The Purity of Blood: Volume I (5 page)

Outside the
thoughts rattling around inside my mind, I could hear the friendly chatter of
Darcy, Tabitha, Mike and Ryan in the background.
 
It was comforting, but I hadn’t heard a word
they’d said for a while now.

“So, no Daniel?”
 
Darcy’s voice finally penetrated my
haze.
 
“How disappointing.”

“I know,”
Tabitha sighed.
 
She tried to play it
cool in front of Mike, but I think it was possible that she had just as big a
crush on him as Darcy did.
 

“He’s still here
though.
 
I saw him in my medieval history
class so I don’t know why he wasn’t in Art History this morning.
 
I’d have sworn Professor Walker and Daniel
were joined at the hip.
 
You so rarely
see one without the other.”

Wishing for a
change of topic, I looked past Darcy and started scanning the faces in the
dining hall.
 
Glancing from table to
table, I tried to imagine what their conversations were about based on facial
expressions and body language.
 
A few
tables into my mental game, I spotted Ben across the room, seated with another
set of friends.
 

“Is that Ben
over there?” I said to no one in particular.
 

Everyone turned
in the direction I was looking.

“Yep, told
you.
 
I swear he’s friends with just
about everybody on campus,” Darcy said as she turned back to her food.

“So what are
your plans for the evening?” Tabitha asked me.
 
I guessed that after the topic of my mornings escapades had ended this
was what had replaced it.

“Studying,” I
shrugged.
 
“Guess I’d better stay on top
of Art History if I know what’s good for me.”
 
Off handedly I added, “Plus I want to organize all my research so I can
hit the library tomorrow.”

“Research?”
 
Tabitha raised an eye brow.

“Is that what’s
in all those plastic containers you have stacked up in the corner?” Darcy
asked.

“Yes,” I
answered, suddenly wishing I hadn’t mentioned it at all.
 
“I like to work on my family’s
genealogy.
 
It’s a hobby of mine.
 
I’d brought a lot of my research with me from
home to work on when I had time.
 
The
library here has one of the best genealogy sections in the state.”
 

I purposefully
neglected to mention that the attractions of their library had been a major
reason I’d chosen NPU to begin with.

As was usual a
moment of silence followed.
 
This was
pretty much the norm when I first mentioned my hobby to new people.

“That sounds
interesting,” Mike finally said.
 
“My
grandmother is really into that.
 
She
knows all sorts of stuff about the family going back to the 1700’s.”
 

Now started a
general conversation among them of what they knew of their family
histories.
 
I didn’t say anything further.
 
I’d been working on my research for about a
decade.
 
In the process, I’d amassed a
considerable amount of information, much more than anyone at the table had,
probably more than anyone at NPU.
 
It was
a topic I could easily go on and on about with little prodding or
encouragement.
 
I bit my lip though.
 
On the few occasions in my life I’d talked to
my heart’s content about it to someone outside the family, it hadn’t taken long
for their eyes to either glaze over or their attention to drift.
 
Either that or they’d give me an odd look
like I was a little crazy.
 
For what I
considered a completely inoffensive hobby, most people, though they wouldn’t
admit it, thought it was boring as saw dust.
 
I knew some even saw it as an indication that I was some sort of social
misfit who’d rather talk to the dead than the living.
 
For this reason, I let it drop with my new
friends.
 
No need to run them off this
early.
 
They’d probably fall into the
latter category though if they ever saw my extensive collection of family headstone
photographs.

The topic of conversation eventually changed to our hiking
trip and a date was set for the weekend after next.
 
They were planning a drive up to Mohonk
Preserve where they said there were plenty of good trails, waterfalls and lots
of wildlife to see.

And so my life settled into a
routine of sorts.
  
I’d learned to forgo
breakfast in the dining hall for a quick bowl of cereal in my room which saved
time for a half hours extra sleep in the morning.
 
Three times a week I sat through Art History
and was put on the spot by Professor Walker at least twice each day.
 
I studied hard for that class, harder than
any other I had, and so far hadn’t embarrassed myself too badly.
 
Hard as I tried I could never tell if he was
pleased when I gave the right answer, or if he was hoping I’d offer the wrong
one.
 
I sometimes thought he might like
the opportunity to publically berate me, but he never got much of a
chance.
 
Sometimes after I would answer,
he’d get something of an arch smile in his eye that I could easily have
interpreted as
he’d get me next time
.

My other courses
were all going well.
 
It became
increasingly clear as the weeks wore on that I would be seeing less and less of
Darcy.
 
She was officially pledging now
and had spent the last few nights sleeping in one of her pledge sister’s rooms
over in
Crispell
Hall.
 
Something about safety in numbers she’d said,
but I wasn’t really sure what that was supposed to mean.
 

I met up with
Tabitha, Mike and Ryan for dinner every night, and also for lunch some days
when our class schedules allowed.
 
I also
ran into Ben from time to time while crossing the quad.
 
He seemed as nice as he had on first
impression, but guarded.
 
It seemed like
every time, I left him, I was left wondering why he closed off parts of his
life to everyone here.
 
From time to time
I’d casually asked him questions about where he was from and his family, but
he’d always quickly change the subject to avoid answering me.
 
As a person with secrets of my own, I could
recognize a kindred spirit of that kind better than most.
 
I let it lie.
 
I respected his privacy and hoped he would do the same for me.
 
Of course, I still wondered what was going on
behind his amazing brown eyes.
 
Could I
possibly guess his secrets if I tried?
 
I
know he’d never guess mine.
 

I’d made some other friends as well in my classes, but none
that I really socialized with outside of the classroom except for the
occasional quick snack after class to discuss a project or a particularly
interesting lecture.

Eventually, I’d begun to notice
that everyone I was acquainted with seemed to run into this Daniel guy but
me.
 
Not that it really meant much.
 
I mean the only effect this had on me was to
peak my curiosity.
  
I’d been on campus a
few weeks now, so I’d have thought I’d have crossed paths with him at least
once by now.
 
NPU might seem big in
comparison to my high school back in Wading River, but in reality it just
wasn’t that big.
 

It was the
different ways in which people reacted to Daniel that was beginning to
fascinate me – in a scientific curiosity sort of way.
 
Women tended to ever so slightly swoon at the
mention of his name, and men usually showed a flash of what I assumed was
jealousy.
 
But this was not a hard and
fast rule.
 
I’d noticed an extremely
small minority of women didn’t like him either.
 
A few girls in my classes said he kind of
creeped
them out when he looked them directly in the eyes with some intense stare he
apparently had.
  
I heard a lot about the
strange shade of blue his eyes were.
  
I’ll admit it, I was curious to see what all the fuss was about.

All this had gotten me to thinking.
 
I’d been meaning to stop by Professor
Walker’s office in the Faculty Tower to ask him a question about an assignment
he’d given us last week.
 
I’d been
putting off a visit to his office for obvious reasons but now I was thinking
this might be my opportunity to see what all the fuss about this Daniel
character was about.
 
I figured if there
were any place I’d be likely to run into him, it would be in the Art History
Department offices.
 
Perhaps catching a
glimpse of the elusive Daniel would take a little of the sting out of having to
be alone in a room with Professor Walker.

The next morning, I ate my cereal
and dashed out the door to Art History to meet up with Tabitha at her usual
spot on the steps out front.
 
She was a
morning person through and through and always early to class.
  
I envied her that.
 
God had given me many gifts, but the ability
to embrace the earliest hours of the day was not among them.

Class started
promptly as always.
 
And as always, about
twenty minutes into the lecture I heard “Miss Donnelly, what are the main
buildings that make up the Acropolis in Athens?”

“The Parthenon,
the Old Temple of Athena, the
Erechtheum
, the
Sanctuary of Artemis, the Temple of Athena Nike and the
Propylaea
,”
I answered.
     

Professor Walker
nodded and continued his lecture.
 
I’d
have to go through this again in another twenty minutes or so.
 

This was our
routine, the Professor and I.
 
It didn’t
bother me as much as I’d thought it would.
 
I guess since the subject interested me, I didn’t mind the extra time I
spent studying.
 
And besides, I wouldn’t
have settled for anything less than an A anyway.

My life had been filled with a series of tough instructors in
a variety of subjects, which I guessed was why it didn’t bother me the way it
had his past chosen students.
 
As my
mother would say,
there’s nothing new
under the sun
.
 
At least the
Professor wasn’t standing an inch from my face screaming his questions about
the Italian Renaissance in rapid fire succession.
 
Still, if he chose to ask a question of
someone else from time to time, I wouldn’t have minded that either.

Gathering up my books, I headed
over to the Faculty Tower to see if I could catch the Professor during his
office hours.
 
He had, as was his usual
custom, hastily exited the moment class ended with Rodney in tow.
 
I’d been told, and it appeared to be true,
that the Professor wasn’t one to answer questions after class except on rare
occasions.
 
For someone who seemed so
comfortable in front of a crowded lecture hall of students, he seemed strangely
uncomfortable when he didn’t have a slide above his head to talk about.

I took my time
walking across campus, unsure of what to expect when I got there.
 
As I exited the elevator in the Faculty
Tower, I followed the signs to the Art History Department offices which turned
out to be a small corridor tucked off the far end of the fifth floor.
 
Up here you were high enough to take in the
sweeping panoramic view of the valley below.
 
As I passed the windows, I paused for a moment to take in the rapidly
changing colors of the fall foliage.
 
Fall had always been my favorite time of year.

Walking around a
corner, I came to a stop in front of a door marked
Prof. J. Walker
in gold lettering.
 
Hesitating for a moment, I took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” I
heard through the frosted glass of the door.
 
The tone of the voice was unreadable, providing me no warning of what to
expect.

Blowing out my
deep breath, I turned the knob and slowly opened the door.
 
His office was lined with dark wooden book
shelves filled with magnificent collections of leather bound volumes.
 
If I wasn’t mistaken, the faint odor of old
pipe tobacco hung pleasantly in the air.
 
Did he smoke a pipe?
 
Strangely
enough, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he did.
 
A large ornately carved wooden desk sat in the
center of the room.
 
On top was a small
brass lamp with a green shade that glowed, casting most of the light in the
small room.
 
The Professor sat behind the
desk in an old wooden swivel chair and looked up at my entrance.
 
To my astonishment, he didn’t look
surprised.
 
Well, not exactly
not
surprised, but certainly not
altogether comfortable.
 
Again, he was
very hard to read.
 
His facial
expressions and body language gave ambiguous signals that often left me
baffled.