Plan (2 page)

Randall Harris watched until Rachel turned the corner. With a sigh he turned back to the papers he was grading, but he couldn't concentrate. He was beginning to wonder if he was losing it. Spending his days daydreaming about her could get him into trouble. It was a bit of a quandary. Here he was a nice, single professor surrounded by nice, single young women. The only problem was they were all his students. He was only five years older than some of his students, yet it was career suicide to date any one of them. Rachel, on the other hand, was not a student anymore, but they were still separated by that teacher/student relationship, a self-imposed distance. In trying to protect himself, he had separated himself from the one woman who really interested him.

When he went home that night, she followed him home in his thoughts. He put his hand on his head and rested his elbows on his desk. Looking around his cluttered living room, he felt the emptiness. In the midst of all the junk he had accumulated in the last ten years, he felt as if the room were bare. “God, I don't know what to do,” he whispered. “I'm so lonely right now.” He had made a habit of taking his troubles to the Lord years ago, but tonight it seemed his prayer was hitting the ceiling and bouncing back like an echo. “I know You said that You are all we need, but You also saw Adam's need for a mate. That's why You sent Eve. Why should I be any different?” He raked his hands through his hair and rested his head on the desk. Tears burned his eyes, but refused to be shed. He was a grown man, and men didn't cry.

“Jesus cried.”

What?

“Jesus cried.”

The tears came then, a release of the emotions pent up inside. The tears opened the barriers and allowed God's calming presence to wrap him in a cloak of love. He dried his eyes and bowed his head once more.

“Now what, Lord?”

“Wait on me. Hear my Word.”

He picked up his Bible and it fell open to Proverbs
19:21. “There are many devices in a man's heart;
never-theless the counsel of the
L
ord
,
that shall stand.” He looked down at the footnote, which read, “Devices means plans.”

“Lord, I know you have a plan for my life. Is Rachel a part of that plan? Or is that just wishful thinking?”

There was no answer, only a hush. He waited a few more moments, but sensed that the Spirit had finished speaking for now. He went to bed only to toss and turn, finally drifting off to a vision of Rachel holding a baby that looked curiously like him.

Rachel spent the evening staring at the back of Kyle's head. She tried to memorize every line and feature. From his sandy brown hair and green eyes to his crooked smile, he was perfect. It took everything she had not to sigh out loud. He kept his back turned to her during the whole service and muttered a good-bye as he headed for the opposite side of the room as fast as his long legs would carry him. She watched him until he disappeared through the side door.

“Could you be a little more obvious?”

“What? Oh, hey, Susan.”

“Well it's great to see you too. How was your day? It was great. How about you?” Susan said, carrying on a conversation with herself.

“Sorry,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, right,” Susan said, cocking her head sideways. “I really believe it.”

Rachel threw a playful punch. “If I didn't know you any better, I would think you were jealous.”

“Jealous of what? A make-believe romance? Hardly.”

“No need to rub it in.”

“Just forget him. There are lots of great guys out there who are dying to go out with you.”

“Yeah right. They're knocking down my door. That's why I haven't had a date in five years.”

“Whose fault is that?” Susan asked, hands on hips.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? I mean that no guy is going to ask you out while you're following Kyle around like a puppy dog, especially not Kyle.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know for such a smart girl, you sure don't know much,” Susan quipped. “I mean that if you want to catch Kyle, you're going to have to play hard to get. Stop sitting near him and talking to him. Let him come to you.”

“What if he doesn't?” Rachel's voice betrayed her uncertainty.

“Then you move on.” Susan put an arm around her shoulders. “You can't go on waiting for something that may never happen. Give him lots of space and widen your horizons. Go out with Jason.”

Rachel groaned. “Not Jason again. He is so totally not my type.”

“Well then, somebody. Anybody,” Susan said, throwing her hands up in the air. “You never know. It might wake Kyle up to what he's missing.”

Rachel thought it over—it might just do that. But she hated the thought of using someone else to get Kyle to notice her. She would just play hard to get. If someone else asked her out. . .well, there was no reason she couldn't say yes. After all, she wasn't exactly committed to Kyle. She thought it over. Who would she go out with? Her acquaintances were pretty limited. She spent most of her time either at the community center or at the university. Just then Dr. Harris's face flashed across her mind, but was quickly extinguished. Like he would ever ask her out.

“Are you sleepwalking? I asked if you were ready to go,” Susan called.

“I'm coming.”

Rachel thought all night and most of the rest of the week about what Susan had said. It made sense. Men liked what they couldn't have. She made a decision that night to put a plan into action. Sunday she would sit across the church from Kyle, and she wouldn't talk to him. She would pretend she couldn't see him at all. It was going to take all the self-control she possessed and more. This was going to take more than she had. But she was determined. The decision made, she rolled over and tried to get to sleep. Pushing images of Kyle out of her mind, she drifted off to sleep, but just before dawn Randall Harris crept into her dreams and then vanished with the sunrise.

The next morning dawned bright and blue without a trace of snow. Alabama weather could really throw a person. A couple of days ago she was trudging through the snow and today she was tempted to wear a T-shirt and shorts. It was definitely spring. Rachel skipped across the quad in high spirits. Susan's suggestion had given her a spark of hope—something she hadn't had in a long time. She still wasn't sure how to pull it off, but she was working on it. She just had to keep her eyes open for any opportunity to put the plan into action. With a smile and a whistle she bounded up the stairs to her classroom.

Randy watched her pass. Her smile literally took his breath away. It took several seconds to slow down the thumping of his heart. Many times when she had been in his class he had found it hard to concentrate on the lecture when she smiled that smile. He opened and closed his pen ten times and then began to beat a rhythm on his desk. His roaming eyes fell on a flyer that had been buried under a pile of papers. Pulling it from the stack, he ignored the avalanche that slid onto the floor. Here was the answer to his dilemma. All he had to do was catch her on her way out of class. This would be the place to start.

Randy positioned his chair so he could watch for Rachel, holding a copy of
The Canterbury Tales
as if deep in the story—though any passerby wouldn't have been fooled because he was holding the book upside-down. Fortunately he put it aside before Rachel had a clear view.

“Rachel, I'm so glad you came by today.”

“I always come by on Monday afternoon. I have a class. Remember?” Rachel's smile widened, and her eyes twinkled.

“Of course. Of course. I had forgotten.” That was a lie. He had looked her schedule up on the computer and had committed it to memory. When he paused, Rachel gently nudged him.

“What did you want?”

“Oh, yes. I–I wanted to ask. . .or actually tell you about this.” He pulled the flyer off his desk, sending his pen and a bottle of Coke rolling to the floor. Luckily the cap was still on the bottle. He rushed to pick them up and threw them onto the chair. Rachel looked as if she were suppressing a laugh. He handed her the flyer announcing that a local historian would be speaking this evening on the history of some local buildings. “I know you have an interest in history and architecture from the presentation on the Victorian era that you did in class. I thought we might walk over together.”

Randy knew that Rachel loved learning about history, especially architecture—he could see it in the way her eyes sparkled whenever the topic came up. “That would be great. When did you want to go? This says the presentation doesn't start for another hour.”

“I was just about to go to The Magnolia for some coffee. Would you care to join me?” He tried to sound casual, but his erratic heartbeat was making it hard to breathe.

“Sure, that would be great. That way I won't have to lug this bag around all over the place.” Rachel smiled, patting the bag like a puppy.

“Well, just let me lock up and we'll be on our way.” He picked up his briefcase and jacket and searched for his keys. Rachel tapped him on the shoulder and moved past him.

“They're right here, professor.” Thankfully, she kept her smile from breaking out in laughter, causing small dimples in her cheeks to appear.

“Oh, yes. Right where I left them. Thank you.” The keys jingled as he tried to find the right key on the ring and then locked the door. “Okay. Let's go.”

They walked across the quad in companionable
silence, taking in the budding trees and blooming
flower-beds. He held the door open for her when they reached
The Magnolia. He picked out a table in the corner
which overlooked the quad. When the waitress came, Rachel ordered an amaretto cappuccino.

“You like cappuccino?” At her nod, Randy continued, “So do I, but I prefer French vanilla.” The waitress wrote down his order and disappeared behind the counter. The cafe was fairly busy for this time of day with people scattered throughout the room. Randy was looking around, trying to think of something to say when her bag caught his eye.

“What do you keep in that thing anyway?”

“This is what I call my portable office.” She pulled a chair out and heaved the bag into the seat. Opening the front flap revealed a series of little compartments. “Here you have your red pen, blue pen, black pen and a lavender pen for those color-sensitive students. Then, you have your sticky notes, calculator, ruler, and stapler. I also have chalk, dry erase markers, and scissors. You never know what you'll need.”

“Wow. A veritable stationery store.” His face relaxed into a smile.

“That's not all.”

“No?”

“No.” She unzipped a large section and pulled back the sides so he could see. “You have your dictionary, grammar guide, thesaurus, textbooks, and various student papers.”

“How much does all that weigh?” he asked, his eyes bulging in fascination.

“I don't want to know. I do know that it's giving my arms a workout.” They both laughed.

Talk turned to students and grading. They swapped ideas and lesson plans. After the waitress brought their order, they discussed literature and books in general. They had a lot in common, except he preferred modern and she Victorian. Looking down at her watch, Rachel said, “We'd better hurry or we'll be late.” She swallowed the last of her coffee and closed up her bag.

“Fashionably late.”

“As an English teacher you should know that there is no such thing as fashionably late. It's just plain late.” He threw back his head and laughed.

“You are very good with words,” he said. He could see a blush rise on her cheeks at the compliment.

“Thank you very much, kind sir,” she said, giving a mock curtsy. “I had an excellent teacher.” He inclined his head in gracious approval and offered his arm.

In an exaggerated Southern accent, he said, “May I escort the lady across the lawn?”

She took his arm with a solemn smile. “You most certainly may.” They had gone only a few feet when they both burst out laughing.

Randy's spirits soared as he walked across the campus with Rachel on his arm. It was the first time in a long time that he had had this much fun. After the first awkward moments were over, it seemed they had been friends for ages.

During the presentation, he spent more time watching
Rachel than listening to the speaker. He loved watch-ing
the sparkle and intensity in her face as she made
notes on what the speaker was saying. Her love of
learning was one of the things that had instantly attracted him. Tonight he realized that she was witty and funny. Now, more than ever, he wanted to get to know her on a personal basis.

Rachel listened to the speaker intently. Her ears had picked up at the mention of the community center. Dr. Miller was telling how the building had once been the town library, but it had been damaged in the Civil War. A new library had been built across town, leaving the building empty for several years. It had been used for various things over the years until it had been donated as a community center.

When the speaker moved on to talk about the post office, Rachel stole a glance at her companion. There was more to Dr. Harris than she had imagined. He had a wonderful sense of humor and a way of listening to what she said that made her feel special and interesting. No one had ever paid this much attention to what she had to say before, even when they were discussing literature. Kyle never. . .well, she wouldn't think about that now. She had vowed she would ignore him and make him see what he was missing. Other men found her intelligent. Although she suspected the professor was just being nice.

Just then their eyes met and he smiled. Her heart gave a funny flutter. It must have been the excitement of the evening. She felt the blood warm her cheeks, and she turned back to the speaker to hide her embarrassment.

Dr. Miller left the stage to applause, and everyone stood. Rachel stretched like a cat. “I can never get comfortable in these seats.”

“I know what you mean.” Dr. Harris pressed his hands into the small of his back with a frown. Rachel's stomach let out a growl, causing her face to glow and the professor to smile. Talking to her stomach, he said, “That's a good idea. Dinner would be just the thing.”

“I'm sorry. I'm keeping you from your dinner.”

“No such thing. It sounds more like I'm keeping you from yours,” he said, laughing.

“Well, I didn't have much lunch because I was late getting out of my other class. One of the students needed some extra help.”

“Then I guess I owe you dinner. Shall we?” He held out his arm again. “I know a quaint little Italian place within walking distance.” He pointed to her bag. “We could share the load.”

“There's really no need. I can just go home and grab a bite.”

“Nonsense. I'd like the company.”

“Well, if it's not a bother.”

He picked up her bag with a mock groan and then offered her his arm. Despite his reference to sharing the load, he carried the bag all the way to the restaurant. After a delicious dinner, he insisted on walking her to her door, only relinquishing the bag once they were under the porch light.

“Thanks for dinner and for carrying my bag,” she said, pulling at the strap.

“Thank you. I enjoyed it very much. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Maybe.”

“Good night, Rachel.”

“Good night, Dr. Harris.”

“Do you have to call me that? My name's Randy.”

“I'll try to remember, but old habits are hard to
break.” He smiled and waved good-bye as he turned to go. She watched him with mixed feelings. The evening had been wonderful, but what did he mean by doing this again? Was he talking about a date? A feeling of excitement welled up inside her, but she wasn't sure why. Was it the fact that her plan was starting to work without any effort on her part? Or that she really liked Dr. Harris. . . Randy?

Randy whistled his way home. The smile never left his face. He had taken the first step in his plan and things were going well. The next step was to get her to stop
calling him Dr. Harris. He took the stairs to his Vic-
torian house two at a time. For once, coming home was a pleasure, not a prison sentence. He had bought this house with the hopes of filling it with a family. As a year passed, the house itself seemed to mock his loneliness. His plans for the house had ceased to thrill him, and he had left several projects undone. He was realizing just how depressed and defeated he had become. He walked through the house, seeing it with new eyes. Inspiration and energy seemed to pump through his blood. He went inside and changed clothes and then starting stripping the parlor floor with enthusiasm. It was sometime after one o'clock before he went to bed,
still whistling a tune. One day he would have that fam
ily—maybe with Rachel.