Margot Dalton - Memories of You

Enrique Valeros passed them with a timid nod, stumbling a little as he went into the hallway. He carried a huge pile of library books, and his face was pale with fatigue. Camilla and Jon watched in silence as the dark-haired boy moved down the corridor with an unsteady gait.

“That poor kid always looks like he’s dead on his feet,” Jon observed. “His hands were shaking again today. I wonder if he’s sick, or taking drugs or something.”

Camilla frowned. “No, I don’t think it’s drugs,” she said at last. “His written work is beautiful, very concise and disciplined. It’s particularly impressive for somebody for whom English is a second language. The students who abuse drugs tend to be rambling and disconnected, although,” she added dryly, “they always believe that their work is wonderfully eloquent.”

“Then why do you think Enrique’s so tired all the time?”

“I don’t know.”

She felt a treacherous urge to move closer to Jon Campbell, to nestle against the man and feel his arms around her. It was surprisingly pleasant to stand here with him like this, talking and hearing his voice in reply.

Abruptly the years fell away and she was seventeen again, overcome with a stormy passion she’d never expected to feel….

“Goodbye, Mr. Campbell,” she said hastily, starting down the hallway toward the administrative wing. “Have a pleasant weekend.”

“HI, GRETCHEN.” Camilla stopped at the bursar’s office and dropped her books onto the counter with a sigh. “I wonder if you can tell me something about one of my students.”

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