloves,” he said simply.

Dean Grant gaped at me. “So, this gift? These gloves, Aubrey? They were from my son? You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, shame coursing through me.

“I see.” He paused for a moment. “You didn’t answer your mother’s question, Daniel. How did this glove get lost at Patty’s?” Dean Grant’s tone was growing steely. “I’d appreciate it if you could shed a little more light on what’s going on here.
Please
.” This last word was spoken through clenched teeth.

Daniel sighed in frustration and, ultimately, in defeat. “Aubrey came to Patty’s with me last Sunday for dinner. She must have dropped her glove on the ground at some point during the evening.”

Gwen’s mouth popped open, and she steadied herself on the desk with her free hand. I thought for a second she might faint. I stared down at my lap, Dean Grant’s words from Monday replaying in my mind, a mocking refrain:

“Well, you’re the Shakespeare expert, but I don’t think any of the tragic heroes spiraled to their downfall as a result of a lost mitten.”

Apparently there is a first time for everything.

“So, let me understand this,” Dean Grant said. “Despite my warnings. Despite my
clear
request, Aubrey,” he said, looking at me pointedly, “the two of you have embarked on what can only be described as a clandestine
friendship—
a friendship close enough to warrant gift giving and at least one family dinner—without our knowledge? Is there anything else we need to know? Are you going out socially? Completely flouting all regard for university guidelines about fraternizing? Or, worse still, are you spending time together in private?” His mouth hardened. “Well?”

Though he was angry, his voice was barely raised. It was this quiet rage that frightened me the most.

“Aubrey and I have become close,” Daniel said. “It’s not Aubrey’s fault,” he clarified. “I forced the issue. I enjoy her company. We’re very…compatible. It’s been next to impossible for me to ignore…my feelings for her.”

His feelings for me. As of two hours ago, he was
almost definitely
falling in love with me. They would never understand—
never
condone this.

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand, shocked speechless. Her husband, however, was not.

“Good God, Daniel. What are you
thinking?
Perhaps you’ve lost all regard for your reputation, but you could at least give your mother and me some consideration. Your behavior is beyond childish and immature. It’s utterly selfish in the extreme.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d be so naïve to think you could get away with something like this. I’ve thought for a long time that you two would be well-suited for one another, but really, Daniel, to jeopardize your name—your standing here at the university—simply because your hormones are raging and you can’t wait a few months?”

“David, really,” Gwen said, her tone reproving.

Daniel glowered at his father. I kept waiting for him to say something, but he was completely silent. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“No, he needs to hear this,” Dean Grant said. “He’s living in a dream world, behaving like a spoiled, petulant child who wants his Christmas presents in October. But this is not a game. And I’ll be having a word with your mother about this too, Gwen. I have no doubt she’s encouraged him in his pursuit of Aubrey.”

I was dying of mortification and wanted nothing more than to take Daniel’s hand and run out of the office, but that was obviously not an option. I didn’t know where to look so I trained my eyes on my tightly clasped hands.

Dean Grant spoke softly, “I don’t know what’s happened to your moral compass. I don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in you, son.”

“David.” Gwen’s voice was firmer this time, but he held up a hand to her.

“After everything we went through in England to clear your name. The money we spent, the heartache of it all. You asked us to believe you unequivocally, and we did because we’re your parents and we love you unconditionally. But for you to do something like this? It makes me think twice about—”

“David, that’s
enough
.” Gwen dropped her hand from her husband’s shoulder and looked at her son, concern etched in her face. “Daniel?”

Daniel was rubbing his shoulder. His face was ashen and contorted in pain. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Oh my God—was he having a heart attack or something? He bowed forward in his chair as Gwen rounded the desk.

“I can’t…I can’t,” he gasped.

I jumped out of my seat, but Gwen knelt in front of Daniel, effectively blocking my access to him.

“I know, breathe, darling, just breathe slowly, that’s it.” She took his hand and rubbed it vigorously. “David, has this happened recently that you know of?” she asked, turning to her husband.

Has
what
happened recently? What the hell was going on? What was wrong with him? I was rooted to the spot, helplessly wringing my hands.

David moved to stand behind his wife. “No, I don’t think so, at least not that he’s confided in me. Which I’m becoming aware means nothing…”

I felt invisible all of a sudden. No one seemed to remember that I was standing there. They were so nonchalant. What the hell?

“What’s going on? Daniel? Are you all right?” I said, trying to control the panic in my voice. Daniel didn’t respond. He was bent forward, wheezing. “Is he okay?” I asked Dean Grant, my eyes darting back and forth between them.

Daniel was oblivious to my presence, one hand in his mother’s clasped fingers, the other on his chest as he panted helplessly.

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance or something?” I suggested, my voice verging on hysterical.

Why were we all just watching Daniel as he fought to fill his lungs? A serious asthma attack—that’s what this looked like to me. Standing around while he struggled to breathe was absurd and cruel. I leaned over the desk and picked up the phone receiver. Dean Grant took it gently from my hand and hung up.

“Aubrey, no. It’s all right. That won’t be necessary. Gwen, I’m going to get Aubrey out of here. You deal with Daniel.”

“No! I’m not leaving—I can’t leave! Not now!” I wanted to be the one holding his hand. I had to stay to make sure he was okay. How could I possibly leave him when he needed me?

But then Daniel motioned with his hand for me to go. He was rocking back and forth and waving me off, not looking at me, but dismissing me with a gesture that said,
Get out
. I took a few stunned steps backward, terribly hurt.

Dean Grant placed his hand under my elbow. “I’ll close the office for the morning and put a sign up. Perhaps I’ll see if Gisele can come in early. You can go home. Don’t worry. Gwen and I will take good care of Daniel.”

I walked woodenly toward the door. I didn’t want to go home, but how could I possibly stay? It wasn’t just his parents that wanted me out. Daniel didn’t want me there, either. I glanced over my shoulder at him. His mother was rubbing his back and whispering to him. How could he dismiss me like that, knowing how I felt about him?

“Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?” I asked as we walked out of the office. I could barely formulate words. Dean Grant had taken my jacket off the coat rack and was helping me put it on.

“He’s going to be fine. His mother and I have dealt with this many times,” he said dismissively.

This
what?
What is this?

He was speaking cautiously and ambiguously, purposefully drawing a line around his family, stacking up the fence posts. I stood on the other side. The message was clear:
This is our business, not yours. You’re an outsider
. I was crushed, but I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’d asked me to stay away from his son, and I’d flagrantly ignored his request.

I grabbed my knapsack, and he led me out of the office. Actually,
dragged
might have been a more appropriate term. After locking the outer doors behind him, he helped me down the steps and held the front door for me. I stood on the pavement, squinting as the sun glinted off the snow. Dean Grant’s eyes bored into me, and I shrank under his gaze, averting my eyes and staring blankly at the southern face of Old Vic.

“To say I’m disappointed would hardly do justice to my feelings at this moment, Aubrey,” he said. As I looked back at him, his expression softened slightly. “I’ve come to think very highly of you. I’ve always admired your level-headedness and maturity. It’s hard for me to believe you’d allow this to happen.”

It took everything in me to contain my emotions as I was suddenly transported back in time—I was sixteen years old, and my mother was lecturing me about how foolish it was to experiment with smoking.