A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,41
shake. “Please understand, if I have something that needs to be done, I don’t allow any distractions. I have to stay focused. And I could not concentrate on some poor freshman worried about a final grade if I thought I would be seeing you. Please, Michael, Friday night. Okay?
Michael blew out through his mouth and looked out over the lake. “Are you always this tough?”
“Yes. This is how I live my life. This is what has worked for me for a long time now. I am not blowing you off, believe me.”
Michael grinned. “Yes, I know. Okay, how about this. I have a program on my computer inside. We’ll plan out your garden, I’ll take you home, and I’ll call tomorrow.”
“You have a landscaping program? Really? Oh, that is so great. Yes, let’s go.”
They spent an hour on his computer, Diane pointing and trying to explain as Michael patiently clicked and double-clicked. He printed out her design, and drove her home. He kissed her very hard, then backed out of her driveway. She stood there for a long time, watching where his car had turned down the road, before she went into the house.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FINALS WEEK WAS the worst Diane could remember. She had been a full-time professor for six years, and had thought she had learned to weather the storm, but this year was horrific. The students were complaining non-stop, with one junior in particular who left e-mail messages that ran pages long. Emily and Megan were usually respectful of the pressure Diane was under and left her alone, but Emily had been asked to the senior prom by a young man, and wanted to spend the entire weekend down the Jersey shore with a group of seniors. Diane had said no. The battle was on. Megan, usually quiet and easy-going, wanted to spend a semester in France the following spring. Diane could not afford it. Kevin was balking. Megan was raging.
Diane was tired, ill-tempered and running out of patience with everyone and everything. She had finals to grade, evaluations to write up, and Rachel was still acting cool towards her. Diane could not wait for the week to be over. She could not wait to see Michael.
By Thursday, she was pretty much at her wits’ end. Then, Kevin called to say he was picking the girls up early, right after school on Friday. They were all going down to Long Beach Island to open up the shore house. She thanked him coolly, hung up the phone, and called Michael, telling him to meet her at four on Friday.
She got caught in a meeting Friday afternoon, then hit traffic. When she got home a sleek, silver car was parked in front of her house. A DeLorean. She walked around to the back of the house, and Michael was stretched out on a lounge chair, eyes closed. The faint jangle of the brass bell on her garden gate had not roused him. He seemed totally relaxed, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt. She watched him for a moment, still and quiet in the cool afternoon.
“Hey, is that your car out front?” she called, walking toward him.
He lifted his head and grinned. “Yeah - isn’t it fantastic?”
“It was my dream car for years.” He stood up and put both arms around her. She leaned against him with a sigh.
“This has been the worse week of my life. I’m so tired and miserable. I hate everybody.” She pulled back her head to look at him, kissing him hard. “Except you. You are the only person I can stand to be with right now.”
“Lucky for me. So, tell me what you need. A cold drink? Hot shower? Food? Sleep? Sex?”
“Yes. I need all that.” She kissed him again, slower this time, and her body began to burn. She stepped away from him. “A drink first, I think. We’ll go from there.”
He followed her into the house, declined her offer of a vodka martini, and opened a beer. She was wound up, talking nervously as she mixed her drink. She had kicked off her shoes and was pacing around the living room while he sat and watched her silently, letting her ramble. She finished her drink quickly.
“Look, I need a shower. And I really need to eat. Do you feel like a steak? Kevin used to say that stress made me carnivorous.”
“Sure. I’ll call Longacre’s and get a table for what, an hour?”
“Shit, it’s almost six. I can’t believe it’s this late. We’ll