His cell phone buzzed softly.

He stretched, reaching for his cell phone on the coffee table. "Hello," he croaked.

"I take it you had a rough night," Paul's recognizable voice mused.

"Yeah," he said quietly, running his fingers through his dishelved hair and smoothing his wrinkled clothing.

"Do you think you can make it my class at 10?"

That was right. Paul had arranged for him to work in the theater department as an artist in residence at North Central Texas University until Lathal was back on her feet again.

"I think so," he said rising to his feet.

"The majority of my classes are in the afternoon and evening," Paul put in. Malan already knew that but he knew his former student would want to be able to see his wife. "You'll have plenty time to go see Lathal."

"Alright," he said. "I'll see you shortly."

**

Memories filled him as he walked into The Round, North Central Texas University's theater.

Hands in his pockets, he strolled across the stage remembering the first time he met Paul.

Paul and Jayne Lerm represented North Central Texas University, at a college night at Sheridan High School the fall of '89.

Paul dug in his bag for his play. Jayne knew how bored he'd been on her recruiting trip, but he'd insisted on coming with her.

"You don't have to be here, Paul," she told him.

"I'll be fine," Paul assured her, crossing his legs as he relaxed in his chair beside her.

A young man of medium height and built checked out the brochures lying on the table.

Jayne smiled at him. "Are you interested in attending North Central Texas University?"
"Mmm," Malan murmured thoughtfully flipping through the catalog. "Can you tell me about your theater department?"

Paul regarded him. "Are you an actor?"

"That's all I've been," Malan said with a smile. "I've done some shows at the community theater and here when I was here."

Paul's face clouded. "What do you mean?"

"I dropped out when I was 16," he said. "I have a GED."

"Do you think you'd audition for me?" Paul asked him.

Malan thought about it. "I'm considering joining the military."

Paul shook his head. "That would be a waste."

Malan looked at him with interest. "You've never seen me perform."

"No," Paul said. "But it would be shame for you to not pursue your dream. If money's a concern, the university has an ROTC program we can get you to in that will pay for your education." Paul handed him his card. "Think about it."

"I will. Thank you," Malan said sticking the professor's card in his pocket.

*

Later that night Jayne and Paul were alone in their hotel room.

The TV was on but he wasn't paying any attention to it. Instead, he was stretched out on the bed reading a play.

She sat down beside him. "You're still thinking about that kid, aren't you?"

"Mm," he murmured turning the page. "I see a lot of him in me."

Her husband's remark spoke volumes.
"He'll call you," she said running her hand over his shoulder blade.

"I love you," he kissed her.

*

They were having breakfast in the hotel's day room when his cell phone rang.

He picked the phone up off the table. "Paul Lerm."

"Professor Lerm," came the sound of a clear, unfamiliar male voice. "Did you still want me to audition for you?"

"I'd love for you to," Paul replied.

"Meet me at Reese Theater in an hour," Malan said ending the call.

Jayne looked at him over the rim of her cup of coffee. "It was him, wasn't it?"

Paul grinned and grabbed a member of the hotel staff passing by. "Do you know where Reese Theater is?"

"It's downtown, sir," the young man said. "It's near the Civic Center on the corner on Turner and Taylor."
Paul jotted down the directions. "Thank you."

"You better get going," Jayne said. "You don't want to be late."

Paul laughed, "My dear, I'm never late."

**

Malan waited for him at Reese Theater.

As soon as the professor arrived, he introduced the man behind him. "Professor Lerm, this is Derek Nigelmann, director of Reese Theater.

Derek looked familiar to him. "Don't I know you?"

Derek smiled. "I should hope so. I directed you on Broadway."

Paul smiled, turning to find Malan already on stage. Without waiting for instructions Malan launched into solos from a variety of productions.

Paul was impressed with Malan's natural talent and abilities. Malan smoothly transitioned into character, recited lines from memory or improvised well and executed the correct blocking.

"Did you want me to continue?" Malan said breaking the silence that had fallen in the theater.

Paul's fingers were folded thoughtfully in front of his lips. "Have you auditioned for other professors?"
"No."
"Why me?" Paul wondered.

"You've been on Broadway," Malan said. "Most educators I know don't have professional experience. I want a mentor, not just an educator."

Paul meshed his lips together. "Can you start next semester because I'd love to have you in the spring production?"

Feeling stares boring into him, Malan's attention returned to the present.

"I see you're familiar with Malan," Paul said with a smile for everyone. "He'll be the university theater department's artist in residence while his wife recovers from her accident."

Students exchanged looks. They'd all heard the news.

"So I highly suggest," Paul continued. "You take advantage of his professional experience. He will be not be grading papers, but he will be involved in rehearsals. He'll be my assistant director for our fall show so he'll helping me cast that production."

Malan frowned. Paul knew how much he didn't like directing, but he'd rather do that than anything. He disliked musicals, even less directing, and Paul's fall production was "The Wizard of Oz."

Paul's lectures were always entertaining but Malan was a little bored sitting through it again. He was relieved when class ended. He raced out of the theater, heading for the hospital.

**

Lathal was sitting up in bed, scribbling away in a notebook. Her long, blonde hair shone; her smile was as bright as the sun.

Malan was pleased with the marked improvement in his wife's condition.

She saw him watching her from around the corner and smiled. Her finger beckoned him to come closer, then greeted him with a warm token of affection.

Resting his hand in the small of her back, he returned her kiss with matched passion. "You're feeling better."

"They gave me a bath," she said, her soft, moist lips brushing his.

He tenderly pressed his lips to hers. "When are you coming home?"

"Today," she said softly, shifting her legs to the edge of the bed.

He steadied her. "Wait a minute," he said, concern whirling in his brown eyes. "Let's not rush into anything."

"That's good advice," Burchski said quietly. "It's going to take time before everything's back to normal."

They looked at the doctor, dressed in his white medical jacket. He stepped forward to check Lathal's chart.

"I think she's ready to go home. She'll heal better there," Burchski said. "But she'll have to go home in a wheelchair."

Malan's face clouded with confusion. "I thought you said she'd walk again."

"She will," Burchski said. "After physical therapy. She'll come back to have her staples removed in a couple days. She'll start her physical therapy sessions on Friday."

Malan felt his head swim. He wondered how he'd be able to keep up with his schedule and hers too.

She gazed up at him with worried eyes.

He lightly kissed her forehead. "We'll make it work," he said believing his words. They'd had tough times but they'd always made it through somehow.