Chapter 5
The Professor
Professor Hayden looked out at his new Political Science Class 101 with a tinge of despair. Here was the future of mankind wrapped up in misfits. He felt that there was something terribly depressing about the kids nowadays. They seemed decent enough, but this was a morning class and half of them were asleep on their desktops while the rest played the newest games on devices that Hayden couldn’t even pronounce. He knew that this was a must-do class for graduation so he doubted the class warranted any better students.
Just as he was starting to take the roll, Star burst in, fumbling with her schedule, bowing in apology, and getting stuck in the first chair in the first row. She hated the first row of anything. Her appearance sent a wave of notice through the guys. Some who were asleep were prodded awake by their buddies with pointing appreciation. She knew what was happening and was almost used to it by now.
The professor wasn't any different. He stuttered between students' names and marked the attendance chart automatically without noticing whether they were present or not. "It's the girl from the cafeteria. The all-legs girl," he spoke to himself. He turned his back to the class, completely forgetting his roll call, and started writing his name on the board.
Hayden said to himself, "How am I going to teach this class while she's only four feet in front of me?"
He took a deep breath and turned to the class while looking directly at Star, "Your name, ma'am?"
"Star, Professor Hayden, Star," she replied easily while still fumbling with her books and watching him staring back at her while feeling a little uncomfortable about the intensity.
"Oh, now I have the professor eyeballing me, what next?" she thought nervously. "I need a backseat so bad." She looked to the back, and it was full. Several guys waved to her and winked, which she turned instantly after giving them a hateful glare and shook her head in disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Star, but I don't have you on the roll. Are you a late entrant?" asked the professor.
"Yes, a late entrant. Got in at the last minute. Sorry about being late. Couldn't find the classroom. You know us girls—we can't figure out the numbers sometimes," she responded and did a dumb-blonde look in mockery.
"I suppose. But you can read a Washington Post upside down, right, Star?" he remarked while laughing at the image of her in the cafeteria, then regretted his insult to his most delicious student.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked and pretended stupid again, but remembered it all too well.
He thought to himself, "Why does someone as beautiful as Star have to dress the part too. She looks like an advertisement. What part of Madonna 101 is she subscribing to, and she's probably never heard of Madonna? Where's the modesty? It's bad enough she's so close, right on my front row, but now I'm too nervous to look at her." In a chuckle, he noticed that she also had mismatched shoes and socks.
Star felt uncomfortable about what she had thrown on this morning. It was dark when she dressed, and it was hard to see since the electricity wasn't on at her cottage yet. She had stumbled around in the dark and used a flashlight to find her way to and from her cold shower. It wasn't until she got to school that she realized her fashion disaster. She would flip out if one of her own students wore this stuff, and here she was breaking all her own rules. How was she expected to make a good impression on the professor this way?
"Professor, here's my class-add slip," she replied as she handed it to him, but accidentally let it drop in front of his desk. She lunged for it, almost knocking herself out of the desk. As she picked it up and handed it to him, she only saw his blank expression, which she had seen before, a form of drool, and she immediately reached up and put her hand over her neckline as she sat back down.
She said to herself, "This is turning out to be a very bad day."
"Thank you, Star," he replied having caught himself in a moment of testosterone flush that was embarrassing, but she and he were the only ones who noticed. He felt conviction from the Holy Spirit for his indiscretion.
The professor moved behind the desk and sat down very officially. It helped ease her tension, and she stretched her legs and casually let her feet touch the wood of his desk in front or her. Finally, the professor made an audible sigh, took a deep breath, and proceeded to introduce the course curriculum.
"I want to give you a little verbal quiz to see where you are on the politics and history spectrum. So, let's start with the last of the United States politics and move slowly backwards. You won't be graded on this. Let's just use it as an ice breaker, okay?"
It was obvious that the professor was regaining his composure. Star could see the confidence oozing from him. It was this confidence and expertise on this subject that made him so renown. After all, he was overcoming his own testosterone-Star obstacles and was acting like she didn't exist while talking to the crowd now.
"The first question is about the last President of the United States. What was his name?"
There was only silence. A boy in the back said, "Wasn't it Taylor or something?"
"No, that wasn't his name. Anyone else? But that rhymed with it, Donnie," he answered while looking down at his roll as Donnie smiled victoriously for even be close.
"Anyone else?" he asked again.
Star whispered to him, "Tabor."
"Did you say, Tabor? Yes, that's it. Very good, Star."
"Does anyone know anything about Mr. Tabor? Like his first name?"
Still, no one spoke, then Star did, "Gov! His first name was Gov," she answered. Everyone laughed while thinking it was a stupid answer and figuring no one was called Gov. Star didn't flinch but watched the professor to see just much he really did know. He smiled, moved in front of his desk, and sat down as he straddled her long legs.
"Now, that's a tidbit I didn't expect. Gov is exactly what he was called by his closest friends, but what was his name?"
He was watching Star very closely now, not understanding how she knew something that personal about Alex Tabor; but knew, she was exactly right. He had written about the Tabor family, especially Alex, in one of his books. Something else was happening, and he was starting to remember details about President Tabor's family, but it just wasn't quite clear yet.
"It was Alex Tabor, Professor," replied Star sarcastically. "He was first nicknamed Gov by his wife, Abigail, when he was hiding with her at Sewanee under the little church just behind All Saints. It was her special way of talking to him. If she really wanted to be special, she'd call him Alex, but to this day I doubt he ever figured it out."
"Whoa, that's a little more information than I was expecting. So, you're a political science expert, right, Star?"
Star was starting to enjoy this, "No, I'm a Dad expert. Gov was my adoptive dad, and Abigail is my adoptive mom. Do you want to ask me any other questions while we're at it?"
The professor had just taken a sip of water and spewed it her direction in a coughing fit of surprise and embarrassment. She ducked and laughed at the same time while having dodged most of it, then brushed water off her book and papers with a flicks of her fingers.
"You're Star? You're Sal Nakada's daughter? Day is your sister, right?"
"Right, Professor, I give you an A for your first class in Star Political Science 101!" she replied as the whole class erupted hilariously.
"Man, oh, Man! In all my life, I don't think I've ever been caught quite off guard like this! Well, Star, it's nice to have a famous person in my class. Wait a minute. Did I hear a rumor that your real Dad was an angel?"
"Don't believe all the rumors you hear, Professor. Do I look like I have wings or something?" she replied while hoping that the questioning would stop. It was getting way too personal right now.
"You're right. I'm sorry to mention a rumor since we are talking valid political history, right?"
An announcement came over the school intercom, "Folks, we have a bad storm coming our way. If there are students that live more than 15 minute
s from campus, you might want to start now. They said that a tornado was spotted zigzagging back and forth across the interstate near the Cumberland Plateau."
"Okay kids, read the first two sections of your textbook and do the questions at the end of each section. I'll see you back here on Wednesday."
"Star," he spoke, "thanks for perking up the class. Maybe, we can talk sometime. I have a lot of questions about Alex and Abigail that I've always wanted to ask an insider."
"Sure, sorry I sideswiped you on all that, but you never did look at my add slip, did you?" she asked. "It says Star Tabor. I won't be so sneaky next time," she continued and laughed with him while they watched students running from the classroom.
"You heading to another class?" he asked.
"No, I have my own class at Sewanee to prepare forAdvanced English. I teach the last class that the seminary students take in English. They're glad to get rid of me. I think your son, Riley, is one of my students this semester."
"You're kidding. So this was your choice, my class, I mean? I doubt since you're teaching at Sewanee that you need this to graduate?" he asked, knowing she must have her masters in English to teach at Sewanee or maybe even her doctorate. It also meant that she was probably older than she looked, at least, 30 or so.
"You can call me Dr. Tabor if you want, Professor Hayden," she replied to his unspoken question and watched him flinch by knowing he had been equaled, but pleased with the answer.
"Okay, Dr. Tabor, then are you heading back to Sewanee?" he asked as they walked to the parking lot. As they approached the lot, there were few cars left, and the sky was pitch black with an ugly front passing overhead, then the professor spotted the orange Hummer.
"Well, look at that, it's a Hummer. Man, it looks like it's been in a war. Look at it. It looks like it has bullet holes in it. I wonder where anyone finds fuel for something like that?" he spoke admiringly but was interrupted by Star.
"It is hard to find fuel. I made it a mandate that Sewanee provide me with 1,000 gallons of Premium Unleaded Octane before I'd take the teaching position. So you like it?" she asked as she walked past him, then outpaced him to it, unlocked it, and jumped in.
"Yeah, but where did you find it? It looks great. We used to call this an Arnold Machine," he replied.
"I remember Abigail saying something about him. The Terminator guy, right?" she asked.
"Yes, that's the guy. Wait a minute. This isn't Sal and Jeff's old Hummer, is it?" he asked excitedly while running his hands over the metal, amazed at it's strength. She didn't answer.
She looked at the dark sky rolling over them and commented, "Hey, you won't be able to go very far in your car, now. Look! It's too dark; unless, you really charged up your battery cells just before you came."
"I didn't. This storm surprised me. I bet there are a bunch of stalled cars today. You might have the only working one on this side of town."
"Are you going back to Sewanee now, or are you going to wait till the sun comes back out?" she asked while pointing to the passenger's side of the Hummer.
"You're kidding. I'd love to ride in this! I mean with you? What fun!" he replied while he threw his books in the back seat and jumped in.
"In answer to your question, yes! It is Sal and Jeff's old Hummer. Mom gave it to me from storage when she found out I was going back to Sewanee. She remembered how steep and dangerous Monteagle was. I have to admit that it took some getting used to. I was used to giving voice commands. Do you know that I can get over 100 in this thing without even trying? You should see the cars pulling off the road when they see me coming. It scares the snot out of them. I love it!"
"I'm privileged. Can you drive over 75, at least? I haven't been over 45 in the last 20 years. I can't get those sun cars going any faster, no matter how much I charge up the batteries."
"Hold on, Professor, let's take it to the top," she replied as they peeled out of the parking lot.
"Way to go!" he shouted.
As they made it up the mountain, just two exits from Sewanee, the storm almost pushed them off the road. It did push hundreds of the light, plastic, sun cars into the guardrails. The sun car drivers were fearfully waiting for the storm to pass, but unable to go any farther. The wind had them trapped against the rails. Sun cars were so light that there was always a danger they could be turned over by a strong gust. This storm was enough to force some of the drivers and passengers to run into the nearby woods and abandoned their plastic traps.
"Star, this is getting bad, and look at that wall of rain ahead. Take this exit. My place is on this side of the mountain facing Chattanooga. It's only five minutes from here. I don't think it's safe to go on, do you?" he spoke as he trembled at the obvious ferocity of the storm and a mild trembling at whom he was with.
"Yes, you're right! Look at that hail! It looks like golf balls, no baseballs! I thought I saw the tail of a tornado drop down just ahead and to the right! This exit?" she yelled as she swerved onto the exit ramp without hearing his answer and hoping she was right.
"Yes, now turn left across the interstate. Star, gun it!" he shouted as he saw part of the funnel crossing the interstate heading for them. "Don't get stuck on this bridge! Go! Go! Go!" he shouted.
She floored it; and as they passed the middle of the bridge, they felt the Hummer lifting, and Star felt it lose some steering. She pushed it into four-by-four for full traction with the push of a button and held the gas pedal to the floor.
"Man, what power! It's been years since I felt anything like that! Go! Go! Go!" he screamed again.
They were past the bridge, and he pointed to a bright light on the top of the mountain. "See that beacon? That's my place. That's Red Fish. Go a quarter mile and turn a hard left. I'll open the garage. We can take the elevator to the top if the power hasn't gone out."
"Elevator!" she screamed over the sound of the storm. "Don't you have any stairs? I'm not getting stuck in an elevator!"
"Sure, but you'd better be in good shape. I'm 200 feet up the side of that mountain. There are stairs on the inside beside the elevators. It's 150 feet to the lowest level, and we can go up through the house from there. If you really want to stay safe, we can stay on the lowest level. It's where I have the gym, pool, and saunas. It's up to you. There, see the garage door opening? Go for it! I just saw the funnel again!" he shouted as they skidded into the garage, barely able to stop and sliding sideways almost crashing into the far wall. The trees behind them on the bottom of his hill were being peeled from the ground with a horrendous sound. The garage door closed, and they sprinted up the first 100 feet of stairs in a panic, then they noticed the quiet. The professor was breathing heavily but noticed that Star wasn't.
"Are we safe here, Professor?" she asked nervously, not trusting the quiet outside very much.
"Sure, but these stairs are still pretty close to the surface of the ground. There are trees all over this hill that could be pulled away. Look, you see the tree roots? That's how close we are. I have just enough natural rock and concrete to hold it intact for normal weather, but I don't know what would happen it these trees were pulled away. It'd all come down on us. Let's get out of here!"
When they reached the bottom level, the professor frantically punched in his security codes, then they fell through the door together almost on top of each other. They lay in a hump with Star crossways over him as the door closed soundly behind them, then the sound of tearing trees started again.
"Professor, can Red Fish take this if it's hit?"
"Nothing can take a direct hit, I'm afraid. This storm is terrible. Are you okay?" he asked in concern. She looked up at him with her face only inches from his and effortlessly pushed herself to her feet, then offered him a hand.
"Professor, do you think we'd better stay down here for a bit?" she asked.
"I think you're right. Just a bit," he answered as he walked over to his refreshment area and turned the lights on. The water from the pool was alluring and translucent. He turned
the saunas up, including the Jacuzzi, just for show.
"Well, you outdid yourself, Professor. This place is great. All to yourself, huh?"
"Riley works out some. But, sure, it's all to myself. Kind of like it that way. Well, let me correct that. Liked it that way, until now," he remarked, winking at her. She smiled feeling very comfortable with him and didn't sense any of the drool and awkwardness she had seen in him before.
"Well, it's only 11:30 in the morning. How about a workout and a dip in the pool to pass the time?" she asked as she slipped off her light jacket and dropped it to the floor. She felt comfortable enough with Hayden that she thought it might be a good idea.
She saw him stop, stunned by her request, and realized that she was moving too fast. He was scared of her. Maybe he was a little frightened of himself. After all, according to Day, he was a loner, now, and for over ten years since his wife died. He had single-handedly raised Riley. It wasn't easy; although, she figured living at Red Fish made it easier.
"I've changed my mind. As soon as the storm is past, and it sounds like it's moving away, I need to finish unpacking and get situated at the cottage. I bought Alex's cottage connected to the old church. I just hope they have the electricity back on. Not being able to see got me kind of messed up on my fashion senses this morning. Look at me, Miss Mismatch and Tacky. I hope I didn't offend you, Hayden."
He seemed to have relaxed with the swim crisis out of the way. He had no idea what she was getting ready to do since he didn't have any swim clothes for her. It scared and excited him at the same time. The latter feeling bothered him even more. He kept apologizing to the Lord for even entertaining feelings like this. Of course, he had no idea that Star was wearing a Nike swimsuit under her clothes as another desperate choice in the dark this morning.
"No, it kind of surprised me. I thought maybe you were starting a new fashion craze, or I had missed another one. Although, I doubt whatever you wear would make you look bad," he replied, then looked away from her for a second, embarrassed by his obvious compliment.
"You're flattering me. I appreciate that, but I really do need to go. Can we go upstairs and check out the weather first?" she asked as she picked up her jacket and walked away towards another door facing the inside of the building rather than the rocks. He nodded "yes" and followed her. They moved the additional 50 feet without saying a word for some reason, but Hayden was breathing hard and gasping as a joke this time while laughing about it.
"Got to admit," he said as he opened the door to the next level, "this place will keep you in shape."
"I believe it. I can feel it all the way to my buns. You can call these stairs the Red Fish, steel-bun workout, right?"
"No doubt! Tahaaaaa!!" he replied as he flung open the door and got an expected gasp of surprise and delight from Star.
"Oh, my, oh, goodness, oh, mercy, this place is unbelievable!" she said as she looked up over a hundred feet.
The A-frame was so massive that it made her feel like she was in a cathedral. The large slabs of thick, clear glass were filled with thousands of pieces of colored and fractured, broken, Italian glass. There was a piece of solid red glass the shape of a fish with a cross through its middle that spanned ten-by-twenty feet. The cross part of it streaked through the middle of the white glass like a blazing sunrise30-feet down. The color shattered her senses. It reflected off walls, against strategically placed reflective mirrors, and other circular accent ports filled with more solid-colored glass. The floor was a bright, white marble from wall to wall, speckled with the myriad of colored reflections. She felt like she was in a kaleidoscope, not looking at one.
"I bet you didn't expect this, did you?" he asked loudly but knowing the effect of it.
"Not in a million lifetimes. It's like heaven. Except there would be more flowers, right?"
"Huh?" he said, not knowing where she got that flower idea. It was from Sal. Abigail had been with Sal the short time before Sal died and heard all about heaven's flowers. Caleb had taken delight in entertaining Sal with all the heavenly details every chance he got.
In the middle of the room, there was a beautiful baptismal font. It was covered with a solid silver base all the way to the bowl. The bowl was covered with dark walnut on the outside with a brushed aluminum interior. The cover was more silver, with a white marble dove, coming up from its center, making it look as if it were landing. She ran to it and ran her fingers over the dove, the wood, and followed it all down to the floor. She sank to the marble and let her hands rub its cool smoothness in awe. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the power of God sweep over her.
She said in a whisper, "This is a holy place, isn't it? I can feel God all around me. Hayden, what is it about this place that makes it this way?"
"It's because I wanted a place that was as close to heaven as possible. Many people got saved here when it was only a cottage church, which Alex helped build, then a church barn where the new believers from Sewanee came to worship. After, what I did to it. It's saturated with the glory of God's saving grace. Look, Star, look at this," he said as he pulled back a 20-foot wall curtain above an immense hearth fireplace. Recognize anything?"
Star began crying and ran back to Hayden while holding him by an arm, then looking at a ceramic mural of Sal, Jeff, and Nicodemus (the Holy Ghost dog from Woodbury). Part of the mural was an image of her mother carrying Nicodemus on her shoulders as she swam across the Ohio River after assassinating the President's wife. Next, Nicodemus had his head on her knee just like the day she got saved. The last had humorous art of Jeff hanging out a third-story window with Sal pulling him halfway in by the back of his jeans, giving him the ultimate wedgie.
"How, Hayden, how? Why, Hayden, why?" she spoke through her tears.
"Star, you should know the answer to that. I'm a history buff, an old-fashioned, Christian, political science, history buff. Without your mother, Jeff, and Nicodemus doing what they did, we wouldn't have an America to live in. It would be a wasteland of wickedness, not this paradise our Lord has made. I surrounded myself with these things out of respect and love. Everyone thinks I'm crazy for not getting out much. But, Star, I don't get out much because this is the only place I want to be. I made it that way. This is my palace, but I give God the glory for it."
"It looks like you designed it for me. Do you understand? I feel like I belong here, somehow."
"That's why I let you see it. No one but Riley has ever seen this. It's private. But, Star, the daughter of Sal, you had to see it. Only you could appreciate it, and your sister, Day, right?"
"Yes, yes, she would. She should see this, but she can't. Not now. She's in Nashville. She's tied up. She can't make it," Star stuttered.
"Take it easy, Star. It's okay. Don't make excuses for her. If she can't, she can't, but don't tell her about it. It has to be experienced."
"Can I sit here for awhile, by myself, I mean? Can you do that for me? I just need some time to soak this place up. Please!" she begged, still holding his arm more for support from the shock of what she was seeing and experiencing. All the stories of her mother came flooding back to her, and she was overwhelmed by it all.
"Sure, I have some work to do. When you get done, come up to the second floor, the far door on the right. It's my room and has my office attached. I write up there. If you want, I can go back to your cottage with you and help you get things straight. I'm pretty handy with the carpenter tools."
"Would you? I'd like that, Hayden. I really would. You have to promise me something."
"Sure, what is it?" he held his palms up and open.
"Will you let me come back here and sit by myself when I need to?"
"That's a no-brainer, anytime, Star, anytime. I'll tell Riley our deal, okay?"
"That's okay. I'll see him tomorrow. I'll tell him." She had more things to discuss with him than their deal. Hayden winked back at her as he went upstairs.
After he was gone, she twirled in one spot with her hands in the
air and moved her fingers through the colored light around her. She sat for over two hours just staring at the mural, remembering and honoring her mom. She had never felt so close to her. She had never felt so close to Caleb, remembering his voice at her dad's funeral, "Everything is going to be okay." She knew it was Caleb.
She was sitting near the baptismal font as she got up to get Hayden. She twirled around it several times and lifted her hands in the air, then spun around as she did while soaking up the moment. This was the happiest she had ever been in her life. Suddenly, the dove at her waist, was at her knees, then below her. Her skin tingled all over, and every cell of her body had the sensation of being alive and electric—she was levitating. Her eyes got bigger and bigger as she rose only a foot from the second-level railing.
She thought, then yelled, "Hayden!" and dived for the railing while clinging to it with her feet dangling awkwardly.
"Hayden! Help me!" she screamed.
He came running out of his office, looked down, then panicked while seeing her fingers slipping off the railing one at a time. He lunged for her and caught her by a wrist, then let her swing sideways against the stair supports. She grabbed the supports and pulled herself to safety.
"What in the world was that all about? How in the world did you get out there? Trying to get a better look and slipped or something?" he asked while patting her shoulder and trying to calm her down. She was hyperventilating and overcome by a mixture of fear and excitement, which he didn't understand.
"Something like that," she finally said.
"You sure liven this place up! Come up to my study. I have some things to show you. Are you okay?" he asked.
He put his arm around her lightly and non-dangerously, just to let her know it was okay, and she leaned into him in thanks. As they passed through his bedroom, she noticed it had knotty pine paneling, and a foot below the ceiling, a wooden shelf surrounding the room, piled high with plastic, model airplanes of every type. They looked like they were put together by a little kid, with glue marks and lousy, sloppy fits on the parts that included mismatched decal stickers. He noticed her looking at them and stopped.
"My dad built a room for me just like this one when I was a kid. Those are my same planes. See that little built-in desk. He made something like that too. It has an old fashion typewriter on it that looks like an antique, and look," he said as he went over and pulled out a jar of cigarette butts. I took to smoking in high school; and figured, they couldn't smell it. Kind of a stupid kid, huh? I kept the original hiding-butt bottle. Everything I do is for memories."
"See," he said and reached over the desk to an ugly, gold spray-painted Boy Scout bugle. It sat next to an original telegraph, Morse code sender that was his great, great grandfather's from when he worked for the railroad in Kansas. "History, memories, I told you. I love collecting neat stuff."
"Stuff," she replied smiling.
"Yeah, not so neat, right?" he stated and laughed at himself.
"You're chronic, Hayden," she said, then noticed his lips quivering with emotion.
"I'm sorry, my wife used to say the same thing, just the same way."
He pulled himself upright in embarrassment, and said, "Well, let's see if I can show you some things that aren't in the history books." As she walked into his office, she braced herself for more surprises, but there weren't any.
"Sit down, a minute, Star. Try my recliner, will you?" he said, smiling sneakily.
"Where's the stuff, the history stuff?" she asked as she sat down in the black-leather recliner.
"You're sitting in it," he replied laughing.
"What, this old thing? It is comfortable. Nice and cozy. I like your staples holding the arm parts together. You're acting way too strange about it. Tell me its secrets?"
"Did your mom ever tell you about when they hid under the old church?" he continued, then saw her nod "yes."
"I know about a lot of those things. Can you be more specific?" she asked while she ran her hands over the recliner arm leather.
"Well, just after Alex took the Presidency, he had the local church people auction off all the stuff in the basement. It paid for the cottage church where this place stands now. When Abigail and Alex were in hiding, this was the chair they fought over all the time. It's the very same chair that Alex learned to pray in. He'd go to sleep praying in it every night. Sometimes, he'd never go to bed. He'd keep waking up and continuing to pray till he went back to sleep again. We had him tell the story about it before we auctioned it off. I bought it. You know me and history. Got to have a piece of everything."
"I do remember her telling me about it. She said that Alex used to pray for her in it, for her to get saved. It worked, didn't it?"
"One more thing, this Kid's Illustrated Bible. Got any ideas?"
"You're kidding? Is that the one Abigail used to teach Alex about the Lord? This is getting ridiculous. Don't you ever throw away anything?"
"Sure, newspapers, but never history."
"Hayden, you are a marvel. I had no idea about this stuff. Hayden, I'm sorry, but I'm a little worn out. I need to go home and nap. This has been an extra eventful day."
"Wait a minute. Let me make a call," he said while reaching for his phone.
"Mayor, it's Professor Hayden, great, and you. How's the wife. Great! Has Alex's old place got the electricity on yet? Yeah, Star is here visiting. Don't start the gossip, Mayor. In four hours? Okay, thanks.
"If you go now, you'll be napping in the chilly dark. Why don't you curl up on one of the couches downstairs? I'll turn off all the pinball, video games, and pull the plugs on the computers. Probably didn't notice my private game vices," he chuckled.
"No kidding. I'd call it eccentric," she snapped back.
"Here's another pillow, unless you want a real bed. Riley's room is the small dump on the end, but there are three others in between.
"Couch, I'm a coucher," she replied as she grabbed an extra pillow from a middle bedroom on her way down and settled in on a large, white-leathered wrap around. She felt too awkward to sleep in one of his beds.
How would she ever answer the question," Did you or did you not sleep in his bed?"
"Yes, but it was in one of the middle bedrooms."
She voted on the side of caution and wished for some reason her meeting with him had been some other way, not plotted and calculated like this. It was ruining what she thought could end up being a good thing. Actually, she felt a natural affinity towards him, especially because of his keen interest in her own family and past. It was bringing him closer to her than she ever allowed any man before. It was like he was the one plotting to get next to her, but she knew better. Every move he made was a lasso around her heart that pulled at and pulled her to him, even when he wasn't trying.
"Yes, the couch, is fine," she said to herself.
She could handle the couch. Her exhaustion was as much from her guilt over plotting about Hayden as anything. She needed to talk to Day. She wanted a change. She wanted, regardless of what had happened, to bail out. They'd just have to find a better way to do what needed to be done. She didn't want to trick or deceive Hayden. She didn't want it to start this way. Not with Hayden. Not that way. And, of course, she wanted to gloat over her levitation. Day hadn't done that, yet.
††††††