To the back of the dining hall was a room with a locked door, which Max and the other counselor Luke let everyone peek into briefly—the recreation center. Treadmills, an old-fashioned Pac-Man arcade game, an air hockey table and a large-screen TV with different game systems were just a few of the treats she glimpsed before Max shut the door, explaining the rec room was incentive and a reward for good behavior, only. That is, the kids had to earn it.
Emma liked this setup already, though she could tell by the tight line of Cody’s mouth he didn’t necessarily agree.
She tried to send him a silent warning with her eyes as he continued to scrape his fork against his plate, forming a rhythm he nodded his head to. The dark-haired teen sitting to his right immediately picked up the grunge-band sound, tapping his knife against the side of his half-empty water glass and stomping his foot under the table. An older teen girl with blond curls snorted and rolled her eyes at them.
“Cody.”
He ignored her, as usual, and the parents continued to eat as if nothing had changed, as if their ears weren’t suffering from the high-pitched screeching sounds. Maybe that was part of why their kids were there in the first place. Did their efforts to be noticed always go ignored? Not acknowledging cries for attention wasn’t always the best course of action. They weren’t innocent toddlers playing the drop-the-spoon-from-the-highchair game. They were miniature adults who needed positive reinforcement—and consequences for negative behavior.
Well, these parents might think ignorance was bliss, but she wasn’t that kind of mom. “Hey!”
She looked over in surprise as her firm voice mixed with Max’s gruffer tone. They’d spoken at the same time. He glanced at her, amusement flickering in his caramel-colored eyes, then back to the kids.
“All right. That’s enough.” His deep voice left no room for argument, and if that hadn’t been enough, the I-mean-business glare he turned on them would have been. He was establishing his authority from the beginning, a smart move. Max had common sense after all. Maybe Cody would be fine here.
As long as they didn’t discover the truth before she was ready.
The weight of her secret pressed her into her chair, threatening to send her crashing through the raised floorboards and landing somewhere in the basement below. How low could she sink? Even a tornado cellar didn’t feel far enough, deep enough, dark enough to conceal a secret of this magnitude.
Thirteen years of getting over Max Ringgold, of convincing her heart he didn’t exist, and now he was in charge of her son for a month. No, his son.
God really did have a sense of humor.
She realized she’d been staring aimlessly at her plate and quickly sat up straight and brushed her hair off her shoulders. Thankfully, Cody had stopped his impromptu band immediately, and the other kids had followed suit. One grumbled incoherently, but Max let that go. So he picked his battles, too, didn’t demand perfection.
Really weird they had that, of all things, in common.
Was it possible this was part of God’s plan for Cody? Maybe this was the avenue he needed to turn his life around. God knew what He was doing...right?
Emma sure hoped someone did, because she’d never felt more lost. How embarrassing was it for her to struggle to understand her own child, when she was paid good money to evaluate the inner musings of other kids? In all her career, she never imagined she’d end up here.
Probably just part of the punishment for her own reckless choices that summer. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about the sins of the fathers affecting their children? And speaking of fathers and sins...she kept her eyes lowered as she studied Max. He looked more like Cody—or rather, Cody looked more like him—than she’d realized at first glance in the parking lot. The way they hunched over their plates, one forearm resting casually to the side, was identical.
Hopefully no one else noticed the similarities. Her stomach hurt just imagining that particular scenario. At least Cody would have no reason to suspect. All she’d ever told him growing up was that his father had been a bad guy who left her when she was pregnant. Not a complete lie—even though she’d been the one to technically do the leaving.
But Max had left emotionally first when he chose to do that drug deal and break his promise.
She sat back, pushing food around her plate with her fork as she observed the way Max interacted with the other parents. Patience personified, though he didn’t seem patronizing or condescending. Just confident. The parents, especially the mothers, seemed to warm to his personality like butter melting on a crescent roll. Not flirty, though one father did scoot his chair closer to his wife when she laughed at something Max said.
She swallowed a sip of water, her appetite long diminished from the tension-laced drive over with Cody and the surprise of seeing Max again for the first time in so long. Her body hadn’t caught up to her emotions.
And if her stomach kept jumping every time Max’s gaze flitted her direction, it might not ever catch up. Over a decade had passed, and he still had the power to physically undo her.
She was absolutely terrified to analyze that one.
“Well, folks.” Max scooted his chair back with a scrape against the polished wooden floors and stood. He braced his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly and pausing to briefly look every parent in the eye. “It’s time to say goodbye. I’ve learned the hard way already that here at Camp Hope, dragging it out isn’t good for anyone.”
No kidding. She’d end up crying and Cody would end up looking for an escape. Not like he needed any more prompting to run away. It wouldn’t be the first time. She slowly stood with the others, fighting the rising panic welling in her throat as they filed outside to the porch. He would be fine. And so would she.
But what if he found out? What if Max found out?
She smiled at her son, who bobbed his head in a nod but didn’t return the smile. He was nervous. She could tell by the pinched brow and the way his bottom lip curved on the side. Suddenly, all she could see was her baby boy, the one who used to follow her around the house, zooming a fire truck under her feet and burning his fingers on the cookie sheet because he was too impatient to wait. He needed her. Needed his mom.
But the only way for her to be there for him now was to leave.
Unwanted tears welled, and she blinked rapidly, forcing her voice to stay strong. She held out her arms, praying he would pacify her request for a hug. He fell quickly into her embrace, then hid a sniff behind a cough. She clutched him tightly, despite his stiffening against her touch, and tuned out the sounds of the parents around her performing similar rituals with their own kids.
Far too soon, she pulled away until she could see Cody’s eyes. “I’ll be back when it’s time. You just obey Mr. Ringgold.” The name tasted foreign on her lips, but her heart knew it well.
“He said to call him Max.” Cody kept his eyes focused somewhere past her shoulder, and she could only assume it was for the same reason she kept darting her gaze to his nose. Easier not to cry that way. Maybe he wasn’t so tough after all.
She pulled him in for one more hug, despite his grumbled protest. Don’t overdo it, Emma. But the self-coaching wasn’t working. Her desperate mommy heart kept taking charge. “Just obey. Let’s do this right and get you home, okay?” She still couldn’t believe she was telling anyone to do what Max Ringgold told them. Once upon a time that would have been a prison sentence—or worse.
“I know.” Impatience crowded Cody’s tone as he pulled away, and she bit back any more natural but unwanted advice. He was about to get plenty of that. Maybe he’d listen to someone else. But Max? It went against every instinct she had.
Still, he’d proved himself at the dinner table with the kids. He was capable and in charge. Max wasn’t a punk teenager anymore, and she wasn’t a needy girl attempting to fill herself with the temporal.
&n
bsp; Mostly.
She grazed Cody’s arm. “You know I love you, right?” She couldn’t help it—her voice cracked.
“I know.” Cody shuffled his feet, nodding with a jerk. “Relax, Mom. I’m not a murderer or anything.”
At least there was that. She figured she wasn’t getting a return “I love you,” but then again, he hadn’t said that in a long time. Probably not since she got him his iPod at his last birthday.
She forced the negative thought away. They were here. They’d get through this, and she’d figure out what—if anything—to do about Max later.
Her eyes darted to where he stood a respectful distance away from the group, giving the parents space to say their goodbyes, and then flicked to the ground as his gaze met hers. Right now, her secret was safe, and Cody was in a good position to do what he needed to do. That was what mattered the most. The rest would just have to wait.
Max would just have to wait.
Chapter Three
Emma poured herself what had to be her fourth cup of tea in the past two hours—and still, her headache had yet to abandon ship. She settled back against the throw pillows on her mother’s couch, then adjusted positions as a knotted tassel dug into her spine. She’d hated those pillows growing up. Still did.
Her mom sat across the coffee table from her in a straight-back chair, one sandal-clad foot bouncing an easy rhythm over her crossed leg. Her softly curled brown hair was cut the same, maybe a little shorter. The wrinkles under her eyes were new. Then again, the bags under Emma’s eyes were relatively new as well, thanks to Cody.
“Camp Hope is a quality facility, Emma. Cody will be fine.” Her mother paused as she took a sip from her teacup. “It will be good for him to get out of Dallas for a while.”
“I know. You’re right.” But she heard what her mom wasn’t saying. You should have brought him here more often. And maybe she should have. But she’d made her choices, and they worked for them. Or at least, they had worked until Cody cannonballed off the deep end.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she kept Cody from his grandmother. Her mom came and stayed with them in the city multiple times during the year, shopping, dining out and enjoying spa days at Emma’s expense. She didn’t mind pampering her mother—her father never did growing up, and her mom definitely deserved it.
Mom just never understood why Emma kept her secrets to herself.
“Will you still be in town for Thanksgiving?” Her mother’s tone was even, controlled, so much so that Emma couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the words. Did she want them to stay? Was that hope hidden? Or resignation of the inevitable inconvenience?
“I guess it depends on the program and Cody’s graduation.” She rolled in her lip. Thanksgiving. Seemed aeons away, though it was only about a month. “If Cody graduates then we should be able to join you. Or you could follow us to Dallas and we could get together there.” If he didn’t graduate...then Cody would go to juvie? Would the judge give him another chance? Would Cody stay out of trouble long enough to make it through the holidays?
She’d heard the tone of voice the judge had used when he’d pulled her aside privately after the hearing. “I know this is hard on you,” he’d said. “Especially as a counselor. So I’m playing this straight with you—Camp Hope is Cody’s last chance before serious repercussions. He’s on a bad road, Ms. Shaver, and the people he’s keeping company with are on a worse one.”
Like she didn’t already know.
But hearing it from an official’s mouth, from someone who had the authority to put her son in some form of teen confinement, made the slap of reality sting all the more.
Cody had to get through this program.
Emma set her teacup on the coffee table, emotion clogging her throat, and stood as her mother wisely remained silent. Adrenaline raced against exhaustion in a never-ending marathon. This was so messed up. She should be planning what to get her son for Christmas, not wondering if he’d even be home on December 25.
She moved to the lace-covered front window, admiring the sunset and soaking in the peace it offered as she ran her fingers over the worn edges of the curtains. They hadn’t changed, either. But then again, her mom didn’t have any more money now than she did when Daddy was alive.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the musty, familiar smell of the house of her childhood. She hadn’t been home since the funeral a few years ago. Even then, she’d kept to herself, rigid in the corner with a sandwich tray, feigning a smile and hoping Broken Bend didn’t stain her any further than it already had. She’d left after convincing her mom to come stay with them in Dallas. She had—and after two weeks’ worth of facials, manicures and new outfits, her mother went home.
While Emma went back to doing what she did best—fixing everyone else’s kids.
“We need dessert.” The chair squeaked as her mom stood. “You want a cookie? Homemade oatmeal raisin.”
She’d barely touched her dinner at the ranch, but comfort food sounded good. She accepted the plate her mother brought back from the kitchen and plucked a cookie from the top. Crumbly, just the way she liked them. She settled back on the couch, catching the crumbs with her hand. “You always made the best cookies, Mom.”
She smiled at the compliment. “You look like you need about ten more of them. I thought Dallas had all the best restaurants.”
“It does. We love eating out in the city. It’s just...” Just what? She was too stressed lately to eat? Too consumed with Cody’s issues to take care of herself? She wasn’t avoiding food. It just seemed so irrelevant compared to the bigger things going on in their life.
She intentionally took another cookie. “The campers and parents all ate together at Camp Hope earlier. I was really impressed with the way Max handled himself.” Shocked, too, but that detail wasn’t worth mentioning.
Her mother bit into her cookie, dusting crumbs from her pants onto the floor. “It wasn’t awkward, then?”
A raisin stuck in her throat, and Emma coughed, half choking as the raisin made a painful descent. “No—no, why would it be?” Did she know? After all this time, all the planning, all the carefully laid out details, her mother knew?
“Didn’t you hang out with him in high school a few times? When you were friends with what’s-her-name...Laura. That Laura girl, with the hair that came all the way to her bottom end.” Her mom gestured with her cookie.
Laura. The friend she used as an excuse when she decided to go out with Max. Emma winced. Laura existed, but the friendship wasn’t nearly what she’d implied back then. She couldn’t lie now—but she couldn’t totally evade the question, either, or her mom would grow even more curious.
She sipped her tea until her throat stopped burning from the coughing fit, then set the cup casually back on the table. “Yeah, I know Max. But it wasn’t awkward.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cut it.
Her mom tilted her head. “I wonder what happened to Laura. She seemed like a good kid. Maybe a little misguided, though.”
Good grief. Emma’s parents had been more sheltered than she thought. She knew she’d covered her tracks during her rebellious streak after senior year, but she hadn’t known she’d been that good. Laura was never without a cigarette in hand, even in the Broken Bend Church of Grace parking lot, and the stories of Laura’s weekend activities filled the chairs at the hair salon more than once. But that’s what happened when your father was a deacon and your mother taught Sunday school—not a lot of privacy, and a whole heap of judgment. Emma never knew for sure how she managed to get away with such a friend, but when compared to Max, Laura was a downright goody-goody.
“I think she moved away.” Like they all had, with their heads lowered in shame. Except for Max. Of all of them that hung out together that fateful summer, Max had been the one to stay and shape up his life. Talk about ironic.
She s
hifted uncomfortably on the couch. She couldn’t let the same thing happen to Cody, couldn’t let a season of bad choices ruin his life—or at least alter it forever. She couldn’t honestly say her own scarlet letter had ruined her life, but it’d definitely changed it. And left a permanent mark.
Cody deserved better. He had to take control now, before things spiraled out of everyone’s control. The judge was giving him a second chance at the right path, and if he didn’t take it, they’d all be roaming in the wilderness.
She couldn’t do that again—even if she deserved it.
Her mom sighed and ran her finger over the handle of her teacup. “I’ll never understand why you all wanted to get out of Broken Bend so badly. There’s something to be said for home, you know.”
Emma smiled and nodded, ignoring the tassel once again poking her in the back. Yes, there was.
But there was a lot more to be said for leaving.
* * *
Max hadn’t felt the urge to leave in a long time. But watching Nicole double over with her second contraction in the past two minutes made him want to turn his back on Broken Bend and bolt for the hills.
She turned wary eyes on him, as if somehow this whole situation were his fault, and braced both hands against her back. The morning sun shining behind her through the open barn doors served as a spotlight for her distorted silhouette. “Don’t even say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Max didn’t know much about expectant women, but he knew enough to be quiet. About, well, everything—especially the particularly bad timing of this event. He was supposed to have a month—four weeks. An entire camp. This changed everything.
What was he going to do?
But it changed a lot more for Nicole, so he wouldn’t dare address it. He took two steps backward, out of the barn. So much for their morning trail ride. “I’ll get Luke.”
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