Книга - A Family For Daniel

A Family For Daniel
Anna DeStefano


A family for them all?Ten-year-old Daniel has had a rough year. His mother's unexpected death has landed him in a small South Carolina town, in the custody of his uncle, elementary school principal Joshua White. Josh is a pro when it comes to dealing with other people's kids, but he can't get through to Daniel.The only other child in the school who's having a worse time is Daniel's classmate Becky. Her mother, Amy Loar, left a troubled marriage and is now fighting to rebuild her career in Atlanta while Becky stays with her grandmother in Sweetbrook.Amy and Josh were friends as teenagers…with a hint of something more. Now they find themselves thrown together as they try to help Becky and Daniel. Coming together as a family would be the best thing for the children–but can Amy ever trust a man again?









Josh stepped into the closet


He grinned when he found Amy still stretched out on the floor. “Comfy down there?” he asked.



“Seems I have a knack for sending Daniel running.” She struggled to her feet, struggled not to need the reassurance she got just from being close to him.



Facing the world alone was something she was getting good at. What she’d told herself she wanted. But the world was tougher to handle by the hour. And being around Josh so much was making alone feel a lot more lonely.



He offered his hand, and nothing could have kept her from taking it.



“You’re a miracle worker.” The warmth radiating from his touch held her captive. “I’ve been trying to get Daniel out of here for an hour.”



The professional principal and the friend from her youth were nowhere to be found at the moment. All Amy could see was the ruggedly handsome man before her. A concerned, caring man who’d do anything to help his nephew. The man she’d forced herself to turn away from just hours earlier.



What would it feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around her?



It would feel like a really bad idea, she warned herself.


Dear Reader,



Through programs like Stephen Ministries and Rainbows, I’ve been privileged over the years to walk alongside parents and children struggling to rebuild their lives after a family has come undone. What is lost when a marriage fails or a parent dies is not just the family that was known, but also the future that was dreamed of. And what’s left behind are single parents and children who are grieving, and who are often overwhelmed by the simple question, What do I do now?



Single parents are some of the strongest, most courageous people I’ve ever met. Their lives are filled with private battles, daily failures and victories that the outside world rarely sees. And yet they keep fighting, conquering one day at a time until they’ve made a new life for themselves and the children they cherish.



While the challenges facing my hero and heroine as they create A Family for Daniel are fictional, I pray I’ve done justice to the real single mothers and fathers out there who are fighting daily for the special kids in their lives. God bless you all!



Anna DeStefano




A Family for Daniel

Anna DeStefano





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Jan, Brenda and Julie, who’ve shown me the everyday sacrifice, courage and strength required to be a single working mother.



And to Dianna Love Snell and the power of road-trip brainstorming. I thank you, and Daniel thanks you.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


LIFE JUST SUCKED sometimes.

That’s what Daniel’s psy…psychol… That’s what the stupid doctor his uncle made him talk to said. Life could suck, for kids most of all. But when you get through the bad stuff, Dr. Steve said, there’s a world of good things waiting on the other side.

Just wait and see.

Life will get better.

Trudging down the hallway of White Elementary School, headed for the principal’s office for the second time that week, Daniel rolled his eyes. Dr. Steve didn’t have a clue.

Daniel had to get out of this place. But where? Where did he have to go? Back to his uncle’s home? There was only there or here, which left Daniel exactly where he’d been for the last four months.

Nowhere.

Forget Dr. Steve.

There was no bright side just around the corner.

Daniel’s mother was dead. His chest heaved from the sharp pain that came, even as he shoved the memory aside. His dad had split years ago, never to be heard from again. Living in Sweetbrook, South Carolina, with his uncle wasn’t working, no matter how hard Daniel tried.

Life just sucked. Period.

He turned left at the end of the hall and shuffled into the bustling school office. His sneaker caught as he stepped from the tiled floor onto carpet. Arms and legs flailing, he managed not to fall on his face. Barely. But now every person in the room was staring at him, when what he really wanted was to be invisible.

“Have a seat.” Mrs. Lyons pointed to the ugly couch the kids called death row. “Principal White’s expecting you, but he’s on the phone.”

Mrs. Lyons had worked here for over forty years, he’d heard. She’d worked here when his uncle was in elementary school. Rumor had it his uncle had done his own time on death row. Maybe she’d pointed that same bony finger at him. Maybe she’d stared him down like he was trouble, too.

Probably not. What could his perfect, by-the-book uncle have done to match the mess Daniel made out of school every day?

He dropped onto the couch and gave Mrs. Lyons his best glare. He kept right on staring, until she looked away. He knew exactly what she was thinking. What they were all thinking—the teachers and everyone. He’d heard them talking when they didn’t think he was listening. He’d seen the looks on their faces, just like the one on Mrs. Lyons’s now. And he hated them all. Hated their nosey questions, the way they pretended to understand….

He’s always been such an angry little boy…. But he could be such a good student. Before his mother’s accident, he was starting to settle in…. It’s just so sad! And his poor uncle…can you imagine trying to deal with a troubled child he barely knows on top of everything else?

What did they know?

What did he care?

“Daniel.” The door to the principal’s office opened. As usual, the man was wearing freshly pressed dress clothes, plus the frown he didn’t even try to hide from Daniel anymore. “Ready to step inside?”

Daniel decided staring at his shoes was a better plan. Not because he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid of anything in this nowhere town. Adults found unresponsive kids annoying, Dr. Steve had told him, and being annoying suited Daniel just fine today. He reached a finger down to tug at the hole in the trashed sneakers his uncle had forbidden him to wear to school.

“Daniel? In my office. Now.”



PRINCIPAL JOSHUA WHITE shut the office door as ten-year-old Daniel threw himself into the guest chair that was practically his second home.

Shrugging off a wave of discouragement he couldn’t afford, Josh rounded his desk, giving the scared, defiant kid dressed in jeans and a dirt-smudged T-shirt his space. Josh remained standing as he reread his notes from the phone call he’d just concluded with Becky Reese’s grandmother, Gwen Loar.

Becky and Daniel had mixed it up in class again today, and according to their fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cole, Becky had instigated their latest tussle. Then Daniel had taken things way too far, as usual. Before Mrs. Cole could intervene, the confrontation had escalated into classroom warfare, complete with the kids throwing anything they could lay their hands on at each other.

Josh and the girl’s grandmother had discussed Becky’s role in the altercation, trying to formulate a plan for better settling her into her new school. For compensating for the fact that a month ago Amy Loar had shipped the little girl off to live with Grandma, so Mom could dedicate 24/7 to her career in Atlanta.

Amy Loar.

Josh’s memory produced an image of his childhood friend. Dazzling in white, her auburn hair a soft cloud of tousled curls, she was smiling at him from across the dance floor at their senior prom. Somehow she’d blossomed from his pal since kindergarten into the most beautiful girl in the room. A girl he’d suddenly wished he hadn’t wasted so many years being just friends with.

After graduation, they’d left for their separate colleges, and their friendship should have slowly faded away.

If only it had been so simple.

Amy had always been ambitious. Growing up poor in the South had left its mark on her, and she’d been determined to do better. To be better. To ensure that she and her mother never again went without anything they needed. He’d always admired her beauty, brains and ambition. Right up until the moment she’d produced a big city fiancé who Josh had known instinctively was all wrong for her.

And how had he handled the situation? He’d done the unforgivable, made an ass out of himself, and they hadn’t spoken since.

She’d achieved her success, he’d heard. She’d carved out the dream life she’d wanted. Except her wealthy husband was out of the picture now. And as far as Josh could remember, being divorced and a single parent to boot hadn’t been part of Amy’s plans.

He refocused on his young visitor, shoving aside the unwanted trip down memory lane. It was April in South Carolina, and the kids in school were beside themselves with spring fever. All of them but this child. A study in shaggy blond hair and intelligent green eyes, Daniel sat sprawled in his chair, digging at the monstrous hole in the toe of his right sneaker. No doubt waiting for Josh to make the first move, so the kid could ignore him some more.

Well, let him wait a little longer. Nothing else had worked. Not exactly what they taught you at principal school, but it was worth a shot. Josh continued to flip through his notes, still standing.

“So?” Daniel finally sputtered, making eye contact for the first time.

Josh sat as if he was in no particular hurry to get to the point. He exchanged Becky Reese’s file for Daniel’s even weightier one. He didn’t have to read through his notes. He knew Daniel’s issues by heart: the struggles to conform and get along in the classroom; the confusion; the emotional explosions that so quickly built from simple disappointments. And the kid internalized each failure, each bit of negative feedback, making it that much more difficult for him to try the next time.

“So.” Josh braced his elbows on the desk. “You and Becky got together this morning and decided to toss your classroom?”

Daniel shrugged and picked some more at shoes that looked like last year’s Salvation Army rejects. “She started it,” he mumbled.

“Someone else always does.”

Josh shifted his shoulders, shrugging off the lingering weight of his own personal failures. The guilt still remained from the mistakes he’d made the last few years. The relationships he hadn’t been able to save. But he was learning to let the past go and focus on making the best of now.

At least that was the plan.

But helping a child as angry as Daniel understand that loss and crushing defeat were just part of the game was a different story. What could he say that wouldn’t sound like a bunch of psychological hooey?

Welcome to the club, kid. Life bites the big one. Get used to it.

He gave his head a mental thunk.

“We’ve talked about throwing things in the classroom,” he said. “We can’t keep you with the other kids if we have to worry about one of them getting brained with a book—” he flipped through Daniel’s file “—or your backpack. Or your shoe—”

“I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re down here almost every day, and you don’t get along with any of your classmates—especially Becky Reese.”

“She’s a pain in the—”

“She’s not your problem.”

“She said—”

“She said that your mom was as big a loser as hers.” Josh sighed. “Mrs. Cole told me, and I just got off the phone with Becky’s grandmother. The girl owes you an apology, but you can’t completely lose it every time someone mentions your mother. You and your therapist have talked about that.”

“Good old Dr. Steve.”

Cynicism sounded god-awful coming out of the mouth of a ten-year-old.

“If you can’t keep it together with the other kids in class—”

“No one talks bad about my mom.”

“Having temper tantrums isn’t the answer.” Josh was as disturbed as Daniel by what the little girl had said. It made him want to throw things himself, when up until a few months ago he’d been a pro at keeping his emotions and his job separate.

Everyone at school, including the kids, knew what Daniel had been through—at least part of it. A year ago, he’d come to them an unhappy child, after his mother moved them to Sweetbrook, a place Daniel had never seen before. Then she’d died in a single-vehicle car accident on New Year’s Eve while driving under the influence. Rumors had spread in the four months since that perhaps she’d aimed for that telephone pole, after all, leaving folks in the community to pity even more the lost little boy left behind.

Sweetbrook might be small and antiquated by most standards, but tiny South Carolina communities took care of their own. People wanted to give Daniel the break he deserved. Everyone except Becky. From her first day in school, the child had seemed hell-bent on baiting Daniel with the one thing she knew would hurt him the most—trash-talking the boy’s mother right along with her own.

Damn Amy Loar for dumping her problems in Sweetbrook, while she kicked back and did whatever she was doing in Atlanta.

“I know Sweetbrook has been a bum deal for you,” Josh said with care. Sounding soothing and understanding was tough, when he understood next to nothing these days. “Moving here to be near family you don’t know. Starting over. Then losing your mom the way you did.”

Daniel’s scowl rearranged itself into something fiercer. Something near tears.

Josh’s chest burned. “But you have to keep your hands and things to yourself if you want to stay in school.”

“When did this become about what I want? I don’t want to be in trouble all the time, but that’s what keeps happening.” The kid looked up then, his green eyes glistening. “Maybe everyone would be better off if I wasn’t here.”

“That’s not an option, Daniel.”

Josh refused to let it be. He watched resignation crowd out the grief on Daniel’s face, and he knew exactly how the boy felt. The situation everyone in Sweetbrook expected Josh to handle like a pro was speeding from bad to worse with each passing day.

He’d grilled the Family Services caseworker assigned to Daniel after his mother’s death. He’d read every book available on dealing with kids with Daniel’s issues. Josh was using all the tools at his disposal to help the little boy believe he was wanted. That he belonged here. That he could succeed. But the demons that drove Daniel to strike out every time someone got too close, every time the vulnerability he tried to hide swam to the surface, were unfortunately about so much more than losing his mother.

Josh’s well-thought-out plans to help Daniel weren’t making a dent. The boy’s behavior was defying every logical step Josh took, just as his ex-wife’s had, when she’d left to build the life she’d wanted away from him and Sweetbrook.

“It’s going to get better, you know,” he finally said, following Dr. Steve Rhodes’s lead, even though the words sounded ridiculously shallow. Maybe if Josh kept saying them, he could will the platitude into reality.

Daniel’s total lack of reaction announced that the kid wasn’t born yesterday.

Josh checked his copy of Mrs. Cole’s schedule. “Your class is at recess. You think you and Becky can retire to neutral corners until the end of the day?”

A mumble and a shrug were all he got in response.

“Give it your best shot.” Josh stood and walked around the desk, his stomach tightening at the realization of just how close he was to losing Daniel to whatever dark place he’d gone to after his mother’s death. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

He reached to smooth Daniel’s bangs out of his eyes. The boy flinched, and Josh dropped his hand, fresh out of next steps.

Daniel inched to his feet, putting more space between them.

Josh let him go, like a principal should. He stared at his dress shoes, forcing his hands to stay in his pockets, when everything in him wanted to pull the lonely child close and hug it all better.

As if that had worked every other time he’d tried.

It was some kind of sick cosmic joke that he was Daniel’s best shot at a normal life now. The kid needed love so badly, and neither one of them knew how to make sure he got it.

“Hey, buddy,” he rushed to say as the ten-year-old reached the door. He hated the strained silence between them, almost as much as he hated the thought of Daniel leaving his office in worse emotional shape than when he’d come in. “Hot dogs for dinner again tonight?”

He held his breath, praying Dr. Rhodes hadn’t been blowing sunshine up his ass when he’d said to play the intense times loose and easy.

Daniel looked back, his eyes too old, too lost, and so much like his mother’s the last time Josh had seen her.

The last time he’d seen his baby sister.

“Sure.” The ten-year-old yanked open the door, his bored expression an improvement over the wariness that had been there just a moment ago. “Why not?”

Josh watched his nephew amble through the outer office and disappear down the hall.

What the hell do I do now?

He’d asked himself the same question once before, when his wife had filed for divorce two years ago.

A decade into marriage, Josh had blissfully assumed he had the world under control. Granted, they’d had trouble getting pregnant. But with his family’s money, they could have hired the best specialists in the world. They could have kept trying. But one day out of the blue, Lisa’s bags were packed and she announced she’d been accepted to law school in New York. That she wanted more than what they had together. Namely, a life of her own that didn’t include him, his agenda for getting her pregnant and his dream of raising a family in the small town he’d grown up in.

One minute he was standing in their living room listening to Lisa recite everything he’d never understood she needed, the next she was gone. And for the first time in his life, he’d had no idea what to do next.

Just like now.

Ruthlessly philanthropic, Josh gave away by the handful the White family fortune that had never bought him an ounce of peace, supporting organizations in the area that needed the money far more than he did. He was organized, compassionate and hardworking, even progressive by Sweetbrook standards. He could educate the one-hundred-and-fifty kids in his school like nobody’s business. But none of that had won him points as a husband. His wife’s unhappiness and longing for a different life had gone unnoticed and unchecked until it was too late. He’d made a mess out of loving her.

And now he was making a mess out of caring for his sister’s troubled child.



“I KNOW BECKY’S NOT HAPPY there, Mama.” Amy Loar rested her head in her hands, her elbows atop the Kramer Industries files that would take her the rest of the night to organize for tomorrow’s meeting. It was only Wednesday, but she’d already billed forty hours to her client’s account that week. She had at least another forty to go. “I’d give anything to have her here with me.”

She fingered the heart-shaped pendant dangling from the chain around her neck. Last year’s Christmas present from Becky, back before things with Richard had exploded one time too many. Amy never took the necklace off now. It reminded her why she was doing all this.

“I hate to say it, because I know it’s impossible for you to get away,” her mother replied pensively. Amy could almost picture Gwen. Her close-cropped graying hair, originally the same dark red as Amy’s, was always finger-combed into an unruly mess by this time of night. “But Becky needs you, honey.”

Gwen Loar never meddled. She never passed judgment nor laid blame. So the touch of disapproval in her voice told Amy how dicey things were getting in Sweetbrook. Becky was staying with her grandmother temporarily, while Amy moved them from their pricey Buckhead condo into a two-bedroom apartment closer to her job in midtown. While she fought to get their lives back on track.

Gwen’s tiny house, her life in Sweetbrook, had once been a slice of heaven for Amy. But growing up poor in the rural South had left a lot to be desired. For as long as she could remember, she’d longed to get out, to do better, to snatch for herself a speck of the security everyone around her took for granted.

So she’d earned her scholarships and attended college in Atlanta, only to meet wealthy, sophisticated, ten-years-her-senior Richard Reese during her junior year. At the time, he’d seemed the answer to all her dreams—a charming, successful man offering her marriage into a world she’d never dreamed of. But all dreams come with a price.

Now she was hoping the small-town life she’d turned her back on would work its magic on her daughter. If only Becky would give it a chance.

Just hold on for a little while longer, honey. I’ll make everything up to you.

Amy checked the clock at the corner of her computer monitor and winced. It was almost nine. She’d meant to call home hours ago.

She forced herself to stop wilting into her desk chair, and smoothed a manicured hand across her wrinkled expensive silk blouse. Her career uniform. One more tool she needed to get her where she wanted to be.

“Put Becky on the phone,” she said to her mother. “Let her vent about what happened at school today. Blaming me for everything for a while will do her some good.”

“I’ve tried to get her to talk.” Gwen’s sigh sounded like it came from her toes. “I tried all afternoon. But she headed straight to her bedroom after school and locked her door until dinner. She’s finally asleep. I don’t think it’s a good idea to wake her and start things all over again. Maybe you could be here when she gets up in the morning? You could talk with her before the bus comes—”

“I can’t come home right now, Mama.”

“It’s only a four-hour drive.”

“I have the Kramer Industries sign-off meeting at three tomorrow afternoon. We’re finalizing the proposal with the senior management.”

She was a project leader for Atlanta’s high-profile Enterprise Consulting Group, a position she’d had to fight for after her divorce. The partners had finally agreed to give her this shot, and the Kramer account was going to land her the manager slot she’d declined three years running at Richard’s urging. The promotion came with an immediate bonus and a hefty increase in her annual salary. And tomorrow’s meeting was the last step before they presented the contract to the CEO in a few weeks.

“I can’t pull out now for personal reasons,” she said, trying to drown out the second thoughts that she never completely silenced. She was going to secure this promotion. She and her daughter were going to finally have some peace. “Phillip Hutchinson’s watching me like a hawk. I have to stay on top of this project.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Even though her mother sounded disappointed, her voice rang with the support and encouragement Amy had always depended on.

Simple, solid, no-nonsense living and unconditional love. Those were Gwen’s gifts. The very gifts Amy prayed could break through her daughter’s anger and confusion.

Gwen knew firsthand the sacrifices required of single mothers. Amy’s father had died when she was just a baby, and Gwen had worked three part-time jobs some years to keep them off food stamps.

But she hadn’t been able to soften the blow of having so little in a world where everyone else seemed to effortlessly have more. So Amy had busted her butt making something of herself, vowing to build a better life for them both. And that’s exactly what she’d done, even though Gwen had refused every offer Amy made to share her and Richard’s financial success.

Her house was paid for, Gwen had argued. Her needs were simple. She had some savings, and she was still a part-time teller at Sweetbrook’s one and only bank. Unlike Amy, she hadn’t wanted more, as much as she’d wanted what she already had.

“I wish I had another solution, Mama. But I need this promotion. I don’t mind giving up the condo, the car or that fancy private school Richard insisted Becky attend. But I can’t afford to live in Atlanta on my current salary.”

“Then move back home,” her mother urged, as she had for months. “You two can stay with me until you find a job here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. And I can’t move Becky away from her friends for good and ask her to start over with nothing. Atlanta’s the only home she’s ever known. She wants to live here. I won’t rip her world apart any more than I already have.”

“There are worse things than having nothing, Amy.”

“Yes. There’s going back to Richard and asking him for money—”

“Of course you’re not going back to him!” her mother interjected.

For years, Amy had kept the details about her marriage secret from Gwen. But her mother knew every ugly bit of it now.

“I have to prove to my daughter that a woman really can support her family on her own,” Amy continued. “That Richard was dead wrong when he said we’d never make it without him.”

She’d never seen her husband as angry as the morning she’d worked up the nerve to leave him. He’d controlled her every move for years. What she thought, and wore, and did, and with whom. Even how much she was allowed to focus on her career, insisting she curtail her responsibilities at work after Becky was born.

She’d tried to make the best of things when her marriage began crumbling less than a year after their wedding. She’d done everything she could to pacify Richard and save her dream of a perfect life with her perfect husband, downplaying the escalating verbal and emotional abuse. It took the bastard striking her in front of their daughter before Amy had finally had enough.

Richard could have fought her for Becky. Considering his connections as a high-priced corporate attorney, he would have won. But his sights had been on a priority far more important to him than his daughter. If Amy would agree to his demands of no alimony and the minimum child support the law allowed, he’d let Becky go. The money would be paid lump-sum into a trust account for Becky’s college tuition, not to be touched until she was eighteen. In return, he’d concede full custody, and Amy and Becky would be on their own—then maybe they’d wise up and understand just how much they needed him.

“You’ll come back to me,” he’d said in front of Becky the last time they’d seen him. “Once you’re on your own and realize how tough the world is, maybe then you’ll have some appreciation for all I’ve given you.”

He’d set Amy up to fail, just for the satisfaction of watching her crawl back to him. And as usual, he hadn’t concerned himself with their daughter, except for how he could use Becky to control Amy.

“I’m going to make things work for Becky here in Atlanta,” Amy vowed to herself and her mother. “She needs to see me standing up to her father. She needs to understand that a woman doesn’t have to put up with the way he treated me to be financially secure. She was there all those years, Mama, when her father belittled me, and I just took it. She watched me be a doormat for the sake of holding on to a man who didn’t respect me. I can’t even imagine what that did to her.”

“But you’re working around the clock now,” Gwen reasoned. “What happens when the promotion comes through, and Becky moves back in with you? Will you have any more time to spend with her after you make manager?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” Whatever it took, Amy was going to be the strong woman her daughter needed her to be. Becky wasn’t growing up afraid.

“But if you moved back here—”

“There’s no work for me in Sweetbrook, Mama.”

Amy’s other phone line chirped at the same time that her computer dinged. She juggled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, checked the phone display and clicked the e-mail prompt with her mouse.

It was Phillip Hutchinson on both counts, Enterprise Consulting’s senior partner, and her personal slave driver.

She didn’t bother to read the body of the e-mail or pick up the call. Not a man to worry about the constructive use of anyone else’s time, Phillip Hutchinson didn’t stoop to discussing details until those he’d summoned had quick-stepped their way to his corner office. His two-pronged bid for Amy’s attention didn’t bode well.

“I’ve got to go.” She typed and sent a quick I’ll be right there response to the e-mail. “I’ll clear a few hours Saturday to come down for a day trip.”

“Joshua White wants to set up a meeting with you and Becky’s teacher on Friday—”

“Josh White no doubt thinks the entire world moves at the snail’s pace he runs his elementary school.” Amy winced at the bitchiness in her voice, rubbing her temples, where a headache was building.

No one listening would have guessed she was talking about the best friend she’d ever had. The friend she’d told to go to hell when he’d dared to judge her decision to marry Richard and leave Sweetbrook behind for good. The friend whose angry kiss had almost tempted her to change her mind.

“Honey, I really think you should talk with the man. He’s taken such a personal interest in Becky since she came here.”

“I know he has.”

Gwen had gone on and on about the time Josh was spending trying to make sure Becky settled into his school. He sounded like a bang-up principal. And before their friendship had imploded, he’d always been there for Amy. But why did he have to pick tonight of all nights to work her mother into a tizzy about Becky’s harmless antics at school? Wasn’t there something more important for the wealthiest man in town to be doing besides shoving Amy over the edge of sanity?

“I’m sorry to saddle you with all this, Mama. If there was any other way…”

“I love having Becky,” Gwen reassured her. “And she can stay as long as you need her to. But she thinks you’ve abandoned her. She needs to know that you want her with you, that you think this is the best place for her right now. That you care what’s going on at school.”

“I’ve told her how much I care. I tell her every time we talk.” Another e-mail message from Hutchinson dinged for her attention. The subject line read simply, NOW.

Amy e-mailed back a polite on my way, curbing the stream of obscenities she longed to spew at the man instead.

She was making compromises with her child she’d promised herself she’d never make. Her personal definition of hell. But sometimes a bad decision was the only alternative.

God forgive her if she was wrong.

“I’ve got to go, Mama.”

“You’ll call Becky tomorrow?” In her mother’s voice was that hint of the steel Amy had always admired.

Gwen was first and foremost a survivor.

Amy prayed nightly she could be half as strong.

“I’ll call tomorrow evening,” she said as she stacked the Kramer Industry papers, shuffling the files into order. “Tell Becky I love her, and that I know she’s going to do better with the other kids at school tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“So do I.” Amy closed her eyes against the doubt she couldn’t keep out of her voice. “I love you both.”

Her mother’s “I love you, too,” had barely sounded when her office door jerked open. Amy pushed to her feet and hung up the phone.

“Mrs. Ree— Ms. Loar.” Phillip Hutchinson frowned in displeasure at his continued difficulty keeping her name straight. Even though she’d legally changed it back to Loar the same day she’d signed her divorce papers, he was still having trouble calling her anything but Reese. “I’ve got the Kramer IT director on the phone, and he wants to discuss the payout schedule.”

“Those papers are right here.” She shuffled through her folders, wincing as the one she needed slid from under the others. Papers fluttered to the floor between her and the desk. “Um, why don’t you transfer the call down here?”

“Pick up what you need,” he said with a shake of his head. “Leave the rest. I already have Jed conferenced in on the speakerphone in my office. If you’re too overwhelmed to handle a client’s unexpected requests, maybe we need to get you some backup on this project.”

Amy returned the remaining folders to her desk with a slap and a cool stare.

She’d managed every detail of this project from day one. This was her baby, and no one was taking this opportunity away from her.

“I’ll be right there,” she said in as close to a civil tone as she could muster.

Mr. Hutchinson’s eyebrow twitched upward, then he turned to leave. One final glance behind him at the disorganized mess covering Amy’s normally immaculate desk told her he hadn’t missed a single detail.

“Damn it,” she muttered once he was out of earshot. She dropped to her knees to re-sort the five-year payout schedule for the computer system and HR applications she was determined Kramer Industries would purchase.

Damn Phillip Hutchinson. Damn Richard. And damn Josh White, while she was at it. Why couldn’t they just let her be? Why couldn’t they let her win for a change?

With fear of failing yet again nagging at her, she marched through her doorway and down the wide hall that doubled as offices for the executive secretaries.

Everything around her looked expensive. Smelled expensive. Mahogany furniture glistened. She caught the subtle aroma of the polish the cleaning crew applied to keep everything sparkling. State-of-the-art computers and other office systems dominated each work space. Even the exquisitely maintained potted plants atop the desks had been arranged to present just the right image.

This was where the powerful worked. The world of success to which Amy had always dreamed of being a part of. The Enterprise Consulting Group was where you wanted to entrust the future of your company’s computer systems and human resource applications. Yet every square inch of the place was a prison Amy had never seen coming.

She mentally squashed her introspection and the melancholy that always followed close behind. So what if she wanted to be anyone but herself right now. So what if she wanted to be anywhere but where she was, doing what she was doing.

She was going to make this work, and she was bagging her promotion. She and Becky were coming out on top this time. They were going to be safe and out of Richard’s control once and for all.

Unless you fail again, the little voice chimed in, right on cue.

No…not a chance. Not this time.

She was getting it right this time. Becky wasn’t going to pay the price for her mother’s mistakes. No matter what Amy had to sacrifice to get them through this.




CHAPTER TWO


“YES, MR. WESTING.” Amy nodded to herself, making adjustments to the project plan she was walking the Kramer Industries IT director through. “I’m confident your CEO will be more than pleased at the closing meeting on the thirtieth.”

She withdrew a spreadsheet from her folder and slid it across the desk toward Phillip Hutchinson. The senior partner’s slow nod as he reviewed the plans she’d sacrificed months of her life to produce, and his begrudging, “It all looks on target to me, Jed,” were as good as a standing ovation.

“Good.” Papers shuffled on Westing’s end of the line. “Now, let’s walk through the support contract again.”

“Yes, sir.” Amy dug out another set of papers. Lord, it felt incredible to be on top of her game. To be staring down the pressure and to have the right answer at every turn. To finally be in control of something, when the rest of her life was such a disaster.

“Let me fax you the schedule that details the two options.” She handed Mr. Hutchinson the paperwork. “Take a look at—”

The cell phone at her hip started doing the cha-cha.

She grabbed it, grateful beyond words that she’d remembered to turn the thing to Vibrate. At the top of Phillip Hutchinson’s list of meeting dos and don’ts was no, absolutely no, cell phone interruptions. But her cell was her connection with Becky and Gwen until she could bring her daughter back to Atlanta. Forget Hutchinson’s rules.

The man’s annoyed stare locked on to Amy. Her heart chose that moment to begin beating in her throat. She yanked the phone from her waistband, giving up any pretence of subtlety.

“Ms. Loar?” Mr. Hutchinson prodded.

The display revealed Sweetbrook’s area code, but it wasn’t her mother’s number.

“Ms. Loar!” he demanded under his breath.

Damn. What was it she’d been saying to Westing?

The phone buzzed in her hand.

Becky! Something must have happened. Was that the number for the Sweetbrook hospital?

“I’m sorry.” She passed her notes to Hutchinson. “I have to take this call.”

“I’m faxing you those support schedules now, Jed.” Hutchinson activated the fax machine at his elbow, his voice resonating professionalism. His eyes, however, raged with disapproval.

She forced herself to walk calmly from the room. She closed the door behind her and thumbed the Talk button on the still-shuddering phone, leaving her flawless spreadsheets, the countless hours she’d spent running and rerunning the Kramer numbers, to speak for themselves.

“Hello?” she said.

Please God, let Becky be okay.

“Hello?” an oddly familiar masculine voice echoed. “I was calling for Amy Loar… Reese. Amy Reese?”

“This is Amy Loar.” She garbled her words as she sank into every mother’s nightmare. Something might have happened to her child, and Amy was hundreds of miles away. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine,” the man reassured her. “I mean, not exactly—”

“Who is this?” She finally took a full breath, as the initial edge of panic receded.

“Amy, it’s Josh…. Joshua White.”

She stared at the phone, a rush of childhood memories consuming her.

There was Josh, smiling and forever young, surely the handsomest senior class president ever elected, delivering his valedictorian speech at their high school graduation. Voted most likely to succeed. Brilliant. The only son of a wealthy Southern family whose forefathers had founded Sweetbrook over two hundred years ago. Josh had been so far removed from the reality of Amy’s own childhood that the fact that they’d hooked up as kids and stayed friends through high school was still a mystery to more people than her.

And then she remembered the last time she’d seen him. His expression had darkened with disappointment, his voice angry and hurt as he passed his small-town judgment on her pending marriage to a man he didn’t think was good enough for her.

“You’re marrying him for all the wrong reasons,” he’d said. “He won’t make you happy.”

“And you’re an expert on me and what makes me happy,” she’d retorted.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at watching you throw the important things in your life away in your pursuit of success, yes.” His hands had shook as he cupped her cheek. “It makes me sad to see you putting so much faith in this guy and his money. His promises that this better life of his in Atlanta will make you happy. It makes me… It makes me want to show you what you could have if you came back to live in Sweetbrook.”

And before she’d known it, the anger in the eyes of the man she’d secretly had a crush on for years had heated into something new, something that felt as forbidden and thrilling as the kiss that had followed—

“I’m the principal of the elementary school in Sweetbrook,” Josh said in the here and now.

“I… I know who you are, Josh.” She checked her watch. “It’s ten o’clock at night. And I’m in an important meeting.”

“I see.” The friendly note drained from his voice. “Your mother mentioned you kept late hours at the office, but I thought by now you might have time to talk.”

“I’m trying to close a deal with an important client.” Amy’s cheeks singed at the censure she couldn’t believe she was hearing in his voice.

“What I’ve called to discuss about Becky is equally important, I assure you,” he reasoned, “or I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

As if taking time for her daughter was too much of a bother. Amy’s spine stiffened.

Maybe he had seen Richard for the snake he turned out to be long before she’d wised up. Maybe Josh had been right all along, that her big plans for her life in Atlanta wouldn’t make her happy. But he didn’t know her anymore. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the kind of trouble she was digging herself and Becky out of. Or how much she despised herself for each minute she couldn’t be with her child.

“How did you get this number?” she asked, biting back her favorite childhood label for him when he was being a pain—butthead.

“Gwen gave it to the school when she registered Becky. I have it here in your daughter’s file.” He was full-on Principal White now, his voice as formal and as superficially polite as hers. “Just at a glance, I’d say the behavior problems and incidents Becky’s racked up in just the month she’s been with us constitute an emergency by anyone’s standards. In case you weren’t aware of what’s been going on down here, I wanted to bring you up to speed.”

“I’m aware of everything that’s happening with my daughter. I talk with her every night,” Amy snapped. “I’m very interested in her life, and I stay as involved as I can be.”

“I wasn’t judging you, Amy.” He sounded genuinely hurt.

“Sure you were.”

She’d been down this road before. For months now, as a matter of fact, ever since the mothers of Becky’s friends first learned about Amy’s increased hours at Enterprise after the divorce. The frenzy of unsolicited concern and advice that had ensued—after dance practice, at the car-pool stop to and from school, after birthday parties and sleepovers—had made Amy’s decision to remove Becky from her exclusive private school even easier. They couldn’t afford the tuition any longer, and Amy didn’t need the daily reminder of how badly she was failing as a mother, no matter how hard she tried.

“I called to discuss Becky’s issues at school,” Josh offered, his tone edging toward reasonable. “Not to comment on your priorities as a mother, or your relationship with your daughter. I’d like to help.”

“Look.” Amy unclenched her jaw. Chided herself for overreacting. The man was just doing his job. She glanced at her watch again. “I’ve already spoken with my mother, and I’m just as concerned as you that Becky’s having difficulty in school—”

“Then you’re planning to be here Friday?”

“What?”

“For the SST meeting.”

The door to Mr. Hutchinson’s office opened. The senior partner stepped partially into the hall.

“Ms. Loar, I need you in here.”

She raised a finger to signal for another minute. Turning her back as the door closed less than gently behind her, she gritted her teeth against the screaming tantrum that would be a really bad idea.

“Josh, I’d be happy to stop by the school as soon as I wrap up my project here. I don’t know what this SST meeting is, but Friday’s out of the question, I’m afraid.”

“And I’m afraid we can’t put this off.” His statement resonated with the same determination she’d once admired. Only there was an unforgiving edge to Josh’s controlled manner now. A harshness at complete odds with the easygoing charm that had tempered his personality when they were kids.

“We’re just going to have to put it off.” Amy took a calming breath. “I appreciate your call, and I’ll make an appointment with the school secretary for a few weeks from now—”

“You don’t understand. We’re having the meeting Friday, with or without you. If you can’t make the time to be here, we’ll do what we think is best for Becky in your absence.”

His disapproving tone snuffed out Amy’s last attempt to keep the conversation polite, just as it had that night over ten years ago when he’d decided he knew what was best for her life.

Privilege and money had smoothed Josh’s every step from childhood. After college, he’d returned to Sweetbrook to take his rightful place in his family’s legacy of service and philanthropy to the community. He was principal of Dr. David C. White Elementary School, for heaven’s sake. She’d heard his marriage had fallen apart a year or so ago, but beyond that it seemed his life had worked out exactly according to his master plan. How could he possibly understand what it was like to fight and struggle, and all the while know you’re stuck in a no-win battle you might never escape from?

“I do appreciate your courtesy.” She nearly choked on the words. “But how exactly do you anticipate having a parent-teacher conference without the parent present?”

Butthead!

“The Student Support Team meeting is for Becky’s benefit, not yours,” he explained. “It’s a little more formal than you sitting down for a chat with her teacher. Your daughter’s facing some tough challenges, and she’s going to need all the help she can get. I’ll be there Friday, along with her teacher, Mrs. Cole. So will our staff counselor. Together, we’ll come up with a set of strategies that we hope will help school become a more successful experience for Becky.”

“What challenges? What strategies? Becky’s upset because of the hours I’ve had to keep the last few months. Because she blames me for how my marriage ended.” Amy clasped the pendant dangling around her neck. “My daughter doesn’t want to be in Sweetbrook, so she’s acting out a little more than usual at school. I’ll be there in a few weeks, then she’ll settle back in here with me. Don’t you think you’re overreacting with this SST thing? Becky’s going to be fine.”

“She may not be, Amy. Not without some help.” Josh’s concern radiated across the crackling cell connection. Gone was the all-business principal who couldn’t keep his intrusive opinions to himself. In his place was the friend whose shoulder Amy had cried on the summer her puppy had died in her arms after being struck by a car. Gwen had been at work, Amy hadn’t had anyone else to turn to, and Josh had been there, as always. Steady, certain, unflappable. “Her teacher’s concerned that part of Becky’s acting out may stem from frustration over a learning disability—”

“What learning disability?”

“The purpose of the SST meeting is to discuss Mrs. Cole’s suspicion that Attention Deficit Disorder may account for some of Amy’s disruptive behavior in the classroom.”

“Attention Deficit…” The muffled sound of the conference call going on behind her faded. Her surroundings shimmered to a hazy white. “I don’t understand….”

“We think Becky may be dealing with ADD, on top of the other issues you mentioned earlier.”

On top of the other issues…. The words clamored through Amy’s head. Issues that were her fault. On top of Becky losing her family and being separated from the life and home that were all she’d ever known. On top of her needing Amy the most, just when it was impossible for her to be there for her little girl. On top of all that, Becky might have—

“ADD?” she whispered. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she knew enough to be scared. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Tears threatened, blurring everything around her. “But I had no idea…. How…?”

“It’s going to be okay, Amy,” Josh said. “We’re going to figure this out.”

His reassurance was like a lifeline, and she found his use of the word we wasn’t as offensive as it should have been, given the way he’d been subtly pointing his finger at her moments before.

“Ms. Loar.” Phillip Hutchinson was standing beside Amy. She had no idea how long he’d been there. “Mr. Westing has another question about the payout schedule. I need you to walk him through it.”

The man was all but tapping his foot for her to hop-to.

“I…” Amy fought for words, fought against the sensation that her world was slipping out from under her.

“Amy, can you make the SST meeting?” Josh’s voice sounded in her ear, cornering her, pressing for an answer with as much tenacity as her boss.

Her daughter or her career? Amy’s plans to manage both had never seemed more unattainable.

“I’ll be there on Friday,” she croaked into the phone, ending the call before Josh could say another word.

She turned to Mr. Hutchinson and squared her shoulders.

“I need to take a few days off.”

“You can’t be serious.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a nervous director in there, and you’re meeting with their entire senior management at three tomorrow. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I have a family emergency. I’m leaving in the morning, as soon as I can wrap things up here. I’ll be gone until Monday.” She was already working out the details in her head. She’d spend tomorrow afternoon with Becky and Gwen, meet with Josh and his staff on Friday, get things back on an even keel over the weekend, then return to Atlanta by Sunday evening to catch up before the new week started. “I can conference in on tomorrow’s meeting. The rest I’ll find a way to do from Sweetbrook on my laptop and PalmPilot.”

“Sweetbrook? Where’s Sweetbrook?”

“In South Carolina. It’s where I grew up.”

And it was the one place, despite all her plans to leave it behind, where she’d last felt safe.

She brushed past him and stepped into his office, pushing aside thoughts of everything but the corporate director who needed to be placated before she could do anything else. Lucky for Amy, reassuring nervous clients was turning out to be one of her greatest talents.

If only her and her daughter’s problems were as easy to resolve.



“CAN I GET YOU ANYTHING, Mr. White?” Mrs. Lyons asked Josh the next morning.

Josh lifted his head from his overflowing desk, trying not to be annoyed.

He and Daniel had to make it home on time this afternoon to whip the house into shape for their Family Services caseworker. This was their fourth home visit since Josh had been awarded temporary custody after his sister, Melanie’s, death, and they needed to demonstrate they were making progress bonding as a family. Josh couldn’t be running late because of paperwork, which meant he didn’t have time to humor one overly attentive school secretary.

In the past, Edna Lyons had always been efficient. But she’d become downright doting since Melanie died and Josh had taken responsibility for Daniel. She’d progressed from straightening and organizing everything in sight to hovering, which she was doing right now.

She reached to restack the personnel folders he’d thumbed through earlier, as he considered applications for the vacant math-specialist position. He slid them out of her reach.

“Stop coddling me, Edna.” He sat back and smiled as she huffed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re behind, is what you are. Have been for months. Both here and in that mansion your family calls a home.” She scooped his wrinkled suit jacket off the chair he’d dropped it onto, smoothed the material and hung it on the coat rack. “You just don’t know how to ask for help.”

If only there was any real help for Josh’s situation. He’d sold his own home after the divorce and moved back to the house he’d grown up in. His father, drifting through the final stages of Alzheimer’s, hadn’t even known his wife and son by that point. Josh’s mother, frailer at sixty-five than most, thanks to the devastating toll Alzheimer’s took on caregivers, had been at her emotional and physical wit’s end. Josh had finally talked her into moving with his dad to an assisted living center about an hour away, in Demming, so the professionals there could help her handle the progression of his father’s disease.

Melanie had come back to town with Daniel somewhere in the midst of it all, the drama that always swirled around her adding to the strain of their mother’s anxiety and Josh’s messed up life after his divorce. And now they were all gone, all but Daniel. Josh visited his parents as often as he could, and he spoke with his mom each week. But all he’d tell her was that things were fine in Sweetbrook. He refused to burden her with either his or her grandson’s problems. The woman had enough on her hands.

The lack of a family support system wouldn’t have been a problem in the past. Growing up with emotionally absent parents had taught him independence from the cradle. After his divorce, he’d turned to his work and the kids at school to keep him busy. But now he also had Daniel to consider, and the boy’s need for love and attention escalated more each day.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he made himself say out loud as he got back to work. He hadn’t asked for this kind of responsibility, but it was his nonetheless. Turning his back on his sister’s child was out of the question.

“Oh, it’ll be okay,” Mrs. Lyons agreed in a not-so-agreeable voice. “Once you find a nice young lady to help you make a home for that nephew of yours.”

“I don’t need a nice young lady. What I need—” He initialed the page before him and flipped to the next, grunting at the memory of the string of helpful local women who’d tried to step in where his ex had left off “—is to get these pay sheets approved in time for you and everyone else to receive your checks on Friday.”

“I heard Mary-Ellen Baxter’s Tiffany is in your Sunday school class. Mary-Ellen—”

“Edna, have you by any chance started your own dating service?” He was only half teasing, and a bit too much of his irritation slipped into his voice.

“What?” She was a study in female indignation. At least she was no longer hovering. “I was only—”

“You were trying to fix me up with your best friend’s single daughter.” He dropped his pen, folded his hands and forced himself to smile at the good-intentioned woman who had caught him sneaking out of class in third grade without a hall pass—thus landing him his only stint in detention. “And while I appreciate you looking out for me—”

“I was looking out for the child.” She pulled off dignified and embarrassed like a champ. “If you want to spend the rest of your life alone, that’s your business. But that little boy needs some stability.”

“You’re a good woman, Edna Lyons.” And she was. Gray haired for as long as he’d known her, always dressed in floral prints that did her Southern heritage proud. Tough on the outside, she possessed a marshmallow-cream center the kids in school rarely got a chance to see. “I appreciate you looking out for Daniel. But dating someone I don’t have a prayer of connecting with right now wouldn’t end well for anyone.”

The good-intentioned people of Sweetbrook had discreetly arranged for him to meet a parade of local beauties at the church potluck dinner, or the Wednesday night trip he always took to the grocery to stock up for the week. Even at the school’s Spring Fling a month ago. All of them were perfectly nice women, but none right for him. Because he wasn’t interested. Not after losing Lisa and so much of what he’d thought the rest of his life would be built around. There wasn’t a woman on earth who’d tempt him to go there again.

Suddenly, his last memories of Amy Loar muscled aside the images of the other women. Memories of Amy laughing with him, kidding him, making his day lighter just because she was in it. Then of her mouth, soft and giving, melting beneath his. Melting away the anger and surprising hurt he’d felt at the thought of her marrying another man. He’d pulled her into his arms, wanting to hold on to something he hadn’t realized he’d needed until that moment. And just for a second, it had seemed as if she was as lost in their kiss as he was. Then she’d shoved him away, almost crying, saying she would never forgive him for what he’d said. For what he’d done….

With a shake of his head, he shifted to the edge of the chair and picked up the next time sheet.

You’ve got no time for daydreaming, man. No time for regrets about the past.

The mistakes he wracked up each time he tried to help Daniel and failed, filled more hours than he had in a day.

“I’ll take care of these, at least,” Edna said, a note of resignation lingering in her voice as she picked up the mail from his out-box and turned to go. “Do you want me to see that you’re not distur—”

“Got a minute for me?” Doug Fletcher popped his head in, bringing Edna to a skidding stop.

She scowled up at the school counselor, clearly arming for battle. No one entered the principal’s office unless she announced him first. But at Josh’s approving nod, she turned away without a word.

“You have a curriculum meeting in ten minutes,” she called over her shoulder. “You don’t want to be late again.”

Doug chuckled at her retreating back.

“You’d better watch your step for the next few days. She’ll have her eye on you.” Josh scanned and initialed the sheet before him. “What’s up?”

“I just got a call from Barbara Thomas.” Doug closed the door, then sat in one of the guest chairs. “She was asking for an update on Daniel.”

Josh began stacking the unsigned reports it was clear he couldn’t finish before his meeting. “We have a home visit scheduled this afternoon.”

“Are things getting better outside of school?” his friend and colleague asked. Doug Fletcher was a top-notch counselor. The best. One of those people who could listen to you recite the alphabet and make it seem as if you were delving into inner truths he found fascinating.

“I’m starting to wonder if things ever will get better,” Josh finally let himself admit. “Living with me, adjusting to this school—” he spread his hands “—none of it is getting any easier for Daniel. He still feels out of place. Like he doesn’t belong here, no matter how much I try to convince him he does.”

“He’s hurting, Josh. The kid just lost his mother, and he was already having difficulty relating to people before that. I suspect it’s an ongoing problem.”

“Yeah. Dr. Rhodes thinks the same thing.”

“Because of the father?”

“We’re not sure. Melanie claimed the man was abusive, and the more I’m around Daniel, the more I’m convinced something happened.” Josh’s fists clenched at the thought of some asshole raising a hand to his sister and her son. “But Daniel won’t talk about any of it, so we can’t be certain.”

“It would explain a lot of the acting out. The behavior that pushes people away before they get too close.”

“Yeah, or maybe he just doesn’t want to be here.” Josh’s fists clenched again. “I’m not exactly family man of the year right now.”

“You’re doing fine,” his friend countered, repeating Josh’s earlier assurance to Mrs. Lyons. Doug somehow managed to sound as if he meant it. “Just take it slow and give it some time.”

“Yeah.” Josh nodded.

His intercom buzzed long and loud, Edna’s I-told-you-so signal that he was going to be late for the curriculum meeting, after all.

He threw his friend a long-suffering look as they stood to go. “Thank heavens we have all kinds of free time around here.”



AMY PULLED UP THE driveway of her mother’s place a little before three. Gwen Loar’s tiny house looked more like home to Amy than her high-priced loft in the city ever had.

She dragged her garment bag from the ’95 Civic she’d purchased after trading in her Lexus, picked up her briefcase and nudged the trunk closed with her elbow. A wisp of a breeze lifted her bangs, a welcome relief from the early spring heat. Sweetbrook seemed overly warm after the milder temperatures in Atlanta. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of home.

There was a time, while she was in college, that she’d made it back to this place as often as possible. Then Richard had literally stumbled into her at the University of South Carolina, in the midst of a recruiting trip his legal firm was conducting on campus. She’d been a business major and not at all interested in a career in law. But Richard had been solid and steady, and magnetically handsome.

In his late twenties, he’d been on his way to becoming his firm’s youngest partner. Determined to win Amy’s affection from the moment she’d sloshed her Coke all over his expensive suit in the student union café, he’d pursued her relentlessly, insisting they’d make a good fit. Flattered and awed by the success he wore so comfortably, she hadn’t stood a chance once he turned on the formidable charm that had weakened the resolve of some of the most cynical juries in the South. Her mother had tried to warn her she was rushing into marriage. Even Josh had tried. But she’d been so sure Richard was her future.

After her graduation, they’d married in Atlanta, and she’d gone on to become the most promising of the young up-and-comers at Enterprise Consulting. Then Richard’s arguments that they should have a baby sooner rather than later had begun. And with the arrival of Becky, Richard’s passion for controlling Amy’s life had shifted gears.

He didn’t like the way it looked, having a nanny raising his daughter. Amy was too wrapped up in her career. Her place was at home, taking care of him and their child. It wasn’t as if they needed the money she made. She’d clearly had her priorities out of place, he’d told her.

And so, by the time Becky was in preschool, Amy’s career had morphed into little more than something to occupy herself while Becky was gone during the school day. Amy had passed up one career opportunity after another, even though she’d been more than qualified. She’d watched her peers’ careers eclipse her own, while she was relegated to doing busy work on projects she’d rather have been leading.

She’d consoled herself with her family. With her husband’s money and the financial security that had exceeded her dreams. Richard had assured her she had every reason to be happy. She was privileged. They were the envy of everyone they knew in Atlanta’s supersuccessful business community. No matter that she became more and more terrified of her husband with each passing day.

When she’d finally woken from the haze of her abusive marriage, she found she’d been living a thinly veiled nightmare that was going to get worse before it got better. Not only did she have to find the strength to stand up to a man she’d let trample her dignity and self-esteem for years, but her best shot at financial independence was finding a way to be taken seriously in the world of corporate business, where she hadn’t competed in years. And Amy hadn’t just done this to herself. She’d dragged her daughter through hell right along with her.

How could she have been so wrong about what life had in store for her? Every mistake she’d made had been entirely her fault, because she hadn’t wanted to see the truth in the people and things she’d built her happiness around.

Becky was right to blame her for being too much of a coward to leave Richard sooner. Amy had stayed too long. Her daughter had seen and heard too much.

“Amy!” The front door flew open. Her mom rushed out, arms wide. “You came. Why didn’t you let us know?”

Amy dropped everything a split second before she was engulfed in her mother’s sweet-scented hug. She couldn’t hold Gwen close enough.

“I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to get away,” she explained. “I had a lot to take care of this morning. As it is, I’m waiting on a conference call my assistant’s patching through to my cell.”

She straightened the collar of Gwen’s faded oxford shirt.

“This was Grandpa’s, wasn’t it?” She smiled at her mother’s shrug. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Mama. You never stop wearing hand-me-downs, no matter how many new outfits I buy you.”

“I adore my old things. They’re like memories I get to carry around with me all day.” Gwen lifted Amy’s garment bag and headed toward the house. “It might do you some good to look through your old closet. I bet there’re lots of treasures hiding in there.”

“Yeah. Everything will be just swell, as soon as I throw on a pair of my skintight jeans from high school.” Her briefcase in hand, Amy followed in her mother’s wake. “Is Becky home?”

“Got off the bus about ten minutes ago.” Gwen held the door for Amy to enter in front of her.

“Did things go better today?” Amy took the garment bag back and set it aside.

“She’s in the kitchen having a snack. You should probably ask her yourself.”

Amy turned from studying how much the walls of the tiny living room needed fresh paint. “That bad?”

“About the same.” With another sigh, her mom lead the way the few steps to the kitchen.

Becky was snacking on milk and a plate of Gwen’s freshly baked cookies.

She looked so grown-up. So beautiful. So much like her father, with her dark hair and eyes, and her olive complexion. Had she gotten taller in the few weeks Amy had been away? Amy thought back to her last overnight visit, a hurried Saturday full of trying to help Becky understand why things had to be this way for now. Amy couldn’t conjure up a clear picture of how her daughter had looked then. All she could remember was Becky’s tears and shouts, and her own fear that her best was never going to be good enough.

“Hey, baby.” She knelt beside Becky’s chair.

Vacant eyes lifted, then shifted back to the plate. Becky dunked a cookie into her glass.

“I missed you.” Amy ran her hand down her daughter’s delicate arm.

“Whatever.” Becky pulled away from her grasp.

Amy glanced over her shoulder. Gwen’s slight smile encouraged her to continue.

“Grandma’s been telling me a little about what’s going on at school. I thought maybe we could talk about it this weekend. Maybe come up with a few ideas for making all this work better for you while you’re here.”

“You’re staying the whole weekend?”

Their gazes connected again. But the doubt and hesitation filling Becky’s brown eyes made Amy wish her daughter was still pretending to ignore her.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited before now.” She tried a tentative hug. The moment was so awkward, Amy wanted to cry. “I know this has been hard for you. I’d have come home sooner if I could.”

“This isn’t home.” Becky fought free of Amy’s grasp, stumbling from the chair. She spun around, her arms crossed tightly across her neon-pink T-shirt. “Not that I have a home anymore, since you finally worked up the guts to throw Dad out. But I don’t care about the condo or the apartment. I just want out of here.”

“That’s what your mom wants, too.” Gwen stepped to her granddaughter’s side and hugged her shoulders.

Becky melted against her and frowned at Amy. “Whatever. Just let me go back to Atlanta with you.”

“I can’t right now.” Amy struggled to find a way to break through her daughter’s unhappiness. To find different words than the ones she’d already said a hundred times. She was secure in her daughter’s love. She and Becky would be okay once the dust settled. But that didn’t erase the pain her child was enduring now—pain Amy never should have let touch her baby’s life.

“We’ve talked about this,” she said. “I’ve barely moved everything into the new apartment. Our lives are still in boxes. And with this project at work taking up all my time, you’re better off here for a little while longer.”

“Work! That’s all you care about. You don’t want me around any more than Dad does.”

“That’s not true, honey.” Amy longed to be holding her daughter herself. At least Becky was taking some comfort from Gwen. “I care about you very much. I’m doing all this to get us back on track. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“Then get me out of this nowhere place.” Anger laced every word the little girl hurled at Amy. “If you don’t, I’ll run away, I swear. I hate it here.”

“You’re not running away.” Warning bells chimed in Amy’s head. Like most kids, Becky could sense guilt a mile away. And she was a pro at using Amy’s against her.

Time for tough-as-nails Mom to take the gloves off. She pushed herself out of her chair. “Your grandmother’s taking good care of you, and you’ll be back in Atlanta by next month. Back with your friends, and your stuff, and your new school. So please, why don’t we skip the melodrama, make the best of the situation and talk about what’s going on at school instead?”

Becky nibbled on her thumbnail, her outburst momentarily subdued. Amy didn’t know which was worse, bearing the brunt of her daughter’s threats and disrespect, or watching Becky slip into these scary patches of silence.

“Honey, I came down here so we’d have the chance to talk. So I could check on what’s going on with you. Maybe I can help.” She knelt again until she was looking up into her daughter’s beautiful face. “I came because I’d do anything for you. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t ever want you to think differently.”

“Really?” Becky sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Are you really staying the weekend? Grandma said there was some kind of meeting at school tomorrow, but you couldn’t come.”

“Of course I’m staying. We’re going to figure this out.” The memory of Josh saying the exact same thing echoed in Amy’s head. She took Becky’s hand, tugging until the child’s arm loosened and her hand dropped to her side. “I’ll be at the meeting with your teacher tomorrow. But I wanted to talk with you first.”

Her cell phone’s high-pitched chirp made them both jump. Becky jerked away, her expression fracturing into a mutinous scowl. Amy stifled a curse as she checked her watch. It was time for her conference call.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said as the dratted phone rang again. “I have to take this.”

After gazing apologetically at Becky, she shifted her eyes to her mother, silently begging for some magical solution. But all she found in her mom’s expression was a world of worry to match her own.

Amy stood and smoothed a hand through her daughter’s chocolate-colored curls. “I promise. This evening, after dinner, I’m all yours. No cell phones, no interruptions, just you and—”

“Fine, whatever.” The ten-year-old stomped away. “When you’re ready to fit me into your schedule,” she spat over her shoulder, “I’ll be in my cell.”

As Becky slammed her bedroom door, Amy slumped into a kitchen chair, then answered the still-ringing phone.

“I’m here, Jacquie,” she snarled by way of a greeting, assuming her assistant was on the other end of the line. “Patch me into the conference room whenever you’re ready.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Loar.” Phillip Hutchinson’s voice boomed over the line.




CHAPTER THREE


“THE KRAMER GROUP HAS postponed the sign-off meeting until tomorrow afternoon,” Phillip Hutchinson continued.

“Postponed!” Dread kicked Amy’s pulse into a sprint. “What happened? Jacquie was supposed to call if there was a problem.”

“I shared with the Kramer management that you had an unavoidable family emergency, and that you were out of the office today. I’ve bought you some time. Wrap up whatever you’re doing, so you can be back for a five-o’clock conference tomorrow.”

“But…” She closed her eyes and fought to manufacture order out of chaos. “Mr. Hutchinson, I appreciate your help, but I can handle this meeting long distance. Jacquie has my files. She’ll be distributing the report and handling the audiovisual. And I’ll be conferenced in on speakerphone. It will be fine.”

“It will be fine unless something goes wrong. This is the last meeting before we present the deal to their CEO on the thirtieth, and Alex Kramer is one of the toughest sells in the business. You can’t afford to botch this. I know what’s best in this situation.”

Lord save her from men who knew what was best.

“Thank you, Mr. Hutchinson, but—”

“Then it’s all settled.” His tone announced just exactly what he thought of the word but. “I’ll see you tomorrow by five.”

Gwen smoothed a comforting hand down Amy’s arm. Strength and support radiated from her touch.

“No, sir.” Amy sat taller, fighting the impulse to back down. “I can’t be there tomorrow.”

“Ms. Loar—”

“Mr. Hutchinson.” Her voice was boardroom direct, cutthroat calm. “I’ve given Enterprise Consulting my heart and soul for this pitch. The Kramer project is on time and under budget, and you have my personal assurance that tomorrow’s meeting will proceed without incident.”

It had likely been decades since anyone had dared to say no to Phillip Hutchinson. Deafening silence echoed the ringing in Amy’s ears. She waited for a response that never came.

“My staff is more than capable of handling anything that arises in my absence,” she assured him. “The project is in good hands.”

“For your sake, Ms. Loar, I hope so. Your future in this firm depends on it. You’re taking an enormous risk.”

Amy blinked at the finality of his statement. At the thought of all she stood to lose, and how easily everything she was fighting for could vanish, all because of one mix-up.

“I have to be here in Sweetbrook. There’s an important meeting at the school tomorrow afternoon I can’t miss. I’ve promised my daughter,” she added, another no-no in business—bringing her personal life into the workplace.

Which she’d never let happen. Until now.

“Do what you have to do,” Mr. Hutchinson said. The uncomfortable rasp in his voice must have been his attempt at sounding supportive. “Take care of your daughter, take care of your family. Hell, take care of the entire state of South Carolina. Whatever you need to do. Just get yourself back here by Monday.”

“Yes, sir.”

Amy ended the call and stared at her mother.

Her crazy little world had just taken an even bigger twist into bedlam. One misstep at tomorrow’s meeting, one crisis over the weekend that her staff couldn’t cover, and her professional goose was cooked. Meanwhile, she had just over three days to find some common ground with her angry ten-year-old daughter and work things out at her school.

“I’ve got to talk with Josh now,” Amy muttered, her next course of action clear.

“Why?” Gwen asked. “You have an appointment with him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, him and Becky’s teacher, and the staff counselor. I can’t go in there cold. I need more facts, and I need them now.” Her daughter’s happiness and so much more was on the line. “Josh seemed so certain he understands Becky better than I do. Maybe he does. Where does he live?”

“Back at his family’s house, ever since he divorced and his father became ill. His folks moved to Demming late last year.” Gwen checked her watch. “He’s probably home from school by now.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be.” Amy headed into the den for her purse, her mother following close behind. “Tell Becky I’ll be back in a little bit. Maybe I can take her for ice cream after dinner and we can talk then.”

“Honey,” Gwen said as Amy opened the door. “I don’t think going to Josh White’s house is such a good idea. He’s been through a lot himself lately, what with—”

“This isn’t a social call, Mama. I know I’ve been out of touch with things around here for the last few years, but I can’t wait to catch up on all the gossip before I talk with him. Josh is the one who called me. I won’t take up any more of his time than I absolutely have to.”

Amy hugged Gwen’s shoulders, then walked out to her car.

A twinge of sadness whispered through her at the thought of how little she knew about Josh’s life now. He dominated the lightest, happiest parts of her Sweetbrook memories.

She’d never let him guess that her feelings of friendship had deepened into something more their last few years in school. She’d never let on how much that kiss they’d shared during their argument about Richard had affected her. After his harsh words that night, their friendship had fallen apart, and they hadn’t spoken since. Not until yesterday, when she hadn’t even recognized his voice.

She’d handled his phone call badly, partly because of her embarrassment that he was playing a starring role in her crisis with Becky. But only partly. She’d distrusted him on the spot, and she’d said as much to his face. And no matter what had happened between them, Josh didn’t deserve that. She owed him an apology. If it came down to it, she’d beg him to forget about everything but helping her the way he’d offered. She’d even weather more of his obvious disappointment over the mess she’d made of her life. Whatever it took.

Tomorrow’s SST meeting had to be a success. That would leave her the rest of the weekend to work things out with Becky, as impossible as that seemed at the moment. But Amy had done the impossible before. She’d escaped from her marriage physically whole, albeit emotionally scarred. Surely she could make this work, too.

She had to.



“GIVE THEM BACK!” Daniel ripped the last of his clothes from the closet and flung them across his bedroom.

“They’re gone.” His uncle crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

True to his word, he hadn’t come into the room. From day one, he’d said he wouldn’t, not unless Daniel invited him in. He wanted Daniel to feel at home here. To know he had his privacy. To feel safe.

Whatever that meant.

Daniel crossed his arms, copying his uncle’s stance. Anything not to let on how much a part of him wanted this guy to like him. But that wasn’t going to happen. Things were too messed up. He was too messed up.

“So when you said my stuff was my stuff,” he blurted, “that was just a bunch of bullshi—”

“Enough,” his uncle barked. “Those shoes were falling apart. And I asked you to stop wearing them to school. You ignored me, as usual, so now they’re gone. End of story. It’s just a pair of shoes.”

“My shoes.” Daniel threw his arm wide. “My room.”

“In my house.” His uncle raised his hand.

Daniel jerked back, waiting for the slap.

But his uncle combed his hand through his hair instead, then let his arm drop to his side.

He still hadn’t stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he said. “And I don’t like invading your privacy. But we have to come to some kind of compromise on stuff like this.”

The man’s patience had never pissed Daniel off more.

“Cut it out, okay?” He stormed toward the front of the huge house he still couldn’t believe his mother had grown up in. “Knock off the we’re going be a happy family or else stuff. I don’t belong here. You and my grandmother never wanted my mom here. And you don’t want me.”

“That’s not true.” His uncle dogged him all the way to the front door. His hand flattened on the dark wood at the same time that Daniel turned the doorknob. “Where are you going?”

Where he always went when things got too real.

“Out.”

Daniel yanked with all his might, pitting his strength against his uncle’s. Closing his eyes, he shut out the man’s concern. He didn’t know why he’d lost it so completely about a stupid pair of shoes. Why he was always picking fights over nothing. Only it wasn’t nothing.

He could handle his uncle angry. And when he finally pushed him too far, he’d be able to handle whatever the guy dished out. Daniel had taken worse.

But this wanting to let his uncle get closer, the sick feeling that rushed over him every time he tried… Surrounding him, suffocating him, just like the memories did….

He couldn’t take it.

His uncle stepped back, allowing the door to swing wide. Giving Daniel his freedom. The muscles that bunched beneath the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt made it clear just how easily he could have stopped Daniel if he’d chosen to.

“Okay. You’re free to head out to wherever you go every afternoon. But your social worker’s due here any minute for her home visit. I need you to stay until she’s gone. She wants to talk with you about how things are going here.”

“How things are going?” Daniel sputtered. “They’re not!”

He shoved his uncle farther away and waited for him to finally snap. But instead of exploding, the man just stood there.

What a loser. Why wouldn’t he do them both a favor and give up already?

“Whatever.” Daniel snorted and sprinted away.

Let his uncle try to come after him. He could outrun anybody.

Daniel loped down the sloping front lawn, past the weathered brick pillars that flanked the driveway. The stone lions sitting atop the arched entrance growled silently, looking back at him with empty, lonely eyes.

His uncle was nuts if he thought family ties, and money and this moldy old estate would make Daniel feel like he belonged here. The man had been a creep to Daniel’s mother, and now he wanted to play happy family?

Besides, hadn’t he been paying attention?

Daniel didn’t want to belong anywhere.



JOSH WAS SHOVING the worst of the comics and discarded clothes back into his nephew’s already bulging closet when the doorbell rang.

Barbara Thomas, Daniel’s Family Services caseworker, was early. The doorbell rang again. Barbara didn’t like being kept waiting.

Josh gave the fallout from Daniel’s shoe meltdown a final glance and threw in the towel. He usually had the house straightened for one of these visits. But his nephew was getting more proficient by the day at trashing the place.

Josh pulled the bedroom door shut as he walked to greet the caseworker. Everywhere he looked, there were piles of books and toys, socks and shoes. Typical kid clutter that should have reassured him that things were getting back to normal, but he knew better. Daniel wasn’t adjusting to either Melanie’s death or living here with him.

He tugged at his rolled-up sleeves, reaching the front door as he shoved his dress shirt’s wrinkled tail into his khaki pants. He kicked aside the backpack his nephew had dumped on the foyer floor. Pressing his palms to his eyes as the bell pealed again, he counted to five and opened the mahogany doors.

“Hello,” Barbara said.

Her nod of greeting was as efficient as the rest of her. She wore a brown suit this afternoon. The black one must be at the cleaners. Same conservative white shirt as always, though. Narrow collar. Very no-nonsense. Not even a hint of jewelry.

Josh had worked closely with her for years, helping the kids in his school who’d needed more than a simple education. He and Barbara were colleagues, maybe even friends. But at this particular moment, she was the last person he wanted to see.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” She peered around his shoulder. “I rang so many times, I thought perhaps you’d forgotten our meeting.”

“No, of course not.” He stepped to the side and gestured for her to enter. “I was just—” She tripped on the backpack that hadn’t quite come to rest against the wall. He picked it up and out of her way. “I was just cleaning up a bit.”

Her razorlike gaze touched on the furniture and piles of kid debris she’d already seen dozens of times.

“Have you given any more thought to my suggestion about a live-in housekeeper?” she asked. “Finances can’t be the reason you haven’t.”

“Yeah, I could afford a full-time maid.” He dug his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “And I know things look a little crazy around here, but I’ll get a handle on it. Theresa Cooper has been my parents’ housekeeper for over thirty years. We’re a little more than she can handle right now, and she only works a few hours a day, but she’s family. I can’t just replace her.”

Barbara’s expression revealed nothing as she digested his answer. She was good at that—keeping her opinions to herself until her input would do the most good.

“Is Daniel ready?” She pulled a folder from the briefcase that passed for her purse, and began leafing through it.

“Well, he was. But…”

“But?”

“He’s not here. At least not now.” Josh felt ridiculous. Inept and ridiculous.

“Didn’t he know I was coming for a review?” She checked her watch.

“I think that played a big part in his decision to be somewhere else.” Josh crossed arms. “That and the fact that he knew him staying here was important to me.”

Her eyebrow jerked up. Her expression bordered on amusement.

“He didn’t appreciate me telling him to get cleaned up and change into shoes that weren’t falling apart,” Josh explained. “He—”

“He resents you polishing him up so you can show him off to me?”

“Yeah. I guess that about covers it.”

“So he told you what you could do with your meeting, and stormed off.”

Josh shrugged. “He lights out of here almost every afternoon. Turns up again for dinner. I don’t know where he goes, but it’s somewhere he wants to be a hell of a lot more than he wants to be here.”

“Good.” Another one of her nods. She consulted her folder once more.

“Good?” He had just about had it. “You come here once a month and tell me to take things slow. That a boy abused the way my sister claims she and Daniel were needs time and space to settle in. But when I tell you that he can’t bear to be in the same house as me, you’re finally encouraged?”

“He stood up to you, Josh.” She fingered through her notes. “And from the sketchy details we have of his past before his mother brought him to Sweetbrook, I can only imagine how much courage that took. You’ve remarked about how wary he is around you.”

“He’s downright terrified every time I touch him.” Why had Josh let his mother’s need to protect their family’s reputation, her insistence that Melanie was exaggerating as always, shame his sister into silence about her relationship with Daniel’s father? A man their mother had been mortified to learn Melanie had lived with for five years, but had never married. Josh would give anything not to be piecing together the disturbing details now. To have been there for Melanie when she’d needed him most. To understand what her son needed now.

“Daniel’s nervous around all adults,” he added, “but men especially. He watches every move I make, like he’s expecting me to shout boo or something. Like he can’t turn his back, or I might come after him.”

“And when he first came here, he was nonresponsive and withdrawn if you confronted him directly.” Barbara’s gaze measured Josh’s frustration.

“Yeah.”

Just like Melanie had been.

“But this time, when you pressed him, he pushed back, at least for a moment.”

Her words rattled around in Josh’s head, then came together in a startling flash of clarity.

“Yeah,” he repeated, amazed. “He actually shoved me out of the way.”

He and Daniel had taken a haphazard step in the right direction, and Josh hadn’t even seen it.

“Good.” She nodded and gave him a smile. She headed toward the back of the house. “Why don’t we start with Daniel’s room, then. I can usually tell from a child’s personal space how he feels about his surroundings.”

Josh’s warm feeling of accomplishment fizzled, heartburn rushing to take its place.

Like a bloodhound, Barbara had sniffed trouble and was heading deeper into his nightmare. He shook his head and followed in her wake.

He was three steps from the bedroom when the doorbell chimed, then jingled again.

He bit back a curse as Barbara disappeared into Daniel’s sty of a room. Relieved, actually, that he wouldn’t have to witness her disappointment and shock, Josh turned and retraced his steps to the front of the house.

What now?



AMY PUSHED HER REBELLIOUS curls behind her ear as she waited at the Whites’ door. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades.

She hadn’t taken the time to change out of her sapphire-colored dress suit. That would have given her one chance too many to talk herself out of this.

She needed more information about Becky. End of story. And that made apologizing to Josh her first course of business. Asking for his help was the hard-to-swallow second step, but there was no avoiding that, either. She reached to press the bell a third time. Midring, the heavy door jerked open, revealing an all-grown-up Joshua White she should have been expecting but wasn’t.

She’d been prepared for something along the lines of the boy she’d left behind. But the man before her was so much more than a replay of days gone by. Tall and classically handsome, broader at the shoulders, firmer at the jaw, Josh no longer sported the relaxed ease of the comfortably wealthy. The lines on his face spoke of responsibility and determination. Of a life not quite under his control, but he’d be damned if he was giving up.

Still blond and too good-looking by anyone’s standards, dressed in rumpled but clearly expensive business attire, he stared at her for a moment before his pale-blue eyes widened with recognition.

“Amy?”

Just the sound of her name rolling off his lips with the same hint of Southern inflection as before made her incapable of saying anything in return. To her horror, her pulse gave a hiccuping flutter and her breath caught on some unexplainable obstruction in her throat.

What was wrong with her?

She realized a sappy grin was spreading across her face, and forced herself to stifle it.

“Amy?” he repeated. He checked over his shoulder, then turned back. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, um…” She tucked back the hair that refused to stay where it belonged today. Straightened her purse strap on her shoulder. Fidgeted with the tail of her jacket like a schoolgirl. Get a grip! “I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time—”

“Not right now.”

The coldness of his words washed over her. Where was the caring, it’s-going-to-be-okay Josh from last night?

“I’m sorry.” He winced and propped the hand not holding the doorknob on his hip. “I don’t mean to be rude. But this isn’t a good time—”

“Well, Daniel’s room is certainly an odyssey into the mind,” a feminine voice said from behind him. “And I was glancing through one of his homework notebooks. It looks like— Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

A middle-aged woman dressed in a nondescript brown suit stopped at Josh’s side. Her gaze cataloged Amy’s appearance, then she turned her attention to the man shifting his weight from one foot to the other between them.

“I’ll leave you to your guest. But there’s an important matter we need to discuss before I leave.”

Amy watched the other woman walk into the sitting room off the hall. She and Josh had often done homework in that room, sprawling on the heirloom rug in front of an overstuffed couch and chairs, devouring snacks and trying to master the intellectual acrobatics required to complete assignments in geometry, history and American lit. Josh had tackled each assignment with ease, of course. He’d been brilliant, even in elementary school. A little bookish and preoccupied with making sure everything was perfect, but alarmingly smart. And he’d also been kind and genuinely interested in helping her do well. There’d been a lot of teacher in him even then.

She shook her head at the folly of looking back, when she’d made such a disaster of everything since.

She squared her shoulders. Josh clearly had company to get back to. What had the woman said about his nephew? “I’m sorry to barge in like this, but I came to talk about Becky. I’d hoped you could tell me a little more about this SST meeting you’ve scheduled for tomorrow. Maybe give me some idea of what to expect. What to talk with Becky about tonight.”

Josh chewed on the side of his mouth, glancing into the sitting room, then back at her. With a sigh, he dropped his head and opened the door wider for her to enter.

“Of course we can talk,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve made it down for the meeting.” The slight smile he gave her softened his features. His eyes, however, had her wishing she knew what was wrong, so maybe she could help. “I’m sorry I was so short on the phone last night. I had no cause to question your commitment to caring for Becky.”

“Yes, you did.” She tried to lighten the awkward moment with her own smile. His frown confirmed she hadn’t quite pulled it off. “I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions, Josh. And I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior. It’s been a rough year.”

He nodded his acceptance of her roundabout apology. A flick of his wrist allowed him to check his watch again. “Just give me a few minutes to finish up with my social worker.”

“Your social worker?”

“No… I mean, yes.” He tugged at his partially undone tie. “She’s my nephew’s caseworker from Family Services.”

As if that explained everything.

He squinted when she didn’t respond. Then his expression became guarded, as if he was bracing for an invisible blow. “You haven’t heard, have you?”

“I didn’t even know Melanie had a little boy.” She measured each word carefully as she tried to keep pace with his shifting mood. “After the way we…the way you and I left things… Before my wedding, that is…”

She cleared her throat, remembering again exactly what they’d done the last time they’d seen each other, feeling saddened anew by the chasm that had stretched between them since.

“Well,” she said, when Josh continued to stare. “After we fought, and I married Richard, I haven’t really kept up with Mother’s Sweetbrook gossip. Especially since my divorce. I’ve barely had time to think straight.”

“Yes, well.” The simple effort it took to breathe seemed to cost him dearly. “That woman in the other room is trying to help me find a way to give my nephew some chance at a normal childhood. If you’ll just give me a few minutes, we can talk some more about Becky.”

“Is Melanie okay?” Amy asked.

What on earth was he talking about? Why wasn’t his sister meeting with her son’s social worker?

“No.” Josh turned toward the other room, leaving her by the front door. “My sister died in a car accident in January.”




CHAPTER FOUR


JOSH COULDN’T SHAKE Amy’s image from his mind as he tried to gather his thoughts enough to face Barbara Thomas.

It had been an unreal moment, opening his front door to a sophisticated redhead, who in a blink had transformed into a grown-up reflection of the girl he knew. Maybe if there’d been even a hint of the friendship they’d once shared, it wouldn’t be so hard to accept this new, closed-off Amy. An Amy who had made every day of his childhood brighter. The Amy he’d driven out of his life with his own stupidity.





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