Love Among the El

My first day of Chem 101 at the University of Oregon started off with a bang, literally. I had found my assigned seat in the lecture hall and was getting my notebook out when something slammed into the back of my head, almost knocking my face into the table. I got to my feet, turning.

"Hey, watch what the hell you're doing!"

I found a smallish blonde looking up at me with wide blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm not used to carrying this backpack yet."

The weapon in question looked about as big as she was. Way to make an ass of yourself, Matt.

"Forget it, you just startled me. Sorry for yelling at you."

I reached for the pack.

"Here, let me give you a hand. You sitting near here?"

"I think so. Hi, I'm Lindsay Collins."

"Matt Conklin. I think that would put you, let's see, here."

I set the pack at a table two seats from mine. She smiled at me.

"Thanks."

I was momentarily stunned by the force of that smile, and before I could respond the lecture started.

Over the next few weeks I got the same smile every time she passed me on the way to her seat. It didn't mean a lot, though, since she treated everyone she saw with the same friendly courtesy. It was interesting to watch: the sorority social climbers were constantly trying to get her to join their competing cliques, and she just smiled and treated them the same way she treated everyone. I was a small town boy trying to become the first in my family to work his way through college, and my budget didn't run to clothing with designer labels. As far as those girls were concerned, I didn't exist. Lindsay was just the opposite: smart, beautiful, and from the whispered conversations I heard from the row behind me wore the kind of clothes that most girls couldn't obtain for any amount of money. They saw her as a potential linchpin of their cliques, and the faint air of amusement with which she observed their frantic popularity competition drove them crazy.

How did I know all this? Well, no matter how much I wanted to do well in the class, it ran for an hour and a half. For me, that meant trying to keep my attention on the graduate student lecturer trying to explain chemical reactions in a thick, unidentifiable accent for an hour and a half instead of observing the pretty blonde two seats down with her shapely legs usually on full display. It really wasn't a fair competition. Not that Lindsay was even aware of it, of course; her full attention stayed on the lecture and she did nothing to distract anyone else- aside from looking ridiculously good and having a few cute, unconscious mannerisms that drove me crazy.

As I was leaving class one day I noticed that she wasn't moving and didn't give me her usual smile. In fact, when I looked closer, she looked about ready to cry. I hung around until the room cleared out and then approached her.

"Hey, are you all right? You look stressed."

"You know that guy Ryan?"

I knew who she meant. He played quarterback for the football team and showed up for class with a bunch of other jocks and their coterie of ditzy groupies. Their constant horseplay and talking was a real annoyance to those of us who actually wanted to do well in Chem. It was common knowledge that she had shocked the campus society crowd by turning him down flat when he condescended to ask her out.

"Well, long story short, the other day as I was passing him on the way out of class he tried to put his hand up my skirt. Now his friends are saying it's my fault that he's out for the next two games with a sprained thumb."

I cracked up.

"I'm sorry to laugh, but that guy has always acted like he can get away with anything because he plays football. I bet you're a hero to most of the girls on campus. How did a little thing like you do that to him?"

"My Aunt Amanda is smaller than I am and she's a lieutenant in the State Police. She's constantly had to whip men twice her size to keep her street credibility. She started teaching me to do the same when I was about fourteen."

"Well, I guess he learned something about judging by appearances."

"I wish it was that simple. There's talk that I'm going to be hauled in front of the Disciplinary Board over this. The football coach is really mad."

"That's bigger than you should try to deal with on your own. Can your folks do anything?"

"I hate to get them upset over something like this. They've done a lot for me already."

"I'm sure they don't want you to have problems with the D-Board. You should let them know."

"OK, I will."

She smiled at me a little.

"Thanks for the perspective."

"Need a hug while I'm at it?"

I didn't want to give her more to deal with, but she looked so upset I had to offer.

"Maybe a small one."

She gave me a one armed hug and a quick smile.

"See you next class, I guess. I have to go make some calls."

"OK. Let me know how it goes if you want."

She half smiled and walked off.

The next week I was on my way out of the Ad Building after dropping off some scholarship paperwork when I heard a yell.

"Hey, Matt!"

I turned. Lindsay was coming down the stairs from the second floor between two adults: a tall, sophisticated looking redhead and a big, rangy guy in a suit. She gave me a big smile.

"Hey, you're looking happier than you did last week."

"That problem I was telling you about just went away. Matt, this is my mom Wendy McNeil and my uncle Mike."

Handshakes all around.

"Mom, can Matt join us for lunch? Do you have time, Matt?"

I checked my watch.

"My next class is at three."

Her mom's voice matched her appearance.

"Please join us, Matt."

We ended up at a restaurant across town. Not a place I had ever gone on a student budget.

"Should I ask what happened?"

Mrs. McNeil spoke.

"We just met with the president of the University. Mike's wife is in the State Police and asked some cops she knew around here about this situation. Turns out that Lindsay isn't the first girl this guy has groped or worse. I mentioned the prior incidents and some stories I've written for Sports Illustrated and asked if he wanted to comment on the allegations that he was covering up a sexual misconduct problem in his athletic department for my next story."

My eyebrows rose.

"I bet that got his attention."

"He tried to bluster about getting his lawyers involved. Mike here pointed out that he's the District Attorney in our county and if he wanted to go that route he'd be happy to meet him in court, with every journalist I know in the spectator section."

"So?"

Lindsay spoke up.

"Ryan's looking for a school to transfer to next year, and he's being told that if anything more happens to me or any other girl in the meantime they'll expel him and any shot he has at another college team or the NFL draft will be gone."

I shook my head.

"Remind me never to get your family mad at me."

Mr. Elliot spoke.

"Lindsay means a whole lot to a whole lot of people where we come from. She's gotten the lecture about dealing with problems through channels instead of using force, though. Right, young lady?"

She looked abashed and spoke dutifully.

"Yes, Uncle Mike."

We moved on to our mutual interest in chemistry and science until it was time to drop me off back at campus. Lindsay gave me her usual friendly smile and said she would see me in class.

The next week she caught me after class as we left the hall.

"Hey, Matt, did you understand what he was saying about molecular bonds and reagents?"

"I think I did."

"Well, would you mind going over next week's readings with me? I'm confused."

Was it the idea of helping out a damsel in distress or hanging out with the girl of my dreams that appealed to me? What difference did it make?

"Sure. Meet me on the third floor of the Library about seven?"

"See you then."

She gave me her usual friendly, noncommital smile and moved off. Jesus, was I dreaming? She showed up right on time, though, wearing the usual college girl jeans and sweatshirt and carrying all her books. Turned out that she's an incredibly smart girl, too. She saw things in terms of mathematics while I saw them as structures, and between us we managed to make molecular bonds actually make sense. Before long the study sessions moved from the library to her dorm. It was set up with several individual rooms surrounding a common lounge, and we would hang out at the big table in the lounge with our books and laptops spread out. One night she came out of her room some fifteen minutes late.

"Sorry, I was talking to my dad Jim."

"You talk about your dad Jim and your uncle Jim all the time. Did your grandparents give both their sons the same name?"

She looked confused and then laughed.

"No, sorry, it's the same man. This is complicated."

She hesitated.

"I've never met my bio dad. My bio mom raised me alone. When I was about six, Jim McNeill showed up in town to work for Fish & Wildlife. He has a doctorate in wildlife biology. Someone drafted him to coach pee wee basketball, and we kind of gravitated together. Jim became my surrogate dad."

"Wait, your dad is Dr. James McNeill? His book on elk ecology is required reading!"

"Yeah, Jim and wildlife biology kind of go hand in hand. Mom's been trying to talk him into taking the teaching job they keep offering him here, but he gets mad when she tells him that he's getting too old to wrestle thousand pound critters for a living."

"Is Wendy your bio mom, then? She doesn't strike me as a small town girl."

"She isn't. She was a journalist in New York City when she got sent out here to do a story on Jim's elk conservation program and he grabbed her and married her."

"And your bio mom?"

"She worked for the Forest Service. When I was fourteen a log truck with bad brakes pushed her Jeep over a cliff on a narrow logging road."

"Damn, I'm sorry."

"So am I, but there it is. Jim and Wendy came to my school to tell me, and then told me that I was coming home with them. Mike Elliot- who's Dad's best friend and not really an uncle, by the way- arranged to make them my guardians or something so I wouldn't end up in a state home. They didn't tell me the details and I didn't care. Wendy's part big sister, part aunt, and mostly my second mom. All I know is that I would be lost without the both of them."

"I didn't mean to ask about a difficult subject."

"It is what it is. Wendy always says that we're a family out of love, and that's more important than biology. I miss my mom, but I couldn't ask for better replacement parents than Jim and Wendy."

She blew her bangs up out of her eyes. Jesus, she's cute.

"Anyway, let's get through this Chem stuff."

An hour and a half later we took a break. She grabbed a couple bottles of juice from the refrigerator, tossing me one, and settled on the couch across from me with her legs tucked up under her.

"You haven't told me about your family."

"I have six brothers, and I'm the first in my family to go to college. The rest of them are happy to be loggers their whole lives. Every weekend I go back they're getting drunk, raising hell, and beating the crap out of each other if they aren't in jail. That's not how I want to spend my life."

"I don't blame you."

"They think I'm wasting my time and turning into a snob. It's the usual family thing: they may pick on me and rough me up all the time but God help anyone outside the family who tries it."

I thought a second.

"You know, if it had been me instead of you who had that problem with Ryan their reaction would have been to show up here in a group and break every bone in his body. Not that he didn't deserve it, but it wouldn't have improved the situation, you know? I would have been scrambling to stop them on top of all my other worries. I'd say you're further ahead with your adopted parents than I am with my natural family."

"I know how lucky I am. Don't ever think of me as the poor little orphan girl, even if I am one technically."

"Not exactly poor, are you?"

"I told you Dad's a government scientist and Mom's a freelance reporter. They both have great reputations in their fields, but they're not rich. "

"You're not doing work study, though."

"After Mom died Uncle Mike squeezed a big settlement out of the log truck's insurance company. That helps a lot."

"So you have money of your own."

"Not exactly. The money's in a trust fund and I can't touch a penny unless Jim and Aunt Amanda both sign off. Believe me, unless it's for my education talking them out of it is almost impossible."

"Bummer."

"No kidding. I worked a good part of last summer to convince them that a car to get back and forth from school was a good idea. I had my eye on a shiny little VW Beetle convertible, but they said that a five year old Subaru Outback was more practical and if I didn't want it I could keep riding the Greyhound."

"And the clothes? It's not something I really understand but I've heard those silly sorority girls make jealous comments about how you dress."

"Mom goes back to New York City every few months to meet with editors and catch up with her friends there. If I'm not in school she takes me along- says I need to know the bigger world outside our little town. Some of her friends work for fashion magazines and get a lot of free designer clothes. Maybe they've been worn once for a photo shoot or something, but so what? They load me up with as much as I can carry home."

"Nice for you."

"I guess so. I'm not out to impress anyone but I don't mind looking good."

"You always look good to me, for what it's worth."

"Thanks. Let's get back to work."

OK, maybe I was pushing the boundaries a little there. Oh well. We went back to studying and for the next several weeks our time together was strictly business. Then, late one night as we watched the Late Show after a long study session, she leaned her sweet smelling blonde head against my shoulder. I lost control of my carefully hidden feelings and went too far.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

One Friday afternoon Lindsay and I were sitting out on the deck of our house, watching the sun set and hashing over the mysteries of college men. As a pretty blonde sophomore at the University of Oregon, Lindsay had her hands full.

"Tell me again how you met Uncle Jim?"

"You were there, kiddo, you ought to remember."

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago."

"Not all that long ago, really."

I reached down to scratch behind the ears of the enormous German Shepherd dozing next to my chair. His head snapped up, he looked around, decided there was nothing threatening either of us, and went back to sleep.

"I got Thor here as a puppy not long after that, and there's plenty of kick left in the big guy still."

"Well, tell me again anyway."

"Let's see..."

It had started with an assignment from the magazine I was working for at the time to cover an elk roundup in Oregon. I had called the Fish & Wildlife Service office in charge, and ended up talking to some grouch with a Western drawl and what sounded like a poor attitude about female reporters. I hadn't expected much as I flew out from New York. The guy yelling orders in the parking lot of the grocery store wasn't what I had expected, either. I had read some of Dr. James McNeil's academic work on wildlife biology in preparation for the trip, and expected a skinny nerd with a beard. Instead, here was a Marlboro Man type with broad shoulders and a narrow waist who made me tilt my head up to look at his face. At five feet ten inches tall, I had gotten used to looking the average man in the eye. I barely topped Jim McNeil's wide shoulder, and that set off a "Hmmm" reaction somewhere in the back of my mind that I tried hard to ignore. He was actually a pretty nice guy in person, too. I could feel his eyes on my body as I pulled my stuff out of the rental, but so what? I had worked hard to qualify for the New York City Marathon, and knew I looked good. Besides, no matter where his eyes went his friendly, professional attitude never varied. It was a refreshing change from New York, where men feel free to yell propositions for bizarre sex acts at any woman who catches their eye.

Once we got to the site for the roundup, Jim pointed me to the best place to take pictures and headed for the real work without a second look, sadly. I had half suspected him of trying to put me in a safe corner out of the way, but in fact he had thought about it and found an excellent vantage point. Maybe he wasn't such a big jerk after all.

"That's when a little blonde bundle of bones wandered up and started firing questions faster than I could answer them."

"I had never seen anyone as sophisticated and glamorous as you. I was fascinated."

"Funny, that's what Jim said too. He knows you too well."

"That's why I could never get away with anything in high school. Every time I tried there would be Uncle Jim standing in the way, telling me to think before I acted."

"You're lucky to have him."

"You couldn't have convinced me of that in high school, but I can see it now."

She stared out into the valley below us for a while.

"I wish he was my bio dad."

"Love makes a family, sweetie, not biology. I never met your bio dad either, but the fact that he ran out on your mom before you were born tells me all I need to know. Did I ever tell you that Jim and I had our first fight over you?"

"Really? What happened?"

"He found out that you had been e-mailing me in New York, and I told him that what you said was none of his business. I thought he was going to kick me out of his truck on the side of the road."

"Was he that nosy?"

"Overprotective is a better word for it. I told him that he would be the first to know if I found out you needed help, and he calmed down. He's like a daddy bear when it comes to you."

"Tell me about it. Johnny Smith swore he really had planned to go hunting the week after prom, but I still think he was looking for a way to get away from Jim after he brought me home late."

"Was that really just a flat tire?"

"A flat tire complicated by a little making out, maybe. Johnny's a sweet guy, but it was never anything serious. Thanks for keeping my secrets, such as they were."

"Some things are just girl stuff, as I told Jim."

"Anyway, back to how you met Uncle Jim."

"I assigned you to watch out for riders and elk coming into the chute just to keep you out of my hair. At the lunch break you wanted to see all the pictures, and as we were looking at them here came ol' Marlboro Man himself, looking like every city girl's fantasy. You managed to ask a bunch of embarrassing questions about whether we liked each other, and the gentle way Jim handled it impressed me no end. Jim was confusing me, too. He kept looking at me like a hungry kid looking at an ice cream cone, but never said anything remotely personal."

"The dreaded 'too nice a guy to make his move' syndrome?"

"That's what I was starting to wonder. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to anyway. In J-school they always warned us against getting personal with the subjects of our stories. Besides, I was flying back to New York the next day and I didn't need a twenty-four hour romance even with a tall, handsome cowboy."

"Something must have happened, though."

"He invited me to use his spare room rather than drive out to the Shady Dell Motel. I normally wouldn't do that with a man I just met, but something told me I could trust him. He showed me this place for the first time and cooked me a really great dinner. Even then, it took me a little work to get him where I wanted him."

"You had changed your mind?"

"All the women- except the single ones, of course- made a point of mentioning that he was single, a terrific guy, and a real catch. I already knew he was ridiculously good looking and a lot smarter than he appeared at first glance. Let's just say that I was intrigued."