Romance of the Written Word

By Judy-Lynne

Jump to new as of July 8, 2002

Chapter One

Posted on Tuesday, 2 July 2002

"Now there beats the heart of a true romantic," Paul said with a small chuckle as he reached across the table and handed the story to his partner, who turned back the cover page and began to read.

"Which one is this?" he asked with slight amusement.

"The dark, brooding one who wrote that very short, haunting story I read to you," Paul replied as he picked up the next page.

"And the assignment this time?"

"The students were asked to go back to their first story and write another romance, using the same setting as a starting point. It had to be in the third person and there's an added challenge--a prop." Paul's partner frowned.

"What manner of prop?" Paul shrugged.

"I let the students draw one from my magic bag of tricks," he smiled. "William got a book, so he had to write a story that fit the theme, 'romance of the written word.' A book has to figure prominently in the plot. This one," he said, referring to the paper in his hand, "also got a book."

"You need more props."

"Read!"

Romance of the Written Word

William Darcy stretched out his long legs and yawned. He'd been cooped up in the first class section of the jumbo jet for hours and his frustration at the confinement was beginning to grate upon his temper. He folded his newspaper and turned off the overhead light to get some sleep, but soon found it impossible to relax completely. In his aggravated state, he chose to blame his inability to sleep on the fact that the light over the seat behind him was still on. It was, in fact, the only light on in the entire cabin. William growled to himself about the thoughtlessness of others and rose to turn it off. However, when he peered over the back of his seat he saw that the woman sitting behind him was still reading.

"Would you mind turning that light out?" he said with a hint of annoyance. "Everyone in the cabin is trying to sleep." Lizzy looked up from her book and into the dark and angry eyes of the handsome man before her.

"That's obviously not true," she said, matching his tone in a fierce whisper. "As you can see, I am still reading."

"Well, do you expect to stop any time soon? It's nearly two in the morning!"

"You didn't hear me complain when you dictated six letters into your recorder an hour ago," Lizzy retorted. William was taken aback by Lizzy's directness and he was forced to pause.

"You should have," he said mildly. Lizzy smiled in spite of herself and raised her book. William took that to be an act of defiance and sarcastically asked what she was reading.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass," Lizzy said, holding up her battered paperback. "I always read it when I travel." William eyed her suspiciously.

"Well, if you've read it so many times, I should wonder that you couldn't turn off the bloody light and recite the thing from memory." Lizzy was more amused than offended and decided to rise to his bait.

"Who said I traveled often? The fact is, I hate flying and I'm a bit claustrophobic," she said, only slightly exaggerating the truth. "Reading Alice keeps me busy and takes my mind off more unpleasant things." Such as gorgeous men with attitudes, Lizzy left unsaid. She turned to the window and peered out for a second, shuddering for added effect. William frowned.

"Why don't you just go to sleep? That would make the time pass more quickly and you wouldn't think about 'more unpleasant things'."

"That's the problem; I can't fall asleep!" Lizzy said, glancing sidelong at the passenger beside her. "When I close my eyes I think about all sorts of things that might happen in a pressurized tin can, six miles above the world's largest ocean..."

"Well, couldn't your gentleman friend there help you?" William asked, gesturing at the man sleeping in the seat beside Lizzy.

"He's not my gentleman friend and he fell asleep hours ago." William sighed dramatically, as if coming to a decision.

"Come over here, then," he said, indicating the empty seat beside his. "You'll never fall asleep sitting in a window seat like that." Lizzy stared at William for a second.

"Why should I? You'll like it even less when I put the light on over there."

"No, I won't. Come on. I'll tolerate your light until you've fallen asleep, I promise," William said. He seemed impatient and short-tempered, but something about him was also rather endearing. She smiled and quietly rose to join the odd but very attractive man, thinking that he was the youngest and sexiest curmudgeon she'd ever met. As she sat down beside him she realized who she'd been speaking with. The CEO of the Darcy corporate empire had recently graced the cover of a national magazine. She didn't allow that to color her judgment, however. He was a bit self-absorbed, in her estimation, and probably far too accustomed to having people comply with his every whim. But William surprised her once she'd settled in by making light, meaningless conversation and immediately putting her at ease.

"Is this guy the real William Darcy?"

"He's the real William Darcy, III. His dad is the entrepreneurial whiz in the family. He referred himself the heir apparent/entrepreneurial whiz in training. When he introduced himself in class."

"Wow."

"Go on reading," Paul urged. I'd like to hear your take on the story."

He soon learned that his pretty companion was named Lizzy Bennet and she was going back to Tokyo for her first visit in ten years. Lizzy had been born there while her father worked in the American embassy. William soon extracted from Lizzy the fact that she would be visiting an old friend with whom she had continued an acquaintance since childhood and that her stay was to last a week. In turn, William identified himself by first name only and said that he was a businessman who'd be in Tokyo for a few days of meetings. Lizzy couldn't decide whether or not he was intentionally being coy but after a short time she ceased to care. The pair chatted quietly for several minutes and Lizzy found herself completely relaxed for the first time since boarding the plane. When there was a lull in the conversation, William picked up the book on her lap.

"May I?" he asked. Lizzy relinquished the book and William flipped through the pages. "It's been years since I read this," he said as he found "Jabberwocky" and began to read aloud.

T'was brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lizzy was enchanted by his recital and turned slightly in her seat to watch his performance. In minutes, however, her eyes began to feel drowsy and her smile drooped as she nodded off to sleep. William read on for a few minutes before he signaled for the attendant, who brought a blanket for Lizzy. William turned off the overhead lights and promptly fell asleep himself. Several hours later, William awoke. He went to refresh himself, returning to his seat just as Lizzy began to stir. He picked up her book, flipped a few pages forward and began to read aloud again as she opened her eyes.

The fishes answered with a grin,
'Why, what a temper you are in!'

Lizzy smiled and looked at William.

"How long have I been asleep?" William checked his watch.

"Oh, nearly five hours. We should be landing soon."

"And you've been reading aloud all that time?" William smiled and shook his head.

"No, not really," he confessed. "I would have if you needed it, though. I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress."

"Thank you. No one would have read me to sleep in coach," Lizzy said, explaining to William over breakfast that she was originally supposed to be flying coach but got an upgrade after being bumped off an earlier flight. She carefully observed William's face to see if he would be daunted by the revelation, but she saw none.

The plane arrived in Tokyo and the pair disembarked. They said their goodbyes at the gate and William stopped to watch Lizzy being embraced by her friend before he got into a waiting limousine. It was only then that he realized he was still carrying her book. Lizzy made the same discovery hours later, but on reflection, decided that it was all right. She would have no difficulty obtaining another copy of the book, even if she had to get it in Japanese. She also harbored a secret hope that William would keep the book as a memento of her.

Seven days passed and Lizzy bade a tearful goodbye to her friend Emiko before approaching the airport's check-in counter. The attendant there told her that there had been a change in her ticket. Lizzy was upset by this news. She didn't mind being bumped on her flight to Japan, however, it was critical that she return to New York in a timely fashion and did not want to be bumped from her seat again. The attendant quickly explained, however, that Lizzy was not being taken off her flight and handed Lizzy a first class ticket.

"I don't understand; I thought the upgrade only applied one way." The attendant could offer no explanation, so Lizzy simply shrugged and headed for the gate. She had settled into her seat when she noticed her beloved old book sitting in the empty seat beside hers. She picked it up and immediately looked around. A moment later, William joined her and a realization dawned.

"Hello," he said with an easy smile as he took his seat and settled in.

"You changed my ticket!" was all Lizzy could manage.

"Yes, and I also hung around Tokyo for three extra days." Lizzy's mouth fell open. "I was rather worried about you."

"You needn't have," Lizzy said as she struggled to find her voice and lowered her face in an attempt to hide her blush. "I bought another copy," she admitted sheepishly.

"But who would read you to sleep in coach?" William asked. Lizzy gasped and sat back. William carefully reached over and fastened her seatbelt before attending to his own. As the jet began to taxi down the runway, William stole a glance at Lizzy. She was tense and breathing heavily, evidence of both her internal struggle with her phobia and her confusion as to William's actions. "You know, you don't have to read a fairy tale to get through this," he said gently. "There are other, simpler remedies." Lizzy felt William place his hand over hers and give it a squeeze. She smiled gratefully and took hold of it, letting go only out of necessity till the plane touched down in New York some sixteen hours later.

End.

"What is it with you and romances, anyway?" Paul smiled at his partner's question.

"Romances are fun assignments. They can be light and frivolous, or quite serious and brooding, like William's first story. And, using the author as the main character, the writer learns something about himself and about the character he is trying to portray. Besides," Paul said as he reached out to stroke his partner's cheek, "I, too have the heart of a true romantic." His partner smiled into the caress.

"He gave his leading lady a name this time."

"Yes! Lizzy is the woman I paired him with in the first class. The second part of this project called for the students to make use of the critique they received on the first day of class and incorporate it into this story. The students also had to submit their assignments to the person who gave them that critique and get their comments on the second story as well. The real point of this exercise is to see how well the students respond to criticism."

"And to see if your plotting worked, I take it."

"Well, that, too."

"What was your success?"

"Very interesting; William and Lizzy became a couple before they left the class that first night. They've been arriving and leaving class together ever since, and as you saw, William put Lizzy into his story. With the other couple, I'm not quite so sure."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. There's definitely interest, but they seem to be moving a lot more slowly, possibly because they both have rather demanding schedules. Richard's already had to bail out of class once because he's been called into surgery, and last week, Olivia submitted her homework from an office in Washington," Paul sighed.

"Well, you win some, you lose some."

"I'm not ready to give up on those two yet," Paul insisted. "After rigging two assignments to draw them together, I'm convinced that they have real potential--if I can get them both in the same room at the same time again." He became rather pensive for a moment before he returned his attention to Olivia's story.

Romance of the Written Word

Olivia had recently been transferred to an office in the nation's capital, and spent the better part of her first two weeks unpacking and settling into her apartment. Once that task was completed, however, Olivia grew bored. She knew virtually no one outside of her office and had yet to meet any of her neighbors. She decided to spend her Saturday exploring her new environs and began with a walk through her neighborhood. Some of it had already become familiar to her as she had immediately sought out places from which to buy groceries, a dry cleaner, the post office and other essential services. But on that Saturday she was looking only for things to pique her interest and relieve her boredom. Thus, she entered a large bookstore and wandering among its shelves. There was plenty a distraction to be found in the spacious shop. Olivia bought a novel and curled up to read it in the store's café on the balcony.

When she rose to leave a while later, she noticed a community bulletin board and was intrigued by a colorful recruitment poster. She immediately sought ought the manager of the children's department and left the store an hour later with a new part-time job.

The following Saturday, Olivia woke up with a sense of eagerness and anticipation. She ate a good breakfast before heading over to the bookstore. The manager, Carl, handed her a book and suggested that she do a little reading in advance. Olivia took the book up to the café and read it over a cup of coffee. At 11:00, she went back down to the children's department to begin her new job as a storyteller. She enjoyed herself immensely as she watched the eager faces of the children before her. They seemed to enjoy her recitation and when it was time to do her second story an hour later, she was pleased to find that several of the children had stayed to hear her tell her story a second time.

Carl came to watch Olivia's first performance, but during the second reading she noticed another man standing in the back of the crowd. He was rather handsome and he smiled as he folded his arms and listened to the story. Olivia found his gaze somewhat distracting and reminding herself that she shouldn't be having such thoughts about some child's father, she schooled herself to focus on entertaining her audience. Her second reading was even more successful than the first. After accepting the enthusiastic applause of the children sitting cross-legged on the floor before her, Olivia scrambled to her feet to hawk the book of Celtic fairytales she'd been reading from.

"You have a real gift for storytelling." Olivia turned and found herself looking into the intense blue eyes of the man from the back of the room.

"Thank you," she managed. "Which of these little ankle biters is yours?" she asked, averting her gaze to hide her blush.

"Oh, I don't have any children. I just like a good story." Olivia smiled weakly and turned to answer a question about the book. When she was free to turn around again, the handsome stranger had disappeared.

But not for long; in the ensuing three weeks, the stranger appeared at her second reading. He always made a point of paying her a compliment and thanking her. Olivia was more than a little intrigued by the man, but she was also slightly spooked by the notion of a man without children hanging around the children's department and began to wonder if she should mention him to Carl. She made a point of carefully watching all the children in her midst, and noted to her relief, that the man always walked away alone after speaking with her, showing no apparent interest in any of the children. Olivia finally concluded that her fears were unwarranted.

"You know, they do hold readings here in the store for adults," she blurted out to him one Saturday.

"Do you do any of them?" the handsome stranger asked.

"Uh...no."

"Well, then I'll just have to keep coming to hear the children's readings, then." He smiled and walked away. Olivia decided that the stranger was very strange indeed.

Carl called her at her office on a Friday afternoon and asked Olivia if she would be available to read stories on a Sunday. Olivia was hesitant to expand her hours. She was not in need of the money. She read to the children for the sheer pleasure of it. But Carl quickly explained that it would only be for the one day. One of the storytellers at another bookstore near Dupont Circle would be unable to read on Sunday and he was looking for a substitute. Olivia readily agreed to fill in for her.

She arrived on Sunday at a store even larger and better stocked than the one in her neighborhood. In her ignorance, Olivia had not realized that her local bookstore was part of a small chain of stores in the region and the one near her was the smallest of the lot. She sat down to read her book and quickly lost herself in her story. By now, she'd developed a practice of getting the children to participate and she was very well received by the large crowd that had gathered to hear her tell her tale. When it dispersed, Olivia was very surprised to see the same man who'd come to hear her read every week at her local store.

"You get better at this every week," he said with an earnest smile.

"Well, practice makes perfect," Olivia said a bit uncomfortably, as it occurred to her that perhaps she was the man's target rather than the children. Olivia retreated to the backroom as soon as she could and was relieved when the man did not reappear at her third reading of the afternoon.

And yet, when the stranger failed to appear the following Saturday she felt somewhat disappointed. She told herself that she was being foolish and ought to be pleased, but she missed his encouraging smile and beautiful eyes. When she was done for the day she went up to the café for a coffee and sat reading a magazine for a while. An hour later she descended to the main level and was heading for the door when she saw the man speaking to the security guard at the door. Olivia froze momentarily, fearing that the man might follow her home if she left then. She decided that she would leave anyway, and if he tried to follow her she would be careful not to lead him to her home. She took a deep breath and approached the door. The man smiled the moment he saw her.

"I missed your story today," he said with genuine regret.

"Yes," Olivia said with more confidence than she felt. "I must confess I was rather disappointed." She quickly bit her tongue, having not intended to say that aloud. Her admission was rewarded with a smile.

"So was I, but there was a bit of a commotion down here and I was distracted. May I ask you something?" the man said, leading Olivia slightly away from the guard. Olivia looked back at the uniformed man and then nodded. "Why aren't you doing more readings?" The stranger plucked an events calendar from a rack near the door. "You're really great at it and it seems to me that you could sell out the whole department if you did a few more readings each weekend."

"Well, that's very flattering, but...this is only a part-time job...I--." Olivia sputtered to a stop. She really didn't know what to say and she became completely flabbergasted when she saw the man wave Carl over.

"What's up?" he asked pleasantly.

I'm trapped here with a psycho, Olivia thought, that's what's up!

"I was just telling Olivia what a wonderful job she's doing with her readings. Do you think we could find more hours for her, if she's amenable, that is?"

"I...I--."

"She's been wildly popular," Carl agreed. "I knew she'd be a hit when she read for me in my office that first time. But I don't think our budget can handle it, really. We've already had to cut back on personnel hours since the Christmas holidays."

"Well, let me see what I can do about getting you more resources. If Olivia is going to have fifty families making this place a regular part of their Saturday morning activities, we ought to be able to scrounge up some cash for both her and a few sales personnel to handle the volume she creates. I'll speak to you soon. Goodbye, Olivia." With that the stranger turned and left. Olivia was completely flummoxed.

"Who the heck is that guy?"

"Daniel? He's the owner," Carl said. "He lives down the street and likes to come in and wander around on the weekends. This was his first store and his favorite of the five he now owns." Olivia forced her mouth shut and nodded. She waved goodbye to Carl and returned home.

The following Saturday she smiled back at the stranger, who now had an identity, with new warmth and like moth to flame, he was drawn to her at the end of her reading.

"I believe I owe you an apology, Daniel," she said softly.

"Really? Why?"

"I thought you were a nut case, hanging around listening to me read children's books every week." Daniel laughed at her remark and Olivia blushed.

"You wouldn't be the first. But I happen to like children's stories. My grandmother used to write them for a living and she'd read them to me on rainy afternoons. I want to have a houseful of kids someday and have you read to them."

"Oh, so that's why you're offering me more hours," Olivia chuckled, "you want to keep me here until you have a brood for me to read to." Daniel smiled.

"Actually, I thought I'd just keep you here until we started having them." Olivia froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "But we can discuss all that later. For now, I'd be honored if you joined me for lunch." Olivia breathed again and accepted his offered arm.

End.

Paul smiled as he finished reading and laid aside the paper to refill his and his partner's coffee mugs.

"Another good one?"

"Yes; I'm really enjoying this class."

"These stories are all rather short," his partner observed.

"Well, they're exercises to get the class's creative juices flowing. You should go to the class site and take a look at their individual work. William has completed four chapters of a novel that's quite good. Another student is writing an autobiographical account of her childhood that's absolutely compelling."

"What about the comedian?"

"Richard? I showed you that science fiction piece last week; that was his."

"And what's William's Lizzy writing?"

"A period romance; not my thing, really, but she's got a fascination with Austen, Radcliffe and Richardson and wanted to try something in that vein."

"Your students really run the gamut this semester."

"Yeah, and I'm really enjoying the diversity. Last time, everyone wanted to either be J.K. Rowling or Danielle Steele. It got very tedious after three weeks of reading nothing but fantasy and trash."

"Shame on you! You shouldn't knock their aspirations! Both of those writers are very successful!"

"But that's my point," Paul exclaimed. "They wanted to be successful writers. I'm not sure they really wanted to write. These students do," he said as he patted the stack on homework in front of him. "I love working with students like these."

"So, how's that second story? Is it as good as William's?"

"It's cute; they're both rather original concepts," Paul said as he passed Olivia's story over to his partner.

"They're cheating, aren't they? The setting for William's first story wasn't an airplane as I recall."

"No, but I am encouraging them to use artistic license. William's obsession did begin on an airplane, even if his story didn't. And Olivia's, there, began in Washington last time. I can be flexible about that. What I'm most interested in are the comments they got on their first story and this one." Paul opened a file and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "I pulled the critiques off the website to read," he explained. "Here's Lizzy's critique of William's original story:

Compelling, haunted; captures the reader's attention and holds it throughout. Violates parameter of the exercise, but William's use of the first person is more evocative and appropriate for the tale he wanted to tell. Short!

"Here's her second one:

Lighter, charming, sweet story. Implied happy ending leaves the reader wanting more.

"And here is what William had to say to her first critique:

Thank you. It is short, but that's all I had to say. More seemed unnecessary and I wanted to leave a bit of mystery for the reader to ponder.

"I wonder what he'll say to his second critique?"

"Oh, I think Lizzy can do no wrong in William's eyes, and it's a fairly flattering and apt critique," Paul said. He set aside the comment page and wrote his own assessment on the back of William's paper. Then he searched out the critiques on Olivia's work as his partner finished her story.

"This is cute," he agreed as Paul started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I hadn't seen these before," Paul admitted as he pushed the papers across the table. His partner picked them up and frowned.

"Pretty lengthy comments."

"I told you that both Richard and Olivia had been out of class? They exchanged their critiques via email and Richard uploaded the thread. The first one was pretty standard."

"Yes," the partner said as he scanned the first one:

Classic boy meets girl romance, updated for the new millennium. Plot moves well, characters are defined by their actions rather than description--I like that. (I want that car!)

"Aren't all these critiques pretty short?"

"Well, in class the students discussed the stories at length. These are the comments that were uploaded to the site as summaries of those discussions," Paul explained. "What they write for me isn't as important as what they say to each other in class."

"I see," Paul's long-time companion said as he turned the page and began to read again

Paul,

As you know, I had to leave early last week and I understand that Olivia will not be in class tonight, so I contacted her via email to exchange our critiques in case one of us misses the next class. The following email thread contains both her response to my first posted critique and my comments on her second story. Since she emailed me back, I forwarded them to her and she's already sent her response to those comments as well. They're included in the thread.

Richard

Paul raised a challenging eyebrow as his partner turned the page.

"I wouldn't pick up that coffee cup just now if I were you." The cup was returned to the table.

"This isn't an email thread; it's and instant messenger thread. Interesting..."

"How so?"

"Well, I assume the entire class has exchanged emails--."

"They can email each other through the course software. So?"

"These two are having an exchange on a more personal level." Paul smiled and watched his partner read on.

I hadn't realized that I'd done that--the bit about defining characters by their actions, I mean. But I like that as a concept and will try to do it again in future. (And if you want the car, go buy one!)

Perhaps I should. I've been thinking about trading up from my old Jag.

You're joking, right?

Nope; it's only an S-Type though.

What a hardship!

Yeah., But it gets me where I need to go. So, did you post your comments on my story?

Haven't you looked at the site?

Why don't you just tell me what it says? I'm a very busy man.

And I'm a very busy woman. I said pretty much what I said in class.

In class you bent my ear for ten minutes. The comments online are limited to 25 words and will be seen by everyone else!

I liked your story, Richard! What are you worried about?

Summaries and excerpts can make or break a story, you know. Haven't you ever read an ad for a movie that quotes a critic? It'll say "breathtaking" when what the critic actually said was that the movie was a breathtaking waste of time and money.

And you think I'll do this to you?

Well, you used some words when we talked that, taken out of context, could make me sound like a complete looney.

LOL! You have nothing to fear. Find some time and go to the site. I think you'll be pleased. Right now, I believe, you owe me another critique.

Why should I give you yours when you won't give me mine?

*Sigh* All right. I wrote "Humorous, witty and clever. The main character's wonderfully distorted POV sends the reader on a merry chase for both the truth and the happy ending." Satisfied?

Cool! Thanks.

Now--?

I don't mean this as an insult, but your new story has all the earmarks of a chick flick.

Exactly what is that supposed to mean?

It's merely an observation; the story is cute. It's the kind of story no man would pay to see at the theatre but secretly enjoy at home on a rainy afternoon.

After the Yankee game's been called, you mean?

Hey, I'd watch it even in the winter.

With a glowing endorsement like that I expect Hollywood to come pounding on my door.

Don't take offense. I really did like your story.

In an I'd-watch-this-chick-flick-when-I'm-desperately-bored-and-alone kind of way?

Who's this Daniel?

He's my character's love interest.

I saw that, but who is he?

He's a young entrepreneur who Olivia falls for.

No, I mean in real life.

He doesn't exist in real life, Richard. This is a work of fiction, remember?

Yeah, but... Oh, did I mention that you cheated? You were supposed to use the same setting as you first story.

I did. I used Washington, D.C. And I'm in the same position as I was in the first story-- disconnected and alone.

And this is a work of fiction. Completely fictional?

Yes; your point?

I'm just asking. He seems awfully real.

So, then, I appear to be disconnected and alone to you?

Not at all. On the contrary--you strike me as a very well-connected, self-assured woman. Sort of like my Amy.

Would you like Daniel better if I broke his nose? :P

Maybe. He's kind of a low life, don't you think? First you have the guy hanging around on street corners trying to pick up pretty women with a flashy car, then you've got him hanging around little children. The guy's just creepy!

And yet you covet what he's got...

Whoa! Is that ever the loaded question!

Tell me; if you do go out and buy a Vanden Plas Supercharged, will you take me for a ride in it?

You wouldn't happen to be an attorney, would you?

You're sounding a bit defensive, there, Doctor Fitzwilliam!

All right, yes, I'd happily take you for a ride. But why wait? Have you ever ridden in an S-Type?

No.

So, why don't you give up your Daniel-worship and let me take you for a ride sometime this week?

Maybe I will, if you give up your Daniel-envy. By the way, have you written a critique that you can actually use on the website because if you post that my story has all the earmarks of a chick flick, I WILL slash your tires.

I'll take that as a no; you're not an attorney.

No, I'm just an ordinary woman.

Close enough; and there's nothing ordinary about you by the way.

Flatterer! I'm still waiting for my critique.

How about "Pleasant, diverting romance. Ending is predictable but charming in its originality."

Pleasant? Charming? :(

So, when we take that ride? Bring a thesaurus.

"I think you're right not to give up on those two."

"They're as perfectly suited as William and Lizzy, but neither one wants to succumb too easily," Paul said as he joined in the laughter. "It'll be a battle of wills till one of them finally gives in. Then the other one will cave so fast and hard that it'll register on the Richter scale. Sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Who? Us?" Paul laid aside the stack of homework and took his lover's hand.

"I can see you need a memory boost. I'll read the rest of these later."

Chapter Two

Posted on Friday, 5 July 2002

Romance of the Written Word

Lizzy pushed her last quarter into the slot and pushed the button that would start the dryer. Then she returned to her seat and pulled out her notebook. She opened it and found the page where'd she begun writing a bit earlier.

My darling beloved, I cannot tell you how much I long to hold you in my arms again. I need to taste your lips, feel the caress of your hand against my cheek. I want to feel your body pressed against mine and lose myself. I have been counting the hours since we parted and can no longer bear the deprivation. I must have you back...

After about ten minutes, Lizzy looked up and checked the time remaining on the dryer. She sighed and bit her lip as she closed the book. But a minute later she opened it again and the words began to spill forth, unfolding her tale of love and longing. She filled two pages before she stopped to shake out her wrist. Her hand had nearly gone numb with pent-up tension. But she could not rest until she'd completely bared her soul, purged every last drop of her emotions and captured them on paper. Only then, could Lizzy rest.

She closed her eyes and fought back the familiar tears, clutching her notebook to her chest until she regained her composure. After a moment, she opened her eyes, closed the book and placed it on her lap, chewing on her lip to prevent the second wave of tears that inevitably threatened her complacency. This time, like so many others, she did not succeed.

Lizzy rose to her feet and stonily walked over to the dryer and began pulling out her clothes. They were not completely dry, but it didn't matter. She could not remain in the laundry any longer. Lizzy placed the notebook at the bottom of her basket and began to fold her clothes, which she clumsily piled on top of the book in her effort to hide it from her sight. Her face was red with shame as she stared at her hands, unable to raise her eyes, unable to confront anyone who might see her and know...

She mechanically folded and placed into her basket one pink bath sheet, one pink washcloth and one pink hand towel. They were followed by one top sheet, one fitted sheet and one pillow case. Lizzy suppressed a sob and quickly began to tackle her tee shirts, allowing her eyes to wander to the growing stack of laundry on the opposite side of the large work table.

Lizzy saw the pair of women's hands that folded large tee shirts in masculine colors: grey, navy, rust, forest. Then she folded six pairs of boxer shorts, three pairs of hiking socks, and a time-worn chambray shirt. Lizzy looked at her own hands and saw pale peach, followed by dusty blue, and mint green. Her underwear consisted of colorful cotton bikinis, her socks were white anklets designed specifically for women's running shoes. Lizzy's heart began to pound and she rolled up the last of the shirts and her running shorts and stuffed them into the basket. Grabbing it up, she headed for the door, her eyes half-blinded by tears. Someone held it open for her; she could not see who it was and would not look.

"Are you all right?" she heard him ask. Lizzy nodded and slipped away, murmuring a "thanks" she was sure he did not hear. She raced the two blocks to the safety of her apartment. Once inside, she dropped the basket and threw herself on her sofa, where she cried for the next hour.

"Would you stop right there, Lizzy?" She was only too happy to do so. Paul's interruption came as a welcome relief to Lizzy. This was not the first time she'd shared her work with her classmates, but this was the first time it felt so personal. Reading her story aloud was as painful to her as writing it. She took a deep breath and stole a glance at William, who gazed back at her reassuringly. "Adoration" is how Richard had labeled that look when he joined Lizzy and William for a drink after class the previous week. He was half teasing, half approving as he summed up William's propensity for staring at Lizzy in class. Lizzy had blushed at the comment, but found that she could live quite comfortably with the notion of being adored by William Darcy. After Richard dropped them off at Lizzy's place later that evening, William proved that he was also comfortable with the idea. The pair had become virtually inseparable over the course of the previous month.

Nonetheless, Lizzy had found it hard to show William her story. When Paul told her that he wanted her to discuss the story with William and have him post his comments prior to class, Lizzy almost tossed her storyline in favor of another. But she'd found the courage to share it with William and he insisted that she submit it for a grade.

Lizzy looked up and tried to focus on Paul's commentary about foreshadowing and plot development. She sat on the edge of his desk as he described the technique with his typically effusive gestures and expressions. The door opened and Richard slipped in quietly, wearing an apologetic expression. He slid into his seat next to William's just as Paul completed his point. Lizzy rose to begin reading again, but a student asked a question and she got another brief reprieve.

She glanced at William again, who was smiling at his cousin. She followed his gaze to Richard's feet, which were clad in bright red clogs. Richard shrugged and William shook his head reproachfully. Then he returned his gaze to Lizzy and smiled.

"Go on, Lizzy. I think your question will be answered as you hear more, Jenna." Paul nodded and Lizzy began.

Lizzy forced herself to get up and went into the bathroom to wash her face. When she emerged she picked up the laundry basket and carried it into the bedroom, where she unpacked and refolded her clothes and put them away. She picked up the linen and rested it on a chair and reached into the basket for the notebook that held her dirty little secret.

It had begun innocently enough. Lizzy had been lonely. At first, she had relished the solitude that came after the break-up of her year-long relationship with Brad. She'd loved him, but the relationship was going nowhere and Lizzy had finally ended it. But as the weeks passed, Lizzy realized that she missed the flawed, imperfect and emotionally immature man with whom she'd shared so much. That angered her; she felt betrayed by her need for the security of a man's arms around her. Lizzy had become angrier and more frustrated till the thought of being out among others became too difficult to bear. She couldn't stand to walk the streets and see other couples, happily paired off people, who--if not in perfect, enriching relationships--at least had someone to share their lives with.

And that's when it began. Lizzy went to her local stationer and bought a journal. It was an expensive indulgence, bound in kidskin and filled with hand-made deckled rag paper, but Lizzy insisted to herself that she deserved it. Her intention was to come to terms with her loneliness. Instead, she had begun to catalog her emotions in a series of love letters. They contained all the things she wished she had said to Brad, or so she thought at first. But later, as time went on and the book grew thicker with pages upon pages embossed by the weight of her pen and her emotions, she acknowledged that the love letters were about what she wished she had felt for Brad. And later, they turned yet again, to what Lizzy wished Brad had felt for her. That's when the love letters began to be an obsession.

In her mind, the letters became the correspondence shared between Lizzy and an imaginary lover. There were no names; it didn't not matter who had written whom. The book contained all the romance, all the passion, all the love that Lizzy so desperately needed. Reality deprived Lizzy of a partner with whom to share her thoughts, her fears, her needs. She found him in words.

He had no face. No name. Lizzy would not allow herself to envision her imaginary lover. He was a work of fiction and no more, she urgently insisted. Lizzy feared that if she gave life to him she would lose herself entirely. The love letters were meant to be a release, an escape, nothing more. But it had become an obsession, a dark, painful secret that left her feeling shameful and pathetic.

Lizzy had grown too isolated to venture back into the social whirl with ease. She'd become far too comfortable with him. He could never, would never, disappoint her as Brad had done. He would never leave her, or be unfaithful to her. She would never lose him. And yet, Lizzy wanted him to go away. Over the last few weeks, it had become harder and harder to write her love letters and Lizzy feared that she'd lost herself in spite of her precautions. She feared that she'd gone off the deep end and only months of counseling could cure her. But worse, Lizzy feared that if she lost him, lost herself, she'd lose her last chance for love. She'd given up all hope.

Lizzy resigned herself to her fate and locked the notebook away. She spent the next several nights lying awake or tossing restlessly. She'd take a long run every morning and tried to think about the changes she wanted to make in her life. But whenever she tried to put her plans into action she'd lose her nerve and give up at the first sign of difficulty. She began to get out of the house, but refused to make eye contact with people, convinced it was pointless. She was unlovable. Unloved.

"Lizzy?" William said softly. He gave Paul a panicked glance and Paul quickly suggested that the class take a ten minute break. William immediately went to Lizzy and pulled her into his arms. She was shaking, on the verge of tears. William whispered something in her ear and Lizzy allowed him to walk her out of the room and into the hall. Paul watched them go and noted, not surprisingly, that others in the class looked equally pale and moved by Lizzy's prose. He repeated his suggestion of a break and encouraged everyone to get up and stretch his legs. Paul rose, himself, and checked his watch. He'd give William five minutes with Lizzy before he'd go and check on her.

Olivia rose from her seat and headed for the door. Richard quickly rose to follow. He caught up with her at the water fountain and put a concerned hand on her shoulder. She spun around.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--. Are you all right?" Olivia smiled weakly and nodded.

"I didn't know you were here," she said as she looked down at his feet.

"I was a bit late, and before you ask, the fancy footwear is pretty standard when I'm on duty. In my haste to get here I forgot to change into my topsiders." Olivia smiled.

"I see," she replied. "What did you think of Lizzy's story so far?" she asked, as she dragged her eyes away from his feet.

"Well, I have to confess I missed a bit of it. But I was intrigued by what I heard. I'd dearly like to know why everyone looks so emotional," Richard said as he glanced at the people around him. "They all look as though they'd been through something."

"Lizzy's story is very emotional. I felt a little weepy myself. She really struck a nerve with her story and she read it so perfectly you almost felt..." Richard eyed Olivia for a moment.

"Don't tell me you've ever experienced that depth of despair," he said carefully.

"Hasn't everyone? I mean--," she quickly averted her eyes. "Haven't you ever worried that you'd never find someone? That you'd end up alone and--." She looked up at Richard's bemused expression. "No, of course not; you're a rich, hot and gorgeous professional who probably has to beat women off with a stick," she said with a hint of exasperation. Richard continued to register confusion.

"Thanks, I think," he said softly. "But what makes you think that being wealthy or professional--or hot and gorgeous, for that matter--is a sure guarantee against loneliness? Just because women throw themselves at me doesn't mean I want any of them. And I can think of plenty of times when I've felt alone in rooms full of people. I'm not exempt, Olivia, by any stretch of the imagination." She swallowed and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I really meant that. It's just...it's easier for you." Richard snorted at the comment.

"On what planet? If I didn't think I'd completely embarrass myself I'd tell you just how long it's been since I had a date," he said. "You think it's easy for me to find a good relationship? I'll tell you, it's no walk in the park. Women find out that I'm a doctor, that I come from a prominent family, whatever, and decide that they want me. But the reality is that no one actually wants to be with me. They want to snuggle up to my trust fund, or my Jag, or the prestige associated with being connected with me, which is kind of a good thing because they certainly don't want to deal with the reality of my working twelve to sixteen hours a day, sometimes seven days a week. They don't want to know that I sometimes have to walk out of a play or a nice dinner or a warm bed to do my job, or that I can't party the night away because I'm on call. And if all I want to do when I am home is kick back and play with my cat instead of seeing the latest movie, they find that pretty unacceptable."

"I get the picture. You've been there, too."

"No," Richard replied with a tiny smile that made Olivia's heart flutter. "I haven't given up the notion that somewhere out there lurks a woman just crazy enough to have me."

"How crazy does she have to be?" Olivia found herself asking before she realized the full implication of her question. Richard's smile broadened and Olivia felt her knees begin to weaken.

"That's the kind of question you have to answer for yourself," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys.

"Can I drive?"

"That would imply that I was crazy, wouldn't it?" Richard replied. Nonetheless, he dropped the keys into Olivia's hand.

"I always thought that the 'opposites attract' theory was a bit overrated," she said, locking eyes with his.

"Me, too." Behind them, Paul smiled as he bent to drink from the water fountain. It was time to check on Lizzy.

Paul found her leaning against the wall talking with a few of her classmates. William was beside her, a pillar of support. His eyes locked with Paul's as he approached; a silent communication took place and Paul nodded.

"Are you feeling better, Lizzy?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry I wigged out like that. I did the same thing when I wrote it," she revealed with an embarrassed giggle.

"Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we needn't continue," Paul offered, and William nodded his approval.

"Oh, no, I really don't mind," Lizzy insisted. "Besides, everyone will want to know the rest of the story."

"I'll read it," William said. Lizzy turned to him, ready to protest, but she knew even before she started that it would be pointless.

"He's got a better reading voice, you have to admit," one of Lizzy's classmates pointed out.

"I think it's a great idea," Paul said as he began to herd the class back inside the room. When everyone was seated, he waved William forward and explained that William had volunteered to read the rest of Lizzy's story.

"He's better looking than me, too," Lizzy smiled as William turned to the page where Lizzy had left off. She'd directed the comment to Olivia, who'd been sitting next to her at the start of class. But Olivia was no longer in her usual seat. She'd moved back two rows and was sitting beside Richard. Lizzy glanced at William and he raised an eyebrow.

"Start whenever you're ready, Will," Paul said.

She gave up and returned to her familiar haunt; four walls, a bit of furniture and a book that would never reject her. Lizzy knew that she had rejected herself, but it didn't matter anymore. She opened the book and she wrote, finding a refuge, if not solace, in the anonymity it afforded her. She no longer resisted its lure... there was nothing else out there for her.

She returned to the laundromat one day with a huge load. It had been weeks since her last trip to the laundry. She still felt the embarrassment of her emotional display. But she needed clean clothing and deep down it really didn't matter what she felt anyway. No one would care that she was embarrassed. No one would care that she'd washed clothes by hand for weeks rather than face anyone at the laundry again. No one probably even missed her.

She stuffed her clothes into the washer and sat down. After a few minutes she pulled out the book. But instead of writing a love letter to an unidentified, unidentifiable lover, she wrote a letter to herself. She began tentatively, and then gained momentum as the words began to flow. Lizzy stopped only to remove the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Then she continued, discovering as she did so that she felt better about herself than she had in some time.

Lizzy wrote about how she felt and why. She wrote about her descent into loneliness and despair, her lost sense of purpose, her need to develop her self-esteem, her newly revived hope, and her persistent fears. Lizzy smiled as she wrote, no longer worried about who saw her or who remembered her tears. She had found herself on an empty page and filled it with the depiction of the woman she wanted to be again.

William paused again when a spontaneous whoop of joy came from the back of the room. Paul chuckled as he turned to look, but couldn't discern its source. As William continued, he rose and began to perambulate around the room, not to catch the culprit, but to more closely observe the chemistry he'd caught a glimpse of earlier.

Lizzy folded her clothes with a smile on her face. One towel, one washcloth; they were Lizzy's possessions and she was rather fond of them, as she was of her racing tees and her women's socks. She watched another woman fold her man's clothing with complacency. Lizzy had no man, but she had herself, and she was learning to make do. She hefted the basket and carried it home, where she put away the laundry and stashed the basket until her next wash day. And that was when she realized that she'd left the book back at the laundry.

She slid into her running shoes and ran back to the laundromat. But it had closed soon after she left and no one was inside. Lizzy peered through the glass hoping to see the book on the seat where she'd left it. But it was too dark. There was nothing for it. She'd come back in the morning and get it. It never occurred to Lizzy that it wouldn't be there when she returned.

The news hit her like a thunderbolt. Five months of herself, five months of heartfelt and gut-wrenching emotion committed to paper, gone. Five months' worth of work, lost; her manifesto for the future, lost forever. Lizzy was stunned. She went home and cried a bit and then she concluded it was probably for the best. She considered purchasing a new book, but decided against it for the moment. The book had become a crutch with which she'd propped herself up when she lost her footing. It was time to let go. She spent the remainder of the weekend trying to convince herself, chewing off two fingernails in the process, but she remained determined.

On Sunday afternoon, Lizzy poured herself a glass of wine and sat back to listen to some music. She closed her eyes, relaxed a bit, and was soon feeling surprisingly sleepy. She was about to go to doze off when she heard her intercom.

"Who's there?" she asked in answer to the summons.

"My name is William and I believe I have something that belongs to you."

"Excuse me?" Lizzy asked suspiciously.

"You left your book at the laundromat. Since your name was in it, I looked up your address." Lizzy was stunned. She'd resigned herself to never seeing her book again. Nonetheless, she buzzed the man in and moments later she heard a knock on her door.

"I'm not a murderer or a thief," William smiled when Lizzy opened the door a crack. Lizzy smiled back in spite of her continued trepidation. She opened the door wider and found herself face to face with a tall, handsome man. "You left this in the laundromat yesterday. I tried to catch up with you when I saw it but by the time I reached the door you were gone." William handed Lizzy the book, which was carefully wrapped in a plastic bag against the rain pelting the streets outside.

"I don't know what to say... Thank you," Lizzy managed finally. "I never expected to see it again."

"I can imagine." Lizzy looked up sharply. William bit his lip and fixed his gaze on her feet, which were bare and adorned with pearly pink toenails. "I read it," he confessed. "I didn't mean to," he added hastily. "Not at first; I opened it hoping to find your name so I could return it to you. My eyes fell on a page. The words were so beautiful, I couldn't stop," he said with a blush.

"Come in," Lizzy said softly. William followed her inside and took the seat she offered.

"I'm sorry," he began. "It was so compelling...I've never done anything like that before. I never even considered reading my sister's diary."

"It's not a diary," Lizzy corrected.

"Whatever it is, I certainly envy him."

"Who?"

"The man you're so in love with. Or were; those last few entries--." Lizzy began to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, really. In fact, it's kind of sad when you think about it." William was confused. Lizzy looked rather more sad than happy in spite of her laughter. "I have to make a confession."

"You don't owe me any explanations."

"I know, but I don't want you leaving here with a mistaken impression of me."

"I have a wonderful impression of you, right now. Is that a mistake?"

"What?"

"Based upon what I've read, you, Elizabeth Bennet, are a warm, compassionate, romantic woman with a witty sense of humor, a fascinating mind, a fertile imagination, and a great capacity to love."

"You got all that from this?" Lizzy asked as she flipped open the notebook and scanned the page before her.

"All that and more. He must have been a madman to let you go." Lizzy looked up and blushed.

"He doesn't exist."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize--.'

"No, no, I--. He doesn't exist. He never did. Well, there was someone once, but this...it's difficult to explain." William sat forward in his seat.

"Try me." Lizzy fetched another glass and poured him some wine. Then, haltingly, and with no small amount of embarrassment, she told William the truth. He was stunned by her revelation. "So I've been growing jealous of a figment of your imagination?"

"Jealous?"

"Well, yes. Ever since I saw you a few weeks ago...I knew you had to be crying over a man. I suppose that played a part in my interest in reading the book. All right," he laughed, "it was a pretty strong incentive. I came over here today half ready to find out the guy's address and go after him." Lizzy's eyes opened wide. She recalled the gentle inquiry at the door as she left the laundromat on that awful day when she'd left the laundromat in tears.

"To what purpose?" William colored slightly and stared into his wine.

"I guess I wanted to try and talk some sense into him, make him realize what he'd given up."

"Gee, if I had met you earlier, I might still be with my boyfriend."

"In that case, I'm glad we didn't meet till now," William said, gazing at Lizzy shyly. "I prefer to fall for beautiful women who are unattached." Lizzy blushed and averted her eyes. She couldn't believe her ears. She didn't hear William, therefore, when he invited her to dinner.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked if you would consider coming out with me for dinner," William repeated. Lizzy cast a glance at the window and shook her head.

"Go out in all this rain? I have a better idea." She led William into the kitchen and somewhere between tossing the salad and the last sip of coffee that followed dessert, Lizzy's life began anew.

"Lovely ending," Olivia said aloud. Paul, agreed with her sentiment, and began to solicit comments from the class. He was standing at the rear of the room watching the interaction between Olivia and Richard, a curious exchange of glances and smiles that seemed to convey something Paul couldn't quite identify. He was pleased, nonetheless, and after a few minutes of discussion about Lizzy's story, he turned to Richard.

"You must have gotten the wild card," Paul said with a smile. Unlike the rest of the class, Richard hadn't uploaded his work to the course site early. That meant that Paul had no idea what Richard's story would be. But if his earlier submissions were any indication of the young surgeon's capabilities, the class was in for a treat.

"Am I supposed to read this out loud?"

"If you'd like. We have some time to hear another piece before we break into groups and work on individual projects," Paul said. "What did you choose as your prop?"

"I got a pack of chewing gum," Richard replied.

"Yeah, I know. That was the wild card."

"What wild card?"

"Fitz left early that night, remember?" William said helpfully.

"Oh, so you didn't--? You didn't?" Paul was unable to suppress a smile.

"Am I missing a punch line here?" Richard asked.

"Paul put seven cards into the magic bag, Richard. There was one with a book on it, one with a box of matches, one with a dog, a comb, a love letter, and one with a pair of glasses," Lizzy explained patiently. "If you got any of those, Paul gave you a specific theme and you had to use the prop somewhere in the story. I got a love letter and the theme 'romance of the written word'."

"I got a pack of gum."

"Yes, and I told the class that whoever got the stick of gum could choose his own prop and theme. I didn't realize that you left before I explained that. I'm sorry," Paul said unapologetically. "I should have contacted you." Richard turned his gaze to William, who shrugged, also unremorsefully.

"What did you write about, then?" Lizzy asked. Paul pursed his lips even before Richard got the words out.

"Chewing gum! I called my story, 'Stuck on You'." And just like that he had the class eating out of the palm of his hand. Paul slipped into Richard's seat to listen.

Stuck on You

Richard arrived at the train station, as usual, precisely five minutes before the arrival of his train. He stepped onto the platform and immediately sought out the woman of his dreams. She always arrived before Richard and was waiting for him when he appeared. Well, not exactly for him; Richard doubted if she knew he was alive. She was waiting for the train like everyone else. That thought saddened him and he averted his eyes from his designated paragon of womanhood.

His obsession had begun months ago and was showing no signs of fading. Richard had initially hoped that familiarity would breed contempt, but much to his surprise he found that staring at a beautiful woman who never deigned to acknowledge his presence did little to inspire dislike. He could live with worshipping her from afar, he concluded. And so he did. But he did wonder. What would happen if she did look at him one day, just turned those big brown eyes in his direction and looked at the man who worshipped the concrete pad she waited on? Would she like what she saw? Would she be revolted by the sight of him? Richard thought he could safely discount that possibility. He was a decent looking chap and he took special care to look his best on the platform every morning. What would she think of him?

What if's being what they are--insidious, thought-consuming, annoying things that creep up on a man and never let go till he finds an answer--Richard's curiosity got the better of him. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his briefcase and took a step forward. Before he'd traveled a yard, he was forced to pause as a group of college-aged students flew by, moving down the platform to position themselves to board in the first car, as they usually did. Richard was slightly jostled by the swiftly moving crowd and considered changing his schedule so as to arrive two minutes later. He was tired of being jostled on a daily basis by people with no consideration for his physical wellbeing or the fact that their jostling interrupted his quality time with his beloved. But he sighed and stepped forward again as the train arrived at the station. Richard was jostled a second time but he didn't mind because when he turned around he found himself standing very close to the woman of his dreams. She looked at him and smiled. Richard was a very happy man...until he looked down.

Richard looked up when he heard a giggle from the back of the room. He looked at Olivia accusingly. She continued to smile undaunted, and Richard smiled back. Paul smiled as well, as he gestured for Richard to continue.

There was something stuck to his briefcase--a wad of chewing gum, presumably ejected from the mouth of one of the jostling college students. Richard attempted to lift his briefcase to get a better look in the narrow confines of the crowded car. It would empty out at the next stop, a hub for two connecting lines. But whereas Richard was prepared to show endless patience where his beloved was concerned, he had no tolerance for chewing gum. He tried to lift the case so that he could dislodge the offending wad. But as he slowly lifted it, he came to a horrifying realization. The gum was also stuck to the hem of his beloved's skirt. Richard carefully lowered the bag and pondered his options. A frown creased his brow as he tried to come up with a simple and speedy remedy.

There was the direct approach: "Madam, you've got chewing gum on your skirt. I know this because it's also adhered to my briefcase." He somehow doubted that would go over well. Richard realized, however, that not telling the lovely lady could have potentially negative consequences.

Of course, if he didn't say anything, Richard could slip away from her when the car emptied out a bit, clean his bag and--. No, that would be cowardly and the woman he revered above all others would be walking around with gum on her skirt. What if some other man came to the rescue and captured her heart while he freed her skirt of its mint green appendage? Richard's frown grew as he racked his brain looking for a solution.

"Your bag has got something on it." Richard looked up and belatedly realized that the object of his desire was addressing him. Richard looked down.

"Yes, so there is," he said dejectedly.

"Oh, it shouldn't be too hard to get it off. Get an ice cube and freeze the gum solid. Then you can just pry it off. If it leaves a mark on the leather, just take a little polish to it." Richard hadn't heard a word she'd said, for all that he was staring at her lips.

"Okay." It seemed like a harmless response. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." The woman of his dreams batted her eyelashes and Richard made a whimpering noise and sighed.

"What about your skirt?"

"What about my skirt?" she parroted.

"The gum, I mean." He raised his arm slightly and the hem of her dress was hiked up a few inches along with his briefcase. Richard didn't mind the view but the woman stared down with a look of horror. Richard quickly lowered the bag. "I just noticed that and was trying to figure out what to do about it, actually. I've never had to deal with removing chewing gum from a skirt before."

"That makes two of us."

"Will the ice cube thing work?"

"Well, yes it ought to; unfortunately, we're not likely to find any on a Manhattan-bound commuter train." As she spoke, the train pulled into the station and as Richard expected, many of the passengers disembarked. A pair of seats opened up and the woman immediately turned and headed for them. Richard was looking in the opposite direction, so when he felt a slight tug he snapped his head around. What he saw when he looked down made him follow after the woman hastily.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," Richard said as he slid into the seat beside her.

"Do what?" She looked down and understood what he meant. When she pulled away the wad of gum had stretched out and as it came free it trailed down the skirt. What had been a small wad of gum before was now a small wad with tendrils. "Oh, dear."

"I don't suppose a handkerchief--." Richard quickly stuffed it back into his pocket as she shook her head. Richard decided that it was time to become the man of action he'd always yearned to be. He'd be the hero. Somehow, some way, he would aid the damsel in distress. He rose, carefully placing his briefcase on the seat and headed toward the front of the train.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back." He walked up the aisle and moved into the next car. After a few minutes, he returned with a huge smile and a cup of ice.

"Where on earth--?"

"I figured one of the college kids would have a soft drink. I paid her a dollar for the ice." He sat down feeling rather pleased with himself, pulled out his handkerchief, removed the lid of the cup and picked up an ice cube, which he carefully wiped clean of residual traces of diet cola. "May I?" he said a bit rakishly.

"Perhaps I should," the damsel replied, gingerly taking the ice cube from his hand and applying it to the smear of goo. By the time the train pulled into Grand Central Terminal, she had not only rid her skirt of the gum, but Richard's bag as well. "Thank you," she said as she rose to leave the train. Richard offered to pay for dry cleaning the skirt. She insisted that it wasn't necessary. She extended her hand and asked to know the name of her savior.

"My name is Richard." He wanted to say more, but other than adding "but you can call me Gum Man" or "will you marry me?" he could think of nothing to say.

"Thank you, Richard. My husband loves this suit and it would be a shame if it was ruined." She shook his hand and disappeared before he could speak again. Richard stood for a minute in the cavernous station wondering why the goddess of love was so cruel. He glumly made his way to his office and sat down at his desk, heartbroken.

The following Monday, Richard arrived at the station one minute before his train arrived. He avoided his daily jostling, but he didn't care. The woman of his dreams smiled at him, but her face had played a leading role in a weekend's worth of nightmares. He managed a weak smile and walked on. He boarded the train and moved through the crowd to the rear of the car, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his source of despair as possible. When the train made its first stop, Richard found a seat next to a woman with a small boy on her lap. Richard smiled politely, but in truth he didn't even bother to look at his companions. The three-year old fussed and squirmed in his mother's lap. She tried to get him to look out the window but he was too restless to focus for any length of time. In the space of three minutes the child managed to rattle Richard's newspaper.

"I'm sorry if he's distracting you," the woman apologized to Richard, who couldn't care less. He was too depressed to be distracted. "He's never ridden the train before and he wants to--Adam, no!" The boy had wedged his hand between the window and the seat in front of him. The mother was on the verge of panicking, so Richard quickly rose and carefully extricated the child's hand. The child immediately put the grungy thing to his mouth and then grabbed Richard's sleeve when the train made a sudden jerk forward. Richard sat down after bumping his head on the glass.

"Oh, no! What is that?" the woman said. She took hold of Richard's sleeve and then grabbed her son's hand. "Adam?" The child had a sticky substance on his hand and there was something in his mouth. Without a moment's hesitation, the young woman plunged a finger into the boy's mouth and removed the gum he had picked up from who knows where. "What did I tell you about picking up things and putting them in your mouth?" she cried. "And look; you've got it on this nice man's sleeve." Richard twisted his arm to look and sure enough, there was a bit of gum just above his wrist.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get it off as soon as I reach my office," he said calmly.

"You know how to remove gum from clothing?" the young mother asked as she wrapped the confiscated gum into a tissue and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Doesn't everyone? Actually," Richard said, looking the woman in the eye for the first time and noticing that she was quite attractive, "I had a crash course in gum removal just last week." He managed a smile. "He must be quite a handful," he said of the boy who was still squirming and fidgeting.

"Yes, especially now that I'm dealing with him all alone." Richard didn't want to pry, but the woman could see his curiosity. "His father died last September." Richard nodded. The woman was quiet and averted her eyes for a few minutes and Richard regretted having accidentally elicited a painful memory. The child, unaware of his mother's somber mood, continued to squirm.

"Come here," Richard said and reached out for the boy.

"Oh, it's all right," the woman said even as she allowed the child to scramble over to Richard's lap.

"I don't mind. It's been a while since I played with someone whose maturity matches my own," he said self-deprecatingly. The young woman smiled and then watched with amazement as her son quieted and played with Richard's PDA till the train reached Manhattan.

"I've never seen anyone handle him so well." Richard smiled warmly at the young mother. In the forty minutes it'd taken to reach the city he'd forgotten all about his own pain and misery and was feeling pretty good.

"If you ever need a babysitter--." The woman laughed.

"I doubt if I could afford your rates," she said, gauging by Richard's appearance. "Besides I don't get out much these days."

"Well, in that case, allow me to recommend my Aunt Bess as a babysitter. She's excellent with children and I can probably wangle you a discount," he added impishly. The woman was about to repeat that she wasn't in need of a sitter when Richard continued. "I'm sure she'd be willing to watch him for an hour while you and I have a cup of coffee or something." The woman smiled shyly.

"I think I'd like that," she said. Richard reached into his pocket and drew out a card.

"Why don't you call me? That way there's no pressure." The woman looked at the card.

"Thank you, Richard. I might just do that...really soon."

"Good."

"By the way, my name is Wendy and you've got a Lego stuck in the gum on your sleeve." Richard looked down.

"I'll hold onto this as your IOU," he said as he plucked off the plastic piece and slipped it into his pocket. He squatted down to Adam's eye level and said goodbye. Then he walked to his office with a smile on his face.

"Olivia, since this was supposed to be your homework, why don't you give your impressions first?" Paul suggested. He changed places with Richard and again, carefully watched the interaction between the two. Before the class was over, he'd heard enough to be convinced that he'd succeeded in matching the pair. An hour later, Olivia collected her things and began to put them in her bag when Lizzy and William walked over.

"So, Livy, you didn't do your homework?" Lizzy teased.

"You apparently did yours," Olivia retorted, emphasizing the double entendre with a pointed look at William.

"Yes," Lizzy smiled, "and I highly recommend it. Doing your own, I mean."

"Am I even here?" Richard said as he zipped his backpack. Olivia blushed but Lizzy smiled brazenly.

"Oh, like--."

"Would you two care to join us? We were thinking about going to that little place up the street again," William interjected. Richard looked at Olivia for a cue.

"Sure."

"Sure!" Richard concurred, "lead on, Will." As she followed Lizzy into the hall, Olivia reached into her pocket and held up Richard's keys. But he shook his head. "You can drive yourself home."

"I was kind of hoping for a longer ride than three blocks," Olivia laughingly replied.

"Well, in that case, you can drive me home," Richard said with a slightly wicked grin. He held the elevator door for Paul, who rushed to catch up with the foursome.

"Care to join us?" William asked. "We're going to have something to eat." William and Lizzy had asked Paul to join them after class once or twice before and he'd politely declined.

"Thanks, but I promised to go straight home after class."

"She sounds fairly demanding," Lizzy smiled.

"It's a he," Paul replied, "and getting home as early as possible was my idea."

"Well, why don't you have him meet up with us after class one night and we can all go out then?" Richard suggested. Paul agreed to the scheme if his partner liked the idea.

On the night of the last class, Joshua came along with Paul and sat at the back of the room. He observed the students with interest, matching faces to the names and stories he'd already become very familiar with. He recognized Lizzy and William at once. They entered the classroom hand in hand, obviously very much in love. He knew Richard, as well, from the boyish charm that exuded from him even before he spoke. Olivia would have been a bit harder to identify, except that Richard's eyes lit up when she entered the room. She took a seat beside him and leaned over for a brief but warm kiss. Others in the class were equally familiar to the visitor, but he was most interested in Paul's four favorite students. So much of their personalities were revealed in their work, and they were even more interesting in person than on paper. When the class was over, the three couples adjourned to a restaurant for dinner. It wasn't the usual post-class meeting place; William and Richard had reserved a table at an elegant restaurant in the neighborhood.

"We all want to thank you for a great experience, Paul," William said. "It's been a lot of fun and I've learned so much more than I imagined there was to know."

"So did I," Richard agreed.

"Well, you're certainly welcome to repeat the class in the fall. Many of our students do that to hone their skills and be part of a working group as they work on their manuscripts."

"I've already signed up. We both have," Richard said as he put his arm around Olivia. Paul's partner smiled.

"I've been reading your work for the past few months and I must say you were all pretty impressive going into the class. Not that Paul isn't a good teacher," Joshua hastened to add.

"But if you start with great ingredients, you make a great meal," Paul finished for him.

"Do you write as well?" Lizzy asked Paul's partner conversationally.

"No, I'm afraid my talents lie elsewhere."

"Josh is an architect," Paul replied. "He writes as well as any of you, by the way, but he won't let anyone read his work but me."

"Boring drabble."

"It's not," Paul assured the others as he gave Joshua's hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Well, Josh, Paul," Richard said with a smile, "I'd like to invite you both to a party I'm throwing for Lizzy and William in a couple of weeks." He dug into his backpack and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to Paul. He opened the envelope and smiled.

"An engagement party?" Paul delightedly offered his congratulations.

"You do realize he's going to take full credit for your happiness?" Paul looked at his partner.

"Well, you have to admit, I did see it coming," Paul admitted. Lizzy pressed him for an explanation and Paul revealed that he'd matched William and Lizzy and Richard and Olivia before the class began. "After reading both your stories and meeting each of you at the open house, I thought you two would be perfect for one another. And when I saw William eyes meet Lizzy's for the first time, I knew I had gotten it right. It was as though William became the character in his own story."

"Yeah, we lost him there for a minute," Richard teased. "And, come to think of it, Lizzy, he hasn't been the same man since. The whole family owes you a debt of gratitude," e said with a wink.

"As for you, Richard," Paul said, "I saw your Amy the moment I laid eyes on Olivia. And Richard fit your Daniel's personality to a T. It was as though you'd used each other as characters."

"He's a character, all right," Olivia said as she smiled at Richard.

"Is this a service you provide to all your students, or were we special?" William asked as he looked down at the delicate hand entwined with his.

"Oh, I think you're all special," Paul laughed. "I've never done anything like this before and I don't expect to make a habit of playing matchmaker for my students in future."

"I'd like to think that Will and I would have found each other without your intervention, but I appreciate your help," Lizzy smiled.

"Oh, you two were pre-ordained," Paul agreed. "All it would have taken was a glance to ignite the flame. All I did was force you two to look at each other a bit sooner than you might have otherwise."

"What about us?" Richard asked.

"You two were a bit more of a challenge. Sparks flew that first night--."

"But he wasn't sure if it was fascination or friction," Joshua laughed.

"Oh, it was definitely fascination," Richard declared.

"And maybe a little friction; he didn't approve of my male character," Olivia argued.

"He hasn't approved of any of the male characters in your romance assignments," William concurred.

"Well, Lizzy named her guy 'William.' Why should I appreciate Livy throwing herself at someone other than me?" Richard pouted.

"Paul just explained, hon; Daniel was your surrogate."

"Why settle for a surrogate when the real thing was so readily available?" Richard countered. William intervened before things escalated.

"They've been having this argument for seven weeks now," he said. "Lizzy and I have learned to tune him out when he gets like this."

"Why are you still arguing? We haven't done any romance exercises since week four!" Paul chuckled.

"Stubbornness is apparently the hallmark of the Fitzwilliam clan," Lizzy replied. "I should know; I met all of them last weekend."

"Hey!" Olivia put a finger on Richard's lips to silence them and Paul exchanged a glance with his partner.

"Don't worry, Richard. I won't assign you two any love stories next time, promise."

"I take it they're going to miss class next week," Joshua said as he watched Lizzy and William kiss. Paul nodded as the couple turned and made its way up the aisle.

"I expected a longer engagement, to tell you the truth."

"Did you? Neither one of them struck me as the type to let the grass grow under their feet."

"Perhaps you're right."

"You didn't think so? After reading their first stories I had the feeling that they were both the kind of people who, upon finding the perfect mate, wouldn't waste any time."

"Yes," Paul smiled. "I wouldn't call either one of them indecisive," he said as he watched Richard take hold of Olivia's hand and lead her from the church. It had been a simple ceremony with only about fifty people in attendance. Lizzy's sister stood up with her, and Richard served as William's best man.

"What about those two?"

"They'll take a bit more time. Neither one of them is vacillating, but they're both..."

"Cautious?"

"I was going to say deliberate."

"Deliberate." Joshua let the word roll around in his brain for a second and then smiled. "You know, I like weddings."

"Me, too; and I love a happy ending," Paul said as the pair moved out of the pew and began to make their way to the exit of the church.

"Well, one down, one to go."

It was a year before Paul's wish for a second happy ending was fulfilled. Richard proposed to Olivia just a week before the publication of his first book, which made its debut as number five on the New York Times bestseller list. He found himself being compared with Michael Crichton and Robin Cook, fellow men of medicine who also became authors of bestselling novels. As a result, Richard found himself busier than ever, but he found time to marry Olivia in a lavish ceremony, followed by a month-long stay in an undisclosed location. He continued to practice medicine, his first love, but managed to publish one book a year and do the occasional publicity tour or television interview to meet the demands of his eager science fiction audience.

Lizzy also found her way onto the New York Times list with a Regency-era novel that was quickly snapped up by a Hollywood producer. The script that she wrote for the movie garnered her an Oscar nomination and the film based on her novel won two awards at the Cannes Film Festival. William published a book of short stories under a pseudonym and later acquired a small press that published Lizzy's books and his own.

Olivia was the only one who never published. As much as she enjoyed writing, she enjoyed being a wife more. She left her job to manage Richard's writing career and eventually those of several other authors. She'd never dreamed of becoming a literary agent, but her career change gave her far more time with her husband than her former job as a contracts specialist for the General Services Administration. Although Richard was by far her most successful client, she considered her biggest coup the acquisition of a new author by the name of Joshua Laurence Hurd. His book of poetry won a Pulitzer Prize and made Paul extremely proud.

Paul continued to teach and publish his own short stories. He started every semester with an enthusiastic search for the magic element that made that one summer class so special. He never found it although he did mentor many more gifted writers and saw a few of them go on to successful careers. Paul even recommended some of them to Olivia, who took them on as clients and got them publishing contracts. All in all, Paul Davis was extremely satisfied with the way things turned out. And why not? He loved a happy ending, even if he didn't write it himself.

The End

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