MAIDEN VOYAGE

For the first time in my life, I can do any damned thing I want! Professor Amanda Barker leaned closer to the mirror. Oooh, that was daring!

Disgusted by the red flush creeping across her pale cheeks, she frowned and jabbed one last hairpin into the red-brown chignon at the nape of her neck. A surge of apprehension rolled through her stomach and she took a deep breath. Would she really be able to do this?

Two steps out the front door, she stopped short, her breath curling on the frosty morning air. The last of the snow had melted, and half-inch green stubs of tulip and daffodil poked through the soggy earth, but the trees remained barren, patiently waiting for warmer weather. A cape of melancholy chilled her shoulders, even beneath the warm parka. Setting off at a brisk clip toward campus, she argued with herself about the advisability of telling Foster Dean about her plans. He wouldn't approve.

"So what? Whose vacation is this, anyway?" she said aloud.

The sharp words snapped through the cold air and, in seconds, the brief rush of independence disappeared, chased off by thirteen years of deferring to her supervisor.

She opened the heavy door of Crossman Hall, and a whoosh of wonderfully warm air enveloped her. The familiar smell of old wood and tradition lulled her anxiety. I just won't tell him, she decided, and headed for the office at the end of the dim corridor.

* * *

Amanda squirmed as Foster peered over the top of his rimless glasses.

"You're going to what?"

She willed her pulse to stop racing. "I've booked passage on a tramp steamer."

His gray eyes darkened with concern and his brow furrowed. "Amanda, do you think that's a good idea? Why a tramp steamer? Certainly, you'd enjoy a cruise ship more, don't you think?"

She looked away, afraid he'd see her deeper intentions. "A student of mine took a similar trip to Greece last summer. She said it was wonderful, every bit as comfortable as any cruise ship, without the expense."

Shaking his head, Foster pulled the reading glasses from his nose and laid them on the desk. "Your students are twenty years old." His eyes reflected pity. "Listen, I know the past year has been very hard for you since your mother passed away, but you should give yourself some more time. Take a conventional trip for now."

"I'm fine, Foster. I want to do this--I need to experience something new and different."

He didn't--couldn't--understand. The past year had been easy compared with the numbing routine of ten years as a caregiver. Eat, sleep, teach, care for Mother. A rodent-wheel life that kept thoughts of anything else at bay.

Foster had been at the helm of the English Department for Amanda's entire teaching career, and she supposed he knew her well. But Amanda wasn't sure she even knew herself. With a sudden treasure trove of uncommitted time, she'd grown restless, found her life to be meaningless--a state of mind that dampened even her joy in teaching.

He gazed at her for a moment. "Good luck. I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

* * *

Amanda watched the last student leave, then exhaled slowly. She gazed around the classroom, seeing every feature of a learning space that hadn't changed in twenty years. A tiny ripple ran through the pit of her stomach. Would she return to this room a changed woman? More worldly? Ready for a new life?

She roused herself and glanced at the stack of final exams on the desk. She'd get them graded and turned in by the next day. She wanted nothing to clutter her mind while she explored the possibilities and unknowns of Miss Amanda Barker, spinster schoolteacher.

A soft knock on the doorjamb brought her back to the present. "Amanda?"

Calvin Ruggles grinned and stepped into the classroom. "Free of the little monsters for a whole month! Catching your breath?"

Prickles of irritation crept across her shoulders. "Buggles," as the kids called him, had stubbornly--or stupidly, she wasn't sure which--hung around for the past year, acting as though they were more than just friends and colleagues.

She nodded, gesturing at the pile of papers in front of her. "Hi, Cal. Unfortunately, they left me a farewell present."

Cal came to stand beside the desk, and she automatically moved a step away from him. He had the damnedest habit of getting too close when they talked, so close she could see the mottling on his uneven yellow teeth, and her own reflection in his thick eyeglasses.

He nodded. "Well, you have all spring break to get them graded." He gazed directly into her eyes. "How about we celebrate our freedom, and go get a hamburger?"

"I can't. I have to get these finished by tomorrow afternoon."

Disbelief knitted his brows. "Why? Jeez, can't you ever relax?"

A nasty retort sprang to her lips, but she swallowed it. The physics professor was dorky, but brilliant, and he'd been her only source of intellectual stimulation in an otherwise stuffy small-town life.

"Amanda, there's more to life than work. C'mon."

She heaved a sigh and gave him a rueful smile. "Okay. Give me a minute to pack this stuff up."

* * *

The local diner was unusually quiet, bereft of the throngs of students who usually filled every booth and counter stool. The patrons that evening were other teachers who'd just been given a respite from the onslaught of raging hormones and enthusiasm for life. Amanda headed for a booth in the back, Cal right behind her. They both stopped to chat with colleagues along the way. When they'd settled into the red plastic seats, a middle-aged waitress appeared beside the table, order-pad in hand, a large smile on her face.

"How are you two doing?" She glanced around the room. "I didn't expect so many customers tonight. I figured everyone would be celebrating down at the tavern."

Cal grinned at Amanda. "We have four weeks to do that."

She shifted in her seat and glanced away from his direct gaze. "I'll have the cheeseburger deluxe, no fries, and a diet soda, whatever you have."

Cal ordered the same, and the waitress hurried away. For a moment, Cal seemed lost in thought as he arranged the salt, pepper, and catsup into a neat row in the center of the table. He glanced up at her and cleared his throat.

"Listen, I was thinking...why don't we do something together during vacation? The skiing's pretty good this year, or we could go down to Boston and soak up some culture. In fact, Figaro is playing at the Boston Conservatory next weekend."

As Cal spoke, Amanda fiddled with the corner of the placemat, rolling it tightly, then smoothing it out again. A sodden lump grew in her gut. So far, their occasional time together had been in neutral public territory, protected by the trappings of visibility. What he proposed now held a deeper meaning. She looked up from her fidgeting. Cal's thin, curly hair stood out in every direction, and his ruddy cheeks gave a boyish look to his round face. He wasn't part of her recent fantasies.

"I can't. I'm going out of town."

The disappointment that crushed his features sent an arrow of remorse through her head. He was really a nice man, and she'd continued the charade for her own selfish reasons. He'd been good company to occasionally fill a few of the empty hours in her life--nothing more. But clearly, he'd thought otherwise.

She smiled apologetically. "I've booked a cruise to South America. Cal, I just have to get away for a while. This past year has been difficult, and I need to get in tune with myself again."

He nodded slowly, but said nothing. Their food arrived, and the conversation turned to subjects less personal.

Cal paid the check and, while he waited for change, he pulled out his pen and scribbled something on a paper napkin.

Shoving it across the table, he smiled hopefully. "Send me a postcard?"

* * *

That evening, in the warmth of her cozy study, Amanda treated herself to a glass of wine to celebrate the end of the semester and the beginning of an adventure. Her rumpled thoughts about Calvin smoothed out, and she sank into her favorite daydream. A dark, handsome stranger, an isolated spot, no fear--and no regrets. She closed her eyes and let her imagination take over. The romance of the sea, the thrill of adventure. Maybe even pirates. Yes, a swarthy, menacing buccaneer who'd sweep her off her feet.

She would cast off her mousy mien and let Fate take her where it would.