“We no longer build fireplaces for physical warmth; we build them for the warmth of the soul; we build them to dream by, to hope by, to home by.”
– Edna Ferber –
You can find earlier installments of this story here:
And for all of you who were initially disappointed by my contest entry, I hope you'll find this to be a satisfactory conclusion of the matter... Please let me know in the comments! ;)
How do I get myself into situations like this? Wanting what I can't have...
By now, he's resigned himself to the inevitable. Liz is obviously just a warmhearted, loving person. A fellow enthusiast when it comes to Middle Eastern antiquities, to be sure. But she has a young, handsome, athletic boyfriend. It's pretty evident by now that I'm in her friend zone. Someone to have coffee with from time to time, a study buddy...
"Digby, I'd like you to meet my friend Chris. We sit by each other in Archeology 301."
Digby—what an Ivy League name.
Digby extends a hand, his expression warming slightly. "Nice to finally meet you."
There it is. The formal introduction, the proffered handshake. He's safe. Just an older gentleman who happens to share Liz's interests. Not a threat. But, '...finally meet you'... He's already heard about me?
"Chris knows so much about the Middle East, especially when it comes to biblical archaeology. I've already learned a lot from him, even though he says this is his first ever seminar on the subject."
"Now she's just flattering me." Looking directly into Digby's cerulean eyes, Chris matches his steady gaze and returns the handshake. Digby's grip is firm, no-nonsense. What else would he expect from a football coach? From the one damn lucky son of a gun to have a girl like Liz?
"No, seriously, Chris. I love talking archaeology with you. You've been a fantastic mentor."
Letting go Digby's hand, Chris feels his face flush, and it isn't the heat radiating from the fireplace.
He looks away from Digby toward Liz. She's positively beaming at him. Dropping his eyes, he manages to mumble a response.
"Well, Liz, you're pretty easy to talk to. Your enthusiasm for our field is hard to match." He looks back up. I could lose myself—easily—in those deep, blue eyes.
"Hey, if Liz says you're on top of the subject, it must be true. I've never known her to dissemble about something like that."
Chris looks back at Digby. Damn if he doesn't look sincere. How can he not feel threatened? Oh, right, I'm twice his age...
Liz bubbles on. "Honestly, Chris, I've been looking forward to this. I just wasn't expecting it tonight. Since I've been spending time with you, I thought it would only be proper to introduce you to Digby as soon as I could."
The room seems suddenly silent, as if expecting a momentous event. The CD has finished.
"Yes, of course." He gets it. Let's keep career and love life unambiguous. No reason to raise unwarranted suspicions. What a good woman! She wants to keep her man aware of this other, totally innocent, friendship. Where was she when I was his age? Damn, what a lucky guy. "I would never want your boyfriend to think something inappropriate was going on."
Liz's eyes widen and her lips form a near circle. She looks back and forth between Chris and Digby several times, then abruptly bursts into laughter. Though he's now completely confused, upon hearing that delightful sound, Chris imagines an icicle xylophone.
"Oh! You think... me and Digby?" She laughs again. "We're no couple. Digby is my younger brother."
Stunned—like an unexpectedly rescued drowning man, pulled from the grip of an icy sea—Chris begins to catch his breath. Liz comes alongside, wraps her hands around his arm, and smiles up at him. Just like she did when he walked her to the bus stop.
"Silly man. Digby and I have always been close. He looks out for me." She leans her head against Chris's shoulder. "My dear brother knew it was going to be extra cold tonight, so he came over to make sure the furnace was working, and to build me this nice fire. I really hope you two will hit it off."
"Chris, you are all she's talked about ever since I got here this afternoon." Through enlightened eyes, Chris can now see the family resemblance in Digby. "I swear, the entire evening, it's been 'Chris this, Chris that.'"
Liz disentangles herself from Chris long enough to punch her brother in the arm.
Chris recovers a bit of his wits. "I'm pretty fond of Liz as well. It's been a revelation discovering how well aligned our interests seem to be." Could we be as compatible as I've dared to hope?
The ornate walnut mantle clock begins chiming the hour.
"Well, my work here is done. Liz, I trust you'll have a cozy evening?"
"Thanks to you, dear Brother, I shall."
"Chris, may I offer you a ride home? You, uh, didn't look quite adequately attired for this weather when I met you at the door."
"No!"
Distressed by her own outburst, Liz recovers. "I mean, there's really no need, Digby. I'll drive Chris home after he's had a chance to warm up."
She smiles at Chris—all the warmth he really needs. All the warmth he has ever wanted. "I can see he's not really dressed for this weather." She looks pointedly at his sandals.
"But, these are my winter sandals."
Liz's offer, and her magical laughter at his lame joke, reassure Chris that the future is very warm and bright, indeed.
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