more important…
She crossed the room and stood for a moment looking out the window at the throngs of students, wondering what her colleagues would think if they ever discovered the truth.
But, of course, none of these people could possibly learn the truth about Camilla Pritchard. As long as she kept everybody at arm’s length, there was no danger.
She pushed aside the fears, sat down at her desk and began to work.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Gwen Klassen appeared, looking brisk and cheerful. She was one of the professors who shared their suite of offices and taught the class of gifted primary children in their bright, toy-filled study center down the hall.
“Hi, Camilla,” she said, coming into the room. “I need to borrow a couple of your books on cognitive processes. Are you all ready for the new term?”
Camilla moved some papers so her colleague could sit on the corner of the desk. “Actually, I’m even less ready than usual.”
“You?” Gwen asked. “Go on. You’re so superorganized, I thought you always prepared about three years ahead,” she said as she perched on the desk, swinging her feet in their white running shoes.
Gwen was about fifty, with a slim figure, a shock of gray hair and a manner so sunny and engaging that even Camilla’s shyness and reserve tended to melt under its warmth. A born teacher, Gwen Klassen treated her scholarly colleagues exactly the way she did her little students, with a humorous, gentle indulgence that endeared her to everybody.
Camilla examined the file on her desk, containing class lists and an outline of her teaching schedule for the fall term. “I mean, I’m not emotionally prepared. I feel less ready every term,” she said in a rare display of her personal feelings. “I love teaching, but I keep thinking maybe I’m missing something. Like there should be…I don’t know.” She moved books around restlessly on her desk, trying to smile. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”
Gwen looked down at her with surprise and sympathy. “It sounds more like you’re getting burned out, honey. Why don’t you consider applying for a sabbatical? You know they’d give it to you in a minute, because there’s nobody on staff who deserves it more. You could spend a whole year doing research and writing, and come back feeling like a brand-new woman.”
“I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I took a sabbatical,” Camilla said. “A year off from teaching would be too long. I just need…some kind of change, I guess.”
“Like what?”
Camilla shrugged and leafed through some papers, embarrassed at having revealed so much of herself.
“Why don’t you come over to my place on Friday night?” Gwen said casually. “Dan and I are having a few people over. Barry and his wife, and Gail and Joe from the administration office, and one of the new professors who’s a whiz on the electric guitar. It should be a good time.”
“I don’t think so, thanks.” Camilla smiled regretfully at the other woman. “It sounds like fun, but I have…I have a prior commitment.”
To Camilla’s relief, Gwen didn’t ask about the commitment. Instead, she changed the subject with her usual tact.
“Did you go away at all?”
“Not really. I pretty much stayed home and looked after my cats, and did a lot of writing.”
“That’s not what Barry’s been telling people,” Gwen said with a brief grin.
Camilla sighed.
Barry Bellamy was another of their office-mates. He taught modern drama. He was a terrible gossip, and seemed fascinated by all the myths about Camilla’s background. In some perverse way, he enjoyed retelling and embroidering these far-fetched stories, as if contact with such an imposing personage somehow gave him additional status.
Camilla found it all embarrassing, but she didn’t know how to stop the man from gossiping and meddling in her life without revealing the dreadful truth about herself.
“Barry’s too much,” she said. “I don’t know where he comes up with all the stories he keeps telling people.”
Gwen gave her a keen, thoughtful glance. “So, have you looked over your class lists?” she asked after a moment.
“Briefly. The freshman class is pretty huge, but at least my senior-level creative-writing courses still look to be a decent size. I guess the full impact of the budget cuts hasn’t reached us yet.”
Gwen smiled happily. “Well, I’ve got a nice little group this year. You’ll love them, Camilla. Your first session with my kids is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, isn’t it?”
Camilla checked her calendar. “That’s right,” she said. “Two o’clock. I’m planning to do a study with some of them on the relationship between symbol recognition and the early development of reading skills. I’ve been collecting the research materials all summer.”
“We’ve got the cutest pair of twins this year,” Gwen said. “Seven years old, named Aaron and Amelia. Just darlings, both of them.”
“Twins?” Camilla said with interest. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had twins before.”
“I know. Even though they’re fraternal twins, a boy and a girl, they look almost identical. Wait till you see them, Camilla. They’ve got the sweetest smiles, and IQ’s so high we haven’t even been able to measure them properly. But they’re both quite reserved. I’m having a hard time getting close to them.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Out in western Saskatchewan. They were living on their family’s cattle ranch, attending first grade at an elementary school so far away they had to spend almost two hours on the bus every day.”
“Are they boarding at the university?” Camilla asked.
Gwen shook her head. “Their father bought a property on the edge of the city. He’s divorced—I’m not sure where the mother lives. But he moved out here with them so they could attend the study group.”
“What about the ranch? Did he have to sell it?”
“Apparently, money is no problem for this guy. He turned over the ranch to a foreman and flies his own plane back to Saskatchewan every weekend to oversee the ranching operation.”
“All this,” Camilla asked, “just to get his kids into an accelerated program for a few years?”
“Not entirely. He also has a couple of other children who’ll benefit from the better schooling opportunities in the city. In fact, one of them’s a freshman here on campus. And guess what?”
“What?” Camilla asked.
“The man… Jonathan Campbell, that’s his name…he’s actually taking a full load of courses himself. He says it’s a good way to fill his time since he has to spend the winter in the city, and—” Gwen stopped midsentence. “Camilla,”
