But he still had no idea how Rose, a woman and colleague he barely knew, could bring back that old panic. That old fear that he’d disappointed and angered someone powerful in his life. Someone important. Someone he—
He needed to go. Now.
When he stood abruptly, her hand fell to her desk.
“Sorry again.” With an effort, he kept his voice steady. “I’ll make this right somehow. But for now, I’d better get home to Bea, just like you said.”
He left her sitting there in her classroom, a halo of golden light surrounding her like a nimbus as she wordlessly watched him go. Then he hustled to the parking lot as fast as he could, the dogs of his past growling and lunging for his heels with every step.
Five
When Rose enteredthe department office, Martin didn’t turn her way. Instead, he kept speaking into the clunky office phone, his voice hoarse but impassioned.
“Kevin, I know you have a lot of things going on right now. But I promise you, dropping out now won’t help you get where you want to—” Martin paused and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I’m so sorry she’s sick. Why don’t we discuss your options with the guidance counselor? If Marysburg High doesn’t work for you, there are alternative sch—”
This time, he went silent for a while as he listened to the agitated voice on the phone.
Rose closed the door quietly behind herself, so quietly she wasn’t sure he even heard her.
He was hunched over the counter, elbows resting on the laminate surface, eyes closed. For once, his age had inscribed itself over his features, creasing his brow and bracketing his mouth.
The supply cabinet adjoined the small desk area he’d been given, and she tried not to disturb him as she searched for a ream of colored paper. But he must have heard her heels on the tiles underfoot, because he opened his eyes and gave her a tired little wave.
Waves and passing wishes for a good day were about the extent of the interactions they’d had that week, to her surprise. After his conversational overtures the first day of school, she’d half-expected him to drop by her room more often. First thing in the morning. After the final bell. For a casual chat, or to discuss the AP program, or…
Something. Anything.
She shouldn’t be disappointed. She wasn’t disappointed. She was merely…nonplussed.
His features relaxed a fraction. “I’ll talk to the counselor and have her call you about setting up an appointment. If you want me there, I can attend the meeting too. And remember, you can contact me anytime. Now, next year, whenever. I’ll help you the best I can.” Another pause. “I’ll be thinking of her and wishing her the best. Same for you and your younger brothers and sisters.”
She caught his eye, and he didn’t look away.
“Take care, Kevin. Remember what I said. I’m here. Just make sure you get to that appointment.” His lips curved in a brief, sad smile. “You’re more than welcome. Bye.”
He hung up the office phone, that blue gaze still holding hers, and she waited.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Gravelly with weariness and frustration. “He showed up to class the first couple of days, but not the rest of the week. No note. No phone call. Turns out, his mom is sick. Dying. And someone needs to hold the family together. He was thinking maybe he could do that and still go to school, but now he doesn’t think he can.”
She nodded, a silent encouragement for him to continue.
His pen bounced when he threw it onto the counter. “He’s a kid, Rose. Sixteen. He shouldn’t have to watch his mother die. He shouldn’t have to take care of his siblings. He shouldn’t feel like he has to quit school to do all that.”
“You’re one hundred percent right,” she told him. “It’s not fair.”
“I’m going to talk to the guidance counselor to set up an appointment and see if there’s something else to be done. Some type of help Kevin doesn’t know about.” He jotted himself a note. “I’m not familiar with all the resources available in this state and this county. But whatever they are, they’re probably not enough. I may not be able to fix this.”
When her own mother was dying, she’d have sacrificed anything for a figure like Martin in her life. For unselfish concern and an unconditional offer of support. She’d been older than his student at the time, but still rudderless. Still desperate. Still alone, in every essential way.
He was a good man. A good, good man, and he was expecting too much of himself.
“Martin.” After a moment, he raised his head. “That kid knows you’re waiting to help him. Whatever happens, whatever the guidance counselor says, however the meeting goes, you did the best you could. You’re doing the best you can.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
Another minute passed before he spoke. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Tuesday afternoon, he’d staggered into her office, half-drunk with exhaustion. He’d left wracked by guilt over what his arrival in Marysburg meant for her and the AP program. Too much guilt. So much guilt that she had to wonder yet again who had hurt that man, and how badly.
