“It’s okay.” She smiled and motioned Daniel forward. “We’re just going to pick an instrument and go back to the table. What’s it going to be, kiddo?”
“I considered trying the drums, but think I’ll stick to the guitar. I’m feeling kind of mellow today.” Daniel reached for the instrument and retreated to his chair as she locked the cabinet and pocketed the key.
He started tuning the guitar while she took a seat next to him and pulled his sheet of music toward her to look it over. It was good. Really good. He’d paid attention to detail during their last session, and had marked the score using the correct terms and notations. “Daniel, this is impressive. I can even hear the tune in my head. Well done. Let’s hear what it actually sounds like.”
“I think it still needs something in the middle, but I figured you could tell me.” He shifted nervously in his chair, inclined his head toward the neck of the guitar and placed his fingers on the strings. He strummed a chord, made a minor adjustment with his fingering and began again.
Pippa sat back in her chair as he played, humming the tune in time with his fingers. She was impressed by how much movement she sensed in the music. It had an angry beat, which came as no surprise. But she heard undertones of what she’d call remorse. By the time he’d finished playing the score he’d written, a huge grin had painted his face happy.
“Daniel, that was amazing. The pacing was spot-on for that type of music. I’d say you’re a natural.” Her praise showed in his eyes, appreciation making them soft and gentle. So unlike the Daniel she’d worked with over the past six months.
“Thanks. I liked doing it.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “What about the middle? Does it need something? More syncopation or… I don’t know. Just something.”
She scooted toward him and pointed out a part of the music. “I have an idea for this part here. What if we make it more percussive? Like this…”
They spent the next fifteen minutes with their heads together working out the kinks and trying different things to improve the piece. And while they worked, they chatted about his life and how he identified himself through his music. By the final time they played it through, even Joe tapped his toes, the corners of his lips at war with his otherwise stoic expression.
Pippa enjoyed the warm glow of satisfaction for her role in helping Daniel’s theme song take shape. By the end of their session, she felt he had a firm grip on his inner happiness, the one thing that could help him overcome his painful childhood and difficult upbringing. Believing in his ability would be key to turning his life around. Music was a great starting point in channeling energy toward healing.
With their time nearing the end, Daniel focused his attention on the tabletop while she gathered her things up. He continued to make small talk about their session, but stopped awkwardly when she started packing her portfolio.
“Ms. Sanders, can I ask you something?”
“That depends. Is it about music?”
“Not really.”
Parental instincts overrode professional training. This troubled teen wanted to talk and she didn’t want to cause a setback in the strides they’d made today. Still, treading carefully made sense in a situation like this. “I can’t guarantee I’ll answer. But you can ask. Fair enough?”
“I guess.” He nodded and took a deep breath, staring at the table. “Hypothetically, if someone, like a family member, asked you to do something…I don’t know…not quite legal, but it would help him out, would you do it?”
This wasn’t the question she’d expected. She’d thought he’d ask her something more of a personal nature. His question about morality threw her for a second. She fidgeted with the stack of papers in front of her to buy some time while she thought through her answer. “Not quite legal, or illegal?”
“I guess illegal. But for a good reason.”
When he snuck a peek at her, she caught his eye and held it. “Breaking the law is never the right thing to do. I think you know that, Daniel.”
The teen broke eye contact and ducked his head.
“Why would this person think that doing this illegal thing would help him?”
He scratched at a gash in the table, shifting his eyes to the right to look toward Joe, who appeared to be ignoring their conversation, but everyone in the room knew he heard every word. “It would get them out of a jam they were in through no fault of their own.”
“What kind of problem?”
“What is this, twenty questions?” Daniel’s tone turned belligerent. “I’d rather not say what kind of jam.”
Pippa leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table and lowered her voice to a soothing level. “Okay. Well, that doesn’t give me much to go on. So I’d say that until this person had exhausted every legal option available to them, breaking the law would be wrong. And he or she could end up in more serious trouble, with severe consequences. If it were me, I wouldn’t do it.” She hoped this answered his dilemma. Because it was the only one she could give.
“Shit.” The corners of his mouth dragged down.
“Are there other options for this person?”
“Yeah, but none of them are easy.”
The despair in his tone tugged at her heart. She fought the urge to reach out and push the hair off his forehead, or touch the back of his hand. This was a client, she reminded herself, not her child.
“Oh, Daniel. Doing the right thing is never easy. But, once it’s done, no one can point a finger at you, or blame you for an injustice. At the end of the day, it’s better to know you’ve done the best you can than to try to cheat your way out of a sticky situation.”
Daniel dropped his chin to his hands on the table and heaved a deep sigh. “It’s just that I…I mean this person, my friend, doesn’t know what to do.”
“Will anyone be injured if he does nothing?”
“I…he doesn’t know. Maybe.”
She’d been certain when he first asked the question that it was about him, and now he’d confirmed it. “Is there something I can do to help? Do you want to talk about it?”
“No! No, you shouldn’t get involved.” He sat up straight in his seat, panic fleeting through his expression, his upper lip stiff under his peach fuzz mustache. “I know you figured out this is about me. But I don’t need your help. I’ll handle it on my own.”
“Daniel, I just—”
“No, bitch! Just leave it alone.” He jumped out of his chair so fast that it toppled behind him.
Joe stalked over and grabbed Daniel’s arms, restraining him. “Alright, tough guy. You can apologize to Ms. Sanders now. She’s trying to do you a solid and you call her names? How is that helping?”
“You’re right.” Daniel deflated, his narrow, not-quite-a-man frame slumping as despair replaced panic. Tears shimmered in his eyes, but he thrust his chin up. “I’m sorry.”
“If you won’t talk to me, please find another adult you can trust. We only want to help you.”
“I know, but nobody can help. Can I go back to my room now? I wanna go back.”
“Are you done, Ms. Sanders?” Joe asked.
“Yes, we are.” When the guard tugged on Daniel’s arms, she raised her hand to stop him. “Daniel, I’ll help if I can. You know that, right?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No one can help.”
“Many people can help, if you’re willing to let them.” When he finally lifted his face toward her, she willed encouragement into her smile. Until recently, she hadn’t much liked him. But in the way of teenagers, he’d dropped his big-for-his-boots façade and reverted to a scared youngster, trying to find his place in the world.
He shrugged without returning her smile, and turned toward the door.
Pippa watched Joe escort Daniel from the room. Her sense of foreboding kicked up a couple of notches as they retreated. Anxiety crawled across her shoulders and lodged, tingling at the base of her skull. Something was definitely up with him, and she feared it would come to a head soon. She hope
d Daniel would continue to talk to her, or someone else, to get the help he needed to address whatever he faced.
Because she was sure it wouldn’t end well.
22
The conversation with Daniel Robards haunted her. She’d documented their talk in his Woodward record, because the law required it. And she’d spoken to Allyson Scrivner about it, since Daniel had already mentioned he’d spoken to his father. Despite the court’s order that the older man have no contact with his son, it appeared he’d decided to flaunt the law. Pippa’s bigger concern was that the dad might be behind the illegal thing Daniel hinted about. Allyson had promised to check into it.
The bell tinkled merrily over the door as Pippa walked into Caro’s Taste, the restaurant her future sister-in-law owned. It was late for lunch, so there were only two other customers in the dining room. She nodded at the couple seated near the sunny window, exchanged greetings with the young woman cleaning tables and pushed her way through the swinging door to the kitchen where she knew she’d find Jem.
“Hey, Pippa,” Jem said, a smile lighting her face. “I didn’t expect you this afternoon. Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet. It’s salmon rolls on Friday, isn’t it? I won’t say no, if you have leftovers.”
Jem reached under the counter to pull out a plate. “I just happen to have plenty. The shelter hasn’t come to pick up the tray yet.” Jem had arranged to provide a local woman’s shelter with any extra she’d prepared. She never had a lot to send since the café was very popular, but the donation was always appreciated.
Pippa poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Jem always kept going in the kitchen, and grabbed a fork before sitting down at the counter. She took a sip and sighed gratefully as she reached for the plate Jem set in front of her. “Wow, this looks great.” She put her cup aside and forked up a bite. Jem’s fish rolls were one of her favorites, but today the food tasted like ashes in her mouth. Not because the salmon was poorly cooked or seasoned, but because her emotions were all over the place.
She sighed heavily, put down her fork and pushed the plate to the side. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“Roberto’s visitation is tonight, isn’t it?” Jem pulled a stool up next to her and sat down.
Pippa nodded. “It’s bringing back a lot of bad moments. Things I thought I was over. But you never forget. You just get really good at hiding from them.” Propping her elbows on the counter, she dropped her chin into her hands. Painful memories stirred and tingled like tears behind her eyes. “It’s like there were three uninvited guests at Mark’s visitation. The past, present and future.”
“Explain, please,” Jem said.
“The life I’d planned was over. Mark wasn’t ever going to be there again, not in any real sense anyway. His job with the military had taken away his role in my present and my future. I remember being shocked by the physical pain of the thought that all I had with him was a past. It felt like a giggling elephant had parked on my chest. I couldn’t breathe.” She straightened and dropped her hands to the counter in front of her, unseeing beyond the remembered pain.
Jem’s warm hands wrapped around her cold ones and squeezed gently, pulling Pippa out of the past.
“The first time I felt the babies move, I mean really move, was when I stood with Mark’s mom at the foot of his casket.” She smiled at the shock on Jem’s face. “I’d been frozen and motionless for so long as we greeted friends and family that I didn’t realize what was happening at first. The twins surged to life in my womb, as though what was left of Mark had moved into them.”
“Oh my God, Pippa. What did you do?”
“I had to excuse myself. Mom found me laughing with tears streaming down my face in the ladies’ room. The babies were my new present, the only existence I could allow myself to think about. Memories of Mark were too painful and thoughts of a future without him too devastating.”
“They say you’re never given more than you can handle.”
“Well, God pushed it that day. It felt so wrong to be happy at Mark’s funeral. I kept my hand on my stomach through the entire evening, and had a running dialog with Mark going in my head. Each time I’d feel one of them flutter around in there, I’d smile and tell him about how we were going to have a soccer player, or maybe a Golden Gloves boxer.” She chuckled. “Mark’s mom thought I’d lost it until I finally pulled her hand on top of my stomach. You could see amazement flowing through her, shining in her eyes. She wasn’t going to have her son, but she’d have his children. Our loss and our gain all rolled into one dramatic moment.”
She sat for a moment, lost in the only time she’d have with Mark—the past. Her present was good. Her children were healthy and happy. She’d worked hard to be both mother and father for them. Her family had pitched in to help her on the journey. But it had been her alone, there for every scrape, every tantrum, every triumph…every tear.
“Now, for the first time since the day Reverend Crane knocked on my door six years ago, I’m letting myself contemplate a future. The kids are growing up and I feel like I’ve said a final goodbye to Mark.” She blinked hard to clear the tears stinging her eyes. “He’d probably yell at me for holding on so long. I mean, who does that? Lives in suspended animation, not even trying to get on with life?”
“Is this because of Clay?” Jem asked softly.
A wistful smile played with the corners of her lips. “He’s so…I don’t know. It’s like I’m a different person around him. He just gets me. He’s patient about my hang-ups and my rules about not getting close to Mia and Mason.”
“I know Jack likes him. Oh, I think initially he was ready to rip the guy’s head off, but he’s softened up some.”
“Jack was freaked out yesterday when he showed up at the farm while I was there. Well, we kind of all were.”
“Jack doesn’t want you or the kids to get hurt. That’s all.”
Pippa drummed her fingers on the counter. “I know. But I’m protecting the kids from knowing that I’m seeing him. That’s why I have rules. Clay understands. Actually, he thinks that sneaking around to keep the kids from knowing is kind of hot.”
“I’m hearing a ‘but’ in there.”
“Jem, I’m worried that I’m not protecting myself enough. I’m falling for him. I know he’s leaving once Seeley is well enough to go home, even if he won’t admit it to himself. I thought I could indulge and be okay when he leaves. I told myself going in it was just a fling, an affair. And then it would be over. And I thought I could handle it.”
Could she survive if he chose to go? Coppery-tasting anxiety rushed to her throat.
“He says he’s considering staying in Granite Pointe, but what if he decides he has to leave?” Tears flooded her eyes, making Jem’s face waver and swim. “My heart is heavily invested now. Way more than I wanted. I’m afraid he’s going to break it when he leaves. Then what will I do? This time around, it will be different. This man is making a decision to leave me. It’s not like some enemy or terrorist is taking the choice from him the way it happened with Mark. I don’t think I can take that.”
“Oh, Pippa—”
Holding up a hand, she stopped Jem’s words. “I went over yesterday to tell Clay it was over and ended up more deeply involved. He says he’ll stay, that I should give us a chance. I’m trying to remember that life is nothing but a series of chances. But I’m not going to lie—it’s hard.” She shifted on the stool and pressed her hands to her knees. “I took a chance with my educational choice. Mark knew the odds when he boarded that convoy. You decided to move here instead of staying in New York. Clay is taking a gamble by getting involved with a woman with two six-year-olds. Everything is a chance…a choice.”
“Are you willing to risk falling in love with Clay despite knowing he might leave?” Jem questioned softly.
Ha—the question of the day. Was she willing?
She dropped her chin to her chest and heaved a sigh that started in her toes,
swirled up through her chest and into her throat. “I’m afraid that ship might have sailed. Clay is a wonderful man. Smart, funny, warm, affectionate…loving. God, he’s irresistible. I want, no, I deserve, to be happy. My kids deserve to be happy. It’s like Clay belongs with us. I want him to stay, but won’t try to stop him if he chooses to leave. My heart might end up encased in ice again, but I am willing to risk it.”
* * * *
Clay rang the doorbell and little footsteps scuttled, racing to answer. Mia flung open the door to admit him. “Mommy! Mr. Clay is here.”
Mia grabbed his hand and dragged him into the entry hall, but didn’t let go. Mason hung back by the comfortable-looking sofa with the teenage babysitter Pippa had hired to watch the kids while he escorted her to the visitation.
Pippa descended the stairs, elegant and somber in a brown skirt and sweater with a creamy white blouse. The brown suede heels she wore clicked on the hardwood steps and elongated her gorgeous legs. Her short dark hair shone like a curly halo and small pearls shimmered in her ear lobes. A furrowed brow marred the otherwise perfect picture she presented.
Nodding briefly at Clay, Pippa knelt in front of her daughter and put her hands on Mia’s shoulders, claiming her attention.
“Mia, we’ve talked about answering the door without me. You didn’t even look to see who rang the bell. Did you know it was Mr. Clay?”
“No ma’am.”
“If I told you every day between now and Christmas, do you think you’d finally understand that you and Mason aren’t allowed to open the door to anyone, unless it’s your uncles or grandparents?”
“But, it’s Mr. Clay, Mommy. Isn’t he like family?”
He twitched, tightening his grip on the little fingers still clutching his. Like family?
Hell, he just realized he wanted to be more. He’d like to be one of them. And he’d like to be theirs. The idea of coming in the front door every damn day with these two charming moppets racing to hug him swirled through his mind. His imagination soared with the idea of sweeping their lovely mother into his arms, embracing the home she represented.
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