Northern Lights

and romantic love of a valorous knight for a lady, but the lustful, sweaty need of a man for a woman.
    Hadn't he convinced himself she would cast Galloway off ? He was careless with her. Selfish. Even if he hadn't been blinded by love, John would have seen that. Resented that.
    So he'd stayed and waited. Changed the course of his life and waited.
    After everything he'd done, all his plans, his hopes, he was still waiting.
    His students got younger and younger, and the years died behind him. He could never get back what he'd cast away, what he'd wasted.
    And still, the single thing he wanted would not be his.
    He glanced at the clock, saw another day had gone to dust. Then, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, saw Nate leaning against the jamb of the open door of his classroom.
    "Your papers on Macbeth are due next Friday," he announced to a chorus of groans. "Kevin, I'll know if Marianne writes it for you. Those of you who're on the yearbook committee, remember there's a meeting tomorrow at three-thirty. Make sure you've arranged transportation home, if necessary. Dismissed."
    There was the general clatter, shuffle, chatter he was so used to he no longer noticed.
    "What is it about high schools," Nate began, "that can make a grown man's palms sweat?"
    "Just because we survived the hell of it once, doesn't mean we can't be thrown back into the pit."
    "Guess that's it."
    "You'd have done well enough, I'd wager," John said, as he packed some papers into his battered briefcase. "You've got the looks, the attitude. Decent enough student, I'd say, did well with the girls. Athletic. What did you letter in?"
    "Track." Nate's lips curved. "Always could run. You?"
    "Your classic nerd. The one that screwed the curve for the rest of the class."
    "That was you? I hated you." With his thumbs hooked in his pockets, Nate strolled in, looked at the notes on the blackboard. " Macbeth, huh? I got Shakespeare okay if somebody else read it. Out loud, I mean, so I could hear the words. This guy killed for a woman, right?"
    "No, for ambition at the urging of a woman. With the seeds for it all planted by three more."
    "He didn't get away with it."
    "He paid, with his honor, with the loss of the woman he loved to madness, with his life."
    "What goes around."
    John nodded, lifted an eyebrow. "Did you drop by to discuss Shakespeare, Nate?"
    "Nope. We're investigating the incident last night. I need to ask you some questions."
    "About Yukon? I was in Town Hall when it happened."
    "What time did you get there?"
    "A few minutes before seven." He glanced over absently as some of the liberated students raced laughing down the hall. "Actually, I'm doing an extracurricular group on Hitchcockian storytelling for the tenththrough twelfth-graders. Gets some of the kids involved, earns them extra credit. A dozen of my students signed up for it."
    "Did you go out between seven and ten?"
    "I went out at intermission, had a smoke, got some of the punch the elementary school committee was selling. Which was more palatable when I doctored it."
    "Where were you sitting?"
    "Toward the back, opposite side from my students. I didn't want to inhibit them or be barraged with questions. I was taking notes on the movies."
    "In the dark?"
    "Yes, that's right. Just a few key points I wanted to make sure to bring forward in discussion. I'd like to help you on this, but I don't see how I can."
    He walked over to lower the blinds on the room's single window. "After Otto came in, after we knew what had happened, I went back to The Lodge. I was upset. We all were. Charlene, Skinny Jim and Big Mike were running the place."
    "Who was there?"
    "Ah, Mitch Dauber and Cliff Treat, Drunk Mike. A couple of hik
    ers." As he spoke, he policed the room, gathering up dropped pencils, crumpled balls of paper, a hair clip.
    "I got a drink. Meg and Otto came in shortly, and after things settled down a little, we played some poker. We were still playing when you got there."
    Nate nodded and put away the notebook he'd pulled out.
    John tossed the paper in the trash, put the other items in a shoe box on his desk. "I don't know anybody who'd do that to a dog. Especially Yukon."
    "Nobody else seems to either." Nate glanced around the classroom. It smelled like chalk, he thought. And that teenage perfume of gum, lip gloss and hair gel. "Do you ever take time off during the school year? Give yourself a break and just head out?"
    "I've been known to. Mental-health breaks, I'd call