~ Jared's Promise ~

She was totally unprepared for what she felt when she walked into the house. It was so quiet. No music blared from the second floor. Jason’s room looked barren and cold, posters off the wall, knick-knacks and photos missing from the dresser. No computer, no stereo. She sank onto the bed and caught her breath. Andy found her after he’d roamed the first floor calling her name.

“You okay? Miss him already, huh?”

She didn’t trust herself to answer without crying.

Andy looked around the room. “Yeah, me, too. I guess this is what all parents go through when the baby bird leaves the nest. Wonder how long it takes to get used to the quiet?”

Marina looked up and gave him a slight smile. “I bet he’s not homesick. He’s probably having a ball with all his new friends and looking forward to the start of classes. I think we were wise to let him go so far away. Even if it is Manning with all its ghosts, he’ll be totally on his own and whatever he does with his life will be his own choosing. Sure does make for a big adjustment here, though.”

~ * ~

Actually, Jason was homesick at first. His days were filled with new experiences, new people, new places, but at night after everyone had closed the doors to their rooms, he lay awake, wondering how things were going at home, wishing he could tell his mom and dad about everything that was going on.

Gradually, that feeling diminished. In its place, Jason often found himself up well into the night drinking black coffee while finishing an assignment or compiling research for a required paper. Amazing how fast these professors threw us right into it, he thought. I guess if we’re good enough to get in here, we’re good enough to hit the ground running. No review or easing into anything, that’s for sure.

Surprisingly, while he enjoyed his introductory courses in music, Jason found himself delving even more deeply into composition and reading. A freshman year Language Arts course was required, taught by a likeable young instructor, a graduate assistant who pushed his students to write. Getting A’s proved easy for Jason. At the end of the first three weeks, he knew he was polishing his writing skills already, thanks to the careful critiques of his instructor and his determination to be an effective communicator.

Being where his grandfather had been, looking across the quad at the window of what had once been Jared Fowler’s office, walking the same polished halls to and from some of his music classes, Jason felt he was never alone, that his grandfather walked beside him, encouraging him, smiling with him at each new discovery.

~ * ~

Jason was immersed in the catalogs at the library, savoring the silence and the comfort of the old building with its upstairs classrooms and musty corners. One of his new composition assignments was to write about someone who’d greatly influenced his life.

He had chosen to write about his grandfather. Despite his love for Marina and Andy, no one had touched him the way Jared Fowler had. It was a given from the start that he’d dedicate this writing assignment to his idol.

He and Todd had checked each other’s topics and talked about what they planned to write.

“I want to go deeper into Grandpa’s life,” Jason said one night as they sat in Todd’s room listening to a Winton Marsalis CD. “He was a Navy pilot in World War II and after he got his bachelor’s degree, he went straight on to his Ph.D. Then he came here to teach and direct. The college was pretty small then so probably everyone knew him. I’m sure if I look through the old newspapers I’ll find something. No way The Target didn’t print some news stories about him.”

So here he was in the library, slowly scanning the microfiche, starting with issues from the late fifties. He knew his grandfather had come to Manning in ’fifty-seven, so he started there. Almost immediately, he found an item announcing Fowler’s arrival.

The article talked about his war service, his doctoral thesis subject (stage fright? No kidding!), the degrees he had earned. It said Dr. Fowler would be in an office in Kenton Hall and was already assembling a cast for the first play he would be directing. Manning State was fortunate to have him on the faculty, the article concluded, as it wished him well.

In ’fifty-eight, there were rave reviews of the two plays his grandfather had directed. Jason made quick notes as he scrolled down the pages. He jotted down favorable comments about Fowler’s work as well as his penchant for spending time with his students. It was a trait, the paper said, that rapidly made him one of the most popular faculty members on campus.

Each year, play after play, Fowler was frequently featured on The Target’s pages. The article in the November sixteenth, nineteen sixty edition praised his direction of the complex play Under Milk Wood, a dark study of life in a small town done entirely by voices of cast members dressed in black. While he made a mental note to check out the play when he had a chance, Jason kept on reading.

The May seventeenth, nineteen sixty-two edition announced Fowler’s departure. The following week, Jason was surprised to find a small box on the front page asking, “Which wife is Dr. Fowler taking with him?” Wondering what he’d missed, Jason scrolled back to the previous issue and again read the story about his grandfather’s new job at Roosevelt University. He had to read it twice more before he saw the reason for the follow-up comment. “A wife and two children will accompany him,” the article said. Jason chuckled. Obviously, the editors were satirically admonishing themselves for the mistake they’d made the previous week. They must have meant his wife, Jason thought, smiling quietly at the fun the newspaper writers poked at themselves and imagining how his grandfather must have enjoyed the play on words.

The last mention of Fowler came in the edition following his final musical, Oklahoma. Although the review was flattering, fewer comments were made about the play than of the farewell cast party he had thrown for his students afterwards. Jason smiled as he read about the warm send-off everyone had enjoyed. It was so like Grandpa to show his appreciation that way.

A photo accompanied the article. There he was, Jared Fowler, tall and darkly handsome, surrounded by students. He was looking at the young woman next to him and holding her hand. The rest of the students were looking at her, too. No one was smiling; in fact, they all looked sober and uncomfortable. The caption didn’t give him any clues to what he thought he saw.

Departing Theater Director and Associate Professor of Drama Dr. Jared Fowler is shown with Joanna Ransome (’63), the play’s production supervisor, at the biggest cast party ever held on the Manning campus. Calling his years at Manning, and particularly this one, “the most precious of my life,” Dr. Fowler expressed his appreciation to the cast and his students for their support and caring.

Jason studied the photo for a long time. He looked at the face of his grandfather, his mind contriving explanations for what might have been going on as the photo was snapped. Which wife is Dr. Fowler taking with him? Nah, I’m imagining things, he told himself as he instructed the microfilm machine to print out the page.

He left the library, a folder containing the photo in his hand. Back in his room, he took it out and stood it against the computer monitor. Jared Fowler’s face, the expression in his eyes, made Jason think there was a special connection to the girl. Couldn’t be, he thought. His grandfather was married. Mom and Uncle Mike were little kids; they moved right after that. No way there was anything going on.

But try as he might, he couldn’t get the images and the words out of his mind. Jason felt a profound unease, like he’d intruded somewhere he neither intended nor wanted to go.