A Son's Tale

But she’d been attending Wallace for more than four years. She’d sat in a lot of classrooms, chatted with a lot of people, worked on group projects and participated in discussions. It seemed to her, as she walked to class Monday morning, that every single individual she’d ever made eye contact with, or breathed the same air as, spoke to her. Some asked questions. Some expressed relief. Others curiosity.

And all of the attention took her mind off the English class she was about to attend—off the man who taught the class.

She was a little nervous as she entered the room. He was Professor Whittier today.

Not Cal, the man who’d appeared on her doorstep Friday afternoon and remained steadfastly by her side through the worst nightmare of her life, the man who’d disappeared before she even had a chance to thank him, or introduce him to her son. He’d arrived, and then vanished without a trace.

All day Sunday she’d waited for his call. She’d had no way to reach him. No home phone number. No cell. And no permission to use either.

Her mind was filled with the things she’d say to him, the details she’d give, the thoughts she had. Julie had called. Morgan had been glad. But she’d kept her internal confusion to herself. She’d been waiting for Cal. She wanted his opinion—an outside source that she trusted with her life, with her son’s life.

He hadn’t called.

It was as though Cal had existed only in her imagination. An angel to see her through the trauma. A special gift of strength when her own would have failed her.

Prior to Friday they’d talked, but always at school—in his office or after class. They’d never even so much as had a soda together.

Now he’d spent the night in her house. He’d seen her at her worst.

They couldn’t go back.

She’d like to go forward.

But what did he want?

He’d been a crush. And then a best friend in her time of greatest need. She felt something for him that she’d never felt for any other man in her life.

But was she anything more than a student in need to him?

“I was so glad to hear that Sammie made it home safely!” Bella, the thin, blonde college girl personified said, taking the seat next to Morgan’s just before class was due to start.

The girl’s eyes were wide and brown and brimming with authenticity. Morgan was a little ashamed at having judged her so harshly before. It wasn’t like her.

“Yeah,” she said now, “me, too.”

“Where had he been all night?”

“He camped out in a spot he’d arranged at the back of my folks’ property.” Somewhere in the back forty acres. By the stream Morgan had run to as a kid anytime she needed to get away from her father’s domineering presence.

“So he’d been planning the whole thing?”

“Yep.” Planned it while visiting his grandparents. Food and shelter financed by her mother’s basketball shoe money.

Professor Whittier had arrived, coming in through a side door in the front of the room.

Judging by the way he was looking at her, he’d overheard the last part of her conversation.

Her father had kept the facts of Sammie’s escapade out of the news. A brief mention of her son’s safe return was all that had been aired.

Professor Whittier didn’t say a word to her. He didn’t nod, or smile, or greet her in any way.

As though this was any other day, he put his leather satchel down on the table in front of him and started class.

* * *

HE’D SPENT AN UNCOMFORTABLE couple of days. The one element Cal could count on in his life was not counting on anything that he couldn’t have. He didn’t count on emotional support. Or happiness. He didn’t plan the American dream, or even think about getting a dog. Dogs attracted attention. They barked. People were naturally drawn to them. Cal couldn’t afford to have people drawn to him for any reason.