Page 13 of A Star in the West

“You care for him. Don’t you?” Her father’s gentle tone caused her eyes to mist.

Stella nodded. “I do. I fear my heart will belong to him forever.”

Papa rose from his chair and moved to sit on the side of the sofa closest to her chair. He reached over the sofa arm and clasped her hand. “Why does loving him make you afraid?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I know how much it will hurt when he leaves.”

“You don’t think he will offer for you?”

She shook her head as the first tears began to fall. “Just the opposite. I’m pretty sure he will. But I don’t see how I can accept. Not when marrying him will mean leaving my home. Leaving you.” She sniffed as she raised her head and peered into her father’s face. “You are all the family I have, Papa. I can’t leave you.”

His grip tightened around her fingers, and his voice choked slightly. “Oh, my sweet girl. How I love you. And if you move to the East Coast, I will miss you terribly. But you’ll only be a train ride away. I can visit you during university holidays, and we can correspond between visits.”

Stella twisted to face him, her chest feeling as if it might burst. “But who will take care of you? Fix your eggs the way you like them, press your suits, darn your socks? Who will make sure you don’t forget your keys and keep your ledgers organized? You’re a terrible bookkeeper, you know.”

He smiled. “That I am.” He reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “No one will ever tend to me as well as you do. As well as your mother did. But I’ll manage. I am a grown man, after all.”

“I can’t leave. I promised Mama I’d take care of you.” The secret blurted out of her with no warning. She expected to see shock arrest his features, but his tender expression never changed.

“And I promised her to take care of you.” He patted her arm. “Your mama wanted us to take care of each other so that neither of us would fall prey to grief. She wished for our family ties to grow stronger in her absence, not to weaken from neglect. But she never wished for us to hold so tightly to each other that we let no one else in. Why do you think I encouraged you to write to Professor Stentz all those months ago? I hoped the two of you would form a connection. He impressed me as an intelligent, godly man. One with a kind spirit and a humble manner. One who would appreciate a woman who shared his faith and his love of learning. One who could take care of my little girl when I am no longer around to do so.”

Stella’s breath stuck in her throat, and her head began to spin. “Papa. Never tell me that you’ve been playing matchmaker all this time.”

His eyes twinkled. “It seems I have a knack for it. I might have to go into business if the professorship doesn’t work out.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. A joyous, freeing laugh that cleansed her heart and infused her spirit with hope. She still didn’t want to leave her papa, but for the first time, considering the idea didn’t feel like a betrayal.

Chapter 7

Stella sat in the rear of the lecture hall, her attention fully captivated by the man at the front of the room. In the six days since their discussion at the soda shop, he’d been just as attentive as before. Walking her home from her literary society meeting. Helping construct the nativity production props. Even taking her to a musical performance at the Garland Opera House. He still courted her, though there was a slight restraint to his manner now that had been missing before. Caution curbed his enthusiasm. A caution she’d forced upon him.

Yet nothing about his manner at this moment felt the least bit curbed or cautious.

The Frank Stentz she’d met in letters was intelligent, witty, and full of stories about his family. The man she’d gotten to know in person over the last two-and-a-half weeks was shy, a little awkward in social situations, but exceedingly kind and considerate of others. Especially her.

And this Frank? The mathematical genius with a passion for number theory and higher learning? She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

How easily he commanded the attention of a filled-to-capacity auditorium during the final lecture in the symposium series. Not a chair in the hall remained unfilled. Latecomers stood along the edges of the room, and a few even sat on the floor at the front. Word had spread over the last fortnight of Professor Stentz’s charisma in the classroom, and it seemed the entire student body had turned out to see him for themselves. Even President Burleson and his wife were in attendance.

Stella hadn’t thought it possible to admire him more, but as she listened to Frank’s oratory on the Frobenius method for finding series solutions to linear differential equations, she found herself utterly enthralled. A strange effect, when she couldn’t understand ninety percent of what he was saying. He spoke of analytical power series, coefficients, and recurrence relations. Regular singular points, indicial polynomials, and radii of convergence. It might as well have been a foreign language.

Yet she savored each incomprehensible word. He radiated such fervor and joy. Gone was his shyness, his hesitancy. Before her stood a man brimming with confidence and a tantalizing level of enthusiasm that beguiled his listeners. No dry recitation of findings with Frank. No condescension or inflated ego. He loved his subject, and he loved sharing it with others. The sharing seemed to energize him, for he roved the stage with animation alive in his limbs as well as his voice.

He was utterly magnificent.

If only she understood more of his subject matter so she could fully appreciate his giftedness. Beside her, Papa took copious notes, occasionally shaking his head and murmuring, “Brilliant!” under his breath, reinforcing her impression of Frank’s remarkable talent.

“Professor Stentz.” Albert Boggess, chairman of Baylor’s Department of Mathematics, rose from his chair in the second row. “What occurs if the difference between the roots is not an integer?”

Undaunted by the interruption, Frank pivoted to address his host. “Excellent query, Professor Boggess. Allow me to demonstrate.” He moved to an unused section of the blackboard and began drawing out a complicated series of equations containing more letters and punctuation than actual numbers. “If the difference between the roots is not an integer, we must calculate a second, linearly independent solution in the other root.”

By the time the lecture concluded and the hall erupted in applause, Stella had been convinced of two truths. Frank Stentz had been born to teach, and she’d been born to love him.

His gaze found hers through the incredibly crowded room and lingered. He smiled, and her heart expanded to such a degree, her lungs couldn’t manage a full breath.

Frank suddenly held up his hand and called out in a voice loud enough to carry over the fading applause and rising conversation. “Don’t forget to attend the nativity production at the Baptist church later this afternoon. Academic knowledge is meaningless if one lacks knowledge of the Savior. Besides, when else will you have the chance to see three Harvard professors parading about in tunics?”

Laughter filled the hall, and warmth spread through Stella’s chest. In his moment of triumph, with dozens of people clamoring for his attention, he’d thought of her. Better than that, he’d supported her. Publicly. Endorsing and promoting her project.