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The day passed slowly and she was often guilty of daydreaming and inattentiveness. Her students did not notice, or at least they pretended that they did not and when her last class was over she escaped as quickly as possible.
Sandra wrapped her scarf around her neck and set off walking across the campus. Her bright red rain boots struck the puddles and splashed water. She laughed, knowing that it was silly to be playing in puddles at her age but she did it anyway every year. A figure up ahead caught her eye and she hurried to him.
“Hello Father.”
Thomas Eckhart blinked at his daughter like he was waking from a dream. His light green eyes were mostly hidden behind huge glasses that magnified the whites of those eyes, making him look even more myopic. “Oh, hello Sandra, how was your day?” He had a surprisingly deep baritone voice, it was incongruous coming from his thin chest, and it often shocked students.
His singing voice was also amazing and often heard in the Baptist church right off the campus, the same church Sandra had accompanied him to when she was a little girl.
“It was…”
How had it been? “About the same as always.”
“That’s good.”
She knew he honestly meant that. For Thomas change was something to be avoided at all costs. She had a feeling she knew why but she needed to hear it from him. “I need to ask you something.”
“Are you in need of research sources?”
“No. Yes. Sort of.” She sighed. “I need to ask you about Mother.”
“I had rather thought you would have questions when she came to see you but you did not seem to… surely you have not been thinking about that for this long.”
Sorrow lay on Sandra’s heart. She had always loved her father but in a remote and distant way, the same way he had loved her. They had never had the best communication style either. “Did you love her?”
He managed to look surprised. “Why of course I cared for her. Why would you ask?”
“No, did you love her? I mean…did you ever feel your heart pound faster when she got near, did you…”
Her questions were cut off by his hasty reply. “I have told you before that love is actually a chemical reaction. The body and brain do create sensations that are similar to what you describe, yes, if that answers your question.”
“But did you ever…ever really love her, Father? Did you ever just love her?”
The daylight had gone translucent and hazy. The trees swayed in the wind and a sharp wind picked up a piece of forgotten rubbish, swirling it into the gutters where it floated on a riptide created in a flow of dirty melt water.
Thomas took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes and then carefully polished them on his scarf. “Yes, Sandra, I loved her. Of course I did, she was exciting and beautiful and so different from everything I have ever known. She came on to this campus like a gust of air, a warm hot wind that blew over everything in its path, including myself.
“If you are asking because you are hoping I will say something that will make this affair you are having with Connor make sense I cannot help you. If anything he reminds me of your mother, he is…different than anything you have ever known. I do not know if that is a good thing for you or not.”
“He is not Mother.”
“Nobody else is your Mother.” The emotion in his voice made empathy rise in Sandra, and a sudden sharp understanding. Her father had never dated again because he was still in love with her! Or so she thought but his next words halted that thought so quickly she was left speechless. “I thought she would be the one to help me to stem the things I felt for Calvin.”
“Calvin…Reynolds?” He was her father’s oldest and best friend. They spent most of their free time together. What does that mean? It made sense, all of a sudden and she asked, “Are you coming out to me?”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” They had stopped in front of his neat little home and he gave her a wary look, “You are not going to cause a scene are you?”
“Of course not. “
“You can fight love all you want but eventually it has its way you know.”
Sandra leaned forward and kissed him, impulsively, on his withering cheek. “You are so very right on that one.”
He looked even more startled but managed to say, “I have work to do this evening. Come by Saturday, I am making roasted chicken and new potatoes.”
“I will be here.”
“Good, have a nice evening.”
