“Miss Mitchell.” The tall, dark-haired woman in the power suit strolled into the corner office, shook Julia’s hand, and sat behind her large desk.
Miss Soraya Harandi was of Iranian descent, with light, unfreckled skin and cascades of blue-black hair. Her mouth was wide and full, and her dark eyes sparkled. She was not necessarily beautiful, but she was striking, and Julia could not help but stare.
Soraya chuckled.
Julia immediately looked down at her book bag and began to fidget with it.
“Now that’s something you cannot do in front of the Dean. No matter what he says or does, you cannot look away. It makes you look guilty and weak.” Soraya softened her criticism with a smile. “Law is as much about psychology as it is about precedent. Now, why don’t you tell me what led up to the Dean’s letter?”
Julia took a deep breath and told her story, beginning when she was seventeen and ending with the letter from the Dean’s office. She only left out a few details.
Soraya listened carefully, jotting down notes on her laptop and nodding on occasion. When Julia finished, Soraya was quiet for a moment.
“That’s quite a story. Since the Dean hasn’t disclosed what the complaint is about, let’s not assume it’s about your boyfriend. Although we should prepare for that scenario. Was your relationship with Professor Emerson absolutely consensual?”
“Of course.”
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“Have you ever had a sexual relationship with one of your professors or teaching assistants before?”
“No.”
“Is it possible he seduced you solely for his own amusement?”
“Of course not. Gabriel loves me.”
Soraya appeared relieved. “Good. Well, good for you personally, not so good depending on the complaint.”
“What do you mean?”
“If your relationship was consensual, then the university can pursue disciplinary action against both of you. If you were a victim, then they’ll only pursue him.”
“I am not a victim. We are in a relationship, and we waited until after the semester was over before we became involved.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Julia was incredulous. “Excuse me?”
“According to your story, you had an amorous relationship with him beginning around the end of October. You waited until after the semester was over to sleep with him. But given the way the non-fraternization policy is written, you violated it. Who knows about your relationship?”
“His family. My father. That’s it.”
“What about the student who accused your boyfriend of sexual harassment?”
Julia gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what she knows. But she hates me.”
Soraya tapped her chin with her pen. “If you were accused of violating the non-fraternization policy, what kind of evidence, other than your testimony, could you offer for the fact that you weren’t having a sexual relationship with him while you were his student?”
“Why would you think the complaint has to do with Gabriel? The academic conduct policy covers things like plagiarism.”
“I’ve met Dean Aras. He doesn’t waste his precious time with plagiarism cases.”
Julia sat back in her chair. “Oh my God.”
“Let’s hope someone is accusing you of a minor academic offense and that Dean Aras is simply taking a personal interest in your case.
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But just in case, what kind of evidence can you offer to prove you weren’t trading sex for grades?”
Julia flushed deeply. “Um, there is something.”
“What is it?”
“I was a virgin before we went to Italy.”
Soraya stared at her as if she was a mythical creature, such as, say, a heterosexual man who knew the difference between Manolo Blahniks and Christian Louboutins.
“Do you have medical proof of that? Such as a doctor’s note?”
Julia squirmed. “No.”
“Then there’s no point in bringing it up. Did anyone from the university see you and Gabriel together during the semester?”
“Not as far as I know. Although we went to a dance club with his sister back in September.”
Soraya pursed her lips. “Bringing up the fact that you are a friend of his family is not a good idea. It establishes a possible conflict of interest. And being seen in his company in a public venue was not an intelligent choice, Miss Mitchell. But frankly, he bears more blame than you because he should have known better.
“Since we don’t know the nature of the complaint, our strategy should be to gather as much information as possible from the meeting while giving nothing away. That will buy us time to prepare for any disciplinary proceedings, should they arise. Hopefully, they won’t.
“At the meeting with the Dean, I will speak for you. Since they haven’t disclosed the nature of the complaint, it’s possible that the complaint is specious and that they know this. We won’t add fuel to their funeral pyre.”
Soraya looked at Julia’s downcast face and frowned. “You have to have confidence. You have to believe that the complaint is frivolous and that you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve had dealings with the university’s judiciary before, and I was fairly successful. I will be successful with your case too.”
Julia took small comfort in Soraya’s confidence, but some comfort was better than nothing.
“In the meantime, I would like a list of anyone who might have filed a complaint against you and why, and a detailed account of all your interactions with Miss Peterson. I’ll have one of my assistants
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perform some background checks. I’ll also place a call to a contact of mine at the university and see what I can find out.
“Until this matter is settled, you and Professor Emerson need to cool it. Don’t be seen in public together. Don’t talk to him about what you and I discuss. If the complaint is about fraternization, he will have his own counsel, who will look after his interests. I don’t want my defense of you compromised by your pillow talk.”
Julia’s eyes flashed with a momentary heat. “Gabriel is much more than just a boyfriend. If I’m in danger so is he. Our relationship was consensual, and I have no interest in being defended at his expense. Any blame we have is equal between us.”
Soraya gazed at Julia curiously.
“Are you sure that’s his position? You told my secretary that John Green is Gabriel’s attorney. Why isn’t John representing you, if you and Gabriel are determined to show a united front?”
Julia opened her mouth to form an answer, but none occurred to her.
Soraya smiled sympathetically. “Listen, you aren’t the first student to find herself in this situation. I’m sure it’s upsetting and confusing. But you need to realize that if the complaint against you and your boyfriend escalates, it’s quite possible he will break things off with you in order to protect his job. You need to prepare yourself in case he decides to throw you to the wolves.”
“He would never do that. He loves me. We’re talking about moving in together. And — other things.”
Soraya gave her a condescending look. “Love can be easily killed, especially by unemployment. But let’s take things one step at a time.
“Gabriel has sent over a retainer, which I will return. I think it’s best for me to represent you pro bono.”
Julia nodded uncomfortably. She had forgotten about the legal fees. “I will pay you, but it might take some time…”
“The point of taking a case for the good is so one can further the good. I don’t see much good coming out of taking your money. You should be spending it on text books and moving expenses to Massachusetts.”
Soraya’s smile tightened. “I am not a fan of the university’s sexual inquisitions. Anything I can do to embarrass or humiliate Dean Aras is definitely for the good. Believe me, representing your interests will
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be one of the few pleasures I’ve had recently. I should be paying you for the privilege.”
P
Later that evening Julia was curled up into a ball, trying to sleep in Gabriel’s bed. He was in his study, furiously researching all the university policies that applied to graduate students, trying to figure out what had possibly come to the attention of the Dean.
The thought of Gabriel having to do that for her — the thought of his career possibly being threatened because of her, combined with the possibility of losing Harvard, made the tears come. It was all so overwhelming. And the worst part was not knowing what the specific danger was.
She wiped the tears away, willing herself to be strong. Gabriel walked into the bedroom to check on her, and upon seeing her face, slipped into bed behind her.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have continued working if I’d known you were so upset. We’ve hired the best lawyer and we’re going to fight this complaint. It’s quite possible it’s simply a misunderstanding and by Friday evening, it will all be over.”
“What if this is about us?”
Gabriel clenched his teeth. “Then we’ll deal with it together.”
“What about the harassment complaint?”
“Don’t worry about that. You focus on your thesis and your studies, and you let me worry about myself. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
He rolled her onto her back and began sweeping soft kisses across her face.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Gabriel stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I know. But no matter what, I won’t let them keep you from Harvard. It’s going to be fine.” He gave her a pained look. “What can I do, Julia? I don’t know how to — comfort you.”
“Kiss me.”
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Gabriel kissed her mouth — the hesitant, light kiss of a boy who was unsure how the girl next door would react. He needn’t have worried.
Julia responded by wrapping his hair around her fingers and pulling his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely and coaxing his tongue into her mouth.
He kissed her back but with restraint, then pulled away before pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t,” he said.
“Please.” She tugged at him, running her hands across his broad shoulders and down the sinews of his back, pulling him toward her.
“I can’t make love to you while you’re sad. I would feel like I was hurting you.”
“But I need you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I ran a hot bath or something?”
“Making love with you makes me happy because it reminds me how much you love me. Please. I need to feel like you want me.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Of course I want you, Julia. I just don’t want to take advantage.”
She was not the sort of woman who made many demands, and what demands she made were almost always good. And almost always about what was good for him.
Gabriel knew this, and it pained him to deny her and those large, sad brown eyes. But the trails of her tears had dampened his libido. He would far rather have held her tightly and tried to soothe her by being close, than to attempt an act he would not be able to perform.
Her face told him that she needed him, that she needed this and them and the conjunction of body and soul. While he stroked her hair, deciding what to do, he realized something about himself. No matter what his therapist had intimated, he was not a sex addict. He was not a wanton hedonist with a massive hunger who was willing to, as Scott had put it, screw anything female and attractive.
Julianne had changed him. He loved her. And even if she begged him, he couldn’t become aroused while seeing her in pain.
She was still staring up at him, her fingers tracing up and down his naked back. He decided to give her part of what she wanted, to touch and caress her, focusing on distracting her with pleasurable feelings and sensations, hoping that it would be enough. He kissed her, slowing their pace to a gentle exploration. She ran her fingers
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through his hair, anchoring him to her as she softly scratched his scalp. Even in the midst of her sorrow and need, she was kind.
He feathered his lips to her neck and her ear where he whispered about how much she’d changed him. How much happier he was now that she was his.
She began to sigh as he adored her neck, dipping a playful tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat before kissing it chastely. He nipped at her collarbones, gently pulling aside the thin strap of her tank top so the white slope of her shoulder was bare to his mouth.
She would have removed her tank top for him, exposing her breasts, but he stopped her.
“Patience,” he whispered.
He wound their fingers together and kissed the back of her hand, extending her arm so he could draw the flesh of her inner elbow into his mouth, pausing when she began to moan. He kissed every inch of her, gliding strong hands across soft skin, taking his cue from the heat that shot across her flesh and the sounds that escaped her lips.
When he was satisfied that her tears had stopped and she was asking him for more, he cast their clothes aside and knelt between her legs.
Soon she was shaking and crying out his name. In itself, this was the moment he craved most, even beyond his own climax — the sound of his name tripping from her lips amidst the waves of her satisfaction. She’d been so shy the first few times they made love. Every time she said Gabriel in that ecstatic, breathy whisper, a precious warmth overtook him.
This is what love is, he thought. Being naked and bare before one’s lover and unashamedly calling her name in need.
In his own orgasm, he reciprocated, telling her that he loved her. It was inextricably linked in his mind and experience — sex and love and Julianne. The holy three.
He held her tightly while they caught their breath, smiling to himself. He was so proud of her, so happy she could give voice to her desires, even when she was sad. He kissed her softly and was grateful to see that her smile had returned.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Julianne, for teaching me how to love.”
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P
Paul walked into the departmental office on Wednesday and was shocked by what he saw.
Julia was standing in front of the mailboxes, her skin pale and dull, with dark circles under her eyes. As he made his way over to her, she lifted her head and smiled at him thinly. Her smile alone pained him.
Before he could ask her what was wrong, Christa Peterson breezed in, her large Michael Kors bag dangling from her wrist. She looked remarkably well rested, and her eyes were bright. She was wearing red. Not cherry red or blood red, but scarlet. The color of triumph and power.
She saw Paul and Julia together and cackled quietly.
Paul’s dark eyes shifted from Julia to Christa and back again. He watched as Julia hid her face while she checked her mailbox.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“Nothing. I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
Paul shook his head. He would have pressed her, gently this time, but Professor Martin entered the office at that moment.
Julia took one look at him and quickly picked up her messenger bag and her coat, hoping to make a break for the door.
Paul stopped her. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I was going to walk over to Starbucks.”
Julia shook her head. “I’m pretty tired. I think I need to go home.”
Paul’s eyes glanced down at her bare neck, her bare unmarked neck, and moved back to her face.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
“No. Thanks, Paul. I’m fine, really.”
He nodded and watched her turn to leave, but before she could enter the hallway, he followed her. “On second thought, I should head home now too. I can walk with you, if you want.”
Julia bit her lip but nodded, and the two friends exited the building into the bone chilling winter air. She wrapped her Magdalen College scarf around her neck, shivering against the wind.
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“That’s an Oxford scarf,” Paul observed.
“Yes.”
“Did you buy it in Oxford?”
“Um, no. It was a gift.”
Owen, he thought. I guess he can’t be a complete bonehead if he went to Oxford. Then again, Emerson went to Oxford…
“I really like the Phillies cap you gave me. I’m a Red Sox fan, but I’ll wear it with pride, except when I’m in Vermont. My dad would burn it if I wore it on the farm.”
Julia couldn’t help but smile, and Paul mirrored her expression.
“How long have you been sick?”
“Um, a few days.” She shrugged uncomfortably.
“Have you been to the doctor?”
“It’s just a cold. They wouldn’t be able to do anything for me.”
Paul stole glances at her while they walked past the Royal Ontario Museum, snowflakes swirling around them and the crystal monstrosity that was the north wall.
“Has Christa been hassling you? You seemed upset when she walked into the office.”
Julia stumbled in the ankle-deep snow, and Paul quickly reached out one of his large paws to steady her.
“Careful. There could be black ice under there.”
She thanked him and began to walk a little more slowly after he released her.
“If you slip again, grab hold of me. I don’t go down. Ever.”
She glanced at him sideways, completely innocently, only to see him blush. Julia had never seen a rugby player blush before.
(It was rumored to be impossible.)
“Um, what I meant is that I’m too heavy. You wouldn’t be able to pull me over.”
She shook her head. “You aren’t that heavy.”
Paul smiled to himself at the perceived compliment.
“Has Christa been rude to you?”
Julia looked down at the snow-covered sidewalk in front of them. “I’ve been staying up late every night working on my thesis. Professor
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Picton is very demanding. Last week she rejected several pages of my Purgatorio translation. I’ve been redoing it, and it just takes so long.”
“I could help you. I mean, you could email your translations to me before you give them to her so I could check them.”
“Thanks, but you’re busy with your own stuff. You don’t have time for my problems.”
He stopped walking and placed a light hand on her arm. “Of course I have time for you. You’re working on love and lust, and I’m working on pleasure. Some of our translations will overlap. It would be good practice for me.”
“I’m not working on love and lust anymore. Professor Picton made me change my topic to a comparison between courtly love and the friendship between Virgil and Dante.”
Paul shrugged. “Some of the translations will still overlap.”
“If we’re working on the same passage we could compare translations. I don’t want to bother you with stuff that’s unrelated to your project.” She looked over at him tentatively.
“Send me what you have and what your deadlines are, and I’ll look at it. No problem.”
“Thank you.” She appeared relieved.
He withdrew his hand, and they began walking again. “Did you know that the Chair of Italian Studies sent out an email announcement about your admission to Harvard? He said that you won a pretty big fellowship.”
Julia’s eyes went wide. “Um, no. I didn’t know that. I didn’t get that email.”
“Well, it was sent to everyone else. Emerson made me print out the email and post it on the bulletin board next to his office, after he insisted that I highlight all the important information, including your name, with a bright yellow marker. Figures. He was nothing but rude to you while you were in his seminar, and now he’s probably going to take credit for your admission to Harvard. Asshole.”
Julia’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t comment.
“What?”
She flushed slightly under his scrutiny. “Nothing.”
“Julia, spit it out. What were you thinking just now?”
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“Um, I was just wondering if you’d seen Christa hovering around the department? Or Professor Emerson’s office?”
“No, thank God. It looks as if she’s moved on to someone else. She knows better than to talk to me. I’m just waiting for her to give me a chance to tell her off.” Paul winked and patted her shoulder fraternally. “She better not give you a hard time. Or I have a few stories I could tell.”
P
On Thursday, Julia met with her therapist in preparation for her meeting with the Dean, which was scheduled for Friday morning.
Recognizing that Julia needed to discuss what was happening, Nicole set aside her goals for that session and listened patiently before offering her opinion. “Stress can be very destructive to our health, so it’s important to deal with it adequately. Some people prefer to talk about their problems, while others prefer to think about them. How have you dealt with stress in the past?”
Julia fidgeted with her hands. “I’ve kept quiet.”
“Can you share your concerns with your boyfriend?”
“I can. But I don’t want to upset him. He’s worried about me as it is.”
Nicole nodded sagely. “When you care about someone, it’s understandable that you would want to protect them from pain. And that’s perfectly appropriate on some occasions. But on others, you run the risk of shouldering more than your fair share of stress or responsibility. Can you see why that might be a problem?”
“Well, I don’t like it when Gabriel keeps things from me. I feel like a child. I’d rather have him share things than shut me out.”
“It’s possible that Gabriel feels the same way, that he worries about you shutting him out. Have you discussed this with him?”
“I’ve tried to. I’ve told him I want to be equals, that I don’t want to keep secrets.”
“Good. And what was his response?”
“He either wants to take care of me or he’s worried about disappointing me.”
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“And how does that make you feel?”
Julia gestured with her hands as she tried to find the words. “I don’t want his money. It makes me feel poor and dependent and — and helpless.”
“And why is that?”
“He gives me so much already, and I can’t reciprocate.”
“Is it important to you that your relationship be reciprocal?”
“Yes.”
Nicole smiled kindly. “No relationship is absolutely reciprocal. Sometimes, when couples try to split everything in half, they discover that the relationship is not a partnership but a bean counting exercise. Striving for reciprocity in a relationship can be unhealthy.
“On the other hand, striving to have a partnership in which each partner is valued equally and shares both burdens and responsibilities can be healthy. In other words, it isn’t a problem if he makes more money than you. But he needs to understand that you want to contribute to the relationship, perhaps not financially but in other ways, and that those ways should be respected just as much as the money. Does that make sense?”
“Yes. I like that idea. A lot.”
“As for protecting one another…” She smiled.
“You could make a biological argument as to why men feel the need to protect their women and children. Whatever the reason, it’s a fact. Men tend to find their self-worth in actions and accomplishments. If you refuse to let him do things for you, he’ll feel useless and superfluous. He wants to know that he can take care of you and protect you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Partners should want to protect one another. But like any view, it has its extremes and it has its middle.
“What you and your boyfriend should do is to strive for the middle. Allow him to take care of you in some ways, while exerting your independence in others. And you should impress upon him the need for you to take care of him too.”
Julia nodded. The concept of moderation appealed to her. She wanted to care for Gabriel, and she wanted him to care for her, but she didn’t want to be a burden, and she didn’t want him to look at her as if she was broken. But sorting all of that out practically was a different matter.
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“Some men have what I call chivalry syndrome — they want to protect their women as if they were absolutely helpless. And this might be romantic and exciting for a time, but eventually reality will set in and it will become stifling and patronizing. When one partner does all the protecting and the other does all the receiving, it’s unhealthy.
“Of course, some women have the feminine equivalent of chivalry syndrome — wounded duck attachment. They seek out men who are bad boys or broken and afflicted and attempt to fix them. But we’ll table that discussion for another day.
“At his extreme, a chivalrous male can do all kinds of rash things to protect his woman, including riding into battle on his horse, or taking up arms against thousands of Persians, when he should be running in the opposite direction. Discretion is the better part of valor.” She chuckled slightly. “Did you see the film 300?”
Julia shook her head.
“It’s about the Battle of Thermopylae, when three hundred Spartans held off two hundred and fifty thousand Persians before being defeated. Herodotus writes about it.”
Julia regarded Nicole with no little interest. How many psychologists could cite Herodotus?
“King Leonidas was an extreme case. One could argue that his last stand was precipitated by political concerns rather than chivalry. But my point is that sometimes the chivalrous man ends up doing more damage through his protection than can be done by the force threatening his partner. Spartan women used to tell their husbands and sons to come home carrying their shields or on them. If you found yourself in that situation, you’d probably prefer that Gabriel didn’t die holding the line against thousands of Persians and came home to you, instead.”
Julia nodded in absolute agreement.
“In your conversations with Gabriel, you might want to talk about that — how you feel about being protected to his own detriment, how you should share your risks and responsibilities, why you want to be a partner rather than a child or a helpless female.
“Perhaps Gabriel would be willing to attend joint sessions with us even though he isn’t coming in privately.”
Julia wasn’t quite sure that she’d heard Nicole correctly. “Pardon?”
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Nicole smiled. “I said that in your conversations with Gabriel, you might want to talk about how you feel protected — ”
“No,” Julia interrupted. “I meant the last part. You said that Gabriel isn’t coming in anymore?”
Nicole froze. “Um, that was very unprofessional of me. I shouldn’t speak to you about another client and his counselor.”
“When did he stop seeing Winston?”
“I really can’t say.” Nicole shifted in her seat. “Now, we should probably discuss some ways in which you can deal with stress before your meeting tomorrow…”
P
The Dean of Graduate Studies favored formality and refinement. For these reasons, he always conducted meetings in a large, wood-paneled conference room adjacent to his office on St. George Street. Professor Jeremy Martin, the Chair of Italian Studies, sat at his right in a large, high-backed chair that was vaguely medieval in style, behind an imposing, dark wood table that ran almost the width of the room.
Two small folding chairs were centered before the table, and that is where Soraya and her client sat most uncomfortably at the beginning of their meeting.
“A moment for introductions.” The Dean’s rich, baritone voice rang out in the room.
“Miss Julianne Mitchell?”
Julia nodded, but said nothing.
“And who is your representative?” His pale, cold blue eyes gave away nothing, but it was clear that he recognized the dark haired woman at Julia’s left.
“Soraya Harandi, Dr. Aras. I will be representing Miss Mitchell.”
“Is there a reason why Miss Mitchell has elected to bring an attorney to this informal meeting?” It was clear that he was already irritated.
“Why, Dr. Aras, my client was simply following your instructions. You suggested she retain a lawyer in your letter.” Soraya’s voice was deceptively sweet.
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David resisted the urge to growl at her, for he did not like being made a fool. He gestured to the man beside him. “This is Professor Martin.”
Julia took a moment to appraise the Chair’s appearance. She knew that he would be meeting with Gabriel to discuss Christa’s harassment complaint after this meeting concluded. She tried very hard to discern his disposition but found herself puzzled. His demeanor was decidedly neutral, at least toward her.
The Dean cleared his throat. “We have received a very serious complaint about you, Miss Mitchell. Our purpose in inviting you to speak to us today is solely for information purposes as we begin our investigation. We will ask a few questions, then you will have the opportunity to ask questions of us. I hope the meeting will terminate in about thirty minutes.”
Julia inhaled slowly, watching him and waiting.
“Are you having a romantic relationship with Professor Gabriel Emerson?”
Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, and her jaw dropped open. Before she could speak, Soraya jumped in.
“My client will not answer any questions until the substance of the complaint is revealed. The letter was understandably vague, given the policies of the university, but you have passed the point of vagueness with that question. Exactly what is the complaint against my client, what is the evidence for the complaint, and who is the complainant?”
David tapped a finger at the glass water pitcher in front of him, making the slices of lemon dance to his drumming.
“That is not how these meetings work. I am the Dean. I ask the questions.”
“Dr. Aras…” Soraya’s voice took on an almost patronizing tone. “We both know that the policies and procedures assumed by the university are governed by the principles of natural justice. My client deserves to know the specifics of the complaint, the nature and scope of the evidence against her, if any, and the identity of the complainant before she answers any questions. Otherwise, this is an unjust proceeding and I will have no choice but to file a complaint to that effect. Immediately.”
“I have to agree with Miss Harandi,” said Professor Martin quietly.
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David gave Jeremy an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye. “Very well. An allegation of graduate student misconduct reached our office concerning your client. It was alleged that she entered into a sexual relationship with one of her professors for the purpose of procuring academic favors.”
Julia’s eyes grew wide and round.
Soraya laughed. Loudly. “This is a farce. My client is an extremely talented student who was recently offered an early acceptance to Harvard, as you well know.” She nodded in Professor Martin’s direction. “My client doesn’t need to prostitute herself.”
“The allegation is not without precedent at this institution, Miss Harandi. And we take all complaints seriously, as dictated by our policies.”
“Then why isn’t the complaint being processed as a sexual harassment case? Surely, if a student initiates a transaction in which favors are exchanged for sex it would count as sexual harassment?”
“That avenue of inquiry is also being explored,” David snapped.
Soraya chuckled. “Fine, fine. What are the alleged favors?”
“A high mark in a seminar in which the professor was the instructor, financial payments in the form of a bursary, and the procurement of an established, retired scholar to direct Miss Mitchell’s thesis.”
Soraya waved a dismissive hand, almost yawning in boredom. “I reiterate the fact that my client’s academic merits speak for themselves. And who, pray tell, is the unfortunate professor?”
David watched Julia closely. “Gabriel Emerson.”
Soraya smiled widely. “Your complainant has a wild imagination. He or she must be majoring in fiction. Did Professor Emerson file the complaint?”
Julia held her breath, horrified, as she waited for David’s answer.
He tapped the papers in front of him with the end of his pen. “No, he did not.”
“Well, what was his testimony when you spoke with him?”
“We intend to speak with Professor Emerson once we have gathered more information. Our protocols dictate that faculty members who are a party to a complaint are brought in last, not first.” Professor Martin spoke for the first time, his voice firm but calm.
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Soraya fixed him with a stern eye. “So in the hierarchy of the university, female graduate students are preyed upon first? And only afterward the professor, whose testimony could exonerate her, is approached? I’m shocked that you would drag my client in here without the courtesy of even attempting to speak to the other person involved. This entire matter could have been put to rest with two telephone calls. This is a disgrace.”
David began to protest but Soraya interrupted him again. “Before we end this meeting, who is the complainant?”
“The complainant is a person who I believe is known to Miss Mitchell. Her name is Christa Peterson.”
Soraya received the news impassively, but Julia’s eyes flew to Professor Martin’s. It was one quick movement, but he noticed it and stared straight back at her with knitted brows.
Blushing, she looked down at her hands.
David held up two pieces of paper.
“Based upon our preliminary investigation, it seems that Professor Emerson awarded a very high mark to Miss Mitchell in his graduate seminar. She was awarded the M. P. Emerson bursary, which was mysteriously donated by an American foundation after Miss Mitchell began the program. And Professor Martin has provided me with Miss Mitchell’s academic file, in which it shows that Katherine Picton was approached by Professor Emerson last semester to replace him as Miss Mitchell’s thesis supervisor.”
He passed a file over to Soraya.
“As you will see, Miss Harandi, that file contains additional evidence provided by Miss Peterson. It includes a series of photographs and news clippings from a Florentine newspaper showing Miss Mitchell and Professor Emerson at a public event in Italy, where Professor Emerson is quoted as saying that Miss Mitchell is his fiancée.
“And there is a sworn statement by an employee of a local club who claims to possess security videos that show personal interactions between Miss Mitchell and Professor Emerson at that club during the time that she was his student. These interactions appear to be of an intimate nature and certainly go well beyond the appropriate boundaries of a professional relationship.”
He paused for effect. “It’s possible that the evidence provided by the complainant could be proof of more than one infraction. So for
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this reason, we are eager to hear Miss Mitchell’s side of the story. So I ask you again, did you receive special academic favors from your professor because of your personal relationship with him?”
“Dr. Aras, I am astonished that a man of your stature would be persuaded to give credence to a complaint that not only strains credulity but is supported by the very flimsiest of evidence. Newspaper clippings from an Italian tabloid? Videos that cannot be authenticated? There is no prima facie case. None whatsoever.”
“Don’t question my competency, Miss Harandi.” The Dean’s swift temper got the best of him. “I’ve been working in higher education since you were in kindergarten.”
Soraya raised her eyebrows at him and closed the file ceremoniously, tossing it onto his desk.
“What kind of interest does the complainant have in making such an allegation?”
David glared.
Soraya looked from the Dean to the chair and back again. “Perhaps the complainant’s true target is Professor Emerson. Why am I suddenly getting the impression that my client is collateral damage?”
“Any other matters are outside your purview, Miss Harandi.” The Dean’s chin began to wobble. “Even if this office would prefer to ignore the supporting information filed with the complaint, we can’t. The newspaper article demonstrates that Miss Mitchell and Professor Emerson were romantically linked only days after the end of the semester. It appears to demonstrate the existence of a prior inappropriate relationship, if nothing else.”
“I can’t believe you summoned my client to listen to these bizarre accusations. The complainant is clearly unstable and living in a fantasy world. If she has an issue with Professor Emerson, she needs to pursue a complaint against him, not my client. Given what I have seen here today, I will advise my client that she is well within her rights to file a harassment complaint against Miss Peterson and to see that she is investigated for making a fraudulent and defamatory charge.”
The Dean cleared his throat noisily. “If your position is such that Miss Mitchell and Professor Emerson engaged in a consensual relationship, I will gladly make note of such a declaration and we can dispense with the charade. When did this consensual relationship begin?”
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“The only charade is the one your office is performing, in which you attempt to appear to be investigating an academic infraction but rather are engaging in some kind of prurient sexual McCarthyism. This meeting is over.” Soraya closed her briefcase dramatically and stood to her feet.
“Just a minute, Miss Harandi. If you had troubled yourself to take a closer look at Miss Mitchell’s academic file, you’d have seen a form signed by Professor Picton and dated in October, declaring that she would be supervising Miss Mitchell’s thesis because Professor Emerson had a conflict of interest. What reason would he have to approach Professor Picton other than giving Miss Mitchell what she wanted? What kind of conflict of interest could there be, other than an inappropriate relationship?”
Julia opened her mouth to answer him, to reveal the fact that she had known Gabriel since she was a teenager, but Soraya grabbed her forearm in a death grip.
“You sound as if you have already taken a position on the complaint, Dr. Aras. Perhaps your letter would have been less disingenuous if you had stated that your true purpose in this meeting was to poison the well against my client so you could punish her.”
The Dean appeared to swallow his growing anger. He gestured to the paperwork in front of him. “The complaint alleges that academic favors were granted to Miss Mitchell for reasons other than academic performance.
“The complainant testifies that Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell engaged in a lover’s quarrel in front of a room full of witnesses during one of his seminars. Shortly after that embarrassing public display, Professor Picton signed the paperwork that allowed her to become Miss Mitchell’s thesis advisor. Quid pro quo. Quod erat demonstrandum.”
“Nemo me impune lacessit, Dr. Aras.” Soraya smiled at Professor Martin, before turning a stony gaze in David’s direction. “I started studying Latin when I was in kindergarten.
“The complaint is malicious and false. If the Provost decides to lay charges on the basis of this complaint, I will pursue other avenues of remedy against the complainant and this office.”
Julia watched as the Dean gripped his pen rather tightly. “Are you sure this is the position you wish to take, Miss Mitchell? An argument for leniency can be made if you cooperate.”
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“You’ve basically called my client a whore and accused her of sleeping with a professor to gain a preferment. I don’t need to remind you of the laws regarding defamation of character. I believe we found ourselves in a similar situation last year. We don’t give in to threats.”
“We do not threaten, we adjudicate. We will be interviewing witnesses and other relevant parties and then we will repeat this conversation. Jeremy, have you any further comments or questions?”
Professor Martin measured Julianne with his gaze, then shook his head dispassionately.
The Dean closed his file. “Since you refuse to answer my questions, Miss Mitchell, you are dismissed.”
Soraya nodded at the two men and escorted Julia out of the room.
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