Accidents Will Happen

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

“Miss Evans?” Professor Farrell slowly approached the wide-eyed woman.  “Where are you hurt?”  

“Not me.”  Jessica slowly turned her head toward the voice.  She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.  The knife dropped to the floor.

“Who then, is hurt?”  Professor Farrell took a step closer to Jessica.  The pale, bloodied student looked like an antique china doll that would shatter with the slightest touch.  Jessica stared blankly at him.  Conan spotted Doris by the cake stand and motioned to her.  “Doris?  Please.” 

Doris threaded her way through the crowd.  “Where’s Roger?” It was typical of him to get into long winded discussions with colleagues about Irish poetry and ignore Doris or the rest of the world. 

“He was waiting by the door when I left the powder room.”  Professor Farrell tapped his watch.  “He told me that I took longer to use the loo than any old lady he’d ever encountered.”  He gestured towards Jessica.  “Stay here, and watch Miss Evans.    I’ll see if I can find your beloved husband.”

“Roger.”  Jessica burst into tears.  She covered her eyes with her hands.  “No!”  She uncovered her face after several sobs.  “It- was- an -accident.” The bloodied co-ed gasped for breath between each word. 

Doris shook her head.   A knot tightened in her stomach.   “I’ll find my husband.”

“I’m coming with you.”  Professor Farrell pulled the wife of another colleague over.  “Molly, please stay with Miss Evans until help arrives.” He moved beside Doris.  “Miss Evans, where is Professor Trevellian?”  

“In the kitchen!” Jessica wailed each word.  To Doris, Jessica’s cry sounded like the call of the legendary Nixie that she’d learned about in one of her Medieval Studies classes.

Doris elbowed her way through the crowd.  The knot tightened in her gut.  Her marriage hadn’t been the happily ever after she had imagined when she dropped out of college to marry Roger.  But, deep down, Doris still loved her husband - even if he didn’t love her.

Professor Farrell followed on Doris’ heels.  Both stopped short once they entered the kitchen. They looked at each other. Doris buried her face in Conan’s chest.

 

Meet the author of this segment: Patricia Embury lives and writes in Rochester, NY. An avid crafter, she blames her passion for crochet and knitting, which involves pointy sticks and string, for her interest in Cozy Mysteries and Christian fiction. She has a craft blog at www.thedizzycrafter,blogspot.com and channels her Labrador retriever at www.thedailywag.blogspot.com.