Donna Hill - Legacy of Love

“Aw, come on man. Just one more time. I’ve got to put the finishing touches on my dissertation. I have to defend it in three weeks.”

“You should have taken a sabbatical.” Jackson shook his head in a combination of dismay and annoyance. He could only imagine the stress that Levi was under trying to teach three classes and get his second doctorate degree. The man was no dummy, but he was going to kill himself in the process. Jackson turned to him and grinned.

“Okay. You know I will.” He pushed open the office door. “Take a load off.” Jackson walked in and dropped his soft brown leather satchel on top of his desk then walked around his desk to open the window blinds.

Levi dropped down into the lone chair in the tight space and stretched out his long legs. “You know I owe you.”

“Big time. I’ll think of something. So how’s the work coming?”

Levi linked his fingers together. “Man, if I survive this, I’m done. For real.” He chuckled lightly. “I don’t remember it being this hard.”

“Ancient languages are no joke, man.” He lowered himself into his squeaky leather chair. “So, when you get your degree I have to call you Dr. Dr. Fortune or what?”

“You can just call me doctor. The rest of them can call me Double D.”

They broke out laughing and exchanged a pound.

“What’s your day looking like?”

“Not too bad. I have one class this morning and one right after lunch,” Jackson said. “How about you?”

“Two before lunch. Department meeting this afternoon and then I’m done. Wanna grab a beer or something later?”

“Yeah, yeah sure. Meet you around five?”

“Cool.” He got up from the chair. “And thanks again for standing in for me.”

“We gotta help each other out.”

“So I’ll see you around five. Over at Smitty’s?” Levi said on his way out.

“Yeah. I’ll be there and the beers are on you.”

“No doubt. Later, man.”

Jackson unsnapped his satchel and took out a folder stuffed with graded papers, notes and the lesson plan for his upcoming class. He checked his watch. He had about ten minutes. He leaned back in his seat and went over his notes, making sure that he had plenty of material to cover during the ninety-minute session. Some days his class arrived fully prepared and were totally engaged. Other times, it was like talking to comatose patients. He hoped today wasn’t one of those days. He wasn’t up for it. It was taking all of his concentration to stay focused on what he needed to do and not what had happened earlier.

He expelled a long, slow breath, dropped the folder on the desk and swiveled his chair around so that it faced the window.

She was out there. The tug of a smile arched his lips. All the circumstances that had led him to leave Louisiana and move to Atlanta weren’t coincidences at all. Did she know? Did she believe as he did that they were destined to be together?

He pushed back from his chair and stood. Totally crazy, he thought as he shoved his papers back in his satchel and snapped it shut. Had someone told him he’d give up everything that was familiar and move to a new city in search of a woman he’d never seen before, he would have had them committed. But here he was.

Jackson opened the door and stepped out into the now busy corridor, teeming with eager young men and women bent on making a difference in the world. It was only a matter of time, he thought, before the two of them would meet again. He felt it in the marrow of his bones.

Just as he approached the entrance to his classroom, his teaching assistant, Victoria Rush, stopped him. Victoria was a doctoral student whose dissertation was on ancient and African art—his passion. She’d campaigned hard for the position and beat out several other candidates. Victoria was good. She was thorough and professional, but it was becoming clear to Jackson that Veronica spent a little too much time trying to prove herself to him. She always offered much more than the assignment called for, needing just a “few minutes” of his time a bit too often, even asking if there were any errands that he needed her to run.

On the surface it was all pretty harmless, but he was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling. He hoped that this relationship wouldn’t become a problem. Besides, one would think that her schedule would be pretty full without having to add his agenda to hers.

“Hey, Victoria, class is about to start.”

“I know. I was hoping that I could talk to you after your class.”

That uncomfortable feeling began with a tightness in his insides. “Is it the research paper?”

“Actually—” she lowered the books she was holding to her chest to reveal a low cut top “—it’s personal.”

“Personal? Victoria—Ms. Rush, if this has nothing to do with the course…”

“I know this may seem inappropriate, professor. But I don’t know who else I can talk to.” She blinked away the water that began to well in her eyes.

Aw, man. The last thing he needed was a crying grad student. “Okay, after class. Meet me in the cafeteria.” At least the cafeteria was public.

She beamed a smile, flashing deep dimples in a nut-brown face. “Thank you.” She turned and hurried away.

Jackson lowered his head for a second and blew out a frustrated breath then opened the classroom door. Hopefully his students would be awake, otherwise this was going to be a long hour and a half.

The ninety-minute Art History class wound down on an up note. The scheduled trip to the High Museum for the unveiling of the fertility statues was all set. The students actually seemed excited. Jackson left the class feeling good until he remembered his meeting with Victoria. Reluctantly he walked through the corridors until he reached the cafeteria. He couldn’t imagine what Victoria could want or better, what he could do about it.

The tables were dotted with students huddled over textbooks and Styrofoam containers of French fries and half-eaten sandwiches. Jackson surveyed the brightly lit room and didn’t see Victoria.

Deciding whether to duck out before she turned up, he started to leave and ran smack into her. Her books tumbled to the floor.

“I’ll get that.” Jackson bent down and so did Victoria, leaning provocatively over the tumble of books and loose papers.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have walked up behind you like that,” she said, gathering her papers into a neat pile.

Jackson picked up the two textbooks and stood. “Sorry about that.” He looked around then back at her. “I’ve got to make this quick. I have another class.”

“I know. It won’t take long. Can we sit down for a minute?’

“Um, sure.” He lifted his chin in the direction of an available table. “Over there.”

“Great.” She sauntered toward the table and sat down.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, cutting to the chase. He set his briefcase on the floor near his feet.

“I know I’ve only been working with you for a short time, professor. And the experience has been wonderful. I enjoy the work and all the research.” She paused. “But I’m going to have to give up my position,” she blurted in one long breath.

Jackson didn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed. Victoria had practically begged her way into the position, one that didn’t come easily to many grad students, especially women. With some urging from the search committee, he’d passed over several other equally qualified male prospects and finally settled on her.

“I see. Would you care to share your reason?”

She lowered her head for a moment. “It’s personal.” She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers with a beseeching look in her eyes right out of the soap operas. “Believe me, I don’t want to go, but it’s best.” She pushed out a breath. “I’ll finish up the project that I was working on for you and hand over all the notes.”