Page 12 of A Star in the West

“That’s great!” Goldstein thumped Frank’s arm. “Isn’t it?”

“It is. Except that she also intimated that leaving her father behind in Texas to follow me back to Harvard would break her heart. It might even keep her from accepting my proposal altogether.” He sighed and ran his palms down the length of his thighs. “I love her, Isaac. The last thing I want to do is cause her pain. Perhaps it would be better for me not to propose. That way she won’t have to choose between us.”

“Hmm.” Goldstein stroked the white mustache that connected his matching sideburns. “All right. Let’s analyze our findings so far.” He ticked items off on his fingers as if they were abacus beads. “One. Miss Barrington is favorably disposed toward your suit in general. Two. Professor Barrington has given no indication that he would oppose a match between you and his daughter. Three. You are madly in love with the woman.” He switched to the other hand. “On the negative side of the equation we have . . . One. Miss Barrington’s dedication to her father makes her reluctant to leave Texas. Two. The love she shares with her father is of a longstanding nature, giving it the potential for greater weight when measured against new feelings that have not yet had the chance to mature. Three. Your current position requires you to reside in Massachusetts with an option for relocation to Germany, neither of which are in Texas.”

Frank ran his hand through his already-mussed hair. “That’s an accurate summary of the datapoints.” And rather depressing to hear it rattled off in such blunt fashion.

“It seems to me that the variable causing the most disruption is geographical in nature. Have you considered taking a job here? Barrington’s been dropping hints for almost a fortnight about how they wish to expand their department. I’m surprised he hasn’t offered you a position outright yet. Maybe he’s waiting for the symposium to finish.”

Frank straightened. “What hints? All I recall is his pride in showing off the new classrooms and the telescope they use for astronomy.”

Goldstein chuckled. “My boy, you’ve never been one for subtlety. Besides, you’ve been so distracted by the man’s daughter, I’m surprised you’ve paid any attention to Ignatius at all.”

Frank fell silent. Could Goldstein be correct? Would Baylor hire him?

The bigger question was if he would want them to. Harvard was the most prestigious university on American soil when it came to mathematics. Working there would allow him to partner with some of the greatest minds in the field. To collaborate on advanced theorems and visionary research. Here he would teach basic tenets without much to challenge him. He could conduct his own research and correspond with his colleagues, but it wouldn’t be the same as meeting up in James Peirce’s office to talk through ideas.

He’d already come to terms with giving up Germany. Must he give up Harvard as well?

“I see I’ve given you something to chew on.” Goldstein stood and laid a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Take some time to pray about it, son. You don’t have to decide today. Talk to Stella. Share your concerns and your hopes. She’s only just met you in person. She’s known her father her whole life. Perhaps with a little time, she’ll get used to the idea of living elsewhere.”

Goldstein let himself out of the room and quietly pulled the door shut behind him. Frank barely noticed. He’d already disappeared into his internal laboratory and started covering a mental blackboard with tabulations comparing the benefits of returning to Harvard versus taking a teaching position at Baylor, should one be offered.

The results were completely lopsided. He’d enumerated more than a dozen items in the Harvard column, and only one on the Baylor side. Yet Stella’s name had been chalked in letters ten times larger than any of the other items, and he was fairly certain that should he place everything on a scale, his growing love for Stella would tip things in Baylor’s favor. But was it wise to base such a life-altering decision on emotion?

He turned back toward his desk and braced his elbows on its surface as he bowed his head and pressed his fingers against his brow.

What is the right path, Lord? My heart urges me to choose Stella, yet my mind warns against trusting an organ that ignores empirical evidence. You have gifted me with mathematical understanding, and all my life I have felt the weight of your calling upon me to steward that gift in a responsible manner. Is it irresponsible of me to leave a higher seat of learning in order to please a wife? Didn’t you instruct that wives are to be subject to their husbands?

Of course, if Stella refused to marry him, she wouldn’t be his wife, would she?

A thought brightened his mind like a lamp being lit in a dark room. Data. He needed spiritual data. Grabbing the leather-bound book at the top edge of his desk, he began flipping through the holy pages, searching for examples he could draw from.

Abraham. Sarah left her home, her family to follow him to a new land. And Isaac. Rebekah left her father’s family to join him in Canaan. And Ruth. She left her homeland and married a man in a land foreign to her. Although, to be fair, it was her mother-in-law she followed to the new land, not a husband. And now that he thought about it, Ruth’s first husband left his homeland and lived among her people. Which brought Jacob to mind. He stayed with his wife’s family for fourteen years before returning to his own. And what of Moses? He lived among his wife’s family for years. Even worked for his father-in-law until God called him to return to Egypt. Then again, Moses really had no home of his own after killing the Egyptian. Should that invalidate his inclusion in this inquiry?

Frank ran a hand through his hair and fisted a thick tuft until pain radiated over his scalp. Nothing was more frustrating than inconclusive data. All he had to do was look at David. Abigail left her home to marry him, but with his first wife, Michal, David left his family to join hers.

What was God trying to show him? That it didn’t matter who followed who? That there was no right answer? But Frank wanted an answer. Something clear and quantifiable to reassure him that he wasn’t making a mistake. Yet even the passages that spoke of wives being subject to their husbands also spoke of husbands loving their wives and making sacrifices for them. How was he to know what to do?

Later that evening, Stella sat in her favorite chair with a copy of her favorite book, but instead of finding comfort in the story, Jane Eyre only stirred up more uncertainty. For Jane had fallen completely in love with her Edward, and he with her. But marriage between them was a mistake. Doomed to fail before it began. Perhaps she should take heart that the two eventually found their happy ending, but it came at such a steep cost. Would the same be required of her? Of Frank? She didn’t want Frank to suffer, to forfeit all he’d worked so hard to achieve. He deserved a wife who could come to him with no reservations, who wouldn’t hesitate to support him in his work, and who would gladly follow him wherever that work took him. She couldn’t do those things. Not yet, anyway.

“If you frown at that book any harder, it’s going to combust.”

Stella glanced up to find her father studying her from his chair across from her. He’d set his own book on the table near his elbow.

She offered a smile, hoping he’d not look too close or analyze too deeply. “Miss Brontë and her characters are made of stern stuff. They can handle a few contemplative stares.”

“A few?” Her father raised a brow as he removed his feet from the ottoman and planted them on the floor. “You’ve been scowling at that same page for the past quarter hour.” He leaned forward, his eyes brimming with concern. “Want to talk about it?”

Yes. But how much should she say?

“Does it have anything to do with a particular redheaded mathematics professor?” Papa’s eyes began to dance. “Is the courtship not going well?”

“Papa!” Heat flushed her cheeks. “We’re just friends.” Mostly.

Her father chuckled. “Don’t you be fibbing, girl. I’ve seen the way you light up whenever he’s around. And Frank’s making all kinds of departures from his usual character. Leaving symposium sessions early, agreeing to participate in public performances, and walking on eggshells around me. The man is my intellectual and professional superior. There’s only one reasonable explanation for his sudden nervousness in my presence. He’s completely besotted with my daughter.”

Pleasure rushed over her at his words, yet it failed to make her dilemma any smaller.