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.
Whenever she thought about it, those coals in her chest roared to life once more.
How could she keep trying to hate a man who worked that hard? Who cared that much?
She couldn’t. She’d given up the fight.
And at this moment, she had to admit it: She liked him. Which made sense, because he was a very likeable person. Thoughtful. Smart. Funny. A great dad. Committed to his students.
Devoid of a wedding ring. Hmmm.
“I’ve been thinking about ways to keep your AP U.S. History enrollment high.” A notebook appeared in his hand, and if anything, those lines scoring his forehead had deepened. “My main thought is that we need to familiarize my Honors World History kids with you and your class before they have to choose their schedule for the next year.”
She propped her butt against the counter and rested one slouchy boot-clad ankle over the other. “In the hopes they’ll be irresistibly enticed by my teaching prowess, I take it.”
His sober mien cracked, and the cologne model reappeared with a smile. “Helpless against your pedagogical wiles.”
“How do you want that to work?” She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers against her biceps. “Do you want me to guest-teach your honors classes a day or two? Because we’d need to ask Keisha for permission. You’d have to fill in for my classes, too, and I don’t know how comfortable you are with U.S. History.”
He dismissed that concern with a flick of his hand. “I taught U.S. history at my old school for a long time, so don’t worry about that.”
“I could put together a world history lesson that would approximate what they’d experience in my AP class. Primary sources. Critical thinking exercises. Assigned reading and note taking.” She squinted in thought. “Maybe something about mummies. Kids love desiccated human remains.”
He straightened, blue eyes going bright. “The ancient Egypt unit is my favorite.”
“When it comes to world history, mine too.” She let herself smile at him without reserve. “So that’s the plan?”
“That’s the beginning of the plan,” he corrected. “During the year, we’ll do other crossover lessons and brainstorm some different strategies.”
“In case my classroom allure proves insufficient?” The click of her tongue chided him. “Ye of little faith.”
“I have great faith in your allure.” His smile faltered, and his cheeks turned ruddy. “When it comes to teaching, I mean.”
Adorable. Simply adorable. So sweet she might as well call him dessert.
She considered him for a long moment.
His hair might boast a conservative cut and remain an unremarkable gray-templed brown, but it was thick and shiny, and when pieces fell onto his forehead, they somehow emphasized the startling blue of his eyes. He might possess the world’s most boring wardrobe and wear a button-down and tie even on teacher workdays, but those clothes covered a lean, capable frame replete with surprising strength. He might wear reading glasses when grading or working on his laptop, but they lent him a sexy professor vibe she didn’t mind in the slightest.
And when he smiled, that lean, ascetic face transformed in a way where no one in her right mind could doubt it: The man was sexy. Not to mention educated, intelligent, funny, perceptive, hardworking, and kind.
But none of that would have swayed her, not on its own. She’d turned aside handsome men before, smart ones, even pleasant ones that made her laugh. But Martin did something for her none of those men ever had or could.
With him, she felt...safe.