Heyes went to see the Dean of the graduate school to make sure that he did not overstep what a graduate student could do. The elegantly furnished office did not make Heyes nervous, but what he was there about did. The Dean, a prodigiously mustachioed gentleman, looked solemnly at this student to whom so much was being entrusted.
"Smith," said the Dean in his rumbling bass voice, "I would not even consider allowing most masters students to teach a graduate class, even with the professor's notes and advice to guide you. You do understand that?"
"Yes, sir," said Heyes seriously. "That's why I'm here. I'm glad to take on the responsibility, but only with your approval."
"I see," said the dean. "This is hardly the first time I have heard of you, Smith. Professor Homer has spoken to me about you, as has Dean Hager from Columbia College. And Professor Hargrove has put in a good word for you, as well. Your history – from one-room-schoolhouse to graduate school by way of a bullet in the head – is most impressive." Heyes flushed. He hated to think what the dean would say if he knew about the other adventures that had come between those years.
"Your excellent grades and your strong previous record as a graduate teaching assistant mean nothing in comparison to what your professors have had to say. And, of course, you have the maturity of a few extra years and what I understand is some pretty wide experience of the world. Since the graduate seminar does not include any PhD students whose qualifications would be compromised by your lack of a graduate degree, that makes the decision much easier. So long as you promise to stay in close touch with Professor Homer, I have no objection to your taking the last few class sessions."
"Of course, Dean," answered Heyes.
"And Smith," added the dean, "please don't let your own graduate work suffer. Lean on the other assistants as much as you need to. We think a great deal of you here at Columbia. Your professors are here to serve you – not the other way around. If you have any trouble with the classes or the students or anything, please come to see me. I will advise Charlie's students, if they need anything beyond direct follow-ups from class. I happen to be a mathematics professor myself." He gave the surprised Heyes a wink. "Now get out of here and get back to work!"
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Heyes asked his fellow teaching assistants to meet in the tiny, paper-piled office that they shared. Heyes balanced on the edge of the desk while Huxtable sat in the creaky rolling chair that kept threatening to keel over, while a blonde Ohio boy named Honus Messersmith perched on a step stool.
"Boys," Heyes began uneasily, "I think you've noticed that Charlie Homer hasn't been at his best lately." His fellow teaching assistants nodded. "His wife, Marie – well, she's dying." Huxtable and Messersmith gasped.
"That's awful!" cried Huxtable and Messersmith looked just as upset. Neither one of them had spent nearly as much time with Marie Homer as Heyes had. The former outlaw, after all, had lived in the Homers' apartment for months while he was recovering from being accidentally shot by his partner. But both boys were close to their advisor and they looked distraught.
"Yeah, it is," said Heyes, "She's been . . . well, I'd better stay away from the personal stuff or I'll never get through this. Charlie needs somebody to stand in for him for a while. Realistically, it'll have to be till the end of the semester. He's asked me to use his notes and take over his classes. The dean has given his approval." Heyes stopped and looked back and forth at his fellow assistants to see how they reacted to this news. There was no hint in their eyes of jealousy – only eagerness to support their fellow grad student.
"Wow, Smith, the graduate class, too?" asked Messersmith in the slight accent that remained from his German birth. "That's a lot of work while you're finishing up your thesis! What can we do to help?" Heyes was complemented that his fellow assistants showed no disbelief in his ability to teach a graduate class when he was in only his second semester as a graduate student himself.
"I can take your lab section," volunteered Huxtable, "if Hans can help with grading . . ."
"Of course!" said Messersmith quickly, "and anything else we can do. You just let us know, Josh. We'll be there."
Heyes looked gratefully back and forth between his friends and supportive colleagues, "Thanks so much, guys. I really appreciate it. And so will Charlie."
"How's Charlie?" asked Huxtable cautiously.
"He's real upset, of course," said Heyes and cleared his throat. He was very close to breaking down right then and there.
"We've both got class, Kansas, so we got to go," said Huxtable. "But don't you worry! We've got your back, don't we Hans?"
"Thanks, Missouri, Hans" said Heyes. "I knew you both would. And so did Charlie and the dean."
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On his way home from school, Heyes went to the Leutze clinic. There he ran into – nearly literally – Jim in the hall. "Hey, Smith!" asked the young assistant who was now less and less of a patient, "How are you?"
"Under the gun, Jim, and worried as heck" muttered Heyes, calling his friend to come close where they could speak with some privacy in the hall. There weren't many people there who could overhear them, but Heyes always wanted to be careful. "Marie Homer has cancer. She's dying, Jim."
Jim's mouth fell opened and he gasped out, "Oh no! That's t-terrible! Isn't there anything they c-can do?"
"No, not from what Charlie tells me," said Heyes. "He's asked me to take over his classes."
Jim was impressed even as he grieved. "Gosh, isn't that terribly unusual? For a p-professor to ask a grad student to t-take classes for him?"
"Yeah. I wish we could go see Marie – before . . . but she's in such bad shape, she's not seeing anyone. But you could send a note or a card . . . I could take it – I'll be meeting with Charlie pretty often so I can teach the way he wants me to."
Heyes went and knocked on Beth's door. She wasn't surprised to see him, under the circumstance. She knew that he would need her support.
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It might not be so very hard for Heyes to walk into a single undergraduate class and take over for Charlie Homer – he had done it before. But this was much more than that, as he told Beth over a dinner of pizza in a favorite little dive of theirs the night after the first class.
Heyes was glad to have a fiancé who understood the challenges of teaching, "One session and a month of classes and exam sure are two different things! I'm just glad to have that syllabus and his detailed notes! I've got lectures to coordinate, and TAs to be in charge of, and meeting with students. It's great preparation for what I'll be doing – I hope I'll be doing – come the fall. But you know what's the worst,"
"Yes, honey, I do," said Beth. "The graduate seminar! It leans so hard on just you - keeping those discussions going. You can't make them talk – you've got to guide them and inspire them while they do the talking. And then you have to find a fair way to grade them."
Heyes nodded, putting down a slice of pizza while he let out his insecurities to Beth. "You got that right! Lecturing is a piece of cake compared to leading discussions and grading them, I'm guessing. If I could just do it all myself – but getting the students to do it – some of them senior to me. I just don't have the experience. I haven't taken that many graduate seminars – much less taught them! It's terrifying. I just don't want to mess this up. It's so important to all the students – and to Charlie. All those students are like . . . are like his children."
"Yes, darling, I know. And you know what that makes you?" Beth raised her eyebrows.
Heyes met her eyes with a gaze full of both pride and trepidation. He nodded. Heyes knew all too well that Charlie Homer thought of him as a son. "I know. And that's the hardest – knowing how much he trusts me. I can't let him down – not now! Oh, God, Beth! To lose Marie and not even be able to see her again! You know she's been the closest I've had to . . ."
Beth took her fiancé's hand, "To a mother. Since you lost your own."
Heyes nodded, unsuccessful trying to fight back his tears. "And what if they come for me before the semester's over? What if someone else has to finish for me?"
To that, Beth could give him no answer but a comforting kiss. Whatever happened, she would be at his side.
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Heyes paused for just a second before he walked into Charlie Homer's undergraduate class to take over for his friend, mentor, and advisor. He was about to step into a world that he hoped to inhabit for the rest of his life – if the powers that be would let him. The world in front of the class was a whole lot different than the world of the students in the seats. It helped a lot to know that Charlie and the dean and the other teaching assistants all believed in Heyes – or at least in Joshua Smith. If only four governors and twelve men could be added to the list of people who believed!
Heyes walked to the front of the class and started writing on the board a good twenty minutes before class was to start, so there were no students in the seats yet. Heyes wrote out "Mr. Joshua Smith will be teaching for Professor Homer. . ." and so on, laying out the technicalities as he and Charlie Homer and the dean and the other teaching assistants had worked them out. Then he put up directions for homework and a few beginning equations. By the time Heyes had finished writing on the board, in his immaculate new handwriting, students had begun to arrive. But Heyes avoided saying much. He didn't want to have to repeat himself about the situation.
As the last students walked into the room, Heyes looked around and gathered the students' attention silently. When they were all looking up at him, he began in calm and authoritative voice, "Come to order, please. I'm afraid that Professor Homer is away from campus dealing with a family emergency. So, as it says on the board, I'll be taking over teaching the class for him. You all know me as a teaching assistant – I'm Joshua Smith. I'll take over Professor Homer's office hours – right after class on Tuesdays. Any of you who have Professor Homer as your academic advisor will now be advised by Dean Galbraith – the dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. He used to be a mathematics professor and he's Professor Homer's boss, so he knows what he's doing. Paul Huxtable will take over my own lab section. Any questions?" Heyes' old outlaw instincts primed him to be ready for challenges and dissention, but in fact every student calmly accepted his statements. Joshua Smith had the class with him from the first moment – although he knew well that it would take constantly vigilance and work to keep more than twenty young men and women attentive and positive.
A brash boy in the first row put up his hand. "Is Professor Homer alright? Can we send cards or anything?" Every pair of eyes in the room looked up with eager attention – they all were wondering the same things.
Heyes smiled a little. Charlie Homer's students were very loyal and supportive – which wasn't surprising. "It isn't my business to share the professor's personal concerns with you without his permission, but he'll appreciate your concern. If you want to send any good wishes to him, I'm sure he could use it. I'll be happy to convey any cards or messages to him. Thank you, Jeremy! That's very thoughtful of you."
A girl – one of only two women in the class – asked, "Will you be in charge for the rest of the semester, Professor Smith?"
Heyes fought back a grin. "Just Mr. Smith, please. One day I hope to have earned that higher title, but I haven't yet. And yes, I think I'll be with you for the rest of the semester. If . . . yes, I think it will have to be until exams are over. If any other . . . arrangements need to be made, I'll let you know. Or someone will." Heyes couldn't help thinking uneasily of the distinct possibility that he might have to leave New York suddenly for a trip to Montana. "Now let's get to work. Ch . . . Professor Homer wouldn't want us to lose time. Please bring out your homework and turn to page 225 in your textbook." Heyes, as usual, began to pace back and forth across the blackboard as he lectured and wrote and called on students.
The first undergraduate session went smoothly – or as smoothly as undergraduate classes ever go. There were always hard questions and awkward students. The next day it would be on to the graduate class. That, as he had confided to Beth, was what really had Heyes worried. That and how he would balance teaching both classes with completing his own classes and his thesis. Heyes stayed up until the wee hours preparing.
The next morning at what felt like the crack of dawn but was really 8:00 AM, Heyes walked into the seminar room to teach his very first graduate class. He kept wondering if he had forgotten to shave or left something unbuttoned, but he was, in fact as prepared as a mere MA student could be. He hoped it would be the first of many times, but it felt extremely strange to sit down at the head of the table instead along one side. It made him nervous to see eight pairs of eyes looking to him so expectantly. As Heyes could see in their faces, of all of the students had heard about Professor Homer's emergency. He guessed that some even knew exactly what it was. Heyes got a particularly warm smile from Neal George. Heyes knew that he would have a supportive student there, who would be sure to try to get discussions to go the way Heyes wanted. But it was undeniably awkward to suddenly be teaching a man whom Heyes saw as his equal and his friend – and who was actually older than he was by several years.
"Good morning, guys!" said Heyes, feeling that he could be much more informal with graduate students, as Charlie Homer always ways. "I imagine that you're heard of Professor Homer's family emergency. I'll be taking over his classes. I know, I know – I'm just an MA student. But I've worked with Charlie a lot, and I have his notes and his guidance – and the graduate dean's approval. Which I really appreciate. So while I can't say for you to treat me as you would treat him, you can treat me as speaking for him. And if there are any questions that I can't answer, I'll get his answers and get back to you. Please do try to cut me a break – I'll be feeling my way here. I can use your support! So any questions?"
"Congratulations on the promotion, Smith, temporary as it is. That Charlie trusts you is good enough for me!" said Robert Pilchuck, a genial young fellow from Boston. His fellow students chimed in with their support. Heyes was glad that Neal George hadn't been the first to speak – it would have looked contrived for so close a friend to take the lead. Pilchuck was a good guy, but not a particular friend of Smith's. In fact, as a second year MA student, so he was technically senior to Smith and they hadn't had any classes together previously.
Heyes put a long equation on the little blackboard on the wall beside the table. "So, here's one for you to consider." Before he had finished writing, an excellent student called Ernie Livermore had started to talk, and more students chimed in as Heyes completed the final characters. Things were off to a flying start. But Heyes had to scramble to catch up. "I'm sorry, Ernie, what were you saying?"
The class stared at Joshua Smith for a moment. "I was saying . . . is something wrong, Smith?"
Heyes sighed. "I'm sorry, but it's hard for me to pay attention to you when I'm writing. Could you please repeat what you said?"
"Is that part of the aphasia, from when you were shot?" asked Neal George, knowing that his friend wanted him to, at the same time that he hated to talk about it. Everyone at the table knew about the bullet that their acting professor had taken in the head, and Heyes knew it.
Heyes spoke quietly, "Yes, it is, Neal. I'm sorry – you'll have to keep it in mind. When I'm writing I can't listen effectively. It's getting better, but as tired as I am this morning . . . So Ernie, please."
"Sorry, Smith. Mr. Smith. Of course. I should have waited anyhow – it's awful the way grad school gets us to be so rude and interrupt each other while we're scrapping for discussion grades. Uh . . . Now I've forgotten what I said." The class laughed at Ernie, with Ernie himself laughing the loudest. NG came to his rescue, paraphrasing his original assertion. So Heyes felt a bit better. Honesty was the best policy in many ways, as he kept discovering. He hated to use aphasia as an excuse, but it was the truth.
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Heyes threw himself into that final month of school, writing and figuring and planning until late every night and into the next morning. There were no more genial dinners with Beth or Friday nights with the boys or Saturday rides in the park. It was nothing but an unrelenting grind.
Beth came to see Heyes in his office on Monday afternoon. He could see the serious look on her face and knew what she would be there to tell him about.
"So," Heyes asked with trepidation, "the surgery's over, is it?" Beth nodded. "And did she . . .?"
Beth shook her head. "She made it – but not by much. It won't be long. Charlie's with her, as always. You know why she won't see anyone, I assume? She's almost constantly on drugs to manage the pain and it embarrasses her to have anyone but Charlie see her when she's under the influence. I can't blame her. But right now, she's just out cold. And I hope she will be for a long time – until . . . I hate to think of all the pain she's been enduring, even with the medicine."
Heyes nodded. "Yeah. It's so awful. When I think of all that she's done for me . . . for lots of people. I just wish there was more I could do."
Beth looked compassionately at her fiancé, "But you're doing more than anyone, Heyes. Even the doctors feel helpless, Charlie says. And he sure does. And I do. And the poor Kid, so far away. I got a wire from him today, sending his best wishes to Marie and Charlie – and to us."
Then there was a knock on the door. It was Paul Huxtable, who had Hans Messersmith with him. They needed to meet with their new boss, so Beth gave them the news and left. She hated to leave Heyes that way – he looked utterly spent physically and emotionally. While everyone else could happily anticipate the relief that would come with the end of the semester, Heyes could look to the future only with uncertainty and even fear. But he kept gamely on.
The deadlines for his MA thesis, and his own graduate papers, were all looming just as Heyes had to work the hardest at his teaching. Early one morning, Beth knocked on Charlie Homer's office door. There was a pause and then a bleary-eyed, unshaven Heyes answered the door. "Oh honey!" cried Beth. "I didn't find you at your place and I was afraid you must have fallen asleep here. So you spent the night here?"
"Oh my God!" whispered Heyes in dread, "I must have. I sure didn't mean to. I feel like something the cat wouldn't bother to drag in. Ugh. . . What time is it? I've got class at 9:00!"
Beth looked at her watch. "It's 7:45, Heyes! We can take a cab to your place and get you cleaned up in time if we hurry . . ."
"No! We might not make it. As junior as I am, they won't wait long for me if I'm late. You know how it is – 20 minutes for a senior professor, 15 minutes for an associate professor . . . about 30 seconds for a teaching assistant! They keep a razor and stuff here for emergencies. If you can take a cab and bring me a fresh shirt and linens and socks. Then if you don't make it back on time, at least I'll be shaved and sort'a clean, and on time. I've got to get my stupid fuzzy head together. You didn't come to give me news, did you?"
Beth shook her head. "No – just to check on you. You know we're all worried . . . We'll I've got to run. Try to get something to eat! I know you have hours office after class, and a thesis meeting – God only knows when you'll get lunch . . ." Beth was running down the hall as she spoke. Meanwhile, Heyes stumbled to the assistant office where the razor and soap were stashed. Then he went and cleaned up as best he could. Just minutes before class, Beth dashed to the door of Charlie Homer's office with her arms full of men's clothing. Heyes barely managed to tuck in his shirt and get his shoes back on in time to run to class with his arms full of books and papers.
While he had almost no time for friends, Heyes had to make time for certain human beings. Toward his students, he had obligations – on behalf of Charlie Homer. So after class, he had to do his office hours. One of the two women in the class followed him out the door toward his – Charlie's – office to attend his office hours.
"What can I do for you, Miss Horn?" asked Heyes, fighting off a yawn. It was going to be an awful fight to get through this day with so little sleep. He sat, feeling very strange, in Charlie's chair while a rather lovely strawberry blonde student sat in the worn leather chair he had so often occupied himself. This was a student who had not been in Heyes lab section before Huxtable took it over, so she had never talked to him before outside of class.
"I'm enjoying your teaching. I appreciate your calling on the women as much as the man – just the way Professor Homer does. How do you feel about women mathematics students?" the young woman asked with a challenging look into his eyes. Her eyes were a striking green and right now there were fierce sparks in them. "Do you think we can ever do good work – as good as the men?"
"I beg your pardon!" said Heyes, "I don't see how whether you are a man or woman has anything to do with it. Math is math. Good work is good work. From what I can see in your records and have heard from Professor Homer, you do good work, Miss Horn. It is unfortunate that professional opportunities are not the same for women in our society as they are for men. I only hope that will improve as this nation – this world - learns more about justice." Heyes spoke with some heat. He remembered all too vividly the bitter disappointment in Marie Homer's voice as she had spoken about her frustrated ambitions to teach math at the college level. As someone who also might be deprived of the opportunity to do what he loved and did well, he identified keenly with Marie Homer – and now with this young woman who walked in her footsteps.
Karen Horn tried to resist smiling too broadly at her acting professor's attitude toward women students. "I'm very glad to hear that, Mr. Smith. If we get more professors like you, maybe things will get better for us – for women in this country. I'm glad to know that you are fair minded about it. Not everyone is." Heyes noticed that she had a strong Southwestern accent – it sounded like North Texas to him.
"Tell me about it," said Heyes. "Who's been unfair to you?"
"Other than Professor Homer, and my one female professor, who hasn't?" Miss Horn's laughter had an angry edge to it. "There was one professor last year who said that 'girls shouldn't do well at math.' I got an A on every quiz and exam and every paper. And for the class - he gave me a C! He said that was the best a girl should get."
"Good lord!" exclaimed Heyes in genuine surprise. "That's totally unjust! And at this university! Did you appeal the grade?" Heyes supposed that he could guess which of the elderly, conservative professors had done this.
"Yes, Mr. Smith, I did! And I won!" Miss Horn did not hide the triumph in her shining green eyes. "But that was just one class. I have to fight little battles like that all over again in nearly every class – if maybe not quite that obviously. Sometimes it's harder to make an official point of. So when I have a new professor, especially this late in the semester, I just like to know what I'm up against. I'm sorry if I seem over bold but . . ."
Heyes shook his head, "Not at all, Miss Horn! You did the right thing to come to me. With me, like with Professor Homer, I hope you'll find you aren't up against anything except the problems on the page."
"Mr. Smith, if it isn't too prying of me, I understand that you're going to graduate this spring?" Now Miss Horn sounded just a bit less assertive – maybe even almost shy.
"That's right – I hope," Heyes restrained himself from saying, "If I don't get hauled off to prison before then."
Miss Horn continued, "I only hope that you'll think about teaching out West, Mr. Smith. I understand that's where you're from."
Heyes smiled, recognizing the answering light in Miss Horn's eyes. The famous Heyes smile had struck home. Being an engaged man, he didn't mean to do that to girls, but sometimes he couldn't help it. "Yes. I do hope to go back there. They're founding new schools all over the place and I'd like to teach in one of them."
Miss Horn blushed a bit as she said, "Well, then don't forget Texas when you apply. That's where I'm from – Austin, Texas. I'd like to teach math myself one day – if they ever let a woman do that."
"I'm told that UT has a woman teaching German – Jesse Andrews. She should be an inspiration to you. So keep up the good work and you might get farther than you think, Miss Horn!" said Heyes, giving his new student a wink. As the young lady walked out, Heyes' heart was beating rapidly. Not from what an attractive young woman she was – and she was that – but from the thought that he might possibly have helped to inspire a student to do what she was meant to do. Just as Charlie Homer had inspired him. Heyes only prayed that this would be far from the last student he would help on her way. He felt, somehow, that he had done something for Marie Homer, too. Forty years before, she had been just where Miss Horn was. Now, there was the possibility that a woman could find a better professional career than Marie Homer had ever been able to manage. The world had a long way to go in that regard, but things were changing – and Heyes would try to help them change.
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The following Tuesday morning, Heyes was back in his Charlie's, office. Again, he heard a knock on the door that he recognized with disquiet. "Come in, Beth!" called Heyes. "It can't be good news again."
Beth's eyes were streaming. "No," she choked out. "She's gone at last, Heyes."
Heyes broke into tears and held Beth tightly for a long time. But then he looked up and dried his eyes with his handkerchief. "I'm sorry, Beth, but I've got to stop this. I've got the undergrad class in less than an hour. I have to get myself together to teach – somehow. I don't know how I'm ever going to do it. But I have to! For Charlie! I can't even tell them the news – not without Charlie's permission."
Beth kissed her man. "You can do it, Heyes! I know you can. Here, I brought you a fresh handkerchief. But now I'll have to leave, or I'll keep setting you off. You just sit here and find a calm place in your mind."
Heyes nodded, "You're right, Beth. I have to be alone for a while. I just hope no student comes to see me! They don't usually come this early, but you never know."
Heyes sat and just breathed deeply, slowly calming himself a little more with every breath. Then another wave of emotion shook him as he thought about all that Marie had done for him. He found himself reciting verses silently to himself – first one and then another came to him from poems and plays he had found with Beth and in the Morgan library. Shakespeare's words from Hamlet came first:
"Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity."
And from there, he heard in his mind a Bach fugue from a concert he and the Homers had attended. And more verses and more music. He remembered a favorite old song of the Kid's that they had sung as boys. He couldn't remember the words, but the tune made him think of the Kid riding at his side.
And then it was time to go and teach. With only the slightest catch of his breath, Heyes took up his books and went to lecture to his young students. As he walked down the hall, Heyes heard in his mind the words of Emily Dickenson that he had read in a favorite book of Marie Homer's:
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all."
The gifts that his friends had given him were still there, even at the worst.