Page 11 of A Star in the West

Frank’s expression sobered, but his eyes never left hers. “Of course.”

Stella looked away first. “As you might have surmised, my father and I are very close. It’s been just the two of us for the last ten years, and I’m not sure I can abandon him to follow a path that takes me hundreds or even thousands of miles away.”

Frank leaned back in his chair, and a canyon seemed to open between them. “I see. That is a variable I had not considered.”

The man shopping for cigars made his selection and moved toward the front of the store. Seeing no one else within earshot, Stella seized the privacy of the moment and pushed aside vague conversation in favor of plain speech.

Placing her hands on the table, she leaned forward. A touch of pleading laced her words. “Perhaps we might continue our correspondence while you are in Germany, and a way will present itself for us to be together when you return.”

His gaze focused on hers again, and the intensity of it made her heart throb. As if he had no care for who might see, he reached across the small table and clasped her hand. “Stella, if I can have you, I have no need for Germany.”

“No need for Germany?” What was he saying? “You cannot forfeit such an opportunity, Frank. Not for me.” The very idea was ludicrous. “Papa has told me about your fellowship. How Göttingen is considered the epicenter of mathematical thought and advancement. It’s your dream. You’ve written as much to me in your letters.”

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Dreams change. As do people.” He released a sigh. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t come here for the symposium. I came here for you. To see if the woman I’d grown to . . . admire through letters might consider a courtship in person. Family is important to me, too. So important that I’d gladly forfeit a fellowship to build one of my own with the right woman.” His thumb ceased drawing its soothing circles, and all of his fingers squeezed hers. “I’m convinced that you are the right woman, Stella.”

“But . . . Germany. You can’t . . .”

His mouth tightened. “You sound like Muir.” He pulled his hand away from hers, and it hurt as much as if he’d taken a layer of her skin along with it. “I don’t need to study in Germany to contribute to mathematical advancement. Benjamin Peirce never left the States, and his research is considered on par with all the giants in the field. There are other ways for me to steward the gift God has given. Yes, I love research and delving into theories that have yet to be proven. But I also love teaching. For of what good is knowledge if it is not shared?”

“And this teaching you love . . . it is to take place at Harvard, correct?”

He fell silent, and her heart panged. She understood the dilemma too well. His family or hers? They couldn’t live close to both, and moving somewhere between the two would only leave them close to neither.

It was a problem with no solution. At least not one she could see. But she wouldn’t give up hope just yet. Her heart belonged to a mathematician, and judging by his expression, he’d already started ciphering. If there was an answer to be found, Frank would find it.

And if there wasn’t? Well, she served a God with the power to break the rules of science and nature, so anything could happen.

Chapter 6

Sitting at the desk in his boardinghouse room, Frank stared at his symposium notes without really seeing them. His mind still reeled from his conversation with Stella a few hours ago. She cared for him. Even implied that she would welcome a proposal. If marriage didn’t entail leaving her father.

Frank rubbed at his forehead, trying to manually stimulate a creative solution, since cogitation alone had failed to produce anything of use.

He should have foreseen this complication. He’d fallen prey to his own masculine assumption that wives simply followed husbands. Wasn’t it logical that his employment would dictate where they built a home? In his experience, a significantly large percentage of marriages operated in this fashion. But therein lay the crux of the matter. There must first be a marriage. He hadn’t considered that Stella might balk at tying her life to his because she didn’t want to follow him to Massachusetts.

Stella had been running Professor Barrington’s household for years. They’d been a family of two for more than a decade, their shared loss of her mother bonding them in an unbreakable fashion. Of course she’d not want to leave him behind. And Barrington wouldn’t leave Baylor behind. Building the mathematics program here was his dream.

A knock on his open door brought Frank’s head around. Goldstein stood on the threshold, a triumphant smile beaming across his face. “You won’t believe it, but I finally convinced Muir to agree to play one of the magi in the nativity production your young lady is putting together.”

Frank swiveled in his chair. “Astonishing! How did you manage it?”

Goldstein shrugged as he stepped into the room. “Extortion.”

A strangled laugh tickled Frank’s throat. “What?”

“I threatened to chatter at him for the entire train ride home if he refused.” Goldstein shined his knuckles on his vest as if they were made of silver. Though it was his silver tongue that had won the day.

“Ingenious strategy, Isaac. Verbal torture. I wish I had thought of that.”

Goldstein chuckled. “He wouldn’t have taken the threat seriously if it had come from you. He knows you like to be left alone with your books and your thoughts as much as he does. But me? Well, I can converse with a tree stump, and Randy knows it.” He sat on the edge of the narrow bed and studied Frank’s disorganized desk with a far-too-perceptive eye. “Are you all right? It’s not like you to be untidy. Especially with your presentation notes.”

Frank waved off his friend’s concern. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m a scientist trained in observation. You’re not fine.” Goldstein raised a brow. “Did something happen between you and Miss Barrington?”

Maybe having more than one mind working on the problem would speed the production of a solution.

“She gave me reason to believe that she would be amenable to a proposal—”