Authors: Margot Dalton
“I really think it’s best if we keep our relationship formal.”
“Do you?”
She felt herself growing increasingly nervous under his steady gaze.
“Steven is also a very gifted student,” she said at last.
“I know. When he was younger, he always had good grades. He used to be such a wholesome, happy kid, too. But during the past few years, he’s seemed to change completely.”
“Do you think…Could it have something to do
with the family relationship?” she asked. “In a couple of his essays, I’ve sensed quite a lot of hostility.”
Jon’s face hardened with concern. “I suppose it could.” He was silent a moment, shaking his head. “A man pays all his life for the mistakes he makes when he’s young. If it was just me who suffered, I wouldn’t mind so much. But I hate to realize that my kids have to keep paying for my blunders, too.”
She leafed through the book, wondering what to say.
“Have you ever been married, Dr. Pritchard?”
Camilla shook her head.
“Ever been in love?” he asked with a brief teasing light in his eyes.
Only with you, she thought.
“How much do you know about Steven’s friends?” she asked abruptly.
“His friends? I haven’t met any of them. At least, not since we moved to the city. Steve’s past the age when he brings kids home for me to examine. He goes out, and I have no idea where.” Jon leaned forward. “Why? Is there something I should know?”
Camilla shrugged, reluctant to involve herself any further. “I just wondered. It seems to me perhaps I’ve seen him lately in the company of some boys who were…”
“What?” Jon urged.
“Maybe not the best company for him,” Camilla said. “It’s really none of my business, so please don’t tell him that I said anything to you.”
“I won’t, but I’ll certainly talk to him. Were these boys college students?”
“I hardly think so,” Camilla said dryly. She was conscious of him watching her curiously.
They were silent for a moment. A flood of warm autumn sunlight poured in the window, shimmering on a lush fern near her desk and gilding the rows of books on the shelves.
Jon leaned back in his chair, apparently reluctant to leave. “Enrique Valeros wasn’t in class this morning,” he said finally.
Camilla felt a brief tug of worry. “I know. It’s the first time he’s missed. And he’s been looking even more exhausted lately.”
“Does that concern you, Dr. Pritchard?”
“Of course it does.”
He smiled. “You’re not nearly as tough and heartless as you like to pretend. Are you?”
She felt a rising alarm and closed the book with a dismissive gesture. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Campbell, I have to…”
“Do you happen to have his address?” Jon said, clearly ignoring her attempt at brusqueness. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I came to see you this morning. I’d like to stop in and check on him.”
Camilla opened a ledger. “It’s right here.” She read the address aloud, watching as he copied it down. “I’ve dropped in a couple of times but he’s never home. I assume he must work somewhere after class.”
Jon’s eyebrows shot up.
“I was just passing by,” she said casually, before he could ask any questions. “It’s really quite an awful place,” she added after a moment.
“Well, I’ll see if I can find out what he does after class.” Jon got to his feet, and Camilla smiled up at him.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d appreciate that very much.”
“Dr. Pritchard.” He paused by the door.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to go out for coffee? I’d really enjoy talking with you about something other than school and kids.”
When Camilla made no response, he pressed his advantage.
“Maybe I could stop by in another hour or so and take you to lunch.”
She looked up, then away, finding it hard to meet his eyes. For a brief, treacherous moment she remembered the sweetness of his mouth, the hard young body and thrusting sexual hunger…
Just then, Gwen Klassen appeared in the doorway and gave Jon a cheerful smile, then looked at Camilla. “May I?” she asked.
“Come in, Gwen,” Camilla said with relief. “Mr. Campbell was just leaving.”
Jon made no move to go. He looked large next to the petite gray-haired professor.
He was like a big, prowling lion, Camilla thought with growing alarm. Definitely a threat to her safety, unless she could…
“Hi, Jon,” Gwen said. “How are you?”
“Fine. How are my kids doing today?”
Gwen smiled again. “They’re having lunch with a couple of graduate students and playing on the computer. You should drop by.”
“I’m trying to take Dr. Pritchard to lunch. Maybe she’ll come with me to see the kids.”
“What a good idea. Camilla, why don’t you go?” Gwen gave her colleague a teasing wink. “You can watch the twins surfing the Internet. It’s really a sight to behold.”
Camilla cast the other woman a look of urgent appeal as she shook her head.
Jon turned to Camilla again. “So, how about it, Dr. Pritchard? Are you going to have lunch with me?”
“No,” she said calmly, though her heart was pounding. “I’m afraid not. I’ll see you in class, Mr. Campbell.”
He inclined his head politely, closed the door and left them alone.
When he was gone, Gwen sat in her customary perch on the edge of the desk, watching Camilla with a bright, inquisitive glance.
“What?” Camilla said at last.
“Why won’t you go to lunch with him?”
“Because I don’t want to.” Camilla got out her pile of essays and began marking furiously. “Go away.”
“Now, let me think about this.” Gwen leaned back, swinging her feet, clearly not at all intimidated. “Why wouldn’t a woman want to go out with a man
like that? Could it be his looks?” she mused aloud. “After all, the man’s absolutely gorgeous. And he seems very nice, and I understand he’s rich and single, to say nothing of his adorable little kids. You’re right, definitely not a good prospect at all. Best to avoid him.”
“Your sarcasm is unbecoming.” Camilla smiled in spite of herself. “Really,” she pleaded, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“But I’m not finished yet.”
Camilla sighed. “Gwen, he’s a student.”
“Oh, come on. You’re both grown-ups, aren’t you? Why should it make the slightest difference?”
“It’s just not a good policy, that’s all.”
“Well, it certainly won’t be the first time a prof has dated a student around here,” Gwen said.
“We’re not dating!”
“Just tell me why you don’t want anything to do with this man. Give me one good reason and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
Camilla hesitated, toying with her pen. “Did you know that the twins’ mother hardly ever visits them? She’s got four kids and she doesn’t even seem to care about them. Apparently, she’s living in Switzerland, hanging out with a ski instructor.”
“So?” Gwen asked. “Why does that keep you from going to lunch?”
“What kind of man…” Camilla paused, feeling her face redden with embarrassment.
Gwen gave her a shrewd glance. “You’re assuming he’s a shallow person or he wouldn’t have been attracted
to this woman. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Something like that, I suppose. Gwen, can’t we just—”
“You don’t think people can make mistakes, especially when they’re young?”
“I don’t know.”
“How old is Steven?” Gwen asked.
“About eighteen, I guess. Why do you ask?”
“Because that means Jon Campbell was in his early twenties when the kid was born. Not exactly old enough to make all the right decisions. Maybe he’d fallen in love with somebody else who’d left him. So he married this woman on the rebound because his heart was broken.”
Camilla felt the color drain from her face. She looked down in confusion, gripping the pen until her fingers ached.
“Anyhow,” Gwen said, slipping off the desk, “all kidding aside, you really have to build some kind of comfortable relationship with this guy if you’re going to be working with his kids for the rest of the year.”
“That’s a big part of the problem,” Camilla said. “I’ve never gotten so wrapped up in any kids I’ve worked with. The twins are irresistible.”
“I hear you took them to the zoo on Friday afternoon.”
“The zoo’s an ideal place for symbol recognition,” Camilla said with dignity, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “It’s full of symbols.”
“And hot dogs and cotton candy,” Gwen said with
a cheerful wink. “Don’t worry, I know what’s been going on. They’re getting to love you as much as you love them, and they’re not easy kids to get close to. I’m really jealous of your relationship with them.”
Camilla’s smile faded. “I’m afraid it makes me… vulnerable.”
“It’s not so bad to be vulnerable, sweetie,” Gwen said gently. “You have to take risks if you’re ever going to care about people.”
Camilla shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“You can’t stay forever in that ivory tower of yours,” Gwen said. “It may be safe up there, but it’s awfully lonely, isn’t it?”
“I’m used to loneliness.”
Gwen stood in the doorway, looking at her with compassion. “Why not take a chance, dear? Safety isn’t everything, you know.”
Then she was gone. Camilla stared at the closed door. The sun was warm on her face, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
J
ON LEFT
Dr. Pritchard’s office and strode off through the halls of the arts building, deep in thought. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had interested him so profoundly, but left him feeling so hollow and frustrated.
The woman was like a rainbow, lovely and tantalizing but impossible to reach.
Maybe it really
was
impossible, Jon told himself moodily.
Perhaps no man could ever get close enough to Camilla Pritchard to explore the depths of her mind and learn the secrets behind those remarkable eyes.
Of course there were other things about her that would be delightful to explore, as well, but Jon no longer allowed himself to pursue those thoughts. Fantasizing about her body was too unsettling, and tended to interfere badly with both his sleep and peace of mind.
He wandered into Gwen’s bright classroom. It was empty except for the twins and a young man with thick glasses and a ponytail. This was Gordon Ames, one of Gwen’s assistants, who was doing his master’s thesis on creativity levels in exceptional children.
“Hi, guys,” Jon said, pausing behind Amy’s chair. “What’s up?”
The children were seated at computers, while the graduate student hovered nearby and watched as their small hands flew over the keyboards. He nodded at Jon and gave him a shy smile, then turned back to the two computer monitors.
“Hi, Daddy,” Amy said absently, offering her cheek for a kiss without turning around. “We’re looking at beetles.”
Jon patted her head fondly. The twins had been deeply interested in beetles for the past few weeks, and now had a small collection of them lumbering around a plant-filled terrarium in the kitchen at home.
“This is awesome,” Ari said. “Look, Daddy.”
He waved his hand at a cut-out diagram of an army tank on the screen, showing the inside of the turret and the undercarriage.
Jon leaned forward to study the diagram. “What’s that got to do with beetles?”
“They noticed a similarity.” The young student shook his ponytail, looking dazed. “Now they’ve started pulling stuff off the Internet, checking design components of military tanks and comparing them to the natural structure of beetles.”
“See, Daddy?” Amy showed him a beetle on her screen, then enlarged the image so it was proportionate to Ari’s tank. “They’re just the same.”
“Next we’re comparing dragonflies and helicopters,” Ari said happily.
“In a couple more years they’ll probably be able
to design a jumbo jet, Mr. Campbell.” Gordon took Jon’s elbow and drew him away from the computers. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he muttered in awe.
Jon glanced over at the curly dark heads of his children. “They’re just little kids,” he told the young man in a low voice. “Don’t treat them like they’re different, okay? I want their lives to be as normal as possible.”
“That’s what Dr. Klassen and Dr. Pritchard keep telling us. But it’s really hard not to get excited about what they can do.”
Amy looked over her shoulder. “Are you going home now, Daddy?”
“In a few minutes. I don’t have any classes this afternoon. Why?”
“Tell Margaret we want meat loaf for supper. She promised yesterday, but sometimes she forgets.”
“And no cheese melted on top of it,” Ari warned. “That’s
so
yucky.”
Jon and Gordon exchanged an amused glance and went back to watch the computers for a few more minutes, chatting with the two children and enjoying their animated discussion.
He had been right to bring them here, Jon thought. Despite their homesickness, as well as the general upheaval in his family life, all of his children needed this kind of challenge and mental stimulation.
He glanced at the door wistfully, hoping Camilla might change her mind and decide to come down and visit. But it clearly wasn’t going to happen today.
Finally he got up, kissed both children and left the room, heading out to the parking lot.
Jon settled behind the wheel and took out the sheet of paper with Enrique Valeros’s address. He stared at it, debating.
Maybe it was none of his business. After all, the kid was living on his own, older than Steven, taking a full load of classes. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate a classmate coming around and poking into his personal affairs.
But Camilla had mentioned being concerned enough to stop at the boy’s apartment. The thought of his elegant professor actually entering such a squalid neighborhood was the deciding factor for Jon. He shifted his car into gear, drove south on Crowchild Trail and crossed the river, then turned and headed for the downtown core.
The building where Enrique lived was so dilapidated and filthy that Jon hesitated in the foyer for a few minutes, looking around at the smeared walls and broken floor, the shards of glass and discarded hypodermic needles behind the radiator.
Jon made his way downstairs into the basement, where the squalor was even worse. He paused outside Enrique’s apartment and knocked but there was no answer. Jon waited, shifting restlessly on his feet. He knocked again, then tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked and swung open loosely, sagging on a broken upper hinge.
He stepped inside to wrestle the door back into place, then looked around, feeling guilty at this invasion
of privacy. But Enrique clearly didn’t have much of a private life. There was nothing at all in the room but a cot fitted with a coarse gray blanket, a folding table and metal chair, two cardboard boxes and a pile of books.
Despite the barrenness of the place and an unpleasant smell that was now almost overpowering, Jon could see that an attempt had been made to keep things clean.
Suddenly he tensed and caught his breath. Behind a ragged curtain in an alcove, he could detect a bulky shape on the floor, and the sole of a running shoe. He hurried across the room, pulled the curtain aside and knelt over Enrique’s body.
The boy was curled in a fetal position, his face deathly pale. He wore filthy, grease-smeared clothes and had vomited on the floor nearby, obviously the source of the offensive smell. At such close quarters, it almost made Jon’s stomach heave, as well.
He felt for a pulse, and discovered that the boy’s heartbeat was faint but regular. Hastily he got to his feet, found a cloth in the sink and soaked it in cold water, then knelt to wipe Enrique’s face and neck. After a few moments, the boy’s eyes fluttered open and focused blankly on Jon’s face.
“Hey, guy,” Jon said, trying to smile. “What’s going on? This is a pretty weird place to fall asleep, you know.”
Enrique blinked in confusion and turned his head away. Suddenly his face turned crimson with embarrassment.
“I was sick,” he whispered, struggling to sit up. “I am…so sorry. Please don’t bother about me. I will be fine.”
“Do you think you can sit up?” Jon reached to put an arm under the boy’s thin shoulders and help him to a sitting position.
“I must clean my floor. Please, Mr. Campbell, I don’t want you to…”
“I’m used to messes, son,” Jon told him comfortably. “I’ve raised four kids and cleaned up more messes than you could imagine. Quit fretting and tell me what’s going on here. Are you just hungry, or what?”
“I’m fine,” Enrique said with a touch of stubborn pride. “I can look after myself now.”
“Sure you can.” Jon helped the boy stand. “Do you feel dizzy?”
But Enrique couldn’t reply. He turned white again and sagged in Jon’s arms, clearly unable to support his own weight.
Without further hesitation, Jon swept him into his arms and carried him outside, pausing to pull the door shut behind him. He settled Enrique in the back seat of the car, over the boy’s feeble protests. Finally he turned the car around and started toward the hospital.
E
NRIQUE FELL ASLEEP
again while they were driving home and hardly roused as Jon parked and lifted him from the car. Margaret was in the kitchen when he carried the boy into the house. She rushed across the room, wringing her hands in her apron.
“He’s one of the kids I go to school with,” Jon told her as he strode down the hallway toward a guest room, with his housekeeper close behind.
“What’s wrong with him? Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?” she asked.
“I took him to the emergency room. The doctor said he’s just worn-out, dehydrated and hungry. He needs a good rest and a lot of warm fluids.” Jon entered one of the rooms and placed Enrique on a quilted bedspread.
Margaret stood by the foot of the bed and looked down at the thin white face, the dark eyelashes and ragged hair. “Poor thing,” she whispered.
Jon unbuttoned the boy’s shirt. “I’ll undress him and wash him,” he said over his shoulder. “Margaret, could you please find me one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of shorts? And then maybe we’ll see if we can get him to eat something.”
“I have a big pot of soup on the stove. That’ll be perfect for him.” Margaret started briskly toward the hall. “Hello, dear,” she said, greeting Vanessa, who paused in the doorway and peered at her father.
Jon was removing Enrique’s shoes while the boy lay limp and unmoving.
“Who’s that, Daddy?” Vanessa asked.
“It’s a kid from one of my classes at the college.” Jon pulled off one of Enrique’s socks and dropped it on the floor, then tugged at the other one.
Vanessa edged closer to the bed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Why is he here?”
“Because he’s sick and he needs our help for a while.”
Vanessa looked shocked. “You mean he’s going to
live
here?”
“I don’t know.” Jon pulled off the other sock and unfastened the boy’s ragged belt. “He’s probably going to stay until he’s feeling a little stronger, at least. You should have seen where this poor kid was living, Van. You couldn’t even imagine a place like that.”
“But he’s…” She looked in alarm at the limp form on the bed. “He’s so
dirty.”
Jon turned and stared at his daughter in disbelief. “For God’s sake, Van, look at him! Don’t you have any feelings at all?”
She met his gaze in silence, her pretty face flushed and rebellious. At last she turned abruptly and ran from the room before her father could say anything else.
T
HE NEXT DAY
Camilla went down the hall at two o’clock to collect the twins for their regular appointment. She took them back to her office, listening with pleasure while they trotted along beside her and chattered about beetles.
“There’s more than a quarter of a million different species. They’re one of the oldest things in the whole world,” Amy said. “Did you know that, Camilla? Beetles were here before dinosaurs, even.”
“That’s because they’re such a good design.” Ari stopped at the water fountain and waited for Camilla to lift him so he could drink. “Like army tanks.”
“What’s so special about the design of beetles?” Camilla asked as she lowered him carefully to the floor again.
“They have wings and armor,” Ari said. “Nothing else does.”
“Army tanks don’t have wings,” Camilla said. “Maybe it would be a good idea if they did. What do you think?”
The twins looked startled, then interested. “Hey, we could design a tank with wings,” Ari told his sister. “Let’s do it on the computer at home and show it to Gordon tomorrow.”
“Can we work on your computer today, Camilla?” Amy asked.
“Not today, dear. We’re doing symbols again this afternoon.”
“Concrete or abstract?” Ari said.
He took a deep interest in all the tests that Camilla administered, and liked to know the proper names for them.
“Concrete. Words and pictures that have to be matched.”
Camilla unlocked her office door and watched while the twins settled themselves at the miniature table near the window, looking up at her in anticipation.
She sat in an armchair nearby and took out a set of big printed cards.
“Did Daddy have an English class this morning?” Amy asked.
“Not today. His class is tomorrow morning.”
“He stayed home to help Margaret look after Enrique,” Ari told his sister. “Remember?”
Camilla looked up, startled. “Enrique?”
“That’s a boy who goes to school with Daddy. He’s really nice.”
“I know. But I wasn’t aware…Is Enrique at your house?”
“Daddy brought him home.” Amy riffled through a pile of books on the table, looking happily at the pictures. “He was real sick at first. But Daddy thinks he’s better now because Margaret made bean soup and he ate almost all of it.”
“And some meat loaf,” Ari volunteered. “But not very much. Daddy says that Enrique’s too weak to eat meat loaf yet.”
“My goodness. I had no idea all this was happening.” Camilla gripped the pile of cards in her lap. “Is Enrique going to stay at your house?”
Ari shrugged. “I guess so. Daddy says Enrique doesn’t have a very nice place to live, and he needs somebody to look after him.”
“Your father seems to—” Camilla bit her lip abruptly.
She’d been on the verge of saying that their father seemed to make a habit of picking up strays, feeding and caring for them. But she stopped herself just in time.
“Look, Ari.” Amy held out one of the books. “It shows all different kinds of seeds. These are like little propellers.”
Ari climbed up, kneeling on the chair, and leaned
across the table in excitement as he examined the picture book.
“We could use those wings for our tank. And then they’d fold inside the roof when it wasn’t flying.” He began to scrabble through the pencils and paper on the table.
“Not now,” Camilla told him gently. “Let’s do half an hour of cards first. Then you can work on your tank for half an hour, okay?”
“Okay,” the twins chorused obediently.
Camilla began to display the cards and mark the children’s response time as they named the objects and matched them to printed words.
After their session was completed and the twins were working contentedly at the table on their own project, Camilla settled behind her desk to transcribe the results of the test.
Their intelligence was phenomenal, and yet in so many ways these children were normal seven-year-olds. In fact, their emotional development and grasp of adult relationships and concepts was no different from any other child’s.