One Door Closes (eBook)

The Beginning

J. Roberts (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
96 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-9585-7 (ISBN)

Infos

When a seemingly ordinary bookshop door opens, drawing her into an extraordinary setting, Jo is invited to rediscover her ancient past, recapture the emotions of her soul's journey, and bring that re-connection forward with her. If you enjoy it, keep an eye out for the rest of the 'One Door Closes' series!

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An American professor of Ancient History, Dr. Josephine Pearce has been invited to Cambridge, England to give a prestigious lecture series. While there, Jo discovers, to her dismay, that the path she is on is not the path for which she was meant. When a seemingly ordinary bookshop door opens, drawing her into an extraordinary setting, Jo is invited to rediscover her ancient past, recapture the emotions of her soul's journey, and bring that re-connection forward with her. If you enjoy it, keep an eye out for the rest of the "e;One Door Closes"e; series!

Textauszug

Cambridge University

England
1980

THUMP!

The doors to the auditorium closed and shook me back to reality. I stood at the podium and scanned my eyes over seats that were full just moments ago. The room was empty now, and so was I.

This research, this presentation. It was supposed to be the pinnacle of my career. A highlight if there ever was one. I should have been celebrating my accomplishment right now. Instead, I found myself gripping my notes in my hand, information that had taken me almost ten years to collect mind you, and crumbling it aggressively before shoving it into my bag. The Importance of Preservation in Ancient Civilizations. Ha.

It should really be called, “The importance of not being so damn boring that no one even claps after they hear you speaking for two hours.”

The moment keeps replaying in my mind like a broken record. I’d clicked over to the last slide of the presentation, said, “Thank you for your time,” and waited for a round of applause that never came. I was greeted, instead, by a few polite claps—likely those who were apparently glad it was finally over—and the backsides of the students leaving the lecture hall. I thought I would feel accomplished when it was over, as if somehow all the work I’d done would be earth-shattering and profound. But about halfway through hearing myself repeat fact after fact after fact, the monotony overcame me. And I felt empty when it was over. Not excitement, not pride … nothing. And, apparently, the students agreed.

I knew I needed to make my way out for the next lecturer, but I couldn’t move from the podium. Flashbacks from grad school started playing in my mind like a film reel as I continued to stare blankly at the back of the hall. I was always the first to raise my hand, the first to finish every test, even finished first in my class, damnit. Yet there I was, the complete opposite of what I’d always believed myself to be. This should have been a proud moment for me. I was a woman, with a doctorate, standing on one of the most prestigious academic stages of the world, yet I felt completely void of any real accomplishment.

I don’t quite remember how I convinced my feet to move from that stage, but somehow, I did. I threw my bag over my shoulder, and the next thing I knew I was putting one foot in front of the other and making my way down the steps toward the exit.

My mind was swirling with thoughts, and I couldn’t decipher one from the other. I could only hear my feet dragging on the worn red carpet that ran down the center of the aisles as I felt the clamminess in my hands start to build. As I reached the doors to leave, I took a look back at the stage. The emptiness of the room perfectly reflected how I felt.

In the back of my mind echoed the voice of my mother. I could practically see her pursed lips and hear the bitterness in her tone.

You should get a real job like your brother, Jo.

History doesn’t pay bills, Jo.

If you’re not going to be a doctor or a lawyer, then at least be a good housewife, Jo.

She always thought I was crazy to enter this profession, especially as a woman. Instead of being proud that I’d broken certain barriers to be there, she loved to remind me that it was much more suitable for me to be at home with my husband and kids, instead of chasing some silly dream. I love my husband and children, of course, but I never thought I would have to choose. I wanted my daughters to see that I could do both. I never wanted them to think their dreams were out of reach. But in that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe she was right … maybe I’d been so caught up in the fantasy of being accepted into this world that I never realized I wasn’t very good at it. I’ll never tell her she was right.

I collected myself quickly, just enough to look away and push open the double doors. Somehow, they were heavier now than they were this morning. I walked quickly toward the bathroom, as I could feel the tears welling into pitiful pools beneath my eyelids. I may have failed, but I was determined not to let anyone else see that I knew it.

I’m pretty sure that anyone watching me thought I had serious stomach issues by the way I ran in there. I didn’t even notice how aggressive I must have been until I pushed the bathroom door open and the sheer force made it slam into the wall. I got to the nearest sink and dropped my bags at my feet. The only thing I could think to do was turn the water on to the coldest setting and splash my face until I couldn’t tell the difference between tears and water. I thought maybe it would ground me a bit, bring me back to reality. I stood, gripping the sink on both sides, panting with angst, begging myself to get a grip, but I could only look up.

Mirrors. What a confusing and wasteful instrument. As if what I need is to see the physical manifestation of how I feel.

Bloodshot eyes and blotchy cheeks, all hints of color drained from my face. It was in this moment that I realized I had no idea who I was. Outside of my career and my family, my identity was null, at least to me. I needed something more than a miracle to pull me out of it.

Suddenly the bathroom door swung open behind me, and jaunting in came a very frantic, tiny woman with black, untamed, frizzy hair, and glasses … like something out of a Tolkien novel, but with a huge grin on her face. I recognized her instantly as Dr. Dawes, the eccentric history professor I’d heard so much about from my peers. After hearing about how much they tried to avoid her, I will admit I was a bit scared by her presence.

“Sorry to startle you, love, gotta pee! Don’t mind me!” she exclaimed. She started to hum something unrecognizable and a bit too cheery for my current mood under her breath as she locked the bathroom stall behind her. Fumbling to grab my things and get out of there as soon as possible in order to avoid an awkward conversation, I heard her speak from the other side of the stall.

“It wasn’t as bad as you think you know!” My eyes grew wide. What? How did she … ?

And then silence for a few moments as, I’m assuming, she was finishing her business.

When she opened that bathroom stall door, she did it as if she was about to give her opening monologue on stage in a theater full of a thousand people. “I was there, and it wasn’t that bad.”

“Excuse me?” I replied. “You were where?”

“In the auditorium, listening to your research. We’ve been so excited since we heard you were coming, and I wanted to see for myself if all the rumors were true.”

Christ. People already knew I was bad at this before I got here?

“Rumors?”

“Yes silly girl, about your brilliance. And, I must say, the rumors were accurate indeed.”

I turned toward my reflection and swiftly moved my gaze to the floor, a bit gobsmacked by what she said, as I obviously wasn’t expecting it. “It definitely didn’t feel brilliant. I didn’t even get any sort of reaction when it was over.”

She walked over to me and put her right hand under my chin to tilt my head up so my eyes were looking directly into hers. A very brazen thing to do to a stranger but, to my surprise, I let her.

“It doesn’t matter if they didn’t react. These kids have so much going through their minds they can barely think straight, let alone react properly to a presentation. Obviously, the research was well done and you presented it well, but let me ask you a question. Did you believe it? Did you believe anything you said up there?”

“I’m not sure,” came out of my mouth far more quickly than I anticipated. “I mean, I thought I did, until it was over, and now I’m not sure if I ever did.”

She dropped her hand from my face and, to my shock and horror, began to laugh. The next thing I knew she was fumbling around in a handbag that had to be at least half her size. She started frantically removing miscellaneous objects from it. All of a sudden, there were bits of paper flying in the air and I swear I saw at least three pairs of glasses getting tossed onto the counter. I couldn’t do anything but watch as she flung her belongings onto every surface and her arm seemed to simultaneously disappear into the bottom of the bag. A look of frustration grew on her face until the moment she seemed to have finally found what she was looking for. Her arm raised slowly out of the ginormous purse until she had only a single item between her fingers. “ Aha! I knew I held onto this for a reason.”

She handed over the object, which appeared to be an old and tattered business card. Creased and worn from being in the bottom of that sack for what might be 100 years, I realized I couldn’t even make out the words on it.

“It’s down the bottom of Trinity Street,” she exclaimed.

I narrowed my eyes to get a closer look, to see if there was anything still legible that might clue me into what this place actually was that she was recommending. The only thing I could read was the name “AL’s.” There was no address, no phone number, nothing. I opened my handbook and began digging for a pen to write the location she mentioned on the back. I looked up to ask her if she could tell me the building number, but before I could I heard the gentle thud...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 16.5.2023
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-9585-0 / 1667895850
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-9585-7 / 9781667895857