"And you want me to believe that my father was suspended over some plagiarism case? Are you just trying to soften the blow for when you break the other story?" She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach and searched my eyes.
"No. I told you, I'm not pursuing that unless you want my help," I said. The sheen of tears in her eyes made my chest clutch. "I came to find you right away because this is a bigger story and I need your help."
"You want me to help you help my father?" Clarity snorted. "Sorry, but that doesn't strike me as something you'd do."
"Even though you accused me of befriending your father to help secure my position here at Landsman?" I snapped. "What do you think would happen if your father was suspended? My job is the first on the chopping block. So, whether you believe that or what I'm telling you right now, I'm helping your father."
She shuffled her feet and recrossed her arms. "Even if it means you'll lose your job anyway?" she asked.
"Yes." I reached out to grab her shoulders but she stepped back. "Clarity, it's an old case that your father was sure he handled appropriately. Something's wrong. Someone set him up, using that plagiarism case, in order to pressure him to help with what you saw on Thanksgiving."
Clarity rubbed her shoulder and thought that over. "Like leverage? But I thought my father had already fixed Junior's application?"
I smiled, relieved to give her one piece of good news. "Your father refused, and that's why he's suddenly been suspended."
"How are the two connected?"
I could have kissed her. Clarity's tears had evaporated as she locked on to the details that would interest any journalist. "The plagiarism case involves another Tailor. Brian Tailor, to be exact," I told her. "Michael Tailor's nephew."
Clarity let out a harsh laugh and shook her head. "I know Brian Tailor and there is no way he was involved with a case of plagiarism. First rule, check your facts, right?"
I rubbed my neck. "I'm trying to help you, Clarity. Can't we work on this together? Why are you treating me like the enemy?"
"Because you are," she cried. Clarity remembered the quiet of the library and dropped her voice to a rough whisper. "I don't want your help. I don't want anything from a man like you."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Clarity
Half a dozen classmates stopped me on my way across campus. I apologized and dodged around them. Thomas tried to tell me the college president was looking for me, but I pretended I didn't hear him. By the time I made it to my front steps, I was terrified I had been followed.
Ford was right: my father's scandal was all over campus. If he had not chased me into the library in order to tell me, I would have found out in the middle of the commons with everyone watching.
"Clarity, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," my father rushed to meet me at the door.
The house was shuttered and dark and it was hard to see my father's face through my tears. "I'm sorry. You only got involved with Michael Tailor because you thought his connections could help me."
"They still can," my father said. He led the way to the sofa and we sat down. "I'm not going to give in to Tailor's demands, but Wire Communications should take you on your own merit alone."
"I don't want the internship, Dad. I'm going to help you fight this," I promised.
My father shook his head. "No, Clarity, I'm asking you to please stay out of it."
"You sound as if you've been talking to Ford. Oh, wait, you told him before you told me!" The accusation sounded petulant, but my emotions were causing a storm of thoughts that I couldn't quite control.
"Ford is right about this, honey. He's trying to help. If we try to expose Michael Tailor, then everyone loses. The college loses a major donor, I still lose my job, and you lose your internship and future career connections," he said.
He reached out to hold my hands, but I yanked them back. "No. I'm not just going to sit back while you suffer through this alone. How can you think that's right? Let me dig into the story, get all the details, and I can be the one to publish it in the Landsman student newspaper. Corruption can't be allowed. It'll only get worse," I pleaded with him.
"Clarity, sweetheart, I can't let you be involved. This was my mistake—"
"You didn't make a mistake," I cried, "you trusted the wrong person. You always think the best of people. That's not your fault; that ability to believe in people is one of the things I love most about you."
My father's eyes were washed with unshed tears, but he shook his head. "I should have gone directly to the college president when I was given gifts by Michael Tailor. Instead, I hoped to leverage his friendship into something good for you. It was all my mistake."
I jumped up from the sofa, too irate to sit still. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this from you! What about the truth? What about the honor code that you helped to forge? I can't just stand aside while you are attacked."
The conversation went ten more rounds of the same words. My father asked me in every imaginable way to leave the story alone. He even threatened me as if I were child he could still send to her room. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would not stay quiet and that I intended to uncover everything I could about the plagiarism case.