by Metsy Hingle
He hooked the black jacket on his index finger and flung it over his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you took a long hard look at yourself, Dr. Bennett. I don’t know what that ex-husband of yours did to you, but maybe someday you’re going to stop punishing every man who manages to get close to you for his sins. I just hope when you do, it won’t be too late for us.”
* * *
The next morning Amanda had just finished trying to camouflage the effects of a night that had brought little sleep and far more tears than she’d imagined possible when her doorbell rang. Smoothing the line of her white slacks and nautical top, she walked to the door and opened it.
“Good morning, Amanda,” Martha Winthrop said breezily. “May I come in?”
Amanda hesitated a moment. “Martha, this morning’s really not a good time for me. I mean, I’m not quite up to company. Could we possibly do this another time?”
“I’m sorry if I’m catching you at a bad time, dear, but this will only take a few minutes. And I’m afraid this simply can’t wait.”
Although her words were apologetic, her voice lacked sincerity, Amanda thought.
Martha cast a pointed glance at Amanda’s neighbor working next door in her garden. “I really do need to speak with you, Amanda, and I think it would be best if this discussion took place in private.”
Feeling she had little choice, Amanda opened the door and allowed Martha to enter.
A few minutes later, after serving them coffee, Amanda sat back on the couch. She took a sip from her cup. “Since this is obviously not a social visit, Martha, why don’t we skip all the pleasantries and you tell me exactly what it is you need to speak with me about.”
“You’re very direct, my dear. I like that.” Martha set down her cup. “I’ll try to be equally direct. Summer Grayson’s my granddaughter.”
Amanda’s stomach tensed, but she remained silent. Taking another sip of coffee, she studied the other woman over the rim of her cup. In her dark navy suit and matching hat, Martha reminded her of a military commander—one who was on a perilous mission.
“Nothing to say, my dear? You don’t seem surprised.”
Amanda shrugged. “I don’t see where it’s any of my concern whether Summer Grayson’s your granddaughter or not.”
“Oh, she’s my granddaughter, all right. And I’m glad to see that you’re not going to try to deny it. After seeing you with Michael Grayson last night I was afraid you might.”
“Get to the point, Martha. What is it you want?”
“Why, your help, of course.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes. “My help in what?”
“In ensuring that my granddaughter is given every opportunity to grow up a happy and normal child.” Martha toyed with her gloves a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Amanda’s. “You see, I know you’ve been counseling my granddaughter.”
Amanda nearly choked on the protest that rushed to her lips, but Martha lifted her hand. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know about Summer’s behavioral problems and that you’ve been working with her for nearly three months now. I understand she’s progressing quite nicely.”
Amanda’s fingers tightened on the cup. “I’d be very interested in learning how you managed access to information that’s supposed to be confidential.”
Martha smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “This is New Orleans, my dear. I’m a very important person in this town. Most people are only too happy to do small favors for me.”
Fuming, Amanda said, “Well, since I’m not from New Orleans, how important you are doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“It will, if you’re hoping to practice here someday.”
Amanda gritted her teeth and wondered what her mother could have possibly found in common with this woman. “If that’s supposed to be a threat, I think I’ll choose to ignore it.”
“That wouldn’t be wise.”
“Maybe not, but it’s my decision. Is that all?”
“No, it isn’t. I want my granddaughter, Amanda. And I intend to get custody of her. I’d like you to help me.”
“What makes you think I can help you?”
“Because you’re her psychologist. And as I’m sure Michael Grayson’s already surmised, since you’ve worked with the child, your testimony would mean a lot in a courtroom.”
Amanda fought to remain calm while inside she was seething at the woman’s audacity. “Even if I were in a position to help you, which I don’t believe I am, what makes you think I would?”
“Because if what your mother told me about you is true, you’re a trained psychologist and a good one. You’ll do what’s best for the child.”
“Which means recommending that you be appointed her legal guardian?”
“Of course. After all, I am her grandmother. And despite the circumstances of her birth, she is a Winthrop. She deserves her heritage. I assure you, I can offer the child a great deal more than that foolish uncle of hers.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Martha. Michael Grayson happens to be a fine man,” Amanda said, angry at the other woman’s disdain. She could easily see where Michael had learned such prejudices if Martha Winthrop were any example of what passed for society in New Orleans. “He loves Summer a great deal and is doing a wonderful job with her.”
“Then why does she need a child psychologist?”
“She doesn’t—at least, not anymore. She only needed someone to help her work through the pain of losing her mother. And that certainly wasn’t Michael’s fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Martha’s lips thinned. “It was Sara’s fault for taking my grandchild and running away with her.”
Amanda set down her cup. “As I understand it, you weren’t all that anxious to welcome her into your home to begin with. Luckily she had a brother who cared enough to stand by her when your son wouldn’t.”
Some of the starch seemed to go out of the older woman. She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes. That was a dreadful mistake. One I truly regret. But, Bernard, my late husband, wouldn’t hear of Phillip marrying the girl.”
“Why not?”
“It just didn’t seem right for our Phillip to marry the daughter of a former employee.”
“Employee? Sara’s father worked for you?”
“Why, yes. Didn’t Michael tell you? His father worked for our construction company. There was an accident on one of the job sites, a piece of equipment malfunctioned or something, and Michael’s father was killed.”
Stunned by the revelation, Amanda remained silent as Martha continued.
“The man’s wife, poor thing, went completely to pieces. Suffered some kind of breakdown, even tried to kill herself. Bradley and Michael were around the same age...and Bradley always did have a tendency to take up with the children of our employees. I guess that’s why he knew some of the Grayson kids’ friends. Anyway, Bradley said the kids used to call the poor soul Crazy Alice or Mad Alice or something like that because she was always pretending her husband was still alive, that he was coming home. But then, we all know how cruel kids can be sometimes.”
Amanda’s heart twisted as she remembered the look on Michael’s face when Bradley had referred to Crazy Alice. She could easily imagine how difficult those taunts had been for the proud boy Michael would have been.
“Anyway, my Bernard was dead set against Phillip marrying the girl and I wasn’t exactly wild about the idea myself.”
“Phillip was a grown man. He should have stood up to you and his father.”
Martha shook her head. Her eyes misted. “Not my Phillip. He hated confrontation. He was such a quiet boy. He liked music and art. That’s what attracted him to the Grayson girl in the first place. I never dreamed I’d lose him and Bernard both so suddenly.”
“Is that when you decided you wanted Summer?”
“I’ve always wanted my grandchild,” she said firmly. Martha’s eyes flashed and she wiped away any trace of tears. “Sara knew that. That’s why she took Summer
and ran away. And it’s also the reason she would never stay in any one place very long. Because she knew I’d find her and my granddaughter. But she’s gone now and Summer’s back. I want my grandchild, Amanda. And I mean to have her.”
“Michael’s her guardian.”
“For now. I intend to change that.”
Amanda’s stomach knotted. “What about Summer? Don’t you want what’s best for her?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then how can you even think of taking her away from Michael? He’s the only family she’s ever known. It would be heartless to take her away from him.”
“Heartless?” she asked, her voice incredulous. “Hardly. Sensible is more like it. When you consider all that I can do for her, it would be foolish to leave her with her uncle.”
“But Summer adores him. It’ll break her heart.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Amanda. The child will adjust. Besides, I’m not opposed to Summer seeing her uncle—even though he refused me the same privilege.”
Fear clawed at Amanda. Fear for Summer. For Michael. “For heaven’s sake, we’re talking about a child, a flesh-and-blood little girl with feelings. Can’t you and Michael work this out instead of fighting over her like she’s...like she’s some kind of prize in a contest?”
“Since you’re the one on such friendly terms with Michael Grayson, why don’t you ask him that question yourself? I’m through begging for a chance to know my granddaughter. From now on, I’ll do my talking through the courts.”
Martha stood. She picked up her bag and her gloves. “I can see from your defense of him, that Michael’s already gotten you under his spell. Just remember, my dear, Michael Grayson’s a street fighter. He’ll do anything and everything to win. And he doesn’t care who he uses in order to get what he wants. If I were you, I’d be very careful or you’re liable to find yourself tossed out on your pretty little rear when you’ve outlasted your usefulness.”
Seven
If he had any sense, he would forget about her, Michael told himself as he turned the wheel of his car and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Saint Margaret’s.
But he couldn’t. Heaven knew, he’d tried for the past six days. He’d even made an excuse and avoided meeting her after Summer’s last session—not that it had done him any good. He’d still been forced to listen to Summer sing Amanda’s praises.
Shoving the car door closed, he headed for the school building. Maybe he had overreacted, he admitted. He’d certainly been angry at the sight of Amanda with the Winthrops. What a relief it had been to discover he had been wrong and that she hadn’t betrayed him.
He drew in a deep breath and released it, remembering the way Amanda had looked at him out of those big brown eyes. She’d made him feel so special, said such sweet, wonderful things to him. And when he’d kissed her and she’d ignited in his arms...
Michael shook his head, trying to blot out the memory of the taste of Amanda’s lips, the feel of her soft, silken skin. But he couldn’t shake that last image of her eyes filled with pain and accusation, her chin tilted proudly as she’d ordered him to leave.
He’d left there feeling like the lowest form of life.
Michael kicked a rock, his sense of guilt intensifying for not telling her the truth. But he hadn’t lied to her when he’d told her he hadn’t made love to her because of Summer.
He hadn’t.
Of course, he also hadn’t told her the real reason he had pursued her in the beginning. Still, he had been honest when he’d said that the potential custody suit had had nothing to do with his making love to her.
It hadn’t. What had happened between them hadn’t been planned. He’d wanted her simply for herself. And it wasn’t just lust. He rubbed the tense muscles at the base of his neck as he strode down the cement walkway toward the school. The problem was, he liked her, and had meant it when he’d told her he cared about her.
And because he had begun to care about her, he was churning inside with guilt. Irritated by this new weakness in himself, Michael yanked open the door.
“Michael!” Sister Mary Grace stumbled, nearly falling as she came through the door.
Quickly, he reached out a hand to steady her. “Sister, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Obviously,” she said, adjusting the deep blue veil of her habit. She resettled the books in her arms. “I guess you’re here to pick up Summer.”
“Yes.”
“I think she’s still in Amanda’s office.” She smiled. “Summer’s really done well, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, she has.”
“And Amanda tells me she won’t be needing many more counseling sessions.”
“As a matter of fact, today’s her last one,” Michael informed her, remembering the strained conversation when Amanda had called to advise him.
“You must be very pleased.”
But he wasn’t, at least not entirely, he realized. Because now he would no longer have any excuse to see Amanda. And after the other night, he doubted if she would agree to see him again on a personal basis.
“I’m glad things worked out so well. I know you were concerned about Summer and didn’t like the idea of her seeing a psychologist.”
“Yeah, but I was wrong and you were right, Sister. Summer’s a different child now because of you. She’s much happier than the little girl I brought in here a few months ago. I appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”
“I haven’t done anything. The one you should be thanking is Amanda. She’s the one responsible for the change in Summer.”
“Yeah, I guess she is.”
Sister Mary Grace smiled again, her eyes twinkling. Then she glanced at her watch. “Heavens! Look at the time. I have to run or I’m going to be late for evening prayers. Goodbye, Michael.” She started down the walkway at a rapid pace, then turned and called back over her shoulder. “Don’t forget about the fair next weekend. I expect to see you and Summer both.”
“Don’t worry, Sister, we’ll be there.”
Michael entered the school building and walked through the empty halls, now silent except for the ticking of the wall clock. He stepped inside the reception area that had become so familiar to him during the past four months.
Four months. During that time Summer had gone from a quiet, sad-eyed little girl to a happy, smiling one. And it had been because of Amanda.
Sister Mary Grace was right. He did owe Amanda his thanks. And maybe he owed her an apology, too. Michael paused outside Amanda’s office.
“But I like talking to you. Why can’t I keep coming to see you?” Summer asked.
The door was slightly ajar and Michael peered through the narrow opening at the dark-haired child he’d come to love so dearly and at the woman who stirred not only his blood but some new, unfamiliar feelings of tenderness in him.
“Summer, I explained that to you already. You don’t need me anymore. You’re doing fine in school now...even in Mrs. Green’s class. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And we talked about your mother, about her dying. And you realize you don’t have anything to feel guilty about. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not having any more bad dreams. Are you?”
“No.”
“And we both know you’ve got your uncle wrapped around your little finger.”
Summer giggled.
“So what do you need me for?”
Summer’s smile faded. “I need you to be my friend,” she said softly.
“Oh, honey.” Amanda came from around the desk and knelt down in front of Summer.
Michael swallowed. Amanda looked so gentle, so loving, he thought, much the way she had Saturday night when she’d told him there was nothing common about him.
“I’ll always be your friend.” She touched Summer’s cheek. “Just because I’m not your counselor anymore doesn’t mean we’ll stop being friends.”
“Promise?”
A
manda held up her hand as though taking an oath. “Promise. Girl Scout’s honor.”
Summer tilted her head to one side. “Now that you’re not my counselor anymore, can I call you Amanda the way Sister Mary Grace does?”
“I think Miss Amanda would be better,” Michael said, stepping into the room.
Amanda looked up, her expression guarded as she met his eyes. She came to her feet.
“Hi, Uncle Mike.” Summer bounded out of her chair and came over to him.
“Hi yourself, Shortstuff.” Michael dropped down to the floor and gave Summer a big hug. “Sorry I’m late,” he told Amanda as she retreated behind her desk.
“No problem. Summer and I were just saying our goodbyes.” She shuffled some papers into a folder and closed it. “You do remember that today is Summer’s last session?”
Slowly, Michael came to his feet. “I remember.” He willed her to look at him, but she continued to avert her gaze. “Maybe we should discuss that. I know we agreed on you working with her until the end of the school term, but it’s only been a few months. Maybe we should continue with the counseling until the fall. Of course, I’d be willing to pay you for your services.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Michael. But I think you’d be wasting your money. Summer’s doing fine. She really doesn’t need my help any longer.”
“But we’re still going to be friends,” Summer piped in. “Aren’t we, Amanda?”
“Miss Amanda,” Michael corrected.
“Aren’t we, Miss Amanda?” Summer repeated.
The look she gave Summer was filled with warmth and affection. “That’s right,” she said softly. “We’re going to be friends.”
“Then I’d say you’re one lucky little girl. Because Miss Amanda’s a very special lady. I don’t know what we would have done without her.”
Amanda looked at him, her eyes questioning as they locked with his.
What was going on behind those deep brown eyes? he wondered. Was she remembering, too? The way it had been between them. The heat. The passion. The overpowering need to be close to one another.