Chapter 12: Traveling with Megan

It was Thursday evening. I'd come home after sitting for my last final of the quarter and crashed. A ringing telephone woke me. It was Megan, asking if she could come over. I told her that I would come after her.

I stumbled around in the dark, looking for my shoes and fell on the bag I'd packed to take with me the next day. What time was it? As I passed through the kitchen I read the clock on the stove: 6:04. Had I slept three hours?

Megan was standing next to the street, with two pieces of luggage at her feet. I got out of the car and opened the trunk.

"I'll need to take one of those in your apartment," she said when she saw me placing both pieces into the trunk.

"Which one?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. I looked at her for the first time since I'd stopped the car. Even her ponytail, which was always perfectly aligned on the back of her head, looked tousled. "I guess I forgot," she said, apologetically.

"Not to worry," I said, tossing both pieces of luggage into the trunk, thinking that we would take both of them upstairs. "Is the house locked up securely?"

"I guess so," she said, looking back at the darkened house.

"Give me the key. I'll turn on a couple of nightlights and make sure the doors are locked."

Megan handed me the house key. "Should I get in the car?"

"Yes, get in. I'll be right out," I said, heading for the front door. Hadn't Charlie left instructions as to how to lock up the house? I turned the key in the front door and turned on a light so I could check for night lights. I made sure the back door was locked and turned night lights on in the kitchen and hallway leading to the bedrooms. Satisfied, I locked the front door and walked to my car. Megan was staring straight ahead.

"Have you had anything to eat?" I asked, feeling a bit hungry myself.

"I haven't had time. Big test tomorrow," she answered.

"Which course?" I asked as I pulled the car onto the street.

"Applied Business Theories."

"I took that one today. Which Ramsey do you have?"

"Leonard."

"I have Irene, but I had him for Business Law and her for Economics," I said, already thinking that I wasn't going to be able to help her. Megan looked nervous, too. It wasn't like her to forget where she packed things she would need that night, or to go out of the house with her hair less than perfect.

The reason I knew I was not going to be able to help Megan was because it was common knowledge that Leonard Ramsey's perspective of the course was completely different from his wife's. Shirley had often laughed about the couple, saying that the only thing they had in common was the way they dressed. Both wore tweed jackets with leather patches on the sleeves. Irene was two inches taller than her husband and wore flat shoes to compensate for the difference in their height. They were seldom seen together.

Applied Business Theories was a required course for seniors majoring in Business. It encompassed applying required subjects from our previous three years to business practices. So far, we'd been reviewing what we had learned in Economics, Accounting, Marketing, Human Resources, Statistics, and Business Law. I'd found the first quarter boring, but Irene promised to make the coursework interesting in the second and third quarters. Irene's classes filled first; Leonard was said to be tougher. I recalled that Shirley had had Leonard.

"You could eat a sandwich, couldn't you?" I asked, as I carried both pieces of her luggage up the stairs.

"I guess, but don't go to any trouble for me."

I got her settled at the folding table and said that I was going out to fill my gas tank.

Megan begrudgingly spread her books on the table. From the way she was pondering where to begin, I got the impression the course material had her overwhelmed.

Filling my gas tank could wait until the next day. Knowing there was nothing in the refrigerator to make sandwiches, I went to the grocery store. When I got back, Megan looked as confused as when I had left. I knew that her school schedule was top heavy, and I suspected that the subject matter was not to her liking. I wondered if her father knew that his daughter didn't want to take over the family business. Her desire to please him was making her unhappy.

I quickly made two sandwiches and placed one of them in front of her, along with a glass of milk. She looked at me, sadly, trying to smile. "Thank you," she said, taking a small bite of the sandwich. "Hmmm, good!"

"Would you like to hear what was on the test I took today?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I've heard they teach the course differently."

"That's true. It's like they teach two different subjects. But there's got to be some overlap on the exam. Professor Irene Ramsey's exam consisted of fifty multiple choice questions about the subjects we've been reviewing. They were all mixed up so I'm not sure how many were based on Economics, Statistics, Accounting and so on. But the strange thing about this test was that there was a choice of three answers, plus a blank where you could fill in your own answer. I'll bet I used the blank on twenty-five of the questions."

"Professor Ramsey would never do anything like that, would he?" Megan asked. I saw that she was eating the second half of her sandwich.

"No, I'm sure he wouldn't copy anything from his wife's exam. He'll probably throw a disproportionate amount of Business Law at you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said, finishing the sandwich and taking a sip of milk.

"The multiple choice questions were followed by four essay questions. Let me see if I can remember the wording of the questions." I said.

I could see that Megan was concentrating on something in her notes and decided that she wasn't interested in Professor Irene's exam. I went to the kitchen, made another sandwich, and set half of it in front of her. She looked up from her notes and smiled.

How could I help her? I considered giving her my notebook, but reading my notes would just take up precious minutes and probably not be pertinent information anyway. I took the dishes into the kitchen and was washing them when I got the idea to make cookies. I found a box of cookie mix in the cabinet, turned the oven to preheat, read the directions, added milk to the mix and set the timer on the oven to shut off in twenty minutes.

While I was waiting for the cookies to bake, I went to my study and read Wanda's end-of-week report. She knew I would be on the road tomorrow. She was still touting the Omaha building as a viable addition to our inventory. Wanda documented her conclusions in such a way that they were easy to follow. Thinking of the way Laura had referred to her as the weird girl, I wished I had shown her some of the work Wanda turned out.

The oven timer buzzed, indicating the cookies were ready to remove from the oven. While I was waiting for them to cool, I poured two more glasses of milk.

"Hmmm!" Megan exclaimed when she saw the two cookies and the glass of milk.

"That's all you get because we're going for a run later," I said.

"I can't, Sammy," she said, gesturing to her work spread out on the table.

"I'll give you another hour," I said, retreating to my study. I busied myself with catching up on the weekly news magazines I subscribe to until ten PM. Megan had four textbooks open and was writing furiously in her notebook. She gave me the excuse that she didn't have her running shoes with her.

I didn't know if I believed her. She was going home after the wedding. Would she abstain from running for a week?

At eleven, I changed into my running outfit and went back to the living room, determined not to take no for an answer. "We'll go after your shoes and run from there, back to the center of town and then back to your house. Come on. It'll do both of us good."

Reluctantly, she got up and joined me at the back door where I helped her with her jacket.

"Do you always get your way?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Only when I'm convinced that my way is best."

We drove to the house she shared with Charlie and Debra. I took the key from her, unlocked the door, and followed her inside. While she went to her bedroom to change, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom.

"Bring your clothes with you. That way we won't have to come back inside," I yelled in the direction of her room.

"Do you always give orders? Is that why Charlie calls you the Commander?" she asked when she joined me.

"Only when I'm convinced that my way is best."

She giggled and followed me out to the car. I placed the towel and her clothes in the front seat and joined her, stretching. It was a cool clear night, dark with a cloud covered moon hanging low in the sky.

"I'm nervous about what Ramsey has in store for us," she said as we set out down the dark street.

"I know you are," I said.

"You do?"

"Don't worry. You'll do better than you imagine."

"Easy for you to say," she chided me.

We ran to the theatre and ran in place while Megan perused the coming attractions. "Look what's playing next week. I wish we were going to be here," she said.

Scent of a Woman was going to be shown; a movie Megan had expressed interest in seeing when we first saw the posters advertising it. She'd implied that if we were going to be here next week, we would see it together. I didn't know what to say.

She set a faster gait on the way back to the car. I didn't know it then, but she was in a hurry to get back to the books. I objected, telling her that it was late. "You can use the shower first. We'll get up early and you'll feel refreshed," I said.

Megan started to say something, but smiled and headed for the bathroom, refraining from making another remark about my orders. She wasn't in the bathroom long. "All yours," she said when she came out, dressed for bed and drying her hair with a towel. I didn't stay under the water long either. When I went into the bedroom I discovered that she had added a blanket to the bed. She was wearing the same T-shirt that had gotten me into trouble with Kelley.

"Roll over and I'll give you a back rub," I offered.

"Are you going to massage my feet?" she teased as she rolled onto her tummy.

"This is not a massage. It's a back rub," I said, as I inserted my hand under her hair to start with her neck. Her hair was still damp. I went into the bathroom and when I returned, I had a fresh towel and a candle.

Megan was sitting up in the bed with the covers held up to her neck. She watched me light the candle. "You don't need to do that," she said when she saw me position myself behind her and begin drying her hair.

"I like feeling your hair," I said and she didn't object to the way I was rubbing her scalp.

"That feels good," she said.

"You smell good."

"I like the way you touch me. Rub harder."

When I was satisfied that her hair was dry, I put both hands on her shoulders and kneaded the muscles. She leaned back against my chest, so far that I had to keep pushing her forward. "That feels so nice. You have strong hands," she said when I moved my hands down to her shoulder blades.

I moved my hands down to the small of her back, pressing hard, making her bend forward. I was tempted to pull the T-shirt up so I could feel her bare skin, but quickly thought better of the idea.

"Do you want me to take off the T-shirt?" she asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Sammy, it's just a back rub. You have a girl friend and I have a boy friend. A T-shirt is just a T-shirt."

"Okay, take it off and lie on your tummy."

Megan pulled the shirt off and was face down on the bed before I got a glimpse of her breasts. I watched a blush come to her face in the flickering light.

I got on my knees and started over at her neck, moving down to her shoulders. Her skin felt soft to the touch. I used the tips of my fingers and thumbs to lightly roll the flesh.

"Are you uncomfortable? You can sit on my butt if you want."

"Tell me if I get too heavy," I said, straddling her back with my legs and supporting most of my weight on my heels.

"This is the best massage I've ever had," Megan said, sounding sleepy.

I didn't correct her. I eased the pressure of my fingers until the contact between my fingers tips and her flesh was minimal. What a feat it would be if I could put her to sleep this way.

"Sammy?" Her voice was barely audible.

"Yes, Megan?" I whispered.

"Marcie's so funny."

"Yes, she is."

"She said we..."

I'd never seen anyone fall asleep in mid sentence before, but fatigue had obviously overtaken her will to stay awake. It took several minutes for me to move my weight off the bed without waking her. She looked peaceful in the candle light. What harm would it do to touch my lips to the small of her back? Would that be against the rules we had established? I decided it would.

Anyway, it was chilly in the room. I pulled the covers over her back. I found a flannel shirt and a pair of slippers before blowing out the candle.

Would Shirley have anything on Applied Business Theories? I searched her collection of diskettes and found one labeled Ramsey. Like me, she'd had Doctor Ramsey for Business Law. There were files on everything from teaching technique to a synopsis of every course the professor taught. I opened Applied Business Theories and found what I was looking for: first quarter exam. There was a note from Shirley, stating that these were the questions she remembered from the exam. There was even a disclaimer: 'The wording may not be exact and I may not have answered them correctly'.

A lump came to my throat as I read the questions and Shirley's answers. Had she left the diskettes, knowing that I would run across them, or had she intended to take them with her? I saw why Megan had been nervous. Professor Ramsey's questions were long and worded in such a way that his meaning could be construed in a variety of ways. Shirley's answers were equally obscure. She had covered all bases by providing two or more answers to the same question.

I printed the exam and went back to bed. Megan turned my way and mumbled something unintelligible. I put my arm around her and discovered that she'd put the T-shirt back on.

"What's this?" Megan asked the next morning when she saw the printout. She'd just come out of the bathroom, wearing the T-shirt. Her hair was brushed and her face looked scrubbed.

"It's a copy of Professor Ramsey's exam from a couple of years ago. A friend wrote it from memory after she'd taken the exam. The questions may be different today, but this will show you the style of wording he uses."

"Where did you get this? Are you sure it's from Ramsey?"

"Get dressed and come back."

Megan looked uncertain, but went to the bedroom. When she came back to the living room she looked adorable, wearing jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt. She smiled when she saw the toast and orange juice I'd placed on her side of the table.

"Your friend did this from memory?" she asked, picking up the pages of questions and answers.

"You may not find these questions on today's exam, but going through these ten pages will prepare you for the wording he uses to try to confuse you. We'll give it an hour and if you think it's a waste of time you'll still have three hours to go back to your notes."

Megan's gaze was steady and I thought I saw moisture forming in her eyes. We read the questions, discussed the multiple answers Shirley had given and considered the way we might answer the same question.

At page six, Megan exclaimed, "I don't think there is a correct answer for any of these questions!"

"He wants you to think, but remember; he's a professor of law and will look for you to approach each question from a standpoint of the law first."

As we finished page ten, Megan looked at her watch. "I have to get ready for my execution," she said.

"Don't change a thing. You look ... exceptional ... to me."

"You say the nicest things," she said as she ran into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, she came out wearing the same jeans and sweatshirt, but had put some makeup on her face and her hair was bundled into the familiar ponytail. She looked at the table where she had been working.