Proof Positive

This week's short story is a sneak peek from my second novel, The Broad Strokes. If you enjoy it, feel free to share and leave a comment below.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Cora Campbell-Walker recited casually, “who can tell me the author and title?”

“Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice” a voice from the back of the classroom answered. 

“That’s right! And what an interesting way for a woman to begin a book that is primarily about women. Jane Austen wrote in a very male-dominated society, and she chooses to start one of her greatest works of fiction with a sentence that, though only twenty-three words long, almost perfectly sums up the theme of not only the book, but an era where the responsibility of a woman in higher society was to be as marriageable as possible…” 

Callie listened passively from her nook concealed beneath the large desk, a coloring book perched on her lap and her crayons spread out in a rainbow on the gray linoleum beside her. She watched her mother’s bare feet stroll comfortably back and forth at the front of the lecture hall as she spoke. 

“Nowadays if a woman marries for money we call her a gold-digger,” Cora explained as a few students chuckled and shifted in their seats. “But back then, it was one of the only ways women could ensure their own security…”

Callie colored carefully inside the lines, and the pink mane of the My Little Pony page she had carefully selected was starting to take shape. She shifted the coloring book from her lap onto the floor and scanned the array of crayons before reaching out from her hiding spot and pulling Cora’s attaché case by the strap under the desk. She slid her hand down the outside pocket, feeling around for the familiar texture of paper wrapped around wax, her fingertips searching for the orange crayon that had gone astray. She reached further down still, and pulled out a white stick. At first glance it seemed to her like a pen of some sort, smooth plastic that tapered on one end, and topped by a translucent pink cap. Callie turned it over in her hands, and on the underside was a little window that perfectly framed a blue watermark in the shape of a plus sign. She reached deeper into the pocket of Cora’s case and located the orange crayon, as well as a navy blue she hadn’t yet missed, and lined up the three items alongside the rest of her colors. 

Several coloring pages later, after a lively debate about some of the more complex aspects of the overarching themes of Jane Austen’s novels, (all of which served as simple background noise for Callie’s concealed artistic endeavors) she heard the shuffle of books and papers and the footfall of students moving toward the lecture hall exits. 

“Hey sugar, mama’s all done, are you ready to go home?” Cora asked as she crouched to peek at her daughter under the enormous desk. 

“Mmhmm.” Callie replied. “Mama, this marker doesn’t work.”

Callie held up the pink-capped stick, a perplexed expression on her face. Cora looked somber and gently pulled it from Callie’s hand, shoving it deeper into the pocket of her briefcase. 

“That’s not a marker, honey.” she said quietly as she tucked it back deep into her briefcase before she turned to gather Callie’s crayons. 

As they walked down the quiet hallway to leave the English building, debating whether to stop for ice cream on the way home before bed, an unfamiliar voice called out behind them. 

“Cora!” Callie turned, her hand still in her mother’s, as the stranger picked up his pace a little to catch up. 

“Will,” Cora replied, flustered.

“Heading out?” the man asked. Callie looked up at him and evaluated him. He had a nice smile, and there were little silver streaks in his brown hair. He looked down at her through his tortoise shell-rimmed glasses. “You must be Caroline. I’ve heard a lot about you!” he said with a warm smile. 

“I’m Callie.” she replied with an air of importance. 

“Of course you are. How could I forget?” he said kindly. “It’s nice to meet you finally.”

Callie looked up at Cora questioningly. 

“Callie, this is Professor Ryerson. He works in the same department as me.” Cora explained. 

The man turned his attention from Callie to her mother. “I’ve been worried about you, I tried to call, but-.”

Cora shrank back a little, but a smile formed, a forced façade. “I’m fine, Will. Just finished my evening class and this kiddo and I are going to get some ice cream on the way home.” 

“Okay.” Will replied, stepping an inch closer to Cora. “It’s just….I could tell you were having a hard time at the faculty Christmas party. Did you get Sam home okay?”

“Sam’s fine. We’re fine.” Cora said defensively, her shoulders squared. Callie felt her mother’s posture stiffen through their held hands.  

Will took a step back and tucked the books he carried under his arm. At the base of his thumb was a small brown birthmark, and Callie tilted her head to make out the shape of it. 

“It looks like a bunny!” she said brightly as she pointed to the spot on his hand. 

Will’s gaze slipped from Cora, and he seemed almost surprised to see the small girl still standing there. He stretched his hand out. “Well now, I guess it does.”

“I really do have to get her home.” Cora said.  

“Okay,” Will said as Cora started to turn towards the door, pulling Callie gently along. “Just….if you have any trouble...if you need anything you’ll let me know?”

“I’m fine, Will. I’ll see you at the faculty meeting on Wednesday.” Cora said as she took Callie’s hand. 

As they left the building and stepped into the damp night, they walked towards Cora’s car and Callie turned to her mother. 

“Mama, who was that man?” she inquired. 

Cora paused as she opened the car door and lifted Callie into her car seat. 

“He was a friend of mine.” she answered.