The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,19
trying to heave Sarah’s steamer-trunk-sized suitcase into the back of Becca’s SUV.
“The weather in England is so changeable, I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I brought a little of everything.” Sarah shrugged as she helped Ann maneuver the suitcase into the car.
“Really? I hope the plane is carrying extra fuel with all this added weight.”
“Funny.”
“You girls need to stop chit-chatting and let’s get on the road before you miss your flight.” Becca used the same tone of voice their mother had used when her patience wore thin.
The ride to the airport descended into silliness as the three girls competed to see who could insert the most British colloquialisms into the conversation.
Sarah thought she won, but lost track with all the laughter.
“Here,” Ann said as she handed Sarah a small wrapped package. “This is for you.”
Sarah unwrapped the package to find a hardcover journal, bound in beautiful handmade rice paper.
“In case you’re inspired,” she said with a smile.
“Thank you. That is so thoughtful.”
“Wait. Me, too.” Becca handed Sarah another gift box. This one held a fountain pen emblazoned with the Oxford logo.
“You guys are such givers.”
Amid smiles and tears, Sarah hugged Ann and Becca goodbye. “Take care that you don’t come back with a stiff upper lip.” Becca’s parting shot as Sarah went through security made her giggle.
“Don’t forget to water my plants, fill the feeders, and get my mail,” Sarah shouted as she walked down the concourse.
“I know, I know,” Ann said.
On the plane at last, Sarah could breathe easy. Preparing for trips always wound her up, but once on the plane, she knew there was nothing else she could do but sit back and relax. Her vacation was mapped out to the last detail, with some unscheduled time allotted for unexpected detours, whimsies, and such.
She was determined to put the worries concerning her jobless status out of her mind for the next two weeks.
Before it was time to turn off ‘all cell phones and portable electronic devices,’ Sarah sent one more text to Ann to remind her to water her plants, fill her feeders, and pick up her mail. She grinned as she turned off her phone. That should do it. She could just hear Ann’s groan at the nagging reminder.
The flight attendant announced the preparation for their initial approach into Gatwick.
The patchwork landscape of the English countryside was visible from Sarah’s window. Pale green squares, abutted golden patches of hay ready for harvest, and the occasional patch of lavender fields in bloom, all stitched into an irregular quilt, with stands of tall cedars, majestic oaks, and hedgerows creating the seams that held the vibrant patches together. This multi-hued quilt blanketed the undulating hills as far as the eye could see.
Sarah sat back in her seat and smiled. She was already waxing poetic. Ann could be right. Maybe this trip was exactly what she needed.
Chapter 8
A pleasant two-hour train ride from London, Oxford’s Town Center was home to Oxford University’s thirty-nine colleges, including Christ Church, plus fine restaurants, lovely, old boutique hotels, and a very cosmopolitan population. Matthew Arnold’s ‘city of dreaming spires’ stood much as it had for hundreds of years.
Sarah’s excitement grew as Tom Tower, the Christopher Wren-designed entrance to Christ Church, came into view.
As the taxi pulled up outside Tom’s Gate, a friendly, bowler-hat-wearing porter stepped to the curb to open Sarah’s door, offering her a warm greeting and a pleasant smile. “Good day, miss. Welcome to Christ Church. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”
With her first glimpse of Tom’s Quad, she had an almost spiritual experience. Smiling broadly at the porter she replied, “I have no doubt I will.”
The week was off to a good start. Interesting and diverse people filled Sarah’s class, including a few men.
Her Victorian Era dorm was on the fifth floor of a five-story walk-up, so there would no lack of exercise, and the weather was unusually mild and sunny.
After sumptuous dinners in Tudor Hall, the evenings were filled with activities ranging from poetry readings to croquet and sparkling wine in the Master’s Garden, or in less high-brow pursuits like sampling Guinness at one of the local pubs.
Class discussions were lively and stimulating, and the added male viewpoint was enlightening. The two Austen books under consideration during the course were Sense & Sensibility and Mansfield Park.
Sarah sat among her classmates, pen and paper in hand taking notes as their tutor, Mr. Byrne, raised the question whether Austen’s male characters lack depth; whether they are worthy of the women