The school year ended pleasantly, with many of my former students stopping by as a last right of passage before they headed off to graduation and then to university. Several of them were going to Duke, purely because I'd gone there, and it warmed my heart that I had made an impression on a future generation. I also had several going to Harvard, Princeton, Pepperdine, the various Universities of California, and some even overseas to Oxford and Cambridge. It was amazing that I had so many students come to say goodbye to me, and it really reminded me of why I had decided to become a teacher in the first place.

I spent the next hour and a half cleaning out the rest of my classroom, pleased to have survived another year at the school. Loading my belongings into the boxes, I locked up my classroom and headed back out towards the parking lot and to my car, accidentally bumping into a firm body in the process. Blinking and trying to focus as my cheeks flamed automatically, I stammered for a moment as the boxes were effortlessly lifted out of my hands and I was suddenly face-to-face with Grayson Humphries, the resident football coach.

"Oh, sorry," I said, likely flushing to my hairline as he reached out with his other hand and steadied me, and I gasped slightly at the sensation of his muscled, firm hand upon my bare skin as I looked up at him. "Thank you...for stopping me from falling over and likely twisting my ankle. I'm not the damsel in distress type."

Grayson grinned at me; he had pale brown hair and striking blue eyes, and was likely the most popular, and attractive, teacher at the school. "Too bad," he said. "Carrying you to your car would have been the highlight of my day."

I laughed then, my flush blooming even further, going across to my ears and southward, heating up my neck at the most inopportune time. "Well, perhaps you could assist me to my car, then, as I clearly can't be trusted to walk there on my own with my vision obstructed."

Grayson smiled, lifting down the lighter of the two boxes he was holding and offered it to me, and I promptly took it. "Lead the way," she said.

I flashed him a grin and walked down the hallway, pleased when he shortened his pace to fall in line with me. "All finished cleaning up your office?" I asked.

Grayson nodded. "Yes, thank goodness. I didn't have a practice to organize today, and our last game was two weeks ago, so I've been chipping away at it, little by little, during my downtime when I'm not considering defensive plays and all that."

I smiled at him as we turned the corner and headed east, towards the parking lot. "I'm not much into football, to be honest," I confessed, and Grayson mockingly clasped his free hand to his heart as if I'd wounded him. "I had three brothers, and we were all academics, mind you, so there wasn't really much room for it."

Grayson smiled brightly at that. "Isaac is the doctor, Sebastian is the attorney, and Toby is the pilot," he said, all three coming to him without hesitation.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, my god. I can't believe you remembered that..."

"Well, you always ask me about my sisters," Grayson said, laughing.

I grinned back at him. "I suppose I do. Sophie is the architect, and Ruby is the horse trainer," I said quickly, and Grayson snapped his fingers.

"Got it in one," he replied. "I heard from Millie that you have someone living with you now. I never took you to be the one to have roommates in that gorgeous house of yours."

I sighed and nodded my head; Minnie Blanchard was the resident poetry teacher, and I had had many a gathering for the school at my home. "John Grey is his name," I told Grayson, and thought, Here goes, to myself when I began his cover story. "I had a roommate in college, Rowena Davenport, who is a barrister in England now. John is her cousin. He needed to get away from England and find himself for a while, so I'm helping him out, as a favor to Rowena's family. Rowena didn't have any siblings, you see, so she and John grew up together."

Grayson smiled. "That's so considerate of you," he replied, nodding his head. "Must be nice to have company around."

"Oh, it's not that kind of company, and it won't be," I told Grayson. "John and I are merely close friends now."

"Really?" Grayson asked, seemingly considering that for a moment.

"I was very sorry to hear about you and Cecilia," I said softly, directly mentioning Cecilia Lennox, Grayson's former fiancée, who had jilted him the Christmas before and had run off to Atlantic City with Grayson's so-called former best friend, Dominic Monroe.

Grayson smiled at that, and there was only a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Yes, well. I suppose she and Dominic deserve one another. At the end of the day, we wanted different things, and I believe Dominic can give Cecilia what she wants."

I reached out and squeezed his arm as we finally ventured out into the parking lot. "Well, then that's good, then," I informed him. "I know what it's like to think you know someone, and then have your heart broken."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Similar thing happen to you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes. In college," I explained as we meandered towards my car, and I fished my keys out of the pocket of my skirt. "Colin Laraby was the best thing that had ever happened to me, or so I thought. He told me that he and Meredith Pendleton were just friends, and then, when I least expected it, I caught them together."

Grayson swore under his breath. "That's cold."

"It is, isn't it?" I said, shaking my head as we finally neared my car, and I unlocked the trunk and stepped back, allowing Grayson to place the box he carried inside first. "Well, I'm better for it, I suppose. Just glad I didn't sleep with him," I said, laughing aloud.

Grayson laughed back, taking the box I held from me and placing it into my trunk. "But, I'm sure you've had plenty of relationships since then."

I shook my head. "Not a chance," I told him, shutting and locking my trunk. "Between getting two Bachelor's Degrees and working full time..." I shrugged my shoulders, and wrapped my arms around myself. "I haven't had time for all that."

"Would you have dinner with me?"

I nearly dropped my keys as I whirled around to face Grayson. "What?"

Grayson gave me a shy smile as he leaned against my car. "I need to get back out there, because I want a future, and that includes a wife and a family one day. I've got to admit, I've noticed you since we became colleagues, Alexandra, and, even though I would've never done anything while I was with Cecilia, I've always found you attractive. But I knew once Dominic and Cecilia ran off together, on that first day, when you brought me coffee and offered to talk to me whenever I needed it... Gosh, Alexandra, I have feelings for you."

I felt a warmth inside me then at that, and I smiled back at him. "I'd love to," I replied, pleased to have been asked. "Are you free next weekend?"

Grayson nodded at me. "Yes, I am."

"Wonderful," I said, and reached into my other pocket, where I always kept a pen, and gently took ahold of Grayson's arm, writing down my phone number in the black ink, which made Grayson laugh slightly at that. "Are you familiar with Blackthorn Bar & Grill in Downtown Durham?" I asked him.

Grayson raised his eyebrows. "Yes, of course I am. We had my sister, Ruby's, wedding lunch there two years ago."

"Good memories?"

Grayson smiled. "At least I wasn't the center of attention," he replied. "But, yes. Very good memories. And the food is delicious, and very reasonably priced."

"What do you say we meet there next Saturday, around seven, for dinner?" I asked him. "That is, if you're available then."

Grayson nodded his head. "That sounds perfect." He hesitated for a moment, before he stepped forward, and pressed a gentle kiss upon my cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, all right?"

I nodded at him. "All right," I responded, little sparkles dancing all over me where he'd kissed me, and I waved at him as he ventured towards his own car, a black 1967 Lincoln Continental that he was obviously very proud of.

I kept right on smiling as I got into my own car, and managed to navigate my way through Friday night traffic towards my own home. Pulling into the driveway, I looked up as John stepped out of the house, and I waved at him, hopping out and opening my trunk, and permitting him to help me with the boxes.

"How was your last day?" John wanted to know.

"Easier than I thought it would be," I replied, taking out the lighter of the two boxes again and shutting and locking my trunk. "Want to order from Annamaria's tonight?"

"I will never tire of Americans' fascination for pizza," John said, grinning at me as he let me inside the house first, just as the telephone rang.

"Oh, dear!" I said, setting the box down just inside and dashing towards the phone, picking it up as John shut and locked the back door behind us. "Hello?"

"Ah, I just caught you, then, eh?"

"Oh, Rowena!" I cried out, grinning automatically. "I'm so surprised to hear from you again. I mean, it's lovely, but..."

"Surprising, I know," she replied, grinning. "Listen, remember I told you I did my graduate work at Oxford University?"

I nodded my head. "Yes, of course, I do."

"Well, I met someone there who may be able to help you," she replied. "He's up late a lot, so feel free to give him a ring. Can I give you his number? He's expecting your call."

I nodded my head, turning towards the pad of paper by the phone and hastily jotted it down. "Are you just getting out of court, then?" I queried.

"Yes, and I'm exhausted," Rowena replied, with a heartfelt sigh. "Just have enough time to stuff some food down my throat and see to Desmond for a few moments," she said, mentioning her husband of six years. "Of course, I would have liked to have seen Tony and Tabby, but there's only so much I can do."

I smiled in sympathy; Anthony and Tabitha were Rowena and Desmond's twins, and the pair of them were absolutely delightful. "Do you get some time off soon?"

"If that's a roundabout way of you extending an invitation to your family's annual summertime picnic, the answer is yes. Desmond, the twins, and I will be there on schedule."

I grinned. "Thanks, Row. I'll let you get some food and Desmond, then."

"No problem, Lexi. Talk soon."

"You, too," I replied, and Rowena hung up. Turning to John, I said, "Rowena mentioned someone from Oxford University who may be able to help us."

"Could you ring him, as it were?" John asked, stepping forward.

I smiled at him. "I can try," I replied, and dialed up the number, tapping my fingertips against the hallway table.

There was a man's voice on the other end of the telephone after numerous rings. "Hello? This is Professor Roger Wakefield."

"Hello, Professor Wakefield. This is Alexandra Hathaway," I said. "I'm terribly sorry to call you so late, but Rowena Davenport-Thomson gave me your number."

"Ah, o'course, Miss Hathaway," replied Professor Wakefield. "'Tis a pleasure. Rowena has told me lots about ye, and how ye are looking for someone in the past. I have been doing lots of research on the period yer interested in of late."

"Oh, yes?" I asked. "And please, call me Alexandra."

"Then ye must call me Roger," the man informed me.

"Well, Roger, I do hope that this won't be too much for you," I told him quickly. "I'd hate to take advantage just because we have a mutual friend."

"Ah, 'tis nae trouble, lass," Roger said with a chuckle. "The research I was doing was for the help of some dear friends of my late father, Reverend Wakefield."

"I am very sorry to hear about the death of your father," I told him gently, vaguely aware of John coming to stand beside me. "I do hope your research was fruitful, however."

"'Twas indeed," Roger told me. "Claire and Brianna Randall were searching for someone in Clan Fraser, a relative of theirs. I'm sure I can find some information on what yer looking for, Alexandra, dinnae fash."

"Well, I hope they got what they were looking for," I replied.

"I believe they did," Roger replied. "Now, what may I help ye with?"

"My friend, who is staying with me for a period, is looking for a relative of his as well," I said, knowing that I had to tread carefully, but, evidenced by John's expression, I was saying all the right things. "His name was William Ransom, and he was the ninth Earl of Ellesmere, back in the eighteenth century."

Roger seemed to be scrawling down some notes. "I believe I can help ye, Alexandra. Give me a few days, and I'll see what I can come up with, if ye will."

I nodded my head, then inwardly cursed myself because he could not see me. "Yes, of course, Roger," I said, hoping I sounded polite. "Thank you very much for taking the time."

"I am like a dog with a bone, Alexandra," Roger informed me, chuckling. "Just leave it with me, and I'll do my best to find the results ye want."

"Thank you, Roger. Thank you very much."

"Not a problem, Alexandra. Have a good rest of yer day," Roger said.

"You as well," I replied, and cut the call. I turned to John, grinning at him. "So? It's in Professor Roger Wakefield's hands now..."

John promptly caught me by the waist and swung me around, and I shrieked with laughter as he bellowed his own in happiness. "Dear God in heaven, you're wonderful, don't you know that, Alexandra Hathaway?"

I laughed heartily at that. "Oh, I don't know about wonderful..."

"Exceedingly brilliant, fantastically considerate, amazingly kind..." John said, swinging me around and around over and over again.

I laughed aloud again, and he slowly brought me back down again, and I flushed as he drew me against him as he did so, and our eyes locked. "John..."

"Thank you," he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine.

I nodded up at him. "You're welcome," I responded. "I..." I was cut off by the phone ringing again, and I quickly untangled myself from his embrace, flushed and hot all over, as I stumbled over towards the telephone. I picked it up, and asked, "Hello?" into the receiver.

"Sorry, I know I said I'd wait until tomorrow, but I had to be sure I had the number right before I tore my phone book apart," Grayson's voice said.

I laughed again, although this time it was more like the giggling of a schoolgirl. "It's no problem, Grayson, I promise."

John's head snapped up at that. "Grayson?" he demanded.

"Is everything all right?" Grayson asked. "You're so quiet..."

"I'm fine, sorry," I said, forcing another laugh through my lips. "I just wasn't expecting a phone call right now, is all."

"Oh, of course," Grayson said quickly. "Well, I won't keep you, and we'll talk more tomorrow about next weekend, all right?"

I nodded quickly at that. "Yes, of course. Talk to you then."

"Goodbye, Alexandra," Grayson said, and hung up.

Slowly, I put the phone down, very aware of John standing directly behind me. "So... Shall I call Annamaria's now?" I asked quietly.

"Who is this Grayson fellow, then?" John asked softly.

I peeked over my shoulder at John. "Grayson Humphries," I told him softly, "is the football coach for the school I work at. He was a friend, not a close one, mind you, but a friend nevertheless when I started working there..."

John appeared tense. "And what did he want with you?"

I gripped upon the edge of the table. "He's asked me to go to dinner with him next weekend, and I accepted his gracious invitation."

"School business?" John wanted to know.

I shut my eyes; I couldn't bear to see the look of betrayal flashing through them, and couldn't put my finger on why he would possibly feel that way. "No," I whispered. "It's going to be a date. I mean, he did kiss me after he asked me..."

"He kissed you?" John demanded then, grabbing ahold of my wrist and bodily turning me around to face him. "Did you kiss him back?"

I blinked, shocked at this display. "John..."

"Why would you let him do that?" he cried.

I trembled at the ferocity in his tone. "Did... Did Toby ask you to look out for me?" I whispered to him, too shocked to say much else.

John shook his head in confusion. "What?"

I bit down hard on my lower lip. "I mean, did he ask you to be protective towards me when it came to other men?"

John narrowed his eyes. "You seriously don't believe I wouldn't act accordingly of my own volition, Alexandra?"

I sighed. "I honestly don't know what to believe," I replied, shaking my head. "The way you're acting is very surprising to me."

John gritted his teeth. "What?"

"You're acting like a jealous boyfriend, when you've made it abundantly clear to me that you don't see women in that light!" I suddenly cried, yanking my arm away from him. "You're also acting as if I'm completely out of line for letting another man kiss me! You don't own me, John, and the sooner you get that into that thick head of yours, the better off we'll all be!" I yelled at him, getting into his face. "You no longer are in a time where women are considered property, and you'd do well to remember that!"

John looked as if he was on the verge of saying something, whereupon he took ahold of my neck and yanked me towards him, molding his lips to mine, and forcing mine apart, his tongue mapping out every inch of my mouth as his other hand dragged me bodily towards him, molding me to his body—

I shoved him away from me then, and promptly slapped him across the face. "God help you, John Grey. You and your goddamn mixed signals," I spat, before I stomped out of the room, up the stairs, and into my own bedroom, and locked the door behind me.

~*~

Grayson picked me up on schedule for our dinner the following weekend, while John stayed in his bedroom, fuming, only eating leftovers from the kitchen for the past week. I stepped out of the house in a blue and white striped summer dress, complete with a little white belt around my waist, and matching white pumps. My purse also matched my ensemble as well, which I will readily admit came from Layla, who insisted upon taking me shopping earlier in the week with the girls. I smiled at Grayson, waving at him as I walked down the cobblestone path outside my house and slipped into the passenger side of his car.

"You look great!" Grayson informed me, his signature beam in place, and leaned over to press a kiss on my cheek. "You all ready?"

I nodded my head. "I am, yes," I replied, permitting my eyes to rake over Grayson for a moment as we pulled down the street, appreciating how his blue summer suit was just a couple shades darker than his eyes.

"How are you settling into summer?" Grayson wanted to know, as we pulled out from my little slice of suburbia and drove onto the main road.

"Things are going well, thank you," I told him. "Everyone's gearing up for my family's Fourth of July summer picnic, which should be a lot of fun, as always."

"How's your sister-in-law—Layla, wasn't it?" he asked, smiling at me for a moment before looking back at the stretch of street. "You mentioned she was pregnant. Baby number three. I remember you mentioning your nieces, Alexa and Ruthie."

"She's doing well, thank you," I said. "Baby seems to be coming along nicely. She and Toby are hoping for a boy this time, of course... She actually took me shopping for tonight," I said, and pulled at the skirt of my dress, straightening it out.

"Well, I think you look lovely," Grayson informed me. "Layla has good taste."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," I responded. "Do Sophie and Ruby have any children? You mentioned that Ruby was married last time we talked about them."

"Yeah, they're both married, to surprisingly wonderful guys," Grayson informed me with a small grin, almost as if he had initially set out to hate his brothers-in-law. "Sophie's married to another architect, Randy Norwood, and they seem really happy. They have two boys, Thad and Theo, and they're brilliant, both attending West Point with the plan of going into the Army. Thad wants to be an officer, and Theo wants to be a doctor."

"It's wonderful that they have plans," I said, nodding my head. "And Ruby?"

"Ruby married a man who's had a farm in his family for generations—Bill Donahue—and now they train horses together; it's quite nice. They have three girls—Flora, Lilac, and Daisy," he said, and shook his head. "Bill's mother was a prize-winning gardener, and her name was Zinnia, so you can guess where the inspiration came from."

I grinned at that. "Well, I'm sure that they're lovely," I told him. "How old are they?"

"Flora is ten, Lilac is seven, and Daisy is three," Grayson said softly, and I could tell that he loved them all very much. "All in Catholic school already, of course. They're all very devout, and we couldn't be more proud of them."

"Do you like flowers?" Grayson asked, and swore softly under his breath. "I'm sorry, I should've asked you before... And then actually brought you some..."

"I do," I said softly, and Grayson turned to look at me for a moment. "Red roses are my favorite flower, not just for the scent, but for the wonderful meaning behind them."

Grayson smiled as we turned into the parking lot of the restaurant to get his car valeted. "You like the idea of love," he responded.

I smiled back at him. "I do," I whispered, allowing him to toss his keys to the valet, and then rush around the car to let me out himself. "Thank you," I said, taking his hand and allowed him to keep holding it as we stepped into the upscale, air-conditioned establishment.

"Good evening," said the lovely hostess, who was clearly eyeing up Grayson, but settled down once she noticed me. "Do you have a reservation?"

"It's for two, under Humphries," Grayson told her, and I was surprised that he didn't have eyes for the buxom blonde opposite us.

"Of course," said the hostess, looking down at the ledger, and nodded her head, grabbing two menus, enrobed in black leather with the name of the restaurant embossed in gold upon the cover, and tucked them under her arm. "Right this way, please."

Grayson and I were led over to the table, and I could tell he was just a bit disappointed when I informed him that I didn't drink. Although he remained polite for the duration, he was closed off after that fact, so much so that I got a cab ride home afterwards. I stepped up to my front door and unlocked it, gasping slightly when I saw John standing there in the semi-darkness, waiting for me to come back.

"I really don't want to fight with you," I told him plainly, as I shut and locked the door behind me, and took off my shoes—really, who invented high-class shoes anyway?

John gave a shallow nod at that. "I saw the taxi cab dropping you off," he said softly. "Did the date not go well, then?"

I sighed, stepping further into the house and depositing my purse and shoes upon the stairs, to be taken up when I went to bed later on. "That's a mild way of putting it, yes," I replied, stepping into the kitchen and meandering over to the freezer.

"What are you looking for?" John asked, hesitating on the threshold.

I dove into the freezer and brought out the tub of vanilla ice cream that I always kept in there; it was, indeed, a necessity. "Many people in this day and age resort to drinking alcohol whenever something in their lives goes badly, or doesn't pan out," I told him, kicking the freezer door shut behind me and grabbing a spoon from the allotted drawer. "I myself resort to a few bites of vanilla ice cream instead."

John stepped into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. "Isn't that dangerous?"

I smirked at him. "Well, I didn't say it was safe." I hesitated for a moment, and dug in the drawer again, grabbing a second spoon. "Do you want some?"

John nodded his head and stepped closer, dipping his spoon into the ice cream. "Did Mr. Humphries say or do something that offended you?"

I scoffed at that, rolling my shoulders. "He seemed offended by me, in actuality."

John blinked, looking over at me as he sampled the ice cream. "Is he of the belief that women should be chained to the kitchen, and not in the workplace?"

I laughed at that; John really could always make me laugh. "No, actually. He has two sisters who have jobs themselves, so that wasn't an issue, thankfully."

"Then, what was the 'issue', as it were?" John pressed gently.

I rolled my eyes. "He seemed offended that I wouldn't have a glass of wine with dinner. More specifically, red wine, which would clash completely, due to the fact that I ordered chicken, and everyone knows that—"

"Chicken is served with white wine," John said, and I looked up at him, and he gave me a small smile at that. "I do listen, most of the time."

"Yeah... Yes, that's right," I said quietly. "You do listen...most of the time."

John cocks his head to one side. "You resemble a Shakespeare heroine. You know that, Alexandra, do you not?" he asked.

I laughed at that, although it was soft and much more dignified. "Just as long as it's not Juliet Capulet," I told him.

"I thought you enjoyed Romeo and Juliet," John put in.

"I do; I just hate the ending," I replied. "Not to mention the fact that I am not Italian, and I haven't been thirteen for a good fifteen years. The notion that I am now Lady Capulet's age is quite a frightening one," I said, shaking my head.

John cocked his head to one side. "Quite disturbing, when you consider her age, and the fact that her father wanted her married off."

I nodded my head. "One of the many disturbing things about that play." I dove back into the ice cream carton. "Have you been amusing yourself with my library, then? I do hope you ventured beyond the works of Shakespeare, and read something that was beyond the sixteenth century for a change."

"I did discover Miss Austen," John said softly.

I turned around to face him again. "Jane Austen, you mean?"

John nodded his head. "Yes. Fascinating woman, if I do say so myself. I quite find her writings on gentlemen of the day to be quite, shall we say, inspired."

"Well, it certainly is later in time, given that it is the nineteenth century in which her works were given the time of day and published," I said, smiling at that. "Do you have a favorite work of hers so far, then?"

"Sense and Sensibility speaks to me the most," John said softly. "I find Colonel Brandon to be a perfectly fine individual, whom I believe I would readily befriend, due to our similar backgrounds in our youthful days."

"Ah, but he pines after young Marianne Dashwood, and not, shall we say, a young solider in the form of a damsel," I said, grinning up at him.

John shakes his head, taking another spoonful of ice cream. "Some things are not always as they seem, Alexandra," he responds. "Although I suppose that you favor Pride and Prejudice the most out of Miss Austen's novels."

I lower my eyes, my grin subsiding, but my smile, nevertheless, remaining firmly in place. "You can truly read me like a book, John," I said softly.

"Perhaps you are more like Elizabeth Bennet than you are Juliet Capulet," John muses, evidently thinking it over for a moment.

I shake my head slightly then, closing up the ice cream and putting it back into the freezer. "I suppose I should get to bed, then," I said, looking up at John and wrapping my arms around myself. "It has been...an interesting day."

John hesitates for a moment. "I should extend to you my apologies, Alexandra. I should not have kissed you the way I did."

I gave him a small nod. "No, you shouldn't have," I reply, moving to leave the room, but stop for a moment on the threshold. "I have come to the conclusion in my life, John, that, the next time I decide to kiss someone, I want them to mean it," I say, hating the tears upon my cheeks, as I will always see them as some kind of weakness, and move towards the staircase, picking up my shoes and purse, and head up towards my bedroom.