She hoped that she looked okay, because she hadn’t taken any time with her appearance. Yesterday’s makeup still covered her face, and she had thrown her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. She was run-down from not sleeping, and stressing her way through every imaginable scenario with Brady.
“Yes, thank you for stopping by,” Professor Mires said as the student who had been in her office exited. “Miss Dougherty, how are you?”
Liz stood and stifled a yawn. “Hello, Professor Mires.”
“You’re here for your grade, I presume?”
“I know you said in class that we could stop by on Monday and you should have our papers finalized.”
“In fact, I do. Come on in,” the professor said, gesturing for Liz to follow her.
Liz took the seat in front of the professor’s desk. Professor Mires wore her typical librarian glasses. Her brown hair was a curly mess, which explained why she always wore it in a bun. She had on a long blue skirt that dragged the floor, and a cream linen blouse. She took a seat in front of Liz and folded her hands in her lap.
“What are your plans for the next two years, Liz?” Professor Mires asked. “You are an upcoming junior, correct?”
“Yes, I am,” Liz said, straightening at the question. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking. I’m planning to finish my degree in journalism and work on the paper.”
“I understand that you’re a Morehead scholar and that your senior year, you must have an internship with a completed in-field research project. Had you thought about what you are going to do for this?” Professor Mires prodded.
“I had given some thought to working in-field at a Raleigh newspaper and commuting back and forth. I have a scholarship meeting with my advisor at the beginning of school to discuss possibilities,” Liz told her.
“Hmm,” she said, leaning forward and thumbing through a stack of papers on her desk. She extracted one from the pile and handed it across the table to Liz.
Liz took her paper eagerly. She flipped to the back page and saw the page filled top to bottom with red ink and a small A+ circled at the bottom. Liz inhaled sharply, unable to believe what she saw. She skimmed through the comments, which was one long glowing review of the article she had written.
“Thank you,” Liz muttered, glancing back up at her professor.
“I’m giving you an A in the class,” Professor Mires told her. “I know your performance was less than adequate at the beginning, but I’m a strong believer in improvement. And you went above and beyond. I challenged you, and you accepted the challenge with fervor. Each week you got better, but this”—she pointed at the paper—“this showed what you are really capable of. You’ve done a great job at changing your perspective, broadening your scope, and remaining objective. You should hold on to these skills. They’ll take you far.”
“Oh,” Liz said, “thank you.”
The one paper Brady had given her the idea for was the paper that her professor thought had changed her. She had worked hard all summer to achieve this A, really stretching her perspective and working toward what Professor Mires wanted from her. But she knew that Brady had helped with that. He had shown her politics from a different perspective entirely. She had been able to take what she had learned from him and layer it with what she already knew about the world, and that had helped her relate to her audience.
That man will be the death of me.
“Well, you convinced me to believe in your work with that last paper. It showed me that you can improve…and drastically in a short period of time. I’ve been looking for someone like that to help with my research. I’ve recently acquired a grant, and I’ll be doing research with several universities around the country and working directly with the Washington Post. Part of the funds will go toward putting together a colloquium regarding political journalism, and most of the North Carolina state papers as well as Wash Po, New York Times, and CNN have signed on to participate. I know that you are working on the university paper, and if you continue on the path with politics, then you will surely have your hands full, but I do hope you consider taking the time to work with me. I would be happy to sign off on your internship credit.”
Liz stared forward at her professor in shock, her mouth hanging open slightly.
“Are you interested, Liz?” Professor Mires asked.
“Yes! Oh, yes, I’m interested. I would be happy to help you in your research, Professor Mires. What will you need me to do?” Liz sputtered out.
“Great. I’ll be in contact more directly when school starts again. It might require some traveling, but all your expenses would be covered. Also, I do hope that it helps you make those contacts you need,” Professor Mires said with a smile.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity!”
Professor Mires nodded before standing. “Thank you for your hard work. I’m looking forward to having you onboard next semester.”
Liz smiled, her day brightening, and turned to exit her professor’s office. Standing in the doorway was the woman’s husband. He was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, with a giant smile plastered on his handsome face. Liz suddenly felt as if she was intruding on their moment and quickly ducked out of the office.
Her brain was buzzing as she walked back to her car. She couldn’t believe that Professor Mires believed in her work enough to entrust her with her grant research. Not only that, but Liz would be included in work with papers and political journalism outlets all over the country. This felt way bigger than anything she could do on the university paper.
She was so wired she almost missed her phone buzzing in her purse. She quickly answered the unknown number, noting that it had a North Carolina area code. “Hello?”
“Liz,” Brady said.
Liz stopped in her tracks in the middle of campus. Her mind quit working and she felt her heart skip. Damn, she had missed that voice.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, sorry,” she murmured. “I missed you.”
She hadn’t even meant to say it. Of course she had missed him. But with everything that had happened since she had left his house, it wasn’t the first thing she had thought she would spit out.
“I missed you, too.”
Silence dragged on the line for a moment as Liz waited for him to say something else.
“How was your trip?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Good,” she said. “I got to see a lot of monuments and museums.”