My name is Hank Roberts, I'm a professor at Flagler College but what I teach is unimportant as far as this story is concerned. You'll learn about it later. I had been teaching a few years and living a bachelor's life despite having been married and having two sons from my previous marriage. This story begins one day when I went to the dean's office to discuss a student who was causing some problems.
When I got there, the woman who normally sat at the reception desk for the dean was replaced by a much younger woman who may have been 25 or 35. It was hard to tell because while she had a very pretty face, she had no makeup and her clothing was very conservative, almost ascetic. She was quite pleasant and in her way beautiful. There was even a somewhat flirtatious manner about her.
Once I was done with the dean, I tried to strike up a conversation but every thing I tried fell short because she knew little about politics, nothing about film—a favorite subject of mine—and I found nothing she had read that I had read except for the Bible. She confessed that she was a Christian and about all her church allowed its members to read was the Bible.
"What do you do in your spare time?" I asked.
She responded, "Read the Bible, visit others in the church, go to church and she and her parents walked a good bit most nights."
I didn't say so but I thought I didn't think anyone lived like that anymore. "So what denomination of Christianity are you?" I innocently asked.
"Oh, we are not any denomination. We do not believe in them."
Of course, that simply meant nothing really. "Do you associate with churches of your theological viewpoint?" I asked.
"Yes, but there are not many of us."
"How would you describe your theological perspective?"
"Bible believing, fundamental, Bible preaching."
Again that really told me nothing. I decided to change the subject. "Maybe this is too forward for having just met, but I think you are quite pretty and, if I am any judge, quite nice. Would you go to lunch with me tomorrow? We can go to the student center or to the coffee shop down the street, whichever is most comfortable for you."
"I'm not allowed to date."
"I'm just asking you to lunch not on a date."
"Well, maybe. I get my lunch hour at 12:00. If you want, come by and maybe I'll go with you. I have to pray about it."
A break for some humor, "May I pray that you'll say yes."
She caught my humor and smiled. "I guess that's fair. Why don't you?"
"I will for sure. See you tomorrow."
I couldn't figure it out. I had no idea why I was attracted to her. She appeared sitting in the chair to have a figure like I like: thin, small breasted, auburn hair that was long although she had it in a bun, and bright brown eyes that were like pools of chocolate. Otherwise, I was anything but a fundamentalist. I was Presbyterian, at least nominally so. The pastor of the church across from the college would prefer to see me far more often than she did.
I spent the afternoon on my regular faculty chores, grading, preparing lectures, and attending a committee meeting for a committee I hated. I hated the subject matter and I did not particularly like the other members. By the time I was done with the meeting, I had one thing in mind—a trip down the street to my favorite bar where I had gotten to know others of the local not so well placed—a surfer, a biker, a pool maintenance guy, and a retired minister. We drank beer and talked about anything and everything. Mostly we agreed on politics and religion, being a bit cynical about both.
On my way over, I began to wonder why I was having lunch with such a conservative woman. It made little sense, but maybe there was something there I sensed that I could not identify. I hoped so. But, I hadn't had any interest in anybody for a long time. I did my job, went to visit my sons once a month, and went to movies. I taught a class on 20th century film, so even my hobby, if you could call it that, was part of my job.
After a couple of beers, I walked home in Lincolnville, a place I could live only by renting. My place was not anything special. It was a two story half of a house. I entered into a hallway which had a living room immediately to the left. Straight back was the kitchen and small dinette. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bath.
The place was old and about all that had been done to it in years was re-plumbing the water lines and upgrading the electricity, so I could have air conditioning—in St. Augustine everybody needed AC. I got some dinner ready and sat down to eat and watch some news which was depressing so my mind began to wander.
I thought about my encounter with Deborah. Did I tell you her name was Deborah, a good biblical name? There was something in her eyes, her manner, her apparent flirt. I'm not sure she even realized she had flirted, but she did. I saw it and felt it.
I spent far too much time thinking on it to make sense, but I couldn't get her out of my mind. I dilly dallied the evening away, when I should have been preparing for classes, and went to bed.
The next morning I woke up looking forward to lunch. I taught my two classes, did some office hours. I'm not even sure why we are required to do office hours, nobody ever shows up. Then I meandered to the deans office.
When I opened the door, Deborah looked up and smiled flirtatiously at me. I'm not sure how to describe a flirtatious smile, but it wasn't like she smiled to welcome me. It was different, a subtlety in the smile, the way she held her head, and moved her eyes.
"Good morning, Professor, how may I help you?"
She was joking, right? "Morning Deborah and you can call me John. No need for formality."
"Well, we'll see about that won't we."
Was she putting me on notice? "You still free for lunch?" I wasn't about to ask her if she wanted to go. I wanted to put it so it was assumed she was going.
"I think so. Your prayer must have done some good because I woke up thinking I would go. Is it time?"
"I'm free until 3."
"OK, then, can you give me a minute?'
"Sure."
