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“Not professorial?” He chuckles. “Believe me, I’ve heard it before.”
Did he start college at twelve? I’m dying to ask how old he is. “So, it’s technically Dr. Olk?”
He smiles at me. “Is it wrong how much I enjoy the sound of Dr. Olk or Professor Olk? Both titles quantify the life of academia I’ve always dreamed of.”
The life of academia I’ve always dreamed of.
Colleen’s matchmaking may just garner a five-star review from me this time.
His hand lingers in the air between us. I clutch it and hope he can’t feel mine shaking. “I’m Eala Duir, but you can call me Dr. Duir or Professor Duir since we’re swapping titles.”
In our shared life of academia.
He squeezes my hand, squinting at me through the dim light of the cabin. “Duir?”
“Apologies. My name on the trip rosters was listed as Ella O’Dwyer. I’ve only recently switched to my legal name.”
Grasping my hand between both of his, he smiles. “Ella O’Dwyer, yes. I understand we’ll be colleagues as of next quarter.”
I’m tempted to ask him to clarify what he knows of our collegial relationship. Does he mean adjunct Duir to tenure-track Professor Olk, or might someone on the search committee have let something slip during his welcome tour of the Celtic Studies department? I’m embarrassed when I realize we’re still holding hands and start to slip mine free from his very warm, soft fingers.
He doesn’t let me retreat, tightening his hold as he leans closer. “For the record, I prefer Eala Duir to Ella O’Dwyer. Such a name would sit well on the daughter of an Irish chieftain.” His warm breath dances across my cheek.
I could get used to Jeremy Olk holding my hands. It’s been so long since anyone flirted with me, I forgot what a rush it can be. In the next moment, said rush dies a grisly death when Doctor/Professor Olk slides the window shade up. We break through the clouds as expanses of blue ocean and distant fingers of green land splash across the earth below.
I grip the armrests. I shut my eyes tight enough for tears to form. The cabin spins and tilts. I’m vaguely aware the occupant of the aisle seat returns, stealing my chance to move farther from the window.
Máthair swore I’d outgrow my fear of heights, but I’m as fragile now as I was that day on the rooftop when I was eight and had one mother of a dream flash.
A flock of birds circled above Máthair’s apple trees on the roof. They were enchanting. Wings commanded the air beneath to hold each creature steady in the sky. My own arms floated up and down to mimic the birds, and then a voice on the breeze called to me.
“Come. Come.”
I ran, intent on following the birds into the sky. Only the impact of Máthair’s body knocking me against the low wall surrounding the rooftop kept me from going over the edge. Awareness returned like a fist to the jaw. The sense of falling ignited tremors in my body so intense not even my grandmother could soothe me. Máthair raged at the birds as she cradled me in her arms.
I never walked onto the open-air rooftop again. Instead of sending me to join the clouds, that dream flash would have sacrificed my body to the unforgiving concrete of Times Square.
Jeremy Olk gently clasps my arm, shaking me in a different rhythm from the shockwaves running along my spine. “Eala? Do you need help?”
I barely form the words. “I’m…afraid…heights.”
His voice is gentle. “We’re about to start our descent to Shannon Airport. You’re safe.”
As long as we avoid wind shear and sudden engine failure.
Despite his efforts, I continue to shut down. Red flashes blaze through my consciousness.
“Listen to my words. Paint them with your mind.” Jeremy takes my hands in his, thumbs sliding back and forth across my skin in time with his voice. “I am a wind of the sea, and I am a wave of the ocean.”
The steady current of his voice begins to dilute the edge of my panic.
“I am the eagle on a cliff. I am a tear of the sun.”
It’s as if my skin is being warmed by his words. Fear continues to dissipate.
“I am a turning in a maze. I am a salmon in a pool. I am a lake on a plain.”
In my mind, I paint a still lake, a lough, centered in a tapestry of emerald puzzle pieces, each with a dark green outline.
