The Thorn and the Blossom: A Two-Sided Love Story Read Online Free

She had insisted on going, and now she might move even farther away, if she got this position.
    All right, was she ready for the interview? As ready as she would ever be, she decided. She got out of the rental car.
    “W hat I realized, when I started looking at all the different myths and stories of the Green Man, was that they always included what I call the Magical Woman. The basic story, the story that we can trace back to folklore, involves the Green Man and this Magical Woman. And it’s a love story. In
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
, for example, Gawain is a double, an alter ego, for the Green Knight. This becomes even clearer when we look at older stories, such as the Cornish
Tale of the Green Knight
, in which the knight in green armor is Sir Gawain himself. The implication, I believe, is that such stories date back to pre-Christian fertility rituals, although of course that research was beyond the scope of my study.”
    He entered late, closing the door quietly behind him and moving toward the back of the room.
It couldn’t be
, she told herself.
Am I seeing things? Please, not here, not in the middle of my presentation
. But she could tell it was him, even in profile. And, suddenly, it was as though she was back there—in the forest again, after all these years. With Brendan Thorne.
    She couldn’t continue. Once again she felt the terrifying panic, the urge to turn and run.
    Her presentation had been going so well.
I have a real chance at this position
, she’d been thinking. But now she stood frozen at the front of the room, unable to speak. He turned and saw her, thensat down as though he didn’t recognize her. Above him, she saw the clock; it felt as though time was standing still, but only a few seconds had passed.
    “Any more questions?” she heard herself saying. And then she was answering them, sounding as though she knew what she was talking about even though all she could think of was him, sitting at the back of the room, not asking questions. It was as though her mind had split in two: half still involved in the presentation, half consciously not looking at him. Wondering what he was doing here, at Bartlett College.
    Afterward, the department chair, Michael Fitch, took her to lunch at the faculty club. It gave her a chance to calm down, to ask, “Is Brendan Thorne teaching here? I met him once, years ago. I thought I recognized him at the back of the room.” Yes, he was a tenured professor in the department. It seemed impossible.
    Finally, Michael shook her hand. “Well, you know how this goes,” he said. “Through the department, up to the dean, and so on. You should be hearing from us in a couple weeks. But as far as I’m concerned you’re a very strong candidate.”
    So that was good, wasn’t it?
she thought as she walked back to her car. Where Brendan Thorne was waiting.
    “Evelyn Morgan,” he said. “You know you’re going to get this position, don’t you? Not because of your qualifications, although they’re quite adequate, but because the department is desperate to have someone in place by September.”
    She didn’t know what to say.
I’m sorry that, when you kissed me years ago, I ran away screaming. I have a tendency to do things like that. Just ask my shrink
.
    “I know, it’s been a long time. More than ten years since I metyou in Clews, I’m thinking. Shall we start over?” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Morgan. I’m Brendan Thorne.”
    She laughed with relief and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Thorne.” Thank goodness. No apology would be necessary.
    “I didn’t tell you, did I? That week, when we met. I was at Oxford, too, studying toward my doctorate.”
    “Oxford!” she said, astonished. “You knew I was at Oxford. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    He laughed. “Oh, I was enjoying playing the local boy. You know, when I was a kid, I used to go out with the fishermen. I thought I wanted to be one myself someday. I was never