Chapter Thirty-One
T uesday morning, Thatcher set out down Pennsylvania Avenue at a brisk pace. He had just enough time to get in a good jog before his first class of the day. He paused at the National Archives to read the inscription on the large statue out front. It reminded those who passed by to study the past. He couldn’t help but consider his own history for a moment.
There were so many things in his past that he wasn’t proud of, he could hardly stand to count them. Going all the way back to high school, when he’d just been a shy, nerdy guy who was more interested in studying and learning to play the piano than playing sports or dating. The other day on the softball field, he’d heard Vickie clapping from the stands when he made a catch. He’d felt like an all-star from that moment on. It was amazing how a compliment or a glance from her could make him feel taller somehow.
But involvement with her would be too complicated. He’d spent so many years living a simple life, he’d convinced himself that was exactly what he wanted. And up until a few weeks ago, that had been enough. Something about seeing a couple revel in the newness of a relationship made him long for that kind of companionship.
He began to jog again, heading toward the Capitol Building. There was a problem with a relationship though. That meant he’d have to let someone through the wall. And let them find out all of his secrets. There was no way he was ready for that.
∞∞∞
“Dr. Torrey,” Amanda stepped to the door. “Dean White wants you in his office, pronto.”
He glanced up from the paper he was reading. “Oh yeah? What for?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been summoned to the Dean’s office.
She placed a hand on her hip and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “I have no idea. I’m only the messenger.”
He doubted that was the complete truth. She always at least had an idea what was going on. But he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. “If you say so.” He tossed the paper onto his desk and grabbed a small notebook.
They exited the office. “I’ll just take messages if you get any calls. Your secret admirer hasn’t called lately.” She grinned.
“I imagine my ‘secret admirer’s’ son or daughter has adjusted just fine, and that is the reason she hasn’t called lately. Give it until mid-terms when things get tough and she’ll probably start back.”
She sighed. “Can’t you at least let an old lady imagine that you have an admirer? Handsome professor like you.” She got a faraway look in her eyes. “Maybe I should switch from mystery to romance.”
“Well I’m certainly no hero.” He gave her a wink as he began the journey down the long hallway toward Dean White’s office. Thatcher paused at the door, then lightly rapped with the back of his knuckles.
“Come in,” the dean said in a gravelly voice.
Thatcher pushed the door open. Clark Langston was already seated in one of the leather chairs across from the dean’s desk.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Thatcher said, taking a seat.
Clark glowered. “Hello, Thatcher, ” he said, “It’s so nice to see you.”
Thatcher flinched at Clark’s sarcastic tone.
The Dean sat up and slapped his hands on the desk. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?”
The two younger men nodded.
“Now I know you’ve both got more than enough on your plates.” Dean White’s bushy white eyebrows seemed to be growing by the minute. “But I have an assignment I believe you’re both going to want to put some extra time into.”
Thatcher knew what was coming. He was thankful Amanda had warned him. He glanced over at Clark. His jaw was clenched in anticipation and Thatcher suspected he’d also had an inkling this was coming. Knowing Clark, he probably already had his plan together and was using unsuspecting graduate assistants to do the hard part.
“You both know that we are displeased with our enrollment numbers. You also know that the department chair position will be vacated within the year.” Dean White leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. “I’m interested in knowing what the department could look forward to underneath your leadership. You each have until the faculty meeting in January to put together a plan for how the department can grow and prosper under your direction.”
Thatcher and Clark both nodded.
“That’s all. I’m sure you have classes to prepare for and papers to grade. You’ve got roughly two and a half months to pull something together.”
They stood to exit.
“And gentleman,” the dean paused. “Better make it good. I’d say your careers depend on it.” With that, Dean White went back to his computer.
Thatcher followed Clark out the door. Once they were in the hallway, Clark turned abruptly to face him. “Some things never change, do they? You and I started competing more than twenty years ago.” He sneered. “And here we are, in one final competition.”
“Look, Clark. Everything that happened was so long ago. Can’t you just put it behind you? I have.”
“Oh, I know you have. You think you can just ignore things and that means they don’t exist.” Clark frowned. “But you and I both know that isn’t true.” He leveled his gaze at Thatcher. “I, for one, am looking forward to this competition. May the best man win.” And with that, he strode off toward his office.
Thatcher watched him go. He hadn’t forgotten the past. He just chose not to dwell on things he couldn’t change. He’d spent enough time playing ‘if only’ and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Shaking his head, he made his way back down the hall and to his office. At least Clark hadn’t gotten the best of him. Yet.