Heartfire
Search For Love Series
Book 5
Karen Rose Smith
Published by Karen Rose Smith at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Karen Rose Smith
Revised and Updated Edition
Original Copyright 1993 Karen Rose Smith
Original Title: Heartfire, Homefire
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
www.karenrosesmith.com
Prologue
The May breeze wafting through the kitchen window ruffled Tessa Kahill's brown curls as she stared at Max Winthrop's broad back. He peered out the back door, watching his son play on the swing set in the yard. His shoulders were so straight and stiff, so stoic as he kept all of his emotion tucked securely inside.
Tessa didn't know whether to go to him or not. Long ago she'd blocked out the memories of the summer they'd spent together before she'd taken off for New York, before he'd gotten to know Leslie. All these years, Tessa had relegated him to being her best friend's husband. And for the most part, she’d stayed away. That had been best.
Now Leslie was gone. During the past month since Leslie's death, Tessa had been in Jenkins, Connecticut, staying with her best friend's parents, trying to give them comfort. Throughout her college friendship with their daughter, they’d been kind and supportive of her. She would have tried to give Max comfort, too, but he'd isolated himself during her stay, though she'd tried to help with Ryan. He was a proud man, insisting on handling his responsibilities himself. She wished he didn't disapprove of her lifestyle so. She also wished he could accept more of her help.
Crossing to the door, she stood beside him. "Max?"
He stared straight ahead. "Ryan's only four. What's he going to do without her? What am I going to do without her?"
Tessa couldn't keep from reaching out to him. She couldn't keep from laying her hand gently on his arm. "You're strong, and Ryan's resilient. You'll get through this. You'll go on with your lives."
Max turned to her then, his whiskey-brown eyes moist. "I miss her."
His unexpected openness and sadness released Tessa's grief, and her throat tightened. At one time, she and Leslie had depended on each other. Tessa had been closer to Leslie than she’d ever been to anyone. "I do, too."
Tessa didn't know how it happened, but suddenly Max's arms surrounded her and she held him tight. As her hand rested on the warm skin of his neck, as she felt his heart beating under hers, as she felt his strength and comfort, she unexpectedly felt something else, too. She tried to push it away, but it came back.
Max needed her comfort so she didn't pull away. But she held perfectly still and didn't breathe in his male scent. She shut out the sound of his heart. She blocked out the wonderful feel of his muscled arms surrounding her. And she told herself she was just lonely, grieving, missing the one person in the world she'd felt closest to. This moment would never happen again.
She had to get back to work. The assignment waiting for her in Italy would help her heal. Traveling around the world had made her a person who belonged everywhere rather than someone who belonged nowhere.
Max would heal, too. All he needed was time.
Chapter One
Three Years Later
Tessa stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking up. "Max?"
A shingle came sliding down the garage roof and landed on bushy stalks of yellow pincushion mums. Max's voice carried over the edge with it. "Tessa! I thought you were arriving next week."
"I finished my assignment and decided I could use some R and R now."
"I'll be down in a minute."
Tessa never waited if she could help it. Her sneakers made no sound as she climbed the ladder tilted against the detached garage. Her jeans rubbed the rungs while her oversized red-striped shirt blew away from her back and puffed behind her as she reached the top rung. She stopped. Max was shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips.
When he saw her, he shook his head and gave her a wry smile. "I thought I told you I'd be down."
No one had answered the front door to Max's Cape Cod. On an Indian summer Saturday afternoon in Connecticut, she'd known Max and Ryan wouldn't be cooped up inside. "I wanted to see the view. Look at the orange, red and yellow trees against the blue sky! Don't you wish you could take a picture in your mind and keep it forever?" She started to climb the slight incline to reach the peak where he stood.
Max gave her one of his penetrating looks. "You might be used to mountains, but I don't want you falling from my roof."
He was referring to her trip covering the latest women’s team who'd climbed Mt. Everest. "Max, you worry too much."
She couldn't keep from staring at his bronze shoulders gleaming with sweat in the late-afternoon sun. Since the day when she and Max had comforted each other, Tessa had kept her distance from him, though not from Ryan. She loved her godson, and as she had every September since he'd been born, she'd come back to Jenkins for his birthday.
Suddenly, a zooming ball of motion sped into the yard from alongside of the house. "Tessa! Tessa!" Ryan shouted as he saw her travel bag and laptop computer on the ground and her on the roof. "You're here! My birthday's not till next Saturday. Hey, Dad, did you know she was coming today?"
At the sound of Ryan's voice, Tessa spun around and her foot slipped. Before she could take a breath, Max caught her around the waist. Suddenly she smelled hot musky male, and she knew if she turned her head, her nose would brush the soft dark brown curls on Max's chest. The roof whirled, colors blurred, and she put her hands on his arms to steady herself.
"Will you get off the roof now?" he asked in a low, controlled tone.
She didn't think it was the roof that was making her shaky. "All right." She called to Ryan. "I'll be down in a minute."
Max took his arm from around her waist. "Let me go down first so I can hold the ladder."
She smiled and teased to cover the disturbing sensations that lingered. "I'll let your macho tendencies dictate...this time."
He returned a slow, reluctant smile. "But I'll pay for it in the future?"
"You bet."
Max inhaled a deep breath and climbed over the top rung of the ladder, feeling as if he’d been caught up in a whirlwind. Tessa always demanded notice. It was her verve, her energy, her intensity. Yes, he'd been attracted to her once...before she'd left him for her career. Before he'd become involved with Leslie. He'd always been thankful Leslie had worked at the resort with Tessa that summer in the Poconos, thankful for his marriage, thankful for the wonderful result—Ryan.
Tessa didn't wait until Max was on the ground before she started down the ladder, and he shook his head with exasperation. She was almost in front of him, almost between his arms, before he could move away. He felt the backs of her thighs against his chest and momentarily lost the urge to step aside.
She paused to look at him over her shoulder. "I'm okay now."
Startled by his unexpected reaction to her, Max moved to the left and held the ladder with one hand.
When Tessa was finally on the ground, seven-year-old Ryan wrapped his arms around her legs and squeezed so hard she almost lost her balance. Smiling, she squeezed him back. "Hi there, pancake. I've missed you. What have you been up to?"
"I was nex' door playing with Scruffy. Flo says she can't throw the ball as good as she used to. You are gonna stay 'til my birthday, aren't you?"
His next-door neighbor was in her sixties and owned a mutt Ryan loved to play with. But Max forgot about Flo and her dog to listen to Tessa's answer to his son's question.
"I sure am. But I have to call a motel so I don't have to camp in your backyard tonight."
"Aw, Dad, can't she stay here? It'll be great. Like a sleepover. I can't go with her like I used to and stay at Nana's house anymore."
Max thought of Leslie's parents—the only caring family Tessa had ever experienced. Five months ago they'd moved to Arizona to find relief for Ryan's grandfather's arthritis. They'd hated leaving their grandson, but he and Ryan were supposed to visit them next summer. Max wondered if they could also somehow manage a visit to his parents' farm in Nebraska. It was important for Ryan to stay in touch with his extended family.
"I don't want to put your dad out," Tessa said softly.
"But we can't make pancakes in the morning if you're at a motel," Ryan wailed.
"We could go out for breakfast instead," she offered.
"Dad..."
Max met Tessa's gaze. She'd never stayed in his house before. But it would be stupid for her to rent a motel room. After all, she'd been Leslie's best friend, especially during those months before his wife died. Tessa had called or e-mailed every day and visited whenever she could. More than once, he’d overheard Leslie pouring out her fears to Tessa, her concern about her son. Why shouldn't Tessa stay?
Grabbing the ladder, he shifted it sideways to prop it against the garage. "You're welcome to stay with us, Tessa."
She glanced at the pile of shingles on the ground and for the first time in her life sounded...cautious. "I don't want to get in Mrs. Clark's way."
"I'm not coaching basketball this year so Ryan and I decided we could learn to cook. Mrs. Clark just comes in once a week to clean."
Tessa's eyes widened. "But you love coaching."
"I felt Ryan and I needed time together, and coaching was taking up too much of it."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded, as if she understood. "Then if you're sure you don't mind, I'll stay."
Ryan jumped up and down and cheered. But after one look at Tessa's small, tilted up nose, her wide green eyes and her wind tousled hair, Max wondered if he'd just made a monumental mistake. Tessa could be a handful.
Then again, he could handle anything for a week.
Max grabbed his shirt from the branch of a bush, shrugged into it and swept up Tessa's bag and computer before she could protest—which she usually did. She was the most independent woman he'd ever met. He supposed her background had something to do with that. Even though they’d dated that one summer when he’d worked at the same resort she had, he didn't know much, just that she'd spent part of her childhood in foster homes. Tessa had always been reluctant to share anything about her background and he hadn’t pushed. Maybe he should have. Maybe then he would have understood better why she’d left.
Once in the house, he put her computer on the desk and was about to carry her bag upstairs when he noticed the blinking light on his answering machine. He said to Ryan, "Go on and get washed up for supper."
"Pizza?" Ryan asked hopefully.
"If that's okay with Tessa."
"Pizza's fine," she agreed with a smile.
Max studied the blinking light again. Going to the machine, he pressed PLAY. A few moments later he heard, "Mr. Winthrop, this is Mrs. Bartlett, Ryan's teacher. Please give me a call." She gave the number where she could be reached.
"Problems?" Tessa asked.
"I hope not. But I’d better call her."
Five minutes later, Max replaced the handset onto its base, worried. "Mrs. Bartlett wants to meet with me Monday after school. Ryan's having problems, and she wants to intervene as soon as she can so they don't get worse."
"What kind of problems?" Tessa seemed truly interested. Over the past few years, he’d realized how much she cared about Ryan even if she couldn’t be around much.
"She mentioned inattention, reading difficulties, problems making friends."
"My gosh. In the first few weeks of school?"
"She's good, Tessa. She's been with the district about ten years. She wouldn't have called on a whim. She has too many other concerns."
He taught math at the high school in Ryan’s school district and knew the reputations of most of the teachers. In a small town like Jenkins, gossip was rampant and nothing stayed a secret.
"Did Ryan have any problems last year?" Tessa asked.
"Not that I'm aware of."
Ryan had missed his mother and ever since she’d died, Max had tried to do double duty. His expression must have manifested his frustration because Tessa offered, "I'll go with you if you'd like."
When Leslie had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, Max knew Tessa had felt as powerless as he had. Nothing they could do had kept the cancer from taking his wife away. But even if Tessa wanted to help, he doubted if he could depend on her.
"I don't want to disturb your schedule."
"I'm working on a few articles, but there's no reason I can't take some time out to help Ryan. I know how meetings can be. Maybe I’ll ask questions you don’t think of."
Max looked at her for a long, probing moment. Did he want Tessa to become involved? Yet when he thought about Ryan’s recent silences and his own inability to get Ryan to open up— "If you want to come, it can't hurt. I know you love Ryan." Max paused, then admitted, "He has seemed quieter lately and he's been spending more time in his room. I've tried to get him to talk to me, but he just seems to...remove himself."
Tessa touched his arm. "Don't borrow trouble, Max. Where does she want us to meet her?"
Max looked at her hand on his arm, surprised at the sudden heat he felt, surprised that he registered the sensual softness of her fingers on his skin. "In her classroom at four."
All at once Tessa looked…uncomfortable. Had she changed her mind about wanting to go with him already?
"What’s wrong?"
She was quick to answer, "Nothing’s wrong. Mrs. Bartlett’s room at four is fine."
But Max suspected something about the appointment wasn’t fine. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tessa cancelled.
He remembered why he and Tessa had broken up. He remembered why he hadn’t been able to count on her then…and wouldn’t count on her now.
***
A few hours later, as Tessa sat at the foot of Ryan’s bed while Max read him a story, she was still concerned about the chill running up her spine when she’d found out the meeting with Mrs. Bartlett would be at Ryan’s school. That was an obvious meeting place, of course. And she wouldn’t rescind her offer. She had to do this for Max and Ryan. She might be uncomfortable for a little while. But, hey. She’d covered wars! She could handle this.
Since she’d arrived, she’d seen how Ryan had changed and grown. She'd visited Jenkins last spring before Leslie's parents had moved to Arizona. He had Leslie's blond hair and it was even lighter now from summer sun. He'd grown at least an inch. But he'd also changed in some interior way. She couldn't put her finger on it, except to notice he was more subdued.
Max closed the book and laid it on the nightstand. Ryan reached up and wound his arms around Max's neck. "G'night, Dad."
Max leaned away and brushed his son's sandy hair across his brow. "Night."
The scene almost brought tears to Tessa's eyes. Max's love was so evident, his sense of responsibility so complete.
As Max rose from the bed and moved toward the doorway, she went to the head of the bed, gave Ryan a hug and kissed his cheek. "Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning."
"Hey, Dad, do we have blueberries and everything else Tessa needs?"
"Sure do."
Whenever she visited, she made blueberry pancakes for Ryan. It was one of the few things she cooked on a regular basis. He always ate at least three. That's why she'd given him the nickname "pancake." She tossed him a grin and a thumbs-up sign and followed Max down the stairs.
"Another piece of pizza?" Max asked with a nod toward the kitchen.
"Sounds good. Pizza's rare where I've been lately."
While Max warmed a few pieces in the microwave, he stared out the window into the dark yard.
Tessa guessed he was thinking about the meeting with Ryan's teacher. "It won't do much good to worry."
He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's what parents do. And when there's only one parent—"
"You do a good job, Max."
"Apparently not good enough." The timer went off on the microwave. He transferred the dish to the table.
She doubted if anything she said could say could change his mind right now. After she poured two cups of coffee, she carried them to the table. "What do you have planned for tomorrow?"
"Ryan and I sometimes go to the roller-skating rink on Sunday afternoons."
"That sounds like fun." She sat and took a bite out of her pizza. The cheese strung out and fell down her chin.
Max caught it with his thumb. When the pad of his finger slipped along her skin, tingles chased each other up her neck, and nine long years seemed to fall away.
Max leaned back against his chair and wiped his thumb on his napkin, as if he'd just wiped Ryan's chin. "You haven't gone skating for a while?"
Apparently he did not feel the same sensations she did when they touched. He had been so in love with Leslie and probably still was. "Not since college. Leslie and I went with a group from the dorm."
"It's hard for me to imagine you two as roommates, let alone best friends. You were so different."
They certainly were. Leslie was silk and lace and perfume. Tessa was jeans and cotton and fresh air, if she had anything to say about it. Still Max's comparison unsettled her, although she'd often made it herself. Rooming with Leslie at college, Tessa had always been amazed at how different the two of them were yet how well they'd always gotten along. When they'd decided to accept jobs at the resort in the Poconos the summer after graduation, they'd both been excited about it. After all, in the fall, Tessa would be working as an intern on a morning show in New York City and Leslie would be returning to her hometown of Jenkins to work in her father's insurance office. That summer, Max had been employed at the resort, too, in the business office while he looked for a teaching position. As girl Friday for the manager, Tessa had run into him often and they'd begun dating. But then she'd had her focus set on being a foreign correspondent and...freedom. After she'd broken up with Max and left for New York City, he and Leslie had begun e-mailing. And the rest, as they say, was history.
Finishing her pizza quickly, Tessa dumped her coffee into the sink and rinsed the mug. "I'm going to head up to bed or Ryan won't get his pancakes until afternoon."
Max tossed the napkins into the trash. "We have to make the bed. I don't have sheets under the spread."
She smiled. "To cut down on housekeeping?"
He shrugged. "Mrs. Clark stripped it before she left. I never bothered to remake it. I guess I hadn't thought ahead to your arrival."
"It seems funny to be staying here," Tessa mused, wondering if that's what was making the difference in her awareness of Max.
He nodded but didn't say how he felt about it. But that wasn't unusual. Max rarely expressed how he felt, except where Ryan was concerned.
As Max pulled the sheets from the linen closet in the hall, Tessa went to the spare room with the slanted ceiling. Peach flowered curtains spilled around the windows and matched the spread she tugged from the bed. Leslie had loved to decorate, to mix and match colors. And she'd been a flower lover. Almost all the drapes and upholstery in the house were pastel flowers of some kind. Tessa liked swirls and patterns and bolder colors.
When Max came into the bedroom, the space seemed to diminish. Tessa looked at him, really seeing the man he'd become for the first time in years.
When she'd first met him, he'd been sexy, good-looking, and a former basketball player who knew what he wanted from life—a teaching position, a home, a wife, children and a stability Tessa couldn't begin to fathom. Now she saw a strong man whose strength came from the depth of his convictions, decency and caring—a man who loved his son and still believed in traditional values.
Tessa knew she was strong, too. She'd had to be, being shuffled from one foster home to another. But tradition didn't mean much to her. How could it when she never seemed to fit in to her surroundings? When tradition had only been something she'd experienced in storybooks.
Max shook out the sheet and flipped it over the expanse of the mattress. Tessa caught the edge and her gaze met his across the bed. Was he remembering the summer they'd spent together? The walks? The kisses that had made her wonder what she was giving up when she left him? And she had left him. If it had been his choice...
Feeling deep regret, Tessa lowered her gaze and pulled the corner of the sheet over the mattress. When she stooped, the ring on a chain around her neck swung free.
Max came to the foot of the bed. "Is that from someone special?"
She automatically reached for the circle of gold and protectively covered it with her thumb. "Not in the way you mean." Realizing she was being silly, she slowly took her hand from the ring, letting it dangle.
After she and Max had broken up and she'd found her niche with work and started traveling a lot, she'd decided to wear her mother's ring on a chain around her neck to keep it safe. She'd never discussed her background with Max in any detail...never wanted to revisit her childhood with anyone...not even with Max or Leslie.
Max stepped closer until he was in front of her, until she could see the buttonholes on his flannel shirt. He lifted the small antique-looking band set with opals. "In what way? I don't remember ever seeing this before."
"It was my mother's," she told him.
His brows hiked up. "I never thought you were the sentimental type."
Just what "type" did he think she was? She was afraid she knew.
The only explanation she had was, "It's all I have that was hers. She put it on my thumb the morning she left."
His gaze filled with compassion. "You never told me about that. I guess I thought you were abandoned as a baby. How old were you?"
His compassion unnerved her, and she wanted to run. "Seven. If I'd been abandoned as a baby, I might have been adopted." To her dismay, the loneliness was there for him to hear. She'd thought she'd discarded it along with her knee-high socks. She was a journalist who could ask tough questions and turn a spotlight on anyone's life—except her own.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, "Did you look for your mother?"
"As soon as I got my first job in New York and could hire a P.I." Tessa remembered her disappointment, her hurt and her anger when the man had given her the information she'd sought. "She'd died five years before in a woman's shelter from pneumonia. I guess she never managed to pick herself up."
"I'm sorry. That must have been a shock."
"It was. I guess I always hoped some day I'd find her and have a mother...some sense of permanency. But it wasn't to be. At least I know she was never in a position to take care of me, so she couldn't get me back even if she'd wanted to."
"I'm sure she wanted to."
Tessa had wondered about that all of her life and hoped it was true.
"So why do you do it?" Max asked.
His question seemed out of context. "What?"
"Keep hopping from one place to another. You call London your home base, but you're only there a few weeks at a time, if that long. You've had so much moving around in your life. Why don't you put down roots?"
She could tell him she didn't know how to belong. She could tell him she was afraid to keep still because so many people had abandoned her, including Leslie. But she didn't. She'd decided long ago not to feel sorry for herself, to take control of her own life and make it what she wanted it to be.
"When I was a kid, Max, I didn't have choices. My mother made one for me, so did the human services department each time they didn't know what to do with me. When I graduated from high school, I decided I'd go where I wanted to go, be where I wanted to be. With cable news channels and twenty-four hour feeds, all the online news websites now, someone is always interested in what I write or where I am or an interview I'm taping...if I'm in an interesting place."
He said gruffly, "You made it clear to me when you left for New York after our summer together you always intended to be in an interesting place."
He'd never brought it up before. Neither had she. They'd both gone on with their lives. Max had gotten to know Leslie and had loved her as deeply as a man could love a woman. Tessa was sure of it. With Max, Leslie had found her vocation and career, being a wife and mother. And Tessa... Tessa had known herself well enough to know she'd needed freedom of choice, freedom of space, freedom to grow, all on her own terms because she'd been trapped by the system for so long. She'd never resented Leslie's marriage to Max. She'd been glad they'd found each other and built a life together.
But now being here with Max, in his house, had stirred up feelings she'd thought were buried if not gone. In some ways, her life was no different now than it had been nine years ago. She still needed her work—it was the major force in her life. As far as romantic relationships were concerned, her one try in the midst of a foreign uprising had failed badly. So that left her where she'd always been—with a few good friends...but on her own.
Lifting the ring, she dropped it back inside her blouse.
Max watched the soft material mold to her breasts as it settled into place.
Stooping to tuck the sheet along the side of the bed, Tessa realized that in nine years nothing had changed. As he returned to his side of the bed, she knew Max understood that, too.
***
Tessa worked in the kitchen Monday afternoon, humming along to her iPod. She didn't dislike cooking. She simply didn't have much experience doing it. She usually ate on the run, tossed a salad, picked up something wherever she happened to be. But there was no reason she couldn't throw together a dinner so Max wouldn't have to worry about it.
Max. When he stepped too close, when they laughed together as they had yesterday at the roller rink, she'd felt young, gauche, unnerved. But it didn't matter. She'd be gone in a week. Tessa put the roast in the oven and wrapped potatoes in tinfoil. She was making a salad when the phone rang. She pulled out her ear buds and answered it.
"Tessa?" an elderly woman asked.
"Yes, this is Tessa. Can I help you?"
The older woman's voice trembled. "This is Flo Duffrey. Next door. Max always says if I need anything..."
Tessa knew Max's neighbor. She'd spoken to her now and then on her visits. She'd seen Flo yesterday evening walking her little dog Scruffy and had chatted for a short while.
"Sure, Flo. How can I help you?"
"I fell and hurt my arm. Thank goodness, I'd already made my pies for the church bake sale this morning. I can't get hold of my daughter. If you could just take me to the emergency room in New Haven..."
"I'll be right over." Tessa checked her watch. She could make it to New Haven and back and still be on time for her appointment with Max. She was sure of it.
Chapter Two
Traffic had been horrendous! Rattled because she was late, Tessa parked in the school's lot. In her hurry to leave Max's house, she'd remembered to turn down the oven, but had forgotten her cell phone. She would have called him from the hospital, but she really thought she could get here on time. She would have been on time if it hadn't been for the road construction.
Pushing her hair back from her face, she climbed from her rental car, wondering how Flo was faring. The ER had been a madhouse and Flo hadn't yet been X-rayed when Tessa left. She hadn't wanted to leave Max's neighbor there alone. But her daughter had finally arrived and Tessa had dashed out.
Running up the steps to the school, Tessa pulled open the glass door and felt like a child again. A few paces into the hall, she stopped and involuntarily shivered. After-school silence was unnatural. The halls seemed to echo with muffled children's voices.
The school corridors were shadowy. Despite artwork hanging on bulletin boards splashed with fall colors, she remembered not laughter and academic successes, but taunts of children dressed better than she and stern voices that seemed to control her destiny. She'd sat in a hallway like this one after a day in second grade while the principal called her mother. Or tried to call her mother. The principal had been a man, taller than the tallest tree or so it had seemed to a second grader. Tessa hadn't known how to tell him she and her mother had been living in their car for a week.
The authorities had never found her mother. Tessa had never known her father. The ring was her only memento of family. Social workers over the years had told her her mother must have loved her very much to give her up so she could be cared for properly. Tessa had preferred to believe that. It was the only way she'd survived in the children's home, in the foster homes where the authorities had placed her.
Her sneakers squeaked on the tile as she rushed to Ryan's classroom, grateful Max had given her directions to it. She pushed away painful memories.
Max stood in front of the door in his navy suit, his arms crossed over his chest, looking fierce enough to make her want to turn around and go back to the hospital with Flo.
"Where have you been?" he asked in a low voice. Before she could answer, he went on, "You knew what time we were meeting Mrs. Bartlett." His gaze flicked up and down her sweatshirt and jeans, her wind-tossed hair. "Or did something more important come up? The least you could have done was call."
She would have told him why she was late and about the roast and her phone, but he was condemning her without a trial. She kept her temper in check and asked evenly, "Did you start yet?"
"No! You said you wanted to be included. Mrs. Bartlett has been gracious enough to wait but—"
"Then let's not keep her any longer than necessary," Tessa suggested smoothly as she slipped by Max into the classroom.
He followed but glared at her while she introduced herself to the teacher and sat in one of the chairs provided in front of the desk. She made a point of not looking around the room and not getting involved in her surroundings.
The middle-aged teacher with the pleasant smile said to Tessa, "Mr. Winthrop tells me you're a close friend of the family."
Mrs. Bartlett's hair was auburn, swingy and chin-length, her suit lime green. "That's right. Is there anything I can do to help Ryan?"
"Needless to say, Mr. Winthrop asked me that same question. He says he's tried talking with Ryan. And I've tried talking with Ryan to find out if something is troubling him."
Tessa crossed then uncrossed her legs. Out of the corner of her eye, Max was watching her restlessness with a frown. "You don't think this is a learning problem?" she asked the teacher while she willed herself to relax.
Mrs. Bartlett leaned forward. "We could have him tested for learning disabilities. But sometimes his work is up to par and his attention is focused. Others— He seems distracted more than anything else." She sighed. "This might not be complicated at all."
Tessa became involved in what Mrs. Bartlett was saying and forgot about where she was. "I don't understand."
"Some children can be disrupted easily. They could watch a monster cartoon, get frightened and be afraid to go to sleep every night for a year until they grow out of the fear."
Tessa certainly understood childhood fears...and nightmares.
"And you think it's something like that with Ryan?" Max asked.
"I don't know. But with Ryan losing his mother, all kinds of fears could be bothering him." She explained to Tessa, "At the start of the school year, Mr. Winthrop told me he's talked to Ryan about his mother being in heaven, being an angel now and watching over them both. And Ryan seems to accept that. But you never know what goes on in a child's mind."
"So what can we do?" Tessa was a purpose-oriented person and she wanted something concrete to tackle.
Mrs. Bartlett looked down at her notes for a moment. "We could bring the school counselor in on this, but my instinct is that Ryan won't be any more open with her than he is with me." She looked up. "He needs someone he already knows."
"But not me," Max said grimly.
"As a teacher, Mr. Winthrop, you and I both know a parent can be too close to a situation. How often have the boys you've coached or the students you teach opened up to you?"
Max thought about it and nodded. "You're right. They tell me things they'd never tell their parents. Still, I want to be the one Ryan trusts."
"You can support him. You can be there when he needs you. Ms. Kahill, I understand you're in and out of Ryan's life like a favorite aunt."
"Yes. Some visits are longer than others."
"I don't know how much time you have to spend with Ryan right now, but maybe encouraging him to share what happens at school, what he's thinking, what he's feeling, might give us a clue as to what's going on with him."
"Of course, I'll try. I wish I could do more." She felt Max's gaze on her.
"Maybe this is my fault for not dating, for not having a woman around," Max said.
He was taking the whole burden on his shoulders. Tessa wished she could put her arms around him, give him a much-needed hug and tell him none of this was his fault. "I'd imagine it would have to be the right woman, Max."
He shot her a surprised look. "I wouldn't have anyone around Ryan who wasn't right."
"I just meant you can't date to find the right person for you and expect Ryan to get along with each one."
"I certainly wouldn't be parading women in and out. You know me better than that."
He was still obviously annoyed with her for being late, and she was making matters worse. She glanced at Mrs. Bartlett. The woman was watching them speculatively, and that made Tessa feel awkward.
"Mr. Winthrop, there's no one answer. Just listen to Ryan carefully. Let him elaborate on anything he wants to talk about."
"What about the problem he's having with not making friends?" Max asked.
Tessa nodded. "At the roller-skating rink, he wanted to stay with us instead of skating with children he knew. Is that normal?"
"He probably feels more secure with you. Encourage him to play with other children. Maybe invite some of his classmates over. If he's on home turf, he might feel more self-confident to interact."
When the conference was over, Tessa's surroundings began to close in on her, but she did her best to ignore the school smells of floor wax, disinfectant and chalk, the sight of frosted classroom door windows, the books stacked on a cafeteria-style table outside a classroom as she walked down the hall trying to keep up with Max's long-legged stride. Instead, she concentrated on Ryan and his problems that could become more serious if they weren't dealt with now. Would it make a difference if she stayed in Jenkins longer than a week?
When they reached the parking lot, she stopped at Max's car instead of going to hers. "I'm sorry I was late, Max. You know I wouldn't have missed this meeting."
"Do I? For all I know you could have gotten a phone call and taken off for Africa."
She took a step back. "I wouldn't do that to Ryan."
"I'm never sure how your priorities stack up."
"I love Ryan and want to help him."
Max studied her, searching. His eyes darkened, and she wondered what he was thinking.