by Brenda Mott
“I sure hope so. I got out here too late to witness much. Can you come over?”
“Of course.” Darci ended the call and parked her car.
“Oh, Christopher. What have you done now?”
CHAPTER SIX
DARCI HURRIED DOWN the street, her high heels clicking. Damn! Of all the times not to be wearing her tennis shoes. She pushed her way through the gate that led to Jordan’s backyard, and immediately spotted the commotion in the field.
“Christopher!” Darci power walked toward him, her adrenaline surging. “What on earth is going on?” She took in Michaela’s skinned knee and rumpled clothing, Chris’s torn jeans and the bay gelding grazing nearby, reins trailing on the ground.
Calm down, she told herself.
“He knocked me down—”
“I did not! She tripped.”
“—and tried to break my cell phone.”
“—just wanted to erase the video.”
“Enough!” Jordan’s voice boomed, causing everyone to clamp their mouths shut and rivet their attention on him.
“Are you all right, Michaela?” Darci asked, reaching out tentatively to touch the girl’s shoulder.
The girl’s lower lip trembled. Her elbow was scraped, too, and she bent her arm to peer down at it. “Great. That’ll look real nice with the tank top I was going to get at the mall.” Her big eyes widened at Darci. “I only wanted a picture of the horse,” she said. “He got all mad and went crazy on me.”
“I did not!” Christopher’s green eyes darkened. “She’s lying, Mom. Her and Jenny were making fun of me, and they were taking a video to be mean.”
“How could taking a video of a beautiful horse be mean?” Jenny piped up.
“Get Dollar right now,” Darci said to Chris. “What are you doing dropping the reins like that anyway? He could’ve wandered out of the field and down the street into traffic!”
“He’s ground tied.” Defiantly, Chris stared her down.
Darci silently counted to ten. “Ride him straight to Uncle Leon’s and wait for me there. And don’t sweat that horse up anymore, you hear me?”
“Yeah.” He shot the girls another hateful look before turning toward the bay gelding.
“I’m sorry,” Darci said to Jordan, wanting to give her son the benefit of the doubt, yet feeling the need to make things right. She couldn’t imagine Christopher pushing a girl down and hurting her, but then again, she’d never dreamed he would take a gun to school, either. “I’m sure Chris didn’t mean to hurt you, Michaela.”
“He did,” she said, blue eyes welling again. She leaned on her cane. “Ouch.” She brushed gingerly at the dirt and gravel stuck to her skinned knee.
“Let’s get that cleaned up,” Jordan said, then he turned to Darci. “We’ll sort this out later.”
“Fine.” Darci’s face heated, and she walked back through the gate and down the sidewalk with as much dignity as she could muster.
Once home, she kicked off her heels, stripped off her dress, and scrubbed the makeup from her face. In her bra and panties, she flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and allowed herself five minutes to wallow in self-pity. It was a routine she’d adopted in Northglenn after her world had fallen apart. Every night when she went to bed, she’d wash off the makeup that helped her hide how sad and tired she felt, give herself five minutes to cry, then shake off the mood and do her best to move on.
A tear squeezed from the corner of her eye and she brushed it back angrily.
Things were going to work out here in River’s End. She just had to give it time. And, truly, Chris was not unlike any other teen. Everyone had their problems, and in spite of what he’d done in Northglenn, Darci knew deep down her son was a good kid. He’d been through a lot, with his dad remarrying and having twins with his new wife. Not that she was making excuses for Chris. But Ron had seemed to forget his son even existed, outside the monthly court-ordered child support he paid—money Darci put in an account for her son’s college education.
If she expected other people to accept Chris despite his past, then she had to do the same. There were bound to be more conflicts in and out of school, just as there were with all kids. She had six more years of him being a teenager, so she’d better be prepared and not overreact every time something happened.
Darci stood and pulled on a pair of jeans. She’d just grabbed a T-shirt out of the closet when a rather loud knock sounded at the door. Trying to turn the shirt right side out, she headed for the living room.
“Coming!” she called.
The knob turned, and the door eased open. Hadn’t she locked it?
“Christopher? What are you doing? I—”
Jordan stared at her as she stood there in her bra and jeans, mouth open, holding the lime-green shirt in front of her like a square of origami paper she didn’t know what to do with.
He swallowed visibly. “Sorry.”
She glared at him. “Are you always in the habit of opening people’s doors? I know it’s a small town, but…”
“I thought you said come in.”
“I said coming.”
“Right. Sorry,” he repeated, belatedly ducking out and closing the door.
Rolling her eyes, Darci slipped the T-shirt over her head, at the same time wondering if she was as red as her bra. “Come in,” she said pointedly as she swung the door open.
He stood there for a moment on her porch, looking way too sexy. He stared at her as though she were still wearing only her bra, and now it was Darci’s turn to swallow.
Jordan heaved a sigh, as if he found the next words painful. “I had to come and tell you I might’ve been wrong to blow my stack at Christopher.”
“Really?” This wasn’t what Darci had expected to hear.
“Yes, really. I overheard Mac and Jenny whispering in the bathroom. I don’t think things happened quite the way the girls told us.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “I let Michaela know she and I are going to have a talk about it later, when Jenny’s gone home. I just thought you’d want to know.”
Darci relaxed somewhat. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out. See you later.” Just like that, he was out the door.
MONDAY AT THE HOSPITAL was busy. It seemed that half the town was there—for surgery, to have babies or with regular emergency fare like fevers and fractures. Darci didn’t have a chance to talk to Jordan and see if he’d found out anything more from Michaela.
Tuesday night was the scheduled parent-teacher meetings and open house at River’s End Middle School. Darci fixed a quick supper for Chris and her, and they were off. She was about to climb into her car when she spotted Jordan’s black Explorer heading their way. He lifted his hand in a wave as he passed.
Four houses apart, and they couldn’t ride to a school function together thanks to her kid. “They’re going?” Christopher groaned.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Darci said. “You don’t have to talk to Michaela or even go near her.”
“Like I would anyway.” He shoved his skateboard, which Darci had insisted he bring in case he changed his mind about the park, into the backseat, then climbed into the car.
At the school, Darci found her hands sweating as she looked around, anticipating seeing Jordan in the crowd of parents and kids. Something about him got to her, which was ridiculous. But though she’d seen his car in the parking lot, there was no sign of Jordan or Michaela in the classroom hallways or the cafeteria where the open house was being held.
Darci walked around and mingled with the crowd of parents and teachers. She had a six-forty-five appointment with Chris’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Bedford, who turned out to be a tall, soft-spoken man with a firm handshake and a warm smile. His quiet manner switched to one of concern once he and Darci were alone in the classroom.
“Christopher’s doing his schoolwork, but just barely,” he told her. “It’s early days, and he’s new here, so he’s had a lot of adjus
ting to do. But I’ve had to keep on top of him about homework assignments, and he could stand to study harder for tests.”
Darci pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was hoping the transition back to a public school from homeschooling would be good for him.”
“Oh, I think it will be if we give Chris time and the proper guidance. I’d like to see him make some friends. He pretty much keeps to himself.”
“We were just talking about that the other day,” Darci said. “Hopefully that’s something he’ll work on.”
She left the meeting minutes later feeling dejected. What had she hoped? To walk into the interview and find out that her son was the Donny Osmond of the seventh grade, all sunshine smiles and happy-go-lucky attitude?
In the cafeteria refreshments were offered, and teachers mingled with parents and students. Darci located Chris, then helped herself to a cookie. She’d just started to take a bite when someone jostled her elbow. Cookie crumbs spilled down the front of her blouse.
“Hi,” said a familiar voice.
Darci swallowed the cookie bite and whirled around to look up into Jordan’s dark eyes.
“How’s your head these days?” he asked.
“All better.” She’d practically forgotten about her injury. “We could’ve carpooled tonight.” As soon as she made the statement, Darci had an image of them riding in her car together. Jordan’s cologne would fill the vehicle, sending her fantasies into overdrive. Nothing better than a good-looking man who smelled divine.
Bad idea. Why couldn’t she stop thinking of him that way?
“I s’pose we could have,” Jordan said.
“By the way, I did talk to Chris about what happened Sunday.” He’d given her his version of things, and Darci was pretty sure the truth fell somewhere between the girls’ accusations and Chris’s defense. After all, her son wasn’t perfect. He’d made Michaela and Jenny out to be completely at fault, but even if that was the case, Chris had hurt Michaela. And his show-off performance wouldn’t have helped matters. “He didn’t mean to trip Michaela. She fell over her cane. Still, all three kids were to blame, from what I can gather, and I’m sorry for Chris’s part in it. I think he only wanted to show off for the girls, and things got out of hand.”
“I’ll say,” Jordan said. But before she could bristle he held up his hand. “Easy there. I only meant that Michaela had no business egging things on by filming him. And, by the way, I confiscated her cell phone for three weeks. That’s if she behaves herself.”
“Three weeks, huh?” He’d done well. Darci supposed she ought to punish Christopher for his part, especially hamming it up on Dollar. But he’d been punished enough lately, and his antics had been relatively harmless—at least until he’d yanked Michaela’s cell phone out of her hand. Which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t tried to video him… “I told Christopher he should’ve just ridden away. I don’t know why he was that upset over the video. I guess I should ground him for behaving rudely.”
Chris had been almost frantic when he talked about Michaela filming him. But by prancing around on Dollar, hadn’t he been looking for just that kind of attention?
He’d learned nothing from the negative attention his stunt at Northglenn had gotten, and even after the time he’d served in juvenile detention—or maybe because of it—he’d created minor skirmishes with the neighborhood kids who’d taunted him.
Darci felt dizzy, and it had nothing to do with Jordan’s nearness or the lingering effects of her head injury. She was tired of her thoughts running in circles when it came to her son’s behavior. She wanted only to move on and give them both the clean start she felt they deserved. Hadn’t they paid enough?
“Oh, I see you two are here together.” The chipper voice interrupted Darci’s thoughts.
She turned to see a tiny woman with spiked blond hair and heels so high, Darci couldn’t imagine how she could balance on them. But even the shoes barely put her over five feet tall. Her young face, denim skirt, and colorful sequined T-shirt made her look more like a student than a teacher. Darci had met Shauna Roark briefly when she’d first arrived tonight and knew that she taught classes in both sixth and seventh grades.
“No, actually—” Darci began.
“No, we—” Jordan spoke at the same time.
“Good!” Shauna beamed at them as though neither had said a word. “I have a huge favor to ask the two of you, since you’re neighbors and you work together and everything.”
“We don’t exactly work together,” Darci said.
Shauna’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “You don’t work at the hospital?”
“Well, yes, but—never mind.” Darci smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“The annual Sadie Hawkins dance is coming up a week from Friday, and we need chaperones. How about it, you two?”
Darci wanted to refuse, but how could she? She mustered a smile. “I’d be happy to help out.”
“Wonderful!”
“I’ll have to see what my schedule’s like at the hospital,” Jordan said.
“Of course. Just let me know.” Shauna waved a hand bedecked in rings, purple bangle bracelets and red nail polish. “Toodles.” And with that, she was off, balancing on the heels as expertly as a jester on stilts.
“She seems nice,” Darci said, feeling a bit awkward.
“She is,” Jordan said. “And one of the most upbeat people I know, especially considering what she’s been through.”
“Oh?”
“Her eight-year-old daughter had a heart transplant about six months ago.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Darci couldn’t imagine going through something like that. It made her own problems pale in comparison. “Is she doing all right?”
“Seems to be. Her cardiologist is a friend of mine. She’s in good hands.”
Before she could reply, Darci spotted one of Chris’s teachers heading her way, a frightened look on her face.
What now?
Belatedly, Darci realized that she’d lost track of Christopher. The last time she’d seen him, he was heading out the door with his skateboard.
The teacher, Rebecca Thompson, looked relieved when she spotted Jordan. “Dr. Drake, thank God. Come quick! Darci, it’s Christopher.” Her face was pale beneath the cafeteria lights. “Some boys jumped him at the skate park. He’s hurt pretty bad.”
Darci’s heart leapt to her throat. “What happened? I thought the park was being supervised.”
“It is. But we can’t watch every child every second and, well, it happened so quickly.”
Darci was already running out the rear exit, toward the back of the school.
She didn’t stop to see if Jordan was behind her, but she could hear his cowboy boots thumping along the walkway, and within moments, he had passed her and was striding down the grassy hillside, taking a shortcut to the park.
Darci followed him, a thousand worst-case scenarios running through her mind. She couldn’t shake the teacher’s words. He’s hurt pretty bad.
Dear God, please let Christopher be all right. Please…
She hit the grassy hill running, nearly catapulting herself into a somersault.
By the time she neared the sidewalk surrounding the skate park, she’d spotted the crowd of people but couldn’t see Christopher.
“Let me through!” Jordan demanded, way ahead of her. “I’m a doctor.”
The crowd parted, and Darci raced ahead to follow Jordan, her gaze frantically searching for her son.
When she saw him, she nearly fainted for the second time in her life. Christopher sat on the ground, between the sidewalk and one of the cement bowls, looking dazed and confused. The top of his head was split open and bleeding, and a large gash streaked his right cheek in a bloody smear. His cap was gone, his hair disheveled…his shirt torn.
“Oh, my God, Christopher!” Darci was at his side in an instant, kneeling on the grass.
“Let me examine him.” Jordan spoke firmly, stilling her with a hand on he
r arm. “I need some room. Did somebody call an ambulance?”
Several people spoke up, confirming they’d dialed 911.
Darci pressed her fingers to her lips, tears burning her eyes. “Who did this to you?”
“Just some guys, Mom,” Christopher said. “I’m okay.” He spat blood onto the ground beside him.
Then he threw up and slumped sideways onto the grass.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE INSTANT CHRISTOPHER passed out, Jordan realized the boy’s injuries might be more extensive than he’d first thought. While children with head injuries often vomited once, the loss of consciousness could be a sign of more serious head trauma. Carefully, Jordan rolled the boy’s head, neck and body as one unit, positioning him on his side to prevent choking in case he threw up again.
Taking care not to apply unnecessary pressure in case the kid had a skull fracture, Jordan gently placed his clean handkerchief against the gash on top of the boy’s head.
The ambulance and paramedics arrived in minutes, just after Christopher regained consciousness, and Jordan rode with them to the hospital, instructing Darci to meet him there. She’d lost all color in her face, and he only hoped she wouldn’t black out herself. Jordan had just come off shift before the open house, leaving Dr. Samuels on duty. But at the hospital he couldn’t see the E.R. physician anywhere.
“Is Dr. Samuels with another patient?” he asked one of the nurses.
She nodded. “We had a traffic accident out on the highway. He’s tied up in exam rooms one and two, and Dr. Cheung is still on his way in.”
“Give me two minutes.” Jordan went to the linen cabinet and grabbed a scrub shirt, ducking into exam room four. He peeled off his T-shirt and threw on the scrubs, then washed up.
With gloved hands, he examined Christopher, who’d been brought into the adjoining room. He lay in a semireclining position on an exam table. Darci hovered nearby. “Is he okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Chris insisted. “Other than a splitting headache.”
Jordan shined a pen light into the kid’s eyes. “That’s good,” he said, as the pupils responded normally. “What day is it, Chris?”