There is not much to tell in regards to Pamela and Daniel. Little has changed: there is still great tension between the two of them. Daniel has yet to speak to his wife, and Pamela is frustrated and upset.
I was listening to her telling Mal about the incident last night. “The worst part of it is I’m still crazy attracted to him,” she said. “And I can see his side of it. What if I had stayed with Rohan, and we were crashing and burning, and then I met someone who was wonderful and kind and it was so easy to be with him, and such a relief from all the tension and drama and baggage—”
“Honey,” Mal said, her voice sharp, “we’ve been talking about this for an hour. This is not a tension-free relationship.”
This was why I encouraged Pamela to call Mal and not Evelyn or Diana: either of them might have had compassion on Daniel. Mal has none.
Pamela sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I know. But the point is, I get it. And I hate that, because it means there’s a part of me that might let him back in.”
“Well, tell that part of you to shut up.” Mal pushed a cup of tea into Pamela’s hand and sat down across from her with a scowl. “He’s married. It’s not happening.”
“Oh, I know,” Pamela said, and she sounded convinced, but I could see the very uncertainty in her aura that she had mentioned.
It is her anger that keeps her safe for now, but anger fades. I will have to guard her carefully as time goes by, to make certain she stays strong.
In the meanwhile, my newest charge required my attention today. I have to confess, it was very hard to leave Pamela in order to see to her, but I think I begin to see a bit of hope for her.
I was called to her because she had the opportunity to meet with the current object of her interest, Mark. When I arrived, she had just spotted him outside the art building, and she waved to catch his attention.
The mess with Daniel has kept me from being able to look into this young man, but he makes a good impression. Mark Newell is a graduate student in the university’s literature program, studying the connections between art and literature. He is a thoughtful, patient man, kind and quiet—indeed, he reminds me of Freya’s Ryan, although he does not have the same wry sense of humor. As for what he thinks of Shannon—
“Nice to see you again! What are you looking at this time?” Shannon asked him, glancing behind him to the art gallery, from which he had just come.
“Oh, just stopping by to see something by one of my students,” he said with a smile. “What about you? You have senior projects to work on—will I be seeing your work there soon?”
“Oh, no, I’m art history,” she laughed, shaking her head, and using the gesture to rearrange her hair to better advantage. “All I will have to show for my degree will be some really long and boring paper.”
“Surely it won’t be that boring,” Mark said with a smile. He finds Shannon attractive, of course, but I could not see anything in his mind or aura that might indicate a deeper interest. “Have you decided what to write about yet?”
“Oh, well—I have a few ideas.”
“You only have the semester! You better get going.”
Shannon blushed, which surprised me. In my time with her so far, I have not often seen her feel real embarrassment—she has learned to brush aside those feelings, burying them under the assurance that she is in the right. But she wants to impress Mark, and so it does embarrass her to admit that she does not yet have a topic for her paper.
I was quick to take advantage of the opportunity. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Would it not be good to have a decision to tell him about? Then you would be able to show him how clever and hard-working you are.”
It was a tempting idea for her. “Well, I’m on my way to the library now,” she said, and she meant it, which pleased me. But then she said, “Unless you’d rather go grab a cup of coffee with me?” She smiled flirtatiously.
Mark was surprised by the offer, but not unwilling. I jumped across to him, however, and murmured that he still did not know Shannon very well, that there would be time to get to know her. So he smiled and said, “Far be it from me to get in the way of your work. Maybe another time?”
Shannon studied his expression and decided that it wasn’t a brush-off. “Count on it,” she said.
They said their goodbyes, and I was very pleased to see Shannon set off across the campus to the library. She hadn’t, in fact, been on her way there, but wanting to impress Mark has inspired her. Indeed, she spent most of the morning there, and was well on her way to making a decision on her topic when I left her.
I would rather that she pursued knowledge for its own sake, or for her own sake, not to impress a man, but at least it is a start. Perhaps I can use her attraction to him to rouse her from her apathy and give her something to be passionate about. One can only hope.