The Measure of a Man. Marie Ferrarella

being about learning?” The sigh that came this time as he shook his head was from deep inside his soul.

      Just as he uttered his concern, Gilbert heard a polite cough behind him. Ordinarily, Gilbert would have expected to see a student standing on the threshold of his office. The number of students who had come into his office in the last thirty years, seeking his advice, was legion. He’d long since stopped counting. But in the past six months, there had been fewer and fewer, as if this student body somehow sensed that he was now considered a pariah in the scheme of things and to be associated with him meant tying yourself to not a shooting star, but to a sun that was about to go nova at any moment.

      The office door creaked as Jane Jackson closed it behind her. She stood looking at the professor a little uncertainly. A moment earlier, her pale green eyes had swiftly swept around the almost-claustrophobic room, looking for whoever the professor was talking to. There were stacks of books and files on every available surface, as well as on the floor surrounding the scarred desk, like some pint-size invaders. But no person or persons were on the receiving end of the professor’s words.

      “I didn’t mean to interrupt, Professor.” Who had he been talking to? She brought her eyes back to him and, because she felt close to him, said the obvious. “You’re alone.”

      It wasn’t a question. Unless he’d acquired some small pet she couldn’t see because of the clutter, Professor Harrison was very much alone in the room.

      Turning from the bookshelf, the professor smiled at her warmly. “Not alone anymore, now that you’re here.”

      “But I heard you talking…”

      Jane let her voice trail off, not wanting to upset him or to sound accusatory. It was obvious that he’d been talking to himself. Extensively. She’d heard the sound of his voice as she’d approached from her own office located across the way from his. Ever since the professor’s wife had died, he’d become a little more eccentric and she worried about him, about the state of his mind. He and Mrs. Harrison had been married for decades. So unlike her own marriage, Jane thought ruefully.

      She’d long since come to think of Professor Harrison as a surrogate father. Having lost both her parents in her freshman year at Saunders University, she’d found herself at emotional, not to mention financial, loose ends. The financial dilemma had been mysteriously resolved when she’d received a letter from the university’s administration office telling her that her tuition for the remaining three years at Saunders had been paid for and that some money had been set aside for her living expenses, as well. She’d never found out where the money had come from and had spent the first year convinced that there had been some mistake, praying that it wouldn’t come to light until after she graduated.

      As for emotionally, that had been an even greater dilemma. She’d been an only child of only children. There was no one for her to turn to. Being shy, there was no network of friends, either. She was utterly alone, isolated. And having very dangerous thoughts about the futility of life. At the time, Professor Harrison had been her English teacher. But he’d become so much more.

      He’d found her crying on the steps of the library shortly after her parents’ funeral, feeling hopelessly lost and alone. Very quietly, very gently, he’d expressed his sympathies and extended an open invitation to her to come see him in his office anytime she needed to talk. At first, she’d hesitated, but slowly found herself taking him up on his offer. And feeling the better for it.

      Even so, that first Christmas after her parents’ death, when almost everyone at the university had gone home for the holidays, she knew she would have expired from loneliness if the professor hadn’t insisted that she spend them with him and his wife.

      As far as she was concerned, he’d saved her life. Professor Harrison had literally been her lifeline back to the world of the living and she wanted desperately to return the favor any way she could.

      But at times it was hard to reach him in his grief.

      Gilbert smiled at Jane. She was twenty-nine years old, but he still thought of her as a young girl. Time moved by too quickly. His Mary had been very fond of Jane. Very upset, too, when the girl had suddenly announced that she was to marry Drew Walters.

      “He’s no good for her, Gil, but she’s too blind with love to see,” Mary had sighed.

      “Maybe it’ll work out,” he remembered saying, and Mary had looked at him with that smile of hers. The one that said she knew better.

      She’d patted his face and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “Oh, Gil, you like to see the best in everyone, but some people don’t have a best. Or if they do, they don’t try to live up to it.”

      And, as usual, Mary had been right. Drew Walters had turned out to be as shallow as he was handsome. The rumor was that Walters had run around on Jane almost from the very beginning of their short, tumultuous marriage.

      Gilbert nodded at the photograph on the bookshelf. “I was just talking things over with Mary.”

      Jane nodded knowingly, glancing at the photograph. “And what did she say to you?”

      “To fight.” The professor squared his shoulders unconsciously.

      Jane forced a smile to her lips as she nodded again. She was determined not to show the professor just how worried she was about this skirmish between him and the board. It bothered her that a selfish note had entered into this, but she couldn’t help being worried, not just for him, but for herself, as well. Because if they forced the professor into early retirement, or worse, made him so angry that he resigned, there would be no place for her here, either. She was Professor Gilbert Harrison’s personal assistant and secretary. If he was persona non grata, then so was she. Anyone coming in to take his place would bring his or her own secretary with them.

      Not that she could see herself working for anyone who usurped Professor Harrison. But she did need a job. Desperately. Drew had left her with next to nothing when he’d disappeared.

      Jane inclined her head toward the professor’s photograph of his wife. “Mrs. Harrison was always a fighter.”

      He was unaware of his sigh as he struggled against the sharp sting of longing. “Yes, she was.”

      Noting the signs of impending sadness, Jane did what she could to rally the professor’s spirits. “And she would have told Alexander Broadstreet just what she thought of him.”

      At that, she succeeded in getting Gilbert to laugh. “My Mary was first and foremost a lady, Janie.” He turned from the photograph. “She would have never used four-letter words to describe anyone.”

      “Maybe not,” Jane allowed with a smile. “But Broadstreet would have gotten the message. Mrs. Harrison would have let her eyes do her talking for her.”

      Envisioning a scene between his fiercely loyal wife and the sharp-featured Broadstreet, Gilbert chuckled. Mary had never liked Broadstreet. “That she would have.” And then, because he knew he had to keep on pushing forward, no matter how hard it felt, Gilbert turned toward his former student and asked, “So, did you come by to ask me something?”

      “Just that I’m going to lunch and I wanted to know if I could bring you back anything.”

      He smiled wistfully at her. “Yes, the last thirty years.” He was almost half serious as he added, “I’d like to live them all again.”

      Jane patted his arm, hoping that she sounded at least a little convincing as she said, “The next thirty will even be better.”

      “Not if Broadstreet has his way.”

      Jane attempted to give him a confident look, the way she used to see Mrs. Harrison do. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that Broadstreet doesn’t win, won’t we?”

      Genuine concern entered his eyes as he looked at her. “Jane, I don’t want you getting into any trouble on my account.”

      “Believe me, Professor, I couldn’t think of a nobler cause to undertake than to make