Searching for Cate (29 page)

“Your husband doesn't work?”

Smith had no idea where that question even came from. For that matter, he didn't even know why he was talking to her. Ordinarily he didn't exchange more than a barely audible grunt with people he passed in the hall. Especially the ones he recognized from his initial years as a student. Those he avoided whenever possible.

Only Professor Harrison was the exception. But that was because the man seemed to insist on taking
an interest in him. Long ago, he'd decided that the professor, like his parents, was one of the few good people that were scattered sparingly through the earth.

He noticed that Jane stiffened when he mentioned the word “husband.” Obviously he must have hit a nerve.

“I have no idea what my husband does. And he's my ex, actually.”

The very thought of Drew brought with it a wealth of silent recriminations. Looking back now, she had no idea why she had been so stupid, not just to put up with his infidelities, which he'd never really made much of an effort to hide, but with his abuse, as well. A self-respecting woman would have never stood for any of that, especially the latter.

Smith saw her jaw harden. Time to back away. He hadn't meant to get into any kind of verbal exchange with Jane, much less wander into personal terrain. In general he'd found that the less he interacted with people, the better he liked it.

He imagined from her tone that she felt the same way, at least in this case. It probably embarrassed her, sharing something so personal with a maintenance man. He doubted very much if she even remembered him. Or would remember him ten minutes from now.

After all, in his present capacity, he was one of the invisible ones. One of the people that others looked right past, or through, without having their presence actually register on any kind of conscious level. Peo
ple, like bus drivers, waitresses, hotel workers and gardeners, who were there to serve and make life a little easier for the people who felt themselves above them.

Hell, he'd been guilty of that himself once. Filled with high-powered dreams and drive, he'd seen only his own goals, not the people who toiled around him. Working just the way he did now.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice monotone. “Didn't mean to sound like I was prying. None of my business, really.”

Because of all the baggage her marriage had created, not the least of which was Drew's vanishing act and with it, her alimony and child support payments, Smith had hit a very raw spot. She hated being reminded that she had been such a fool. And that because of her poor choice, Danny wouldn't be able to have the things that his friends did. Right now, he didn't notice, but soon, he would. And that was all her fault.

“No,” she snapped, “it's not.”

Embarrassed, afraid that he might say something else, Jane abruptly turned on her heel and hurried down the still-darkened hallway. The sound of her three-inch heels clicked against the vinyl until they finally faded out of earshot.

For a second Smith thought of following her and repeating his apology, but then he shrugged to himself. If he did that, he'd risk getting involved, however peripherally. It was the last thing he wanted or
needed. Right now, it was hard enough just getting through the day.

Whistling under his breath, he got back up the ladder and finally attended to the bulb that he had originally set out to change.

As Smith began to climb back down, he saw Professor Harrison opening his door very slowly and peering out. Unlike the first time, the door completely cleared the space without coming in contact with the ladder. If Jane hadn't come out like gangbusters, Smith thought, she wouldn't have rocked his ladder and there would have been no need for any kind of verbal exchange to have taken place.

And he wouldn't have noticed how pale and beautiful her eyes still were.

The professor looked up at him, as if startled to see him there. He shifted the files he was carrying to his other side. “Oh, Smith, I almost didn't see you.”

“A lot of that happening lately,” Smith murmured nearly under his breath.

Gilbert looked up toward the ceiling and saw the new bulb. He shaded his eyes and smiled broadly. “Ah, illumination again. I knew I could count on you, Smith.”

The professor made it sound as if he'd just slain a dragon for him, or, at the very least, solved some kind of complicated mathematical equation that had eluded completion up until now.

Smith frowned. “It's just a bulb, Professor. No big deal.”

The expression on the professor's face said he knew better. The old man was getting eccentric, Smith thought. The next words out of the man's mouth seemed to underscore his feelings.

“Better to light one candle, Smith, than to curse the dark.”

That was probably a quote from somewhere, Smith thought. What it had to do with the situation was beyond him, but he didn't have the time or the inclination to discuss it. He'd had enough conversation for one day. For a week, really.

“Yeah, well, I've got to be going…” Taking the two sides of the ladder, he pulled them together, then tilted it until it was all the way over to the side. It was easier to carry that way, although by no means easy. He silently cursed whoever had taken the extension pole. “I've got another ‘candle to light' over on the third floor in the science building.”

About to leave, he felt the professor's hand on his arm.

“Something else I can do for you, Professor?”

Gilbert looked at the young man for a long moment. There was a time when Smith Parker had been one of his more promising students. He'd been like some bright, burning light, capable of so much. And then, just like that, the light had been extinguished. His pride wounded, Smith had dropped out of Saunders after those charges had been leveled against him, charges he could never get himself to believe were true. But Smith had left before he'd had the chance
to try to talk to him, to see about making things right again.

“Smith, have you given any thought to your future?”

It wasn't what he'd expected the professor to say. And it certainly wasn't anything that he wanted to get into a discussion about. “Yeah, I have. Right after I replace the other bulb, I'm having lunch,” Smith replied crisply. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

The professor dropped his hand from Smith's arm.

Before there could be any further conversation, Smith hefted the ladder beneath his arm and made his way down the hall.

 

…NOT THE END…

 

Look for the continuation of this story in
The Measure of a Man
by Marie Ferrarella.