Passion's Eternal Blaze

Chapter One

Richard Marsh took off his glasses and tossed them on the pile of papers, on his desk. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. A glance at the clock revealed that it was three AM. It had been a long night grading mid-term papers. There were still over a dozen left in the stack to be graded. Richard was tempted to call it a night and go to bed, but he couldn't. He was required to post all mid-semester grades and student evaluations into the college's computer records system by five PM. For a minute, he regretted the tough twenty page thesis paper he had assigned his students because of the time involved in grading them. It was only a brief flash, if he was demanding and set high standards, he did it with his student's benefit in mind. He pushed them relentlessly to produce the best work they could. In turn, his student's enthusiasm to learn was his motivation when fatigue threatened to engulf him. Richard felt validated by his work as a college professor. His private life offered no such validation. In fact, it was a disaster. The interaction he had with his students and fellow faculty members was all that staved off loneliness and the near depression that weighed him down, at the end of each day. The hour and fifteen minute drive, from the college to his home, seemed endless. Made more so by coming home to an empty house. It hadn't always been that way. Years ago, his wife had been there with a welcoming kiss. His children had been there with hugs and "Hi, Daddy!" greetings.

Now, the children were gone. They had homes and families of their own, now. Vicki, his loving wife, had lost a valiant battle with cancer , leaving him a widower. The pain of losing her had led to a distrust of personal involvement. He didn't date and rarely went out socially except to teach and do routine errands. He was aloof and distant with an air of an academic recluse, to those who knew him.

Richard replaced the glasses, with a sigh, and picked up the next paper. He quickly scanned the title page. "I'm Not Salome" He read the title of the paper aloud, without realizing it. His voice was a deep baritone, slightly hoarse from too many cheap cigars and too much expensive Scotch.

"Margaret Ray. Margaret Ray." He repeated the author's name with the hint of a smile. As he turned the page, he leaned back in his chair to read.

Margaret Ray was one of the most intelligent, gifted students he had ever met in his career. She wasn't your typical college senior. Margaret was a returning adult student, in her late thirties or early forties. She was one of few students with a perfect 4.0 GPA. A remarkable feat considering she was a full-time student, worked full-time, and had a husband and two young children at home. To date, Margaret had been the only student he'd ever had that was willing to challenge some of his theories and opinions. While he didn't agree with her positions, he had to admit she backed up her arguments with solid data and stood her ground. Class discussions came alive with her in the room. Margaret could easily become a dynamic lecturer and educator, but her major was in a healthcare field. Why she had chosen to be little more than a medical secretary, Richard did not know. In fact, he knew very little at all about Margaret, except what he had gleaned from her student file, essays, and his own observations. She rarely talked about her personal life and did not socialize with the other students, as far as he knew.

As he skimmed the first page of her paper, Richard realized that this paper was a far cry from Margaret's usual academic fare. She had taken the more challenging creative option of the assignment instead of the strictly academic one. Every year, he had offered student's the option of submitting a personal narrative essay in lieu of one academic paper. As most student's felt that personal narratives were harder to write, he rarely had the opportunity to read one.

Going back to the beginning, he started paying more attention to her words. As he started to learn more about her, he began to draw a mental picture of her inside his head. Margaret was no beauty. She was rather plain. She was short and obese. Probably over three hundred pounds. Margaret wore glasses and was often clad in all black. In fact, he didn't remember ever seeing her wear anything colorful. She didn't wear makeup and didn't wear any jewelry, except for a simple silver wedding band. Her red hair was short, thin and touched with gray. Often, he would catch a sad expression on her face. Richard remembered wondering what caused the sadness. Her smiles were rare, but when she smiled, her eyes danced. It was her eyes that made her memorable. Bright blue pools that reflected the light and lit up her face.

As Richard read her words., he grew to know more about her. Margaret's narrative essay revealed a lot, perhaps more than she had intended. As the hour grew later, he continued to read her story.

Margaret's words powerfully drew his interest, compelling him to read the entire paper. When he finished reading, Richard set the paper, on the desk. He picked up a pen intending to write some comments, but put the pen down without writing anything. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he should say them. Richard lit a cigar, poured some more Scotch, and leaned back in his chair to think. His fatigue rapidly caught up with him and he drifted into a dream.

Chapter Two

The next day, Richard looked up, as the door of the classroom opened. As usual, Margaret was the first to arrive.

"Good afternoon, Professor Marsh."

"Good afternoon. How was your weekend?" Richard returned her greeting.

Margaret placed her laptop case and a stack of books on the desk. Her answer was an almost snap.

"Busy, as usual."

"Must of been pretty bad, you sound like you are mad at the world. We have a few minutes if you'd care to talk about it."

The sound was slight, but Richard thought he heard her sigh, as she placed her coat, on the back of her chair. She gave a short, almost sarcastic laugh. "I'm not mad at the world, yet."

Richard didn't hear the comment. He was too distracted by the bright red satin blouse she wore. The bright color and sensuous fabric was definitely not her normal attire. It was low cut, revealing a lot of her chest. The fabric clung tightly to her large breasts. A string of pearls dangled against her cleavage. She wore the blouse with a black skirt that ended just above the knee. The skirt was much shorter than the ankle length ones he had seen her wear before. What looked like silk stockings covered her legs. She wore a pair of black high heels with the outfit. Much different from the sensible footwear she normally favored.

When she turned to face him, he noticed that she was wearing makeup, something she normally didn't wear to class. She had also curled her hair and wore it styled in such a way that it looked softer and prettier. Margaret looked better than he'd ever seen her, today.

"You're dressed up, today. Special occasion? " He asked.

The familiar sad look crept across her face. "Well, it was."

"Was?"

"Today's my birthday. I thought my husband might take me out to lunch."

"Happy birthday. I take it he didn't take you out for lunch."

"No. He forgot, as usual. He took his mother to the casino for Senior Bingo." Margaret open her laptop, but continued to speak. "I don't know why I thought today would be any different."

"Too bad he forgot."

"I guess I shouldn't let it bother me so much." She added.

"Why shouldn't it bother you? It would have bothered me, if my wife had ever forgot my birthday." In thirty- five years of marriage, Vicki had never forgot his birthday , nor had he forgotten hers. In fact, he still left a dozen roses for her, on her birthday, at the cemetery. He couldn't imagine just forgetting a loved one's birthday. He found his gaze drifting back over Margaret, again. Damn, she looked really good, today, Richard thought. He wondered if her hair was as soft to the touch as it looked.

Other students started to arrive and Margaret didn't answer. Richard decided he would offer to treat Margaret to a cup of coffee, after class, for her birthday. Maybe it would cheer her up a bit.

A few minutes later, as he began the lecture, Richard noticed a male student casting some glances Margaret's way. She's old enough to be your mother, kid, he thought to himself. He frowned, when he noticed the guy lean over and tap her on the shoulder. Richard saw her turn slightly and listen to something the guy said. Margaret blushed and whispered something back, then turned around. Richard wondered what the guy had said. If he was bothering her, he would ask him to leave.

"Mrs. Ray, is Mr. Jones bothering you?" He asked.

Margaret seemed surprised by the question.

"Not really." She answered, but her tone was a bit strange. She almost giggled, he thought.

Richard went back to the lecture. He taught almost on automatic pilot, as his thoughts drifted.He thought about Margaret, once again. His mind drifted back to some of the things she had written about, in her personal narrative.

Margaret had written about being offered a work study position as a professor's assistant. She mentioned how she felt that she had to turn down the position because no one realized who she really was. She commented that her academic merit and many successes were merely a mask that people did not see through. Margaret wrote that she wasn't the wonderful person people, at the college ,thought she was. Margaret considered herself a failure as a woman.

She had plenty of reason for the lack of self confidence. Her disaster of a marriage and poor relationship with her husband were,obviously, to blame for that. She hadn't come right out and admitted it, but Richard suspected that Margaret's husband was verbally and emotionally abusive. There were a lot of things, in her essay, that hinted at it. Despite what you think, Margaret, you are far from a failure as a woman, Richard thought. His eyes once again drifted over her ample breasts.

Richard planned to ask Margaret about some of the things in her essay, while they had coffee, if she accepted his invitation. As class was ending, Richard asked Margaret if she would stay behind for a couple of minutes, as he wanted to discuss her essay. She agreed. When the last student had left, she stood and walked up to his desk. Richard tried hard to keep from staring at the jiggle of her breasts and slight sway of her hips as she walked.

"I need a cup of coffee." Richard said. " Care to join me for one in the coffee shop? We can talk about your essay there. "

"Sure. Let me get my things." Margaret walked back to collect them. Richard grabbed his briefcase and followed.

"Let me carry those for you." He picked up the stack of books from her desk.

"Thank you." A surprised smile lit up her face.

They walked out of the classroom together. The coffee shop, down the hall was a quick walk away. Richard led the way to a small table in a back corner.

"I'll go order for us." He said. "What would you like?"

"I don't care, as long as it's warm." Margaret commented.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Richard looked at the menu, wondering what he should order. In the end, he ordered a mint mocha latte and a vanilla caramel latte. He liked both and figured she would like one or the other. He noticed some fancy cupcakes and pastries in the case and ordered two cupcakes. He carried the drinks and cakes back to their table, watching Margaret, as he walked.

"Mint mocha or vanilla caramel?" He asked, as he put the drinks on the table.

"Mint, thanks."

He smiled. "I had a hunch you were a chocolate lover." He placed a chocolate cupcake in front of her, and sat down.

"Chocolate is one of my weaknesses." Margaret took a sip of her drink. A bit of the whipped cream clung to her lips. Richard wondered what it would feel like to kiss it away. He shook his head, surprised by the thought. He hadn't even thought about kissing a woman, since his wife died.

"You mentioned you wanted to discuss my essay." Margaret's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"It's a solid personal narrative. Very well written. The content is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Margaret took another sip of her drink.

"Surely you aren't a failure as a woman. I found it disturbing that you feel that way about yourself."

"I have my reasons." The sad expression crept back into her eyes.

"Care to share them?" He asked. "The professor you would have been working with would have been me. I think you would be an asset to my department. I'm quite dissappointed that you turned down the position. It must pay triple what you are earning, now. "

Margaret sighed. "It's not a matter of money. It's a matter of pride. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. I'm a good listener." His tone was insistent, nearly demanding.

Margaret shifted in her chair. Professor Marsh was being kind and she was tempted to confide in him. Lord knew, she didn't have many people she could talk to. She glanced at her watch, her husband wasn't going to pick her up for another couple of hours. Mentally debating what to say, she took another sip of her drink.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

" Almost everyone, here at school, thinks I am such a wonderful person. Oh, sure I have good grades, am on the student advisory board, and volunteer in the community, I don't deny that. But,the school seems to think I am a good role model for women . I took offense to that comment when they offered me the position. A role model I am not. It would be a disservice to other students if the college placed me in a position to be a role model for others, right now. In the future, maybe, not now."

"I got that much from your essay. Why in the world wouldn't you consider yourself a role model for other women? A great student, volunteer in the community, have a respectable job, you have it all."

"That's the long story part." Margaret nibbled on the cupcake.

"Like I said, I've got time. "

Professor Marsh looked so kind and concerned. Margaret felt like she could tell him anything.Sighing, she took another sip.

"My parent's are old school. They believe that women have one purpose in life. That purpose , according to them, is to marry well and have children. They think women should be decorative housewives who live to raise their children and keep their husband happy. To them, a woman is only worth something if she is attractive enough to keep her spouse satisfied, and thus her home life running smoothly. They raised me to believe that, as well."

Margaret paused to sip her drink. "I tried to live up to what society considers attractive. However, I never could compete with other women when it came to looks. I never expected to find anyone attracted enough to me to want to sleep with me, let alone marry me. I was 29 when I met my husband, Fred. He is a lot older, had already been married and divorced twice, before we met. Not a lot of women wanted to date him. My husband wasn't a great catch. He was unemployed, disabled, and a had a quick temper. He was an only child and at 48, did not have children. His mother was pestering him a lot because she wanted grandchildren to carry on the family name. Fred was lonely , I think. So, he started looking for someone. We both had profiles on an internet dating site. He responded to mine and told me everything a woman wants to hear. "

Richard waved over a waitress and ordered two more lattes. When the waitress left, Margaret continued.

"Fred made me feel alive. For the first time, I felt wanted, desired, and loved. I didn't feel like I was a disappointment and a failure as a woman. When he proposed, I said yes. When I got pregnant right away, my husband was thrilled. So was his mother. I miscarried a few weeks later. My husband and mother- in - law were upset because they wanted the child so much. My mother-in-law convinced my husband that I must have had an abortion or done something wrong to cause the miscarriage. After that, he wouldn't come near me for awhile. Eventually, I was able to convince him that I had wanted the child. A specialist doctor was able to convince him that I had not caused the miscarriage. After awhile, I got pregnant, again, only to have another miscarriage. I had five more miscarriages and after each one, my mother in law would treat me even worse and try to convince my husband that I was evil. Finally, I was able to give him a son and her a grandson. I almost died having my son and was very weak and ill after the baby was born. My mother in law thought I was being a wimp, was just lazy, and was a bad mother because I needed help with the baby. My husband believed her and became very remote, distant, and cold for awhile It wasn't long before my mother-in- law was hinting to my husband that a granddaughter would be nice. Things improved in our relationship. I got pregnant, again. I had even more problems. I was in the hospital a lot. Eventually, our daughter was born. But, the doctor said I shouldn't have any more children because I would die trying to give birth, again. "

Their drinks arrived and after a couple of sips, Margaret continued. "After my mother -in-law found out I shouldn't have any more children, she was furious. She convinced my husband that I was selfish and just wanted my career and that I wasn't a good mother. After he found out I could no longer have children, my husband ignored me most of the time. He would talk to me only when necessary. He turned from a loving, attentive, affectionate man into a very cold, distant, emotionally abusive stranger. He's been a wonderful father to the children, but a lousy husband. "

"Your husband never really loved you, he just picked you because you could give him children." Richard observed quietly.

Margaret nodded. "Unfortunately, I was so in love with him that I never saw the signs that he didn't really love me for me. After our second child was born, he told me he didn't want me anymore physically and I had to just deal with it, if I wanted to stay around and see the kids grow up." Tears threatened then, glistening in her eyes. "I am such a failure as a woman. I can't even keep my husband happy. I am hardly role model material for women."

Richard wanted to seek out Margaret's husband and beat him to a pulp. The guy was a first class jerk for preying on a vulnerable young girl, then turning nasty and abusive just when things didn't go his way. What kind of man made his wife live in a cold, abusive sham of a marriage ,under the threat of losing her children? Competing with the urge to beat the guy up, was the urge to wrap Margaret up in his arms and never let her go. He settled for reaching across the table and squeezing her hand.

"You're more of a role model than you think. You're putting up with Hell on Earth just so your children will have you in their lives. If that doesn't put you close to saint status, nothing will."

The warm touch of his hand on hers was comforting. It had been years since she had been touched by a man, Margaret thought. It had felt good to tell someone what was going on. For the first time, in years, she felt safe. She didn't want to leave , but she knew she had to. Fred would be upset if he had to wait for her, especially if he had lost at bingo, earlier. Reluctantly, she stood up.

"Thanks for the coffee. I really enjoyed it. I do have to be going, though. "

"My pleasure. " Richard tossed a couple of bills on the table and stood up. "I'll walk you out." He offered.

Margaret was going to decline the offer, but decided not to. A few more minutes of this kind man's company would be very welcome. Once again, Richard picked up her stack of books and slid his other hand under her elbow to guide her out of the. now crowded, campus coffee shop. Margaret couldn't remember the last time Fred had taken her arm like that. It was a pleasant surprise to discover manners still existed in men.