Chapter Eighteen
Like every year, making it through finals week and reaching the commencement ceremony felt like the end of a sprint.
Arthur had avoided Edna’s admonishments and turned his grades in on time, his graduating students had completed their capstone projects, and he had even remembered to clean his regalia, shaking out another year’s worth of dust. Despite his protestations, Arthur was seated on the stage between a visiting professor in medical botany and the valedictorian, one of his own students.
She was going off to Dartwood—he’d written her a glowing recommendation.
Arthur looked out at the crowd, recognizing many of his students as they marched in, but he was searching for someone else.
She was easy to spot. Her auburn hair stood out beneath her black cap and against the bright white of her regalia.
It seemed like she had a wave and a big smile for every single student, who all undoubtedly came through her introductory phonology and incantation translation courses.
What stood out to him, though, was the way every student returned the greeting, their faces brightening whenever they recognized her. They loved her. Of course they did.
When all the students were seated, the college president, a woman named Dr. Stone, whom Arthur generally liked, stood in front of the crowd of students, faculty, staff, and family members positioned in chairs on the south lawn instead of in front of Ilex Hall as usual.
As she explained that an abnormally strong pall meant that everything between Ferox Hall and the Wilds was closed off to students and families for the day, there were a few curious murmurs in the crowd and more than a few askance glances toward the Wilds from parents.
Power rippled from the edge of the forest like static, a background hum that Arthur—and he was certain everyone else—couldn’t quite ignore completely. Extra warding had been placed throughout the school, but especially around Ilex Hall.
Thankfully the weather and the warding held, mottled sunlight filtering through low clouds that broke for a peek of blue as if the wards cast away the gloom, too.
When Dean Clearwater stood to greet the students, Arthur wondered if he would make further mention of the pall, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t the same decision that Arthur would have made, but, from the beginning, Dean Clearwater had insisted that the school do its best to keep quiet about the pall.
When Arthur had explained what happened to set off the pall, the dean had thanked him for his candor.
They had been in the infirmary, with its sparkling white tiled walls and fussing physician and nursing staff.
“If news of this pall hits the wider community, it will be a nightmare for admissions. Do you have experience with the dissipation incantation for a pall?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“Good. I’m going to ask you to take the lead on this, but let’s keep the extent of the damage quiet.” Arthur had opened his mouth to protest, but Dean Clearwater went on. “I know you’ll have it under control in no time.”
And though it went against every instinct he had, Arthur had gone along with Dean Clearwater’s plan.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he still heard the panicked screams of his students as the fabric between this world and the next had fractured around them and pall slime rushed into the classroom.
If he could just dissipate this pall without anyone else getting hurt, maybe some of the crushing weight of what happened would ease.
Still, as the days went on, it was harder and harder to keep everyone safe.
After Maggie’s run-in with the ghoul, Arthur had marched into Dean Clearwater’s office the moment he could think clearly and demanded they bring in wardsmiths from Atlantia and Delphi to repair failing wards throughout Galloway at no cost to the residents.
Then he’d persuaded the dean to install the grow lights across campus and throughout town.
Both times, Arthur was only able to sway Dean Clearwater because he threatened to tell the wider world what had really happened in Ilex Hall.
They could blame a lot of the fantasmia activity on the Wilds, but the lies were starting to weigh on Arthur, and he and Dean Clearwater were butting heads more and more about what should be done.
For so long, Arthur’s realm had been his own lab.
He hadn’t had to navigate these complex academic relationships in years.
A safe campus was the best possible thing for Hawthorn, and dissipating the pall quickly would be much better than bringing a scandal down on the school and making an enemy of Dean Clearwater.
Arthur had plenty of clout, he knew that.
He could wave his name around in a pissing contest if he had to, but he would prefer not to.
It made him uncomfortable, even though he would do it in an instant if he thought more people were in danger.
He looked out at the audience again. He had tried to watch the faculty file in so he could see where Maggie was sitting, but he’d lost track of her from the stage.
He scanned the audience while Dean Clearwater gave the same sort of mealy graduation speech he’d heard from a dozen different administrators over the years.
It was all platitudes, with nothing of substance.
He nearly missed it when the dean said his name, he was so focused on finding Maggie. His face warmed, and he tried to tamp down the nerves that were threatening to rise like nausea.
It didn’t matter how many times he stood before a group of graduating students—Arthur was always nervous.
He was always afraid he was going to give the same useless advice that other authority figures were going to give them.
And he’d probably given his share of useless speeches, but this year was different.
He stood up at the podium and cleared his throat, trying to avoid the desire he had to pick at something in his pocket or shuffle from side to side to clear the nerves in his body.
“Hawthorn students and families, gathered faculty and staff,” he started, looking out again at the audience.
Everyone’s eyes were trained on him, but he just searched for Maggie.
He finally found her, sitting between Dahlia and Jim.
Even from here, he could see the way she watched him.
Her big, dark brown eyes were narrowed against the diffuse light coming from the clouds, but when she saw him scanning the audience and then making eye contact with her, she smiled.
It was a big, radiant grin that nearly made him lose his train of thought.
He cleared his throat again, stumbling over the next word.
But once he caught up with himself, he began to speak smoothly again.
“It is such a pleasure to talk to you today, at my first Hawthorn graduation day after my first year teaching at this institution. Students, you are going to hear a lot of advice today from well-meaning relatives and other professors, and probably even me. The people who care about you want to help you avoid making the same mistakes they did. They want to guide you toward an efficient future with no bumps, bruises, or left turns. They want to guide you toward a life where you get a job in the field you have studied or a position continuing your education in the graduate program you have worked so hard for. It’s a guarantee, they’ll tell you, that you’ll like that job or that field of study and you will make a life out of it.
“But I’m here to tell you that that is bullshit.
” There was a stirring from the audience.
A couple of students laughed. One student voice he thought he recognized might have shouted something like Hell yeah, Dr. T, but Arthur was just looking at Maggie, whose grin had grown.
Next to her, Dahlia and Jim had twin looks of shock.
“The truth is,” he went on, “none of us can know what life has in store for us.
No matter how carefully you plan. Despite your plans, life will take you on the journey it wants.
“All you can do is arm yourself well. Learn what you can. Seize opportunities as they appear. Look out for yourself, but, more importantly, hold out a hand for the people coming up behind you.” It was a lesson his mother had never given him, one he’d had to learn on his own when he realized that the competitive academic world she thrived in would never be for him.
He understood why his mother had had to resort to ruthlessness to survive, but it still broke his heart.
“None of these things matter, though, if you don’t surround yourself with the right people.
People who love you. People who root for you.
People who will take you aside and tell you when you are off course.
People who will help you pick up the pieces when everything inevitably crumbles.
Because it will. That is just the nature of the life built for us.
“Life is rarely without bumps, bruises, or left turns. In fact, I think I can confidently say that it is never without unexpected challenges.” He took a deep breath.
“My life today is nothing like I expected, even a year ago. There was no way to prepare for this particular bump.” Arthur knew that most of the people in the audience were aware of his mother and her untimely death, but it didn’t bother him.
He wasn’t giving this speech for most of the people in the audience.
He was giving it for his students. For the ones he had gotten to know so well over the last year.
There were many things he found frustrating about Hawthorn and teaching at a small school.
The scarcity of resources, primarily. Outsize influence from certain staff, of course.
But the way he got to know every single student in his classes, unlike at Dartwood, where he really only got to know his graduate students, was the best part.
And they deserved to know this. So Arthur truly didn’t care that so many were speculating about his life right now, about his mental state.
He just cared that his students heard his words.
“Through the bumps, the only thing that is going to keep you afloat are the people who love you. Not how hard you studied or how much money you make or any of the things we generally consider success. They don’t hurt, to be sure. But they can’t sustain you.
“Look around you. Go on, look around.” His students looked to one another and then behind to their families.
Arthur, meanwhile, looked right at Maggie.
She was focused on him, too, and he felt a blush curl up his ears.
What did she think of this speech? The grin had fallen from her face, but he couldn’t quite read her expression from this distance anymore.
“Love each other,” he said. “Support each other. Call your family, the one you’re born into or the one you make on your own.
“Thank you, Hawthorn, for welcoming me into your family. I’m so glad I’m here.
I offer my biggest congratulations to this class.
I’ve rarely been so impressed by a group of students as this.
” He lifted his hand in a small wave and made his way back to his seat.
There was polite, perhaps slightly confused applause from parents and family, but his students were clapping loudly.
After the last of the students received their diplomas and there was a final farewell address by Dr. Stone, the ceremony ended.
Arthur was on his way to find Maggie in the crowd, when Dr. Stone placed a hand on his shoulder.
“A rousing speech, Dr. Taliesin. Your mother would have enjoyed it, I think.”
“Thank you,” he said, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you know my mother, Dr. Stone?”
“I did, actually,” she said, and Arthur was surprised. “We were in the same senior seminar during our undergraduate studies. I knew, even then, that she was going to be a star.”
Arthur wondered if that meant his mother had been a different person during her undergrad years, because she certainly wouldn’t have found any part of Arthur’s speech inspiring.
Rowena had found comfort in her work. It had always been enough for her.
Success and Arthur, that was all she needed. And then, later, Arthur’s success.
But at the end of her life, success couldn’t help her get through the worst of it.
Her colleagues didn’t jump at the chance to care for her.
Money and gift baskets and words of encouragement, sure, but it wasn’t the same thing.
It wasn’t what either of them had needed.
It was an experience Arthur would never forget, and it had completely changed the way he viewed what was worth doing.
It was why he left his hard-earned lab and his tenure-track position at Dartwood and moved across the country.
After his mother died, when he looked at his life and realized he had nothing to show for his thirty-three years on this earth other than a job, he knew he had to make changes.
In any case, he needed this job, so he put on a warmer smile for Dr. Stone. “Thank you for saying that,” he said, and then managed to extricate himself from the conversation, slipping into the crowd so he could try to find Maggie.