Page 1 of A Twist of Faith
Chapter 1
Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and The Bible; and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon."
(Pygmalion, Act 1)
PhD wasnotsupposed to smell like this.
Adelina Roseland dropped a box of research articles onto the floor and stifled a deep breath as the strong aroma of naturally fertilized farmland wafted in from the open window. The small room with, apparently, no air conditioning, defied any prestige the brass placard on her mahogany desk could have given:
Adelina. N. Roseland, PhD
Assistant Chair
Department of Communicative Disorders, Blue Ridge University
She tossedher bag on the desk and contemplated closing the window, but a cool morning breeze blew in for a moment’s respite from the stuffy warmth in the room. Stale heat or the scent of country charm? She sighed in resignation to the irony of life and kept the window open. Country charm it was.
The view from the window paused—an indefinable pull from a horizon of Blue Mountains almost irresistible. They shouldn’t draw her or provide any comfort. The memories of her childhood should snuff any longing the fog-covered sea of mountains encouraged, but instead of pain, she heard the gentle hum of her granny’s voice. The soft song from the past threatened to awaken feelings and memories she avoided like black-eyed peas and family reunions. But it called her to remember—to soften the sadness, loss, and grief.
Her throat tightened as unbidden memories peeked into the present. She pushed them away, determined to leave her unsavory past in the place where all bad memories go: one-on-one intensive psychotherapy.
With a deep breath, she turned her back to the window, to the memories, and faced her future. The office.Heroffice. Two massive bookshelves lined the nearest wall across from her mahogany desk, and an armchair sat near the window as if in invitation to sit and gaze out at the rolling green vista. Another bookshelf stood behind the desk next to a floor lamp and a leather desk chair.
She sighed and placed her plant and calendar on the nearest shelf. The office might lack Charlottesville’s class and appeal, but it was hers—and it was temporary. She’d been handpicked for this experimental satellite program from her coveted University of Virginia, and if she succeeded, her dream job dangled like a prize at the end.
Running wasn’t an option.
She’d worked much too hard. Focused. Driven. A bit obsessive, if her previous ex-boyfriends had anything to say, but not a runner. She smoothed a hand over the front of her plum suit jacket and infused her thoughts with courage she didn’t feel, drawing in a defiant deep breath of stale air. Maybe an element of prestige hung somewhere between the farmland and fertilizer after all.
Her smile quivered as her dad’s old adage echoed in her head, strengthening her will.Everybody starts somewhere, Dee.Ransom, Virginia, was astartbut certainly not an end.
She reached into her bag and claimed the desk with one single item—her father’s picture. His intense eyes stared back at her from the woodgrain frame, reminding her not only of their shared hazel hue but their shared dream for her life—full professor at UVA Charlottesville.
Remembering him, the usual ache around her heart flared to full sting. She couldalmosthear his baritone voice,almostsmell his scent of English Leather and pipe tobacco. Determination fisted her hands. She’d prove herself, even now. Make him proud. At least she could do that one thing for him.
“I see you’ve found your office.”
Dr. Alexander Murdock’s voice sliced into her solitude like missed high notes on a fiddle. And straight to her last nerve. She steadied her expression and turned to face him.
He stood framed by the doorway. Every piece of his six-foot-two frame blaredflawless. From his dusty-blond hair sculpted to Michelangelo-like perfection, down to the pristine lines of his navy suit. Pretty is as pretty does, her granny used to say—and Dr. Murdock embodied the perfect descriptors of the last three men in her life: gorgeous, arrogant, and self-absorbed. Oh, why did he have to be her immediate supervisor? Hadn’t four years as his research assistant been enough punishment for one lifetime?
“Dr. Murdock?” Dee tightened her arms across her chest, his annoying presence the possible root of her often-recurring migraines. Oh, well, it was either clench her jaw and instigate a headache, or say something she’d live to regret a long time, like the length of her freshly-signed contract. She bit back a sigh, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What might I do for you?”
He advanced into the room as if waiting for a drum roll to begin. Or had it already started pounding a rhythm inside her head? She almost prayed for strength.Almost.
“Dr. Murdock?” He raised a questioning brow above one of those pale green eyes of his and walked past her, taking his eternal smirk and overpowering Polo cologne to the window.
The ache deepened at the edge of her forehead. Yep, migraine cause confirmed.
“Adelina,” he said slowly. “We’re colleagues now. Call me Alex.” He frowned. Then closed the only source of fresh air. “Besides, as much research as we’ve done together, we already have the start of a good friendship. Right?”
Adelina forced a smile and hoped her expression wasn’t as sardonic as it felt. “In that case, you should call me Dee.”Not really.“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Ah, well, I had to personally deliver some paperwork to Dr. Russell to finalize this little university’s new connection with Charlottesville. It’s already starting several weeks behind schedule, so we don’t want to have any more delays.” He picked up her father’s picture, stared a moment, then carelessly placed it back on the desk. “I thought I would go ahead and drop in while I was here.”
She caught the frame before it toppled over the edge and pulled it close to her chest. “How often, by the way, should I expect your visits?”Please say never.
“Monthly as agreed upon by the program committee.” Dr. Murdock pulled his iPhone from his jacket pocket and thumbed over the screen, dropping his comment in silence.
