Home Brings Comfort

CHAPTER 10: Home Brings Comfort

My things were packed and loaded onto the tram outside my apartment door. I was desperate to return home to England, to Oxford and my father. I had received a message from Madeline Howard early that morning that my father was unable to meet me at the airport, but was sending his research assistant to collect me. I was nervous, I had never met his research assistant as he had been hired after I left for France. At least my father called before I left the hotel.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked above the sound of rustling papers. I smiled as I imagined him in his library with dozens of art books spread out on the table around him and a master’s work projected onto the wall. “Will you be okay traveling alone?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” I replied, checking drawers to ensure that I was leaving nothing behind. “The flight won’t be very long and I’ll probably sleep the entire way. I wish you could meet me at the airport, though.”

“I am sorry, darling, I really am. I cannot get away today, department meetings all morning. But Alec is a nice boy, you’ll like him a good deal,” my father said, a smile in his voice. “He’ll be there to collect you as soon as your flight arrives. Would you like him to have one of those signs with your name on?”

“Why not.” I checked the clock and realized that my taxi to the airport would be arriving in a few moments. “I’ve got to go, Dad. My taxi will be here soon. I love you, and give my love to Mum if you talk to her.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Be careful.”

The trip home was uneventful. I felt little remorse for treating M. Rigalto so terribly, but I felt as if he had played some part in my delusion and I was not willing to be friendly with him. The young bellhop loaded my luggage into the car and received a warm smile and a decent tip before we were off. The flight was smooth and comfortable, as it was not full. I was so happy to be going home that I was able to eat a light brunch and take a short nap before we landed in London.

It felt wonderful to be home again, to feel the rain on my face and feel the cold autumn wind on my face. I could feel a new resolve and confidence pour through me with a suffusing warmth as I made my way into the terminal. The lights were bright and people were milling about, meeting family and friends and saying goodbye. I couldn’t hide the smile spreading across my face as I watched the people come and go.

I looked around the terminal for a moment before I spotted my father’s research assistant. He was near my age and handsome. He looked to be a little over six feet tall and had short, sandy hair. There was a wide smile on his face as he shuffled from one foot to the other, a sign reading Emmy Leroux in his hands. I took a deep breath, smiled in return, and made my way over to him.

“Are you Alec?” I asked, holding out my hand. I liked the look of him, the cool confidence and peacefulness that radiated from him. There was something in his warm, sea foam eyes that sent a wave of warmth through me.

His smile broadened as he shook my hand in return. “Yes, and you must be Emmyline.”

“Call me Emmy,” I replied, liking the way his voice washed over me. It was rough and sweet and reminded me of everything that made me happy. “Would you mind helping me collect the rest of my luggage from the baggage claim?”

“Of course,” he replied, taking my carry-on bag from me and throwing it over his shoulder. “You dad says you were studying in Paris. What were you there for?”

“Turn of the century French history. It was wonderful to visit Paris again after so long, but I’m glad to be home,” I said, sighing happily. Alec was still smiling softly as he listened to me talk and led the way over to the baggage claim. “I didn’t get very much done, but I was losing interest in the subject anyway. My dad always said that if I stayed with one thing more than a few months then I must be sick. I think I may change my study to English history. At least I won’t have to leave home again.”

Alec chuckled and began searching the conveyor belt for my bags. “I know what you mean. My dad wanted me to play football for Chelsea, but Mum wanted me to go on to university. I’m glad that I listened to her. I can’t stand the sight of a football now,” he said, reaching out for two of my trunks that I had pointed out. We waited for the third to appear.

“My mum wanted me to go on a long holiday before finishing my studies, but I just wanted to keep going. I think she wanted me to join her in Istanbul for the year. She’s studying Byzantine art and religious history. Oh, here,” I mumbled as I tugged my final trunk from the conveyor belt. “Where the bloody hell is a tram when you need one?”

Disappearing for a moment, Alec returned with a tram and began loading my luggage. Even beneath his worn leather coat I could see the muscles of his arms and chest coil and ripple as he hefted my trunks with ease. I watched with fascination, as the only men I had ever been around were academics and prone to be less than athletic and muscular. When he was finished, he smiled at me again and started off toward the exit.

“So, Alec, what are you doing working for my dad?”

“Not much,” he replied. “I just keep track of his books, papers, and appointments. I’ve helped get things prepared for his classes. Even taught a few actually when he’s been sick. Mostly the mythology and religious art courses, but I’ve done a few of the art history ones, too. Your dad’s been good to me, and he’s helped me with my own papers. He’s a good man.”

The crashing sound of a tumultuous rainstorm met our ears as the exit slid open. The cool English air swirled around us and heavy raindrops sprayed up as they bounced off the ground. Alec grimaced, a look almost as handsome as his smile, as he glanced from me to the torrential rains. He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to me. “Put this over your head. It’ll keep you dry enough until we get to my car. Luckily, it’s just across the street there.”

I held the worn leather over my head, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cologne. There was little I could do to hold back the laughter as we ran across the street, thudding through puddles and splashing water onto our clothes. Alec tugged his keys from the pocket of his soaked jeans and unlocked the passenger door for me before going to load my luggage in the trunk. The car was cold and water dripped from my clothes and the jacket in my lap as I watched Alec in the rearview mirror. The rain tapped on the roof and dripped off the end of his nose as he pushed the trunk shut.

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he hurried into the car. His hair was plastered to his head and his clothes clung to his well-muscled form. He glanced over me, taking in my soaked form. Laughing, he started the car and turned on the heat. “Well, at least you’re dryer than I am.”

I laughed, taking in the sight of him. The car began to warm as Alec turned out of the car park. I felt the color rising in my face as I closed my eyes, leaning back against the seat and finding the image of a rain-soaked Alec burned into my eyelids. It was a pleasant image, one that I was frighteningly comfortable luxuriating in as we drove out of the city on our way to Oxford.

© 2008, The Mistress Snape