Memories of You (2 page)

“Oh, sweetie.” Camilla knelt on the carpet and peered under the couch. “Come out, Elly. Madonna didn’t mean to scare you, she was just playing. Come, let’s sit in the armchair and cuddle.”

Elton whimpered and edged forward a couple of inches.

“Come on,” she coaxed, reaching under the couch to stroke his furry paw. “Come out and sit with me. Madonna won’t hurt you.”

He crept toward her. Finally Camilla was able to grip his body gently and drag him out. She sat in an armchair and cuddled the shivering cat, resting her chin on the top of his head.

As she stroked the cat with rhythmic, soothing strokes, her mind kept going back to that shocking moment in class when she’d first seen Jon Campbell.

Even though he’d been seated, she could tell he was tall and well built. His square face was tanned and pleasantly masculine, his eyes clear and direct. He had thick brown hair dusted with gray, and his hands were hard and callused.

After that first horrifying moment of recognition, Camilla had kept hoping maybe he wasn’t the man she remembered. But when he’d turned away to glance over at Enrique and she saw the hard line of his cheek, the aquiline profile, she knew it was true.

She clutched Elton tightly in her arms, trying to battle rising surges of memory. But the images were too insistent.

A boy, a motorcycle on a deserted road, a hot weekend in summertime…

Once more she tried to tell herself it couldn’t possibly be the same person.

That all happened twenty years ago, and far away from here. This was a different world.

But Camilla knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jon Campbell was the man she remembered. Somehow he’d managed to find her again. And his presence here on this campus spelled terrible danger. It could mean an end to the whole careful life she’d struggled for twenty years to build.

C
AMILLA FINALLY LEFT
her cats and her apartment, feeling a little comforted but still worried and tense. She locked the door, hurried down the hall and entered the elevator. Three other people stood inside the little enclosure, a couple of graduate assistants and a young janitor with a mop and pail. Camilla greeted him with a smile.

The elevator doors opened as they reached the lobby. Camilla walked down a shady path to one of the buildings in the English department, then made her way through a maze of corridors to a suite of cramped, book-filled offices where she shared a secretary with three other professors.

“Hi, Camilla.” The secretary looked up from her computer keyboard with a bright smile. “Did you have a nice summer?”

“Very nice, Joyce.” Camilla took a bundle of files from one of the compartments. “How about you?”

Joyce shrugged. “I’m glad to be back at work. My kids were really driving me crazy.”

“Didn’t you manage to get away for that vacation in Banff? I remember how much you were all looking forward to it.”

“Oh, that was fun, all right, but it only lasted two weeks. The kids always get so bored by the end of August.”

“How old are they now?” Camilla paused, then shook her head. “My goodness, Jamie must be ten already. I can hardly believe it.”

“He sure is. And Susan’s eight. Little monsters,” Joyce said darkly, but her smile was fond.

Camilla tried to imagine what it would be like to spend a whole summer with children that age.

Most of her experience with younger children involved the primary-school study group at the university. This class was made up of about fifteen gifted children aged six to ten years. The children came from all the western provinces to receive an accelerated education. They were also tested and observed by some of the senior professors who were doing research into intelligence.

“So, did you go home for the summer?” Joyce was asking.

“No,” Camilla said after a brief hesitation. “I had a couple of papers to get ready for publication, so I stayed here and worked.”

“What a pity. It must be beautiful in New England at this time of year,” the secretary said wistfully.

“New England?” Camilla asked.

“Barry says your people have a summer home out there, near the Kennedy compound.”

Camilla shifted the stack of books to her other arm, putting the files on top. “Well, I haven’t been to New England in a long time,” she said.

“Okay.” Joyce gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Whatever you say.”

Camilla hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say, then nodded and let herself into her little office. She dumped the books and files onto her desk, troubled by the secretary’s words.

These rumors about Camilla’s family had started circulating around campus a few years ago, and grew more outlandish all the time. By now, her half-hearted denials only served to make people more convinced that she came from a lavishly privileged, aristocratic background and chose for some reason to keep her private life a secret.

Although Camilla was sometimes dismayed by the exaggerated stories, she was grateful that they served to keep her colleagues a little intimidated. People seldom invited her to functions like staff parties and backyard barbecues, assuming that she wouldn’t want to attend. As a result, she wasn’t forced to get close to people, or form any relationships that required an uncomfortable level of disclosure about her personal life.

She was almost always lonely, but she was safe at home with her plants and books, her cats and her research work. And safety was more important to Camilla Pritchard than anything else.

Much
more important…

She crossed the room and stood for a moment looking out the window at the throngs of students, wondering what her colleagues would think if they ever discovered the truth.

But, of course, none of these people could possibly learn the truth about Camilla Pritchard. As long as she kept everybody at arm’s length, there was no danger.

She pushed aside the fears, sat down at her desk and began to work.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened and Gwen Klassen appeared, looking brisk and cheerful. She was one of the professors who shared their suite of offices and taught the class of gifted primary children in their bright, toy-filled study center down the hall.

“Hi, Camilla,” she said, coming into the room. “I need to borrow a couple of your books on cognitive processes. Are you all ready for the new term?”

Camilla moved some papers so her colleague could sit on the corner of the desk. “Actually, I’m even less ready than usual.”

“You?” Gwen asked. “Go on. You’re so superorganized, I thought you always prepared about three years ahead,” she said as she perched on the desk, swinging her feet in their white running shoes.

Gwen was about fifty, with a slim figure, a shock of gray hair and a manner so sunny and engaging that even Camilla’s shyness and reserve tended to melt under its warmth. A born teacher, Gwen Klassen treated her scholarly colleagues exactly the way she did her little students, with a humorous, gentle indulgence that endeared her to everybody.

Camilla examined the file on her desk, containing
class lists and an outline of her teaching schedule for the fall term. “I mean, I’m not emotionally prepared. I feel less ready every term,” she said in a rare display of her personal feelings. “I love teaching, but I keep thinking maybe I’m missing something. Like there should be…I don’t know.” She moved books around restlessly on her desk, trying to smile. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

Gwen looked down at her with surprise and sympathy. “It sounds more like you’re getting burned out, honey. Why don’t you consider applying for a sabbatical? You know they’d give it to you in a minute, because there’s nobody on staff who deserves it more. You could spend a whole year doing research and writing, and come back feeling like a brand-new woman.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I took a sabbatical,” Camilla said. “A year off from teaching would be too long. I just need…some kind of change, I guess.”

“Like what?”

Camilla shrugged and leafed through some papers, embarrassed at having revealed so much of herself.

“Why don’t you come over to my place on Friday night?” Gwen said casually. “Dan and I are having a few people over. Barry and his wife, and Gail and Joe from the administration office, and one of the new professors who’s a whiz on the electric guitar. It should be a good time.”

“I don’t think so, thanks.” Camilla smiled regretfully
at the other woman. “It sounds like fun, but I have…I have a prior commitment.”

To Camilla’s relief, Gwen didn’t ask about the commitment. Instead, she changed the subject with her usual tact.

“Did you go away at all?”

“Not really. I pretty much stayed home and looked after my cats, and did a lot of writing.”

“That’s not what Barry’s been telling people,” Gwen said with a brief grin.

Camilla sighed.

Barry Bellamy was another of their office-mates. He taught modern drama. He was a terrible gossip, and seemed fascinated by all the myths about Camilla’s background. In some perverse way, he enjoyed retelling and embroidering these far-fetched stories, as if contact with such an imposing personage somehow gave him additional status.

Camilla found it all embarrassing, but she didn’t know how to stop the man from gossiping and meddling in her life without revealing the dreadful truth about herself.

“Barry’s too much,” she said. “I don’t know where he comes up with all the stories he keeps telling people.”

Gwen gave her a keen, thoughtful glance. “So, have you looked over your class lists?” she asked after a moment.

“Briefly. The freshman class is pretty huge, but at least my senior-level creative-writing courses still
look to be a decent size. I guess the full impact of the budget cuts hasn’t reached us yet.”

Gwen smiled happily. “Well, I’ve got a nice little group this year. You’ll love them, Camilla. Your first session with my kids is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, isn’t it?”

Camilla checked her calendar. “That’s right,” she said. “Two o’clock. I’m planning to do a study with some of them on the relationship between symbol recognition and the early development of reading skills. I’ve been collecting the research materials all summer.”

“We’ve got the cutest pair of twins this year,” Gwen said. “Seven years old, named Aaron and Amelia. Just darlings, both of them.”

“Twins?” Camilla said with interest. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had twins before.”

“I know. Even though they’re fraternal twins, a boy and a girl, they look almost identical. Wait till you see them, Camilla. They’ve got the sweetest smiles, and IQ’s so high we haven’t even been able to measure them properly. But they’re both quite reserved. I’m having a hard time getting close to them.”

“Where did they come from?”

“Out in western Saskatchewan. They were living on their family’s cattle ranch, attending first grade at an elementary school so far away they had to spend almost two hours on the bus every day.”

“Are they boarding at the university?” Camilla asked.

Gwen shook her head. “Their father bought a property
on the edge of the city. He’s divorced—I’m not sure where the mother lives. But he moved out here with them so they could attend the study group.”

“What about the ranch? Did he have to sell it?”

“Apparently, money is no problem for this guy. He turned over the ranch to a foreman and flies his own plane back to Saskatchewan every weekend to oversee the ranching operation.”

“All this,” Camilla asked, “just to get his kids into an accelerated program for a few years?”

“Not entirely. He also has a couple of other children who’ll benefit from the better schooling opportunities in the city. In fact, one of them’s a freshman here on campus. And guess what?”

“What?” Camilla asked.

“The man… Jonathan Campbell, that’s his name…he’s actually taking a full load of courses himself. He says it’s a good way to fill his time since he has to spend the winter in the city, and—” Gwen stopped midsentence. “Camilla,” she said in alarm. “You’re as white as a sheet. Is something wrong?”

Camilla began to gather books and papers. “No, I’m fine. This man,” she said with forced casualness, “the twins’ father…how old is he?”

“Oh, probably about forty, I’d guess. Quite a handsome fellow in a rugged, Clint Eastwood kind of way. Apparently, he had a couple of years of college when he was young but never finished his degree, so now he’s decided to go back to school along with his kids.”

Camilla got to her feet and lifted the pile of books.
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting these brilliant little twins of yours,” she said. “Help yourself to whatever books you need, Gwen. I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay?”

She hurried out of the office and down the hall, trying to calm herself as she walked.

After all, she wasn’t in any danger, Camilla reminded herself. Now that she was a fully tenured professor, her academic position here and her life were both utterly secure.

Being granted tenure had been, for many years, the most important concern in her life. She’d passionately wanted the security of that position.

Once she managed to acquire tenure, she was guaranteed a future that nobody could ever take away, no matter what happened.

She’d achieved this coveted status almost three years ago, and had hoped that, for the first time in her life, maybe she’d begin to feel safe.

But it hadn’t worked that way. The fears remained, stirred by feelings of anxiety whenever people began to speculate about her personal background.

And now that Jonathan Campbell had inexplicably popped up once more in the middle of her life, she was more afraid than ever.

T
HE SUN WAS
still hanging above the mountains when Jon finally bought the last of his textbooks, checked some materials out of the library and left the campus. He drove through the city of Calgary and headed west
toward his new property, a sprawling acreage in the foothills of the Rockies.

He parked the car in the garage, walked past the aluminum hangar where his six-seater airplane was kept and strolled toward the house, which seemed unnaturally quiet in the early-autumn afternoon.

He glanced at his watch and realized it was almost time for supper. The kids liked to eat early, leaving plenty of time for their various activities in the evening. In fact, they might already be waiting for him. Margaret always had them wait for their father if there was any chance he might be home in time for dinner.

Jon quickened his steps, still looking at the big house. It was a modern split-level made of pale field-stone, with a brown-tiled roof and banks of high, sharply angled windows.

A lot different from the comfortable old clapboard mansion at the ranch, with its shady veranda and white picket fences.

Again he reminded himself that this move was necessary. Besides, it was only temporary. In a few years when the twins were older the bus ride wouldn’t be so hard on them. Then they’d all be able to go back to the ranch full-time.

He walked up a path at the side of the house and let himself inside, pausing to wash his hands and hang up his hat and jacket. Then he entered the kitchen where a storm was brewing.

“You little
animal,
” Vanessa shouted, gripping the telephone receiver in one hand as she glared across
the room at her seven-year-old brother. “You absolute
beast.
Ari, give me that before I kill you!”

Aaron smiled up at her with maddening calm. He stood in the doorway holding a book in his hands. Amelia hovered just behind him, eyeing their sister with a cautious, frightened expression.

The twins were beautiful children with curly dark hair clipped short around their heads, and slim, straight bodies. Amelia had green eyes while Ari’s were gray, and she was a little smaller than her brother. Apart from these slight differences, they were very similar in appearance.

During their early years, the twins had hardly spoken to anyone but each other, and they still inhabited a private world that few adults were allowed to enter. Ari was usually the instigator, impulsive and creative. Amelia acted as his partner and support, always ready to help him carry out his schemes.