her mentor had changed, too. His dark hair was graying now and his face was thinner, the lines beside his nose and mouth were craggy, as if carved and weathered. If his formerly warm, sparkling brown eyes were the window to his soul, it was fading fast. He stared, almost as if he didn’t see them.
The man she remembered would have stood and greeted them affably—and been delighted that her vocabulary included that word. She’d deliberately not worn her sunglasses, to get through the awkwardness as quickly as possible. The man she knew would have observed the scars on her face and known just the right thing to say. That man was gone.
His white, long-sleeved shirt was rumpled, the trademark bow tie askew. Absentminded professor was a cliché, but he certainly looked the part. More troubling was the fact she’d never known him to be forgetful, distracted or inattentive. He’d always been sharp and insightful, with a wealth of obscure information at his fingertips. Whatever had compelled him to ask for help must be serious—something was taking a terrible toll on this man.
Then she realized he was studying Nate. She glanced at him and saw tension in the line of his broad shoulders, the muscle contracting in his lean cheek.
He moved in front of the desk and held out his hand. “Nate Williams, Professor.”
“I know who you are,” the older man said a little impatiently. Then he looked at her and smiled. “Kathryn Price.” As if he finally remembered his manners, he held out his hand indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. “It was good of you to come. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you.” Kathryn sat.
Nate remained standing and gripped the back of the chair beside hers. When he spoke, the warm, melted-chocolate tone was missing from his voice. “What’s going on, Professor? Why did you send for us?”
Nate had morphed from the good-natured, self-confident hunk who’d single-handedly brought her sense of humor back to life into an ultraserious man who tweaked something in her memory. But, again, whatever it was wouldn’t shape up. She’d thought this setting would be familiar and possibly trigger memories of him. She’d been wrong.
At least some things didn’t change. This office—a gazillion books filling the shelves, scattered papers on the desk, photographs on the walls—was just as she remembered.
“What’s going on?” the older man repeated, glancing first at Nate, then her. “My job is in jeopardy.”
“No. That’s impossible.”
“Unfortunately, my dear, it’s all too possible.”
Kathryn leaned forward. “But why? You’ve been at Saunders for years. What about tenure?”
“Tenure can’t protect any educator against charges of impropriety. The Board of Directors is investigating me, looking for anything they can find and make stick.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked.
“Rumors. Innuendo. Maybe a little jealousy of my rapport with students.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Will they find any evidence of impropriety?” Nate asked, his tone more gentle.
“Of course they won’t.” Kathryn frowned at him. He’d said where there’s smoke, there’s fire. If Nate believed the professor was guilty, why would he have come back to help? “I can’t believe you asked him that.”
“He’s right to ask,” the professor said.
“It’s a defense attorney thing. Some don’t want to know.” Nate briefly met her gaze as he leaned his forearms on the chair back. “Others do so they don’t put a client on the witness stand and risk perjury or self-incrimination. I prefer to know the good, bad and ugly up front because I don’t like surprises.”
The professor glanced away as he said, “They’re looking for a way to get rid of me. I think some of it is about my age.”
Kathryn met Nate’s gaze. “Age discrimination is illegal, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
For the first time since she saw him, Professor Harrison smiled. “Smart girl.”
“Thank you.” Kathryn glowed at the compliment. Not everyone had looked past her face to give her IQ the benefit of the doubt. From now on, she thought, brains were going to have to be enough.
The professor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “No one has come right out and said anything directly about my age. They’re saying I’m unprofessional. Can’t be such a ‘pal’ to the students. Can’t hold their hand. They’re in college now. Teachers have to keep a certain distance. Liability issues and such.”
“They’re wrong.” Kathryn’s heart went out to him. “It’s a style thing. If I remember right, your approach was that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Many students owe you a lot.”
“I’m one of them,” Nate said. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for you.”
“So you’re happy with the way things turned out?” the professor asked.
“Of course,” Nate said automatically. “But I still don’t understand why you sent for us.”
The professor sighed as his faded brown eyes regarded them gravely. “I was hoping some of my former students would come back and put in a good word for me.”
“We’d be happy to,” Kathryn said, glancing up at Nate, who nodded agreement. “But how will that help?”
“A good question. Especially with Sandra Westport stirring up a hornet’s nest.”
“Sir?” Nate said, clearly puzzled. It was one single, respectful form of address to get the older man back on track.
“I’m sorry. That’s another story. I was hoping you could simply tell the board that my method of teaching made a difference. That the career path you’ve chosen is of benefit to mankind and might not have happened but for my guidance and educational support.”
“You want us to make them believe you have wings, a halo and walk on water?” Nate said wryly.
A smile pulled at the corners of the professor’s mouth. “Is that so very far from the truth?”
“Just a little,” Nate said, holding up his thumb and forefinger close together.
“I wouldn’t dream of putting words in your mouth. But, I do hope I’ve been of some help in setting you on your paths. One likes to think it made a difference.” He looked sad, suddenly, and miserable. “I’ve dedicated my life to teaching. Being around young people has always been very important to me and it’s all I have now.”
“That can’t be true,” Kathryn protested.
“But, it is, you see. My wife died not long ago. And I haven’t always been…” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he sighed. “I feel as if I’ve lost so much. I don’t think I could bear it if my job—my career were taken away, as well. There’s so much more good I can do. I’m hoping that they’ll see what I’ve accomplished and
