Private Lessons (11 page)

T
here were only six weeks left to the semester and they were the most difficult weeks of Naomi's life. Besides Trevor appearing at every turn, asking her out or wanting to “talk,” to which she dismissed every advance, she had to look at Brice's icy gaze every time she set foot in the lecture hall. Being so close to him and knowing how deeply she'd hurt and disappointed him was unbearable.

She was off her teaching stride, and several of her students had come to her after classes to ask if she was all right. The students would have to ask her a question more than once before she would respond, and then her answers would be short and sometimes condescending. It was so unlike her, and
she didn't know what to do about it. It got so bad that she received a note to see the chairman of the department.

She wasn't looking forward to it, especially with the board's decision on the horizon. But maybe she'd successfully sabotaged herself and she could no longer be concerned about someone else doing it for her.

She packed up her briefcase. The note read that she should come directly after her last class. She steeled herself and crossed the campus to the administrative offices. When she arrived at reception she was told to go right in and that the chairman was expecting her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

The receptionist offered a sympathetic smile, knowing that not much good ever came out of being summoned to the chairman's office.

Naomi tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in,” he barked, as if she should have known better than to knock.

Naomi eased the door open and entered the inner sanctum of the chairman's office.

Chairman Fielding had more degrees than wall space. He was an international lecturer on African, Caribbean and African-American culture, with two doctorates in literature. He'd taught for twenty-five years and became chair of the department nearly a decade ago. He took his job—the charge of teaching and the teachers who taught in his department at
his behest—seriously. He always reminded her of Thurgood Marshall, right down to the thick, black-framed glasses.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Fielding.”

He barely looked up. “Please sit down.”

She smoothed her skirt and did as she was instructed.

He swept his glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them on the desk next to a stack of textbooks and folders.

“How long have you been teaching at Atlanta College?”

“Almost ten years.”

“I've been looking over your vitae. Impressive.” He peered at her as if to get her into focus. “In all the time that you have been here, I've never received a complaint, until recently.” He linked his thick fingers together on top of the desk.

She swallowed.

“Two of your students have asked to be transferred out of your class. Although it's a moot point at this time in the semester, it gave me great concern.” He leaned forward. “Would you care to explain, Dr. Clarke?”

“I'm sure it's a misunderstanding of some sort. And I have always maintained an open policy with my students that they could come to me if there was a problem.”

He flipped through some notes. “It appears that you've cancelled or simply have not shown up on
several of your office days. Would you care to explain that?” He waited.

Naomi's thoughts were running in circles. Why didn't he just put her on the skewer, roast her and get it over with?

“I've had a lot on my mind lately, Dr. Fielding, and I've…allowed it to interfere with my class and my students. But I assure you, sir, the curriculum has not suffered.”

“Dr. Clarke, it's more than the curriculum, it's more than what is between the pages of a book, or a discovery on a field trip. It is the mental connection that you make with your students, your ability to engage them, challenge them, open their minds. You can't do that, Dr. Clarke, when your body is in the class but your mind and your heart are elsewhere.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Had this been earlier in the semester, I would seriously consider removing you. I hand-pick the professors for my department. And it's with great care and consideration that I do so, because I have very high expectations. And I expect my professors to deliver. And when they can't…” he waved his hand in the air. “Then it's time for them to be someone else's concern.” He paused. “Do I make myself clear, Dr. Clarke?”

“Yes, Dr. Fielding.”

“Good.” He lifted his glasses from the desk and put them back on and returned to whatever it was he was doing before she came in.

On shoestring legs, she managed to stand up. “Thank you, sir.”

He didn't respond. Naomi drew in a breath, turned and walked out.

“You're lucky,” the receptionist whispered. “He must like you. There's generally a lot of yelling.” She waved goodbye as Naomi walked out into the corridor.

She walked straight to the water fountain and gulped down mouthfuls of water. She was actually shaking. By some fluke, she hadn't been fired. Well, they couldn't actually fire her, but they sure could transfer her to Siberia within the college, or make her life so miserable that she would leave on her own.

She ran some cold water on her hand and pressed it to her forehead, and then her throat.

“Why don't you let me do that sometimes?”

She spun around. Trevor was standing behind her.

“Go to hell, Trevor.” She brushed by him, but he quickly fell in step next to her.

“You've been trying to get me to go there for a while, Nay, and it's not working.”

“It's clear that they don't want you, either.” She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, then doubled her step.

He chuckled. “Still have that sense of humor. It was one of the things I always loved about you.”

She stopped short and turned to face him. “You
don't have a clue what love is, Trevor. You never have and you never will.”

“You're wrong about that.”

“I've been wrong about a lot of things when it comes to you, but that isn't one of them.”

She started off again and he grabbed her arm and quickly let it go when he saw the fire flash in her eyes.

“Why won't you at least give me a chance, Naomi? I know I messed up. But give me a chance to make it up to you.”

She looked him hard in the eyes. “I'm not that naive woman you left for Melissa two years ago. What you did to me took the blinders off. You hurt me so deep in my soul I didn't think anything could ever fill it, not work, not friends, not anything. But I found someone Trevor, someone who is genuine and cares for me. Who wants to make sure that I'm happy and cared for. I never did anything but love you,” she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking with emotion. “It wasn't enough.” She watched the truth jerk beneath his smooth skin, and his glance dart away under the weight of what he knew to be true.

“But I'm happy now. And I'm over you. So you can do whatever you want, try whatever you want. It doesn't matter. Trevor, the only person you're concerned with is yourself. You always have been. You didn't come back here for me. You came here because they kicked you out of Morehouse.” His
confident expression faltered like a stack of dominos that was beginning to fall. She chortled. “You didn't think I knew that, did you? You didn't think I knew that you were fudging reports and papers, and it all caught up with you?” She nodded her head as she watched the cavalier expression turn sheepish and ashamed.

“They may have tried to protect you by keeping it hush-hush, but I have friends, too.” She blew out a breath. “Leave me alone, Trevor. Go on with your life and I'll go on with mine. I'm happy again and there's nothing you can ever do to hurt me. It's over. And if you ever cared about me as you claim you do, even a little bit, you'll leave me to my happiness.”
Happy
. She wished it were true.

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in a pool of his tarnished arrogance.

She had to pull her act together, and sticking it to Trevor the way she just did was the confidence boost that she'd needed.

She'd found out about his problems shortly after he turned up on her doorstep, during a casual conversation over drinks with a colleague of hers who taught undergrads at Morehouse.

Naomi never had any intention of using the information about Trevor, but he'd pushed her last button. She'd never even shared the information with Alexis. She promised her friend that she wouldn't breathe a word to anyone, and she hadn't—until now.
And in her mind, Trevor didn't count. She certainly wasn't telling him anything he didn't know.

She stepped outside into the balmy afternoon and glanced around at the sea of eager faces. She'd come here because she loved teaching. She loved sharing what she knew and it was time that she got back in the game.

Dr. Fielding was right. He didn't bring her into his department to take up space. And she wouldn't. Starting tomorrow, the old Naomi Clarke would be at the head of the class.

She crossed the campus to the parking lot and got in her car. She was going to go home, fix a light dinner, prepare her notes for the next day and do some real soul searching.

She pulled out of the lot, intent on her agenda, and never saw the car following behind her.

B
rice picked through his clothing, deciding what he was going to wear to the meeting, then packed them in his suitcase. He was glad that the investors that Carl had been working with were willing to meet late on Friday. That would give him time to prepare
and
finish up classes for the week.

Getting away for a couple of days would do him good. Since the blowout with Naomi, it had been pure torture to sit in her class, look at her, listen to her, know what you had, and realize that it was over. Over for reasons that she had yet to explain to him.

He jammed some socks in the suitcase. If she would have just given him a chance to explain what
he'd done, maybe they would be together now. He closed the suitcase.

What did it matter? She'd made up her mind. Maybe she went back to her ex. Maybe the dean position took precedence. He didn't know. He didn't care. He walked past the dresser's mirror and caught his reflection. Who was he kidding? Of course he cared. Too much. He'd dreamed of her—at least on the nights that he could sleep, he heard her voice in crowds, smelled her scent. Sometimes her presence was so powerful that he'd turn in his bed at night and swear that she'd been there.

There had been so many times when he'd picked up the phone, dialed her number and cut off the call before it started to ring. He'd get up late at night and drive around the city, often finding himself in front of her door, looking up at her window.

Yeah, getting away would do him good. And in a few weeks this part of his fellowship would be over and he'd be back in New York, and maybe he could start putting this chapter of his life behind him.

He went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water. He leaned against the counter and took a long drink. He missed her. The idea burst in his head. Missed her so badly that it felt as if a part of him had been carved out and tossed away. How do you get over that? How do you ever feel better?

He'd never been in love before. Not real love. So this must be that heartache thing that he'd heard about and always tossed off as silly. It wasn't, and
it hurt. And he needed to put an end to it once and for all, because he knew he couldn't keep living like this.

 

“You did what?” Alexis chuckled into the phone. “It's about time you told that a-hole off. Good for you.”

“It did feel good,” she admitted. She'd told Alexis about her encounter with Trevor, leaving out the part about Morehouse. A promise is a promise, she reminded herself, even though she'd been itching to share that tidbit of info with Alexis for a while.

“Long overdue,” Alexis was saying.

“I know.”

“So the good Doctor gave you a reprieve. You're lucky.”

“That's what I keep telling myself. He made it clear that if it was earlier in the semester he would have kicked me out of the department.”

“Hmm. Thank goodness for tenure, or he could kick you out of school.”

“Believe me, I know I missed the bullet today. Well, I need to go over some notes for tomorrow and turn in early. I ordered Chinese for dinner. I wish they would hurry up. But in any event, I intend to do a Patti LaBelle and have a new attitude starting right now.”

“Good for you. Well, I'll let you get to it. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Night.”

Naomi put the phone down on the coffee table just as her bell rang.

“Coming,” she called out, and went to get her purse. She went to open the door and the mouthwatering scent of sesame chicken and lo mein greeted her. “How much is that?” She took the plastic bag.

“Ten seventy-five.”

She handed him a twenty, waited for her change, then gave him a dollar tip. “I hope I have my hot mustard in here,” she said, peering down into the bag.

“Have enough for two?”

Her head jerked up. She hadn't seen him come up the walkway, but there he was standing at the bottom of the steps.

The delivery boy trotted down the stairs and back to his car.

“Brice…this isn't a good idea.”

He came up one step and then another. “It's the best idea I've had in weeks.”

Less than a foot separated them.

“I've missed you like crazy,” he admitted. His eyes rolled up and down her face and settled on her eyes. “Tell me that you don't feel the same way and I'll turn around and go away.” He waited.

“I can make it stretch for two.”

He felt like a lottery winner.

She took his hand and closed the door be hind them.

The moment was captured on camera.

 

“You went to the president of the college?” she asked, dumbfounded by what he had done.

“I wanted some clarity on the policy. I'd met the president some years ago and was reintroduced when I came here. He gave the impression that above all else he's fair and open-minded.”

Naomi slowly chewed on a piece of chicken. “Go on.”

“Well, I used a totally hypothetical situation, of course. And he promised to get back to me—and he did.”

“What hypothetical situation?”

“Okay, what if a professor met a potential student, off-duty and off-campus, and they started dating, only to find out later what kind of situation they were in. And that the student wasn't really a student but a visiting fellow.” He grinned. “That's when he shot me a look and his eyebrows rose.”

Naomi giggled. “Go ahead. What did he finally tell you?”

“He said that visiting fellows were not considered matriculated students, and that although the scenario was highly irregular, there was no rule against it. He did warn me that ‘whoever' this person was should still be discreet. No reason to cause talk, he said.”

“That's what you were trying to tell me,” she said, her voice laden with guilt.

“Yeah, but that's all water under the bridge now.” He reached across the table and took her hand. His gaze caressed her. His thumb brushed lightly across her fingers.

The pieces to the broken puzzle of his life were beginning to come together again. That ache that sat in the center of his chest began to ease, and he could take deep breaths without hurting inside. This is what he had been missing.

He'd wanted to convince himself that he could move on, that he could push Naomi and what they had to the back of his mind. But he couldn't. And every day that he rose and slept, the purpose of it all escaping him, reconfirmed that inescapable fact: his life was empty without her.

Naomi lowered her eyes, tried to find the words to explain that, although what he'd done for them with the college was just short of heroic, she understood that the hurdle crossed was fine for their immediate reality, but what about when school ended and he went back to his life in New York and the rigors of getting his dream turned into reality. There were too many miles, too many demands that would separate them, make them resentful. She didn't want to see that happen between them. She wanted him to have his shot, and she didn't want to be the one that distracted him from it. He would come to resent her, and that was something she could not bear.

“Brice,” she began softly. “I can't tell you how much it means to me what you did.” She ran her tongue across her lips. “And for now that's fine. For the next few weeks that's fine. But then there is the rest of reality.” She leaned forward, passion brimming in her eyes and her voice. She needed him to understand. “You have to go back to New York. You have to do everything within your power to make your dream of opening that school come true.” She looked away for a moment. “You can't do that running back and forth to Atlanta. I can't leave and you can't stay.”

“Oh, ye of little faith. You still don't get it yet, do you, baby?”

Her brows drew together. “Get what?”

He took a breath. “I'm in this for the long run. Not the sprint. I know things are going to be tough, but we're going to work it out. And if things fall into place the way I anticipate, we'll have much less to worry about than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll know more after Friday, and I'll tell you everything, I promise.” He took her hands and brought them to his lips. He placed a tender kiss on them. “I know what you were trying to do, Nay. You'd rather sacrifice us and your happiness so that I could have mine. But don't you understand, baby, that since you've been in my life, you have become that driving force. I could put up a million schools,
reshape thousands of young, strong black men's lives, but at the end of the day I want you there.”

Her heart was so full that it spilled over and slid down her eyes.

“Look at me,” he said with a tenderness that was like a lullaby.

“I love you, Naomi. From the bottom of my soul, I love you. And whatever I need to do to make sure that every day that you walk this earth it's with me at your side, I'm going to find a way to make it happen.”

The tears flowed so freely and so fast they clouded her vision, but she found his lips and kissed him with all the thanks and happiness and longing and passion that she had bottled up inside. He loved her. He loved her and she knew it was true and solid and forever.

And she told him. It poured from her lips and radiated from her body when they coupled and moved as one. She showed him by giving herself to him like she hadn't with anyone before. She bound them deep inside her body, hollowing out a place in her soul where they could always meet, no matter where they were in the world. And she whispered it in his ear, against his mouth, along the valley of his shoulder, with her fingertips, the rise and fall of her pelvis against his. She told him over and over again.

“I love you, Brice.”

And he knew that no matter where he was in the world, this was home.

 

They spent most of the night snuggled together, talking in low whispers, as if they wanted to be sure
that they'd shut out the world from their hopes and dreams and secrets.

Much too soon the sun was beginning to light up the sky and part the night like a theater curtain, offering the moon and the stars their final bow.

“I probably should be getting out of here,” Brice said, although he hadn't moved an inch.

Naomi tightened her hold on his waist. “Hmm, not yet,” she said, her voice still filled with intermittent sleep.

He kissed the top of her head. “Need to take care of a few things before I head out this afternoon.”

“You sure you can't tell me?”

“I promise, I'll tell you everything the minute I get back.”

She pouted then pushed up to a sitting position in bed. She brushed away the tangled mass of hair from her face and looked across at him. “Fine,” she said, trying to sound put out. “Don't tell me.”

Brice chuckled. “Oh, don't try the old wounded trick. It's not going to work.” He reached around and pulled her down on the bed and quickly pinned her beneath him. “But this might,” he said, his eyes darkening as he pushed her thighs apart and lifted her hips to meet the thrust of his entry. He groaned deep in his throat as he slid inside her, shoving the air out of Naomi's lungs so that it escaped in a gasp from her lips.

She lifted her knees and pressed them firmly
against his sides, holding him in place. And then they found their special rhythm….

 

More than an hour later, Naomi, thoroughly loved up and happily tired, leaned in her doorway kissing Brice goodbye.

“I'm going to miss you,” she confessed.

He slid his hand between the folds of her robe and slowly caressed her, traveling downward to tease her one last time. She whimpered in delight before tugging his hand away.

“You'll never leave if you keep that up,” she warned.

“Hmm, I know.” He opened the door and he kissed her again. “I'll be back tomorrow morning. But I'll call you tonight.” He pecked her on the lips again. “I love you.

“I love you, too.”

He jogged down the steps and out into the already humid morning.

Naomi stood there for a moment and waved, as he backed out of the driveway, before going back inside.

The camera documented every move.