Mountains Wanted (3 page)

She whipped her little
red Toyota into a shady parking place and took a deep breath to quell the
butterflies that were forming in the pit of her stomach.
Why am I so nervous
about this?
she asked herself. 
It’s just coffee.
But she
couldn’t ignore the instant attraction that she had felt toward James as they
stood in the crowd at the auditorium. And she couldn’t deny that she was
intrigued about what was going on behind those piercing blue eyes.

She tried to walk down
the sidewalk to the coffee shop as nonchalantly as possible, meanwhile engaging
in abundant self-talk:
Just be yourself...this is no big deal. This might
lead to some new research...maybe on the ROTC students or program? Maybe I
should take notes. No, that would be weird....right? I wonder how old he
is...can I ask him that? Would that be wrong? Maybe it will come up. Okay, shut
up and let’s do this... it’s just coffee! 
She glanced down at her
watch:
4:07.
Only running a few
minutes behind.  Fashionably late.

She immediately spotted
him on the far side of the cafe, looking down at a newspaper with a slight
frown, or maybe it was just a serious look. She had a moment to study him while
she made her way to the small table he’d claimed adjacent to the windows. He
wore baggy khaki pants that were a bit frayed at the cuffs, brown leather sandals
and a navy polo shirt. Those rugged hands gripped the paper firmly as his eyes
scanned the gray columns. He glanced down at his watch at the exact moment Sarah
arrived at the table.

He immediately stood up
and extended his hand, “Dr. Lynde, I’m so glad you could join me.”

“Oh, please call me
Sarah,” she reminded him as she took a seat. She crossed her legs, going for
the prim and proper look until things relaxed a bit.

He folded the paper up
and leaned back in his chair. “Alright, Sarah, would you like some
coffee?”  

Sarah nearly blushed
when she considered that coffee was probably the furthest thing from her mind,
but she quickly recovered and nodded. They headed toward the counter to order. While
in line Sarah initiated the conversation, trying to avoid any awkward pauses,
“How long have you been teaching in the ROTC program?”

“This is my first
semester,” he replied. “How long have you been at the university?”

“I’m in my second year
here after a year of post-doc work in New Mexico,” Sarah said. “I think I may
actually get the hang of things this year!”  

James laughed.
 “Well, just based on what I heard on Friday, I’m sure you’re a great
teacher,” he said confidently as he paid for their drinks and led her back to
the table. When they were seated he continued, “How did you decide to become a
professor?”

Sarah gathered her
thoughts, wondering how she could make this piece of her life story succinct
when there was so much to it. “I have always been teaching, since I was a
little girl,” she recollected, smiling. “I thought I wanted to teach high
school but after my first sociology class in college, I was hooked. What about
you? Are you new to teaching?”

James cleared his
throat, which she noticed now after a bit of conversation he tended to do when
he was trying to appear more serious or professional. It might have
annoyed some people, but Sarah found it endearing. She was still
struggling to determine if he was in his mid to late 20’s and trying to appear
older or early 30’s and just had a youthful look. “I’m brand spanking
new,” he admitted. “I haven’t the slightest clue what I’m doing, but I’ve had some
good teachers to emulate. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?”

Sarah laughed and began
leaning toward the early 30’s hypothesis. He didn’t speak like someone in
his mid-20’s. “I definitely had some extraordinary mentors,” she agreed. “So
where are you from?”

James smiled and looked
down for a second as if he had to access the answer from some deep cavern in
his mind. “I’m an army brat,” he stated, “I’ve lived all over. But I guess
you could say I spent my formative years in the Midwest. And that’s where my
parents settled down after my dad retired.”

Ah. The Midwest. This
is all seeming cliché. The all American good looks, the Midwestern
sensibilities, the military service. He really is GI Joe...or...uh...GI James.
 Sarah lauded her powers of observation,
this ability to peg where someone was coming from within mere minutes of
meeting them.
Must be a gift,
she chuckled to herself. She usually
didn’t find herself attracted to wholesome, farm-raised, military types. Her
gaze swept from his eyes to his feet and back up again. 
He’s quite the
specimen. Maybe this is just a physical attraction? 
She had recently
dated a long string of academic and artistic types. And she’d completely given
up on corporate types following her failed marriage to Mr. Daniel Taylor, the
man who still made her shudder when she so much as thought his name or
envisioned his face.  

Wait, is this a date?
she suddenly inquired, the question bouncing
around her mind like a rubber ball.
Or is this a professional thing?
Her
excitement when she received the phone call and anxiousness to see him
certainly projected a date-like aura, but his serious demeanor and the
small-talky tone that had been established seemed to indicate otherwise. She
suddenly felt disappointed. 
Maybe I should have gone to the house
party?

Sarah realized she had
let the conversation lapse while she was in soliloquy mode, which was the last
thing she had wanted. “I’m from Colorado originally,” Sarah offered. “It’s
been an adjustment getting used to the East Coast. I never thought I’d be
particularly well-suited to this region, but I seem to be managing.”

James nodded. “I
have found I can thrive pretty much anywhere. Even in the desert.”

“Oh, do you mean Iraq?”
This
conversation might finally be going somewhere.

“Affirmative,” he
smiled. “Although I’ve been back home for two years now from my last
deployment. I sometimes consider accepting another assignment but wonder
if it would be a lot harder now that my body is older and my brain is wiser.”

“Voluntarily?” Sarah
asked, incredulously. She instantaneously regretted her tone.
Way too
judgmental.

James didn’t miss a
beat, clearly familiar with this response. “I know it’s hard for civilians to
understand, but there are pros to serving in a war zone,” he replied, still
sensing the confusion on her face. “It’s okay, my mother doesn’t get it
either.”

“You don’t have to
defend yourself,” Sarah recovered and redirected the conversation. “So, back to
the original topic from the other night…I thought you might talk a little bit
more about the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell thing?”

He cleared his throat
again, “Of course.” He took a long sip of his coffee and thoughtfully set his
mug down on the table. She studied his hand and the way his elbow grazed the
table. She caught a slight inkling...very slight...that he might be
disappointed that the conversation had already shifted back to a professional
track so quickly.
Argh!
she chided herself.
Why can’t I stop
analyzing and just enjoy this?

“Being deployed in a
warzone, it’s obviously not like everyday life,” he began. “In order for
the men to stay focused, accomplish their missions and stay alive it requires -
more than anything else - mental discipline. If an individual loses focus and
doesn’t see something they ought to have seen, it may not only get them injured
but the person next to them as well. It’s imperative to keep distraction to a
minimum. It is focus and discipline that make the difference between frightened
boys and professional soldiers who get the job done. That’s also why there is
no drinking and no sex while deployed.”

He looked at Sarah to
gauge her reaction. She nodded and he continued, this time sounding more like
himself and not the “professional tone” he had exhibited during the previous
mini-lecture. “I’m just thinking what it would be like to have this
flamboyantly gay soldier in my bunk going on and on about hair products or
something stupid like that. Or wiggling his ass in front of the guys. Or
listening to a lisp over the radio...” his voice trailed off suddenly.  He
could see by Sarah’s expression that she was trying to formulate a diplomatic
response.

“You seem to know a lot
of gay stereotypes,” Sarah finally remarked. “You asked me last night if I’d
ever served in the military, but I have to ask you,” she paused for effect,
“Have you ever known anyone who was gay?
Do you
really believe that with all the people you served with, not a single one was
gay, lesbian or bisexual?”

James was quiet for a
moment. He wasn’t one to back down easily but he was also able to own up when
he’d misjudged someone or something. “No, I haven’t ever really known someone
who was openly gay.” he admitted.

“Well,” Sarah said
gently and carefully avoiding any trace of judgment, “my brother is gay and he
is one of the most masculine men I know. You’d never know it just by looking at
him or talking to him.” An image of her brother Adam popped into her head:
tall, well-built, shaggy brown hair, slightly slouchy posture and a way more
casual wardrobe than most gay men would find acceptable. He had a deep voice and
a really quiet way about him. He was the antithesis of flamboyant or
effeminate.  

“I see,” James
responded.

“Do you think a man who
was very effeminate would be drawn to military service?”  Sarah asked. “And
if they were, do you think they’d survive boot camp?”

James smiled, “Yeah, I
suppose you have a point,
and boot camp does
have a way of weeding out those who are unfit for military service.”

“How many times has your
sexual orientation impacted your ability to do your job?” Sarah questioned.

“Never,” James replied.
 There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. “So your brother is gay, Dr.
Lynde,” he broke the silence. “Care to tell me anything else about yourself?”

“Let’s see if I can
manage an executive summary,” Sarah laughed. “I’m divorced, I have two
kids, I love to read and write, one of my legs is longer than the other so I’m
extraordinarily klutzy, yet I love rock climbing. I guess I have a
reckless streak. I have a lot of strong opinions. I’m probably not
somebody you’d enjoy arguing with unless you don’t mind losing.”

James obviously took
that as a challenge, “I don’t have to win.
..
all the time...” he
replied, emanating a suggestive flash from his blue eyes and leaning back
against his chair, his posture open and inviting. Sarah was pretty sure he
wasn’t talking about a verbal argument all the sudden.  

“So, speaking of rock
climbing, you said you were from Colorado,” he redirected the conversation. “My
dad was stationed at Fort Carson for a little while when I was young so I lived
in the Springs for a while. I’ve done some rock climbing as well.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”
Sarah exclaimed. “Colorado Springs is beautiful...Pikes Peak, Garden of the
Gods...what’s not to love?”

“It’s easy to miss the
mountains when you’re out here on the East Coast.  I go up to PA sometimes
to ski, but it’s not the same as the Rockies,” he admitted. “So you ended
up out here for your job?”

She nodded. “It’s pretty
typical for us academic types to search nationally for positions. You have to
find a college hiring in your specialty. I got lucky to land such a great
tenure-track position even after the economy tanked.”

“Well, I’m sure it
speaks highly of your credentials...and abilities,” James noted.  He
looked at her so intensely that she could feel his eyes boring through her. “Smart
and beautiful,” he summed up his findings. “I’m sure you would be at the top of
the pack for any position you applied for.”  

She couldn’t help but
smile at his flattering statement.
Maybe
this is a date
? she oscillated again. His demeanor seemed to have
changed, relaxed.  Perhaps it was her strategic just-enough-cleavage
blouse. Maybe it was that sultry look she had a habit of casting from her dark
eyes. She suddenly felt flushed...her head was spinning with wild thoughts
...envisioning those fingers grazing her skin...those intense eyes caressing
her body in a more private setting. 
It’s been too damn long
. She
suddenly remembered her empty house, her empty bed, and all of her damn rules
she had just reviewed earlier that day… 
Is James McAllister rule-break
worthy?

It’s
like he read her mind: “So what are you doing tonight?”

Her heart started racing
as her eyes met his again. Her responsible adult self kicked the wanton slut
she’d tried so hard to repress out of the way. “I’ve got a ton of papers to
grade,” she blurted out before she could change her mind. “In fact, I
should probably wrap this up and get home soon, as much as I’d like to stay and
get to know you better.”

There was still more
conversation after that.  She finally got the answer to the age question:
he was 29. She learned James was the oldest of three, with two younger sisters.
She discovered he had a soft spot for country music and, surprisingly, classical.
But mostly he remained a bit on the mysterious side. As much as Sarah enjoyed
unraveling mysteries as quickly as possible, she sort of liked this murkiness. He
was a puzzle she wanted to take as much time as she could to solve;
after all, the puzzle isn't quite as fun
after all the pieces have been put together.