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He pressed a kiss against her ear. “You’re no quitter, Savannah Webster. I’m sure your great-grandfather would be busting his buttons to know you’re at the helm here.”
“I wish he were here to advise me now. I found some of his old journals in storage. I’m going to go through the volumes and see if there’s any wisdom in them I can glean. He was a professor first before he took over too. I brought his journal and the journals of two other presidents to my office. My great-grandfather might have been just as intimidated as I am now.” She laughed and shook her head. “Or maybe not. He was never a man to show hesitation or weakness.”
“I wish I’d met him.”
“I’ve been thinking about him and my great-grandmothera lot lately. They lost a son to pneumonia in the thirties, and I went with my great-grandma to take flowers to his grave a few times. He’s buried not far from Ella. We’d sit there and she would talk about how grief is part of life and how her son’s death made her more sensitive to the sorrows she saw on other people’s faces. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. Maybe that’s why God allows us to grieve—so we understand.”
He shifted beside her, and she knew the mention of God had unsettled him. He still struggled with accepting the truth that God had forgiven him for Ella’s death, and he struggled even more with forgiving himself. Had that guilt driven him back into the numbness wine offered? She didn’t want to believe it, but she had to find the truth.
***
The brief February daylight was nearly gone though it was only six when Savannah parked in the lot at Mac’s Irish Pub in Pelican Harbor. All afternoon she’d thought about the situation with Hez and her worry had grown.
She found Nora inside the front door waiting to be seated, and the hostess led them to a booth in the packed restaurant. They placed their orders for shepherd’s pie, and while they waited for their sweet tea, Savannah studied the signed dollar bills stapled to the wall and gathered her thoughts to unload on her best friend.
The server brought their tea and an appetizer of Reuben egg rolls. Nora selected an egg roll. “How’s your first week as president going?”
“It feels like a disaster. There are a million things to handle, some of them going all the way back to before Abernathy’s murder. We didn’t have an interim president, and it shows. The more I dig, the more leaks I’m finding that have been sinking the university for decades.”
“At least you have Hez and Jess to lean on. Did Hez tell you about Beckett?”
“He came by late morning to tell me. It was shocking.”
“Hez has been in touch with Jane about working together to catch the smugglers too.” Her eyes behind her glasses were shrewd. “How are things going with you? Did Hez get the test results back?”
Savannah nodded and reached for an egg roll. “He has a hematoma, but the doctor doesn’t think it would cause memory loss.”
“But what about the drinking?”
“Exactly my worry. He didn’t bring it up, and like a coward, I didn’t either. I didn’t want any stress to raise his blood pressure and make that hematoma worse.” She took a bite, and the strong Reuben flavor exploded on her taste buds. “Mmm, good,” she mumbled. She swallowed and shook her head. “I didn’t even bring up premarital counseling because of it too. Maybe taking this job was a really bad idea. Saving the university isn’t worth losing my marriage, even though I’d hate to see TGU fail. But trying to work on both could leave me with neither.”
“Don’t try to borrow trouble, girlfriend. All you can do is one thing at a time. I know you believed God put you in this position to save the university. Do you still believe that?”
Did she? Savannah’s certainty had waned in the stress of the first few days on the job. She gave an uncertain nod. “I think so. The students need it.”
“Then focus on that and let God worry about tomorrow. And try not to worry. It solves nothing, and it disrupts our trust and faith. I know it’s easier said than done, and I’m far from perfect at it myself.” Nora laughed. “I’m pointing one finger at you and four back at myself.”
There was a sparkle in Nora’s brown eyes that hadn’t been there before. Savannah took a sip of her drink. “How are you doing? You’re always listening to me and so rarely complain yourself.”
“I’m in a better place finally. And I—I met someone.” A smile curved the corners of her lips, and she glanced up shyly as if she wasn’t sure Savannah would approve.
Savannah straightened. “What? Who? I want all the deets.”
“His name is Graham Warner. He’s been to the grief group the last two weeks.” She gave Savannah a pointed look. “If you’d shown up, you would have met him.”
“I know, I know. It’s been crazy. I’ll be there on Thursday, even if it’s only to meet Graham. What do you know about him?”
“He’s the bookstore manager at TGU actually, and he lost his wife two years ago. He just started in January.” Nora sipped her sweet tea. “He was impressed I was your bestie. Not because you’re the president but because your book was accepted for publication. And isn’t that just like God to give you a fresh joy to go with the struggles? I can’t wait to read it, and I’ll bet you can’t wait to hold it in your hands.”
“I’ll probably cry,” Savannah admitted. “It’s a dream come true, but I never thought it would happen.”
“I’m thrilled you wrote the Willard history. I’m a Willard myself, and that past helped shape me. It’s part of the culture in our area too. I’ve always hoped the university press would find someone to write about it.”
Savannah set her glass on the table. Nora had always downplayed her connection to the Willards and claimed not to see them much. “How exactly are you related?”
“My mother is Helen’s niece, so it’s not all that close.”
The server brought their food, but Nora’s revelation troubled Savannah at some deeper level. Could Nora know anything about the Willard connection to Beckett’s death?