Paige snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ll bet you had ladies beating a path to the inn.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” His lips snagged up in a grin.
“So you hung out with the Porters in the summer. What else?” She sensed there was more to the story.
George shrugged. “Jim was an older father and not the outdoorsy type. So I took Nate boating and fishing and taught him to swim. We...bonded.”
The conversation stopped when the door opened. Nathan reappeared, tugging a child behind him. The boy stood scowling at George and Paige, his arms crossed over his striped T-shirt. His hair, a lighter version of his father’s, looked as if someone had just tousled it. Probably Lou. The jolly cook had a soft spot for kids, especially troublesome boys.
Paige’s focus shifted to Nathan Porter, this time paying more attention to his appearance. With black hair that waved over his forehead, sculpted cheekbones, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, Nathan Porter was one of the most handsome men Paige had ever met. A pity he wasn’t more pleasant. She pulled her gaze away and focused on the guy she was really here to see as Nathan gave the boy a nudge forward.
“Zachary, you remember Mr. Reynolds. And this is Miss McFarlane. She’s in charge of the camp you’ll be attending.”
Taking her cue, Paige crouched in front of the still-frowning boy and smiled. “Hi, Zach. You can call me Paige.”
Zach turned angry eyes on his father. “She’s a girl. How’s this camp going to be any fun if she’s in charge?”
Nathan’s dark eyebrows slammed together. “Zachary, apologize to Miss McFarlane right this minute.”
Zach planted his feet more firmly on the carpet. “I won’t.”
“If this is the way you’re going to behave, then—”
Paige rose and quickly laid her hand on the man’s arm. “Mr. Porter, could I talk to Zach alone for a moment?”
Both man and boy turned furious eyes on her, and Paige stifled a sigh. She’d have her work cut out for her, if she decided to take on this challenge. Instead of clinging to the remaining parent, as was most often the case, Zach oozed anger and defiance at his father. She had to admit the unusual dynamics of this father/son relationship piqued her professional curiosity.
“I don’t want to talk to her.” Zach’s eyes shot daggers at her while Nathan’s face turned a mottled shade of red.
Drastic action was needed to defuse the situation. “Do you like animals, Zach?”
Still frowning, he shrugged.
“I thought we could go down to the barn. We have four horses. And our cat, Misty, had kittens a few weeks ago. What do you say?”
A gleam of interest lit up his brown eyes for a moment, but the scowl returned, and he clamped his mouth shut.
Paige waited a beat, then shook her head. “That’s too bad. Guess I’ll just leave you here with your dad and find another camper who wants to help with the animals. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Porter.” She started toward the door, ignoring the looks of disbelief on George’s and Nathan Porter’s faces.
“Wait.” Zach’s voice rang with desperation.
Hand on the doorknob, her back to the boy, Paige’s lips twitched in victory. She sobered and turned to face him. “Yes, Zach?”
“I guess going to the barn is better than hanging around here.”
Paige looked to Nathan for confirmation. He only nodded, his expression hovering somewhere between frustration and bewilderment.
“Good. We’ll be back later then.”
Before father or son could change his mind, Paige ushered Zach out the door.
On the way to the stables, she offered silent prayers Heavenward for help with this angry boy and slowed her steps to accommodate Zach, who trudged along beside her as though she were taking him to the dentist for a filling. Hopefully the horses and kittens would provide the icebreaker she needed.
“So what’s your favorite animal?” she asked as they walked, dust kicking up from the dirt path.
“Dinosaurs.” He glared over at her, as if daring her to contradict his choice.
“Dinosaurs are cool. I bet you like the T. rex best.”
His eyes grew wide. “How did you know?”
“Most boys love them. I like the raptors.”
Zach’s eyes went even wider. “You know about raptors?”
“Sure. I’ve seen Jurassic Park, like, a hundred times.” She gave silent thanks for her brother’s obsession with dinosaurs years earlier.
“Me, too.”
“So what type of pet do you like best?”
“Dogs. But cats are okay, too.” He kicked at a stone on the path.
“George and Catherine have a golden retriever named Goliath. Maybe George will bring you over to see him.”
When they reached the stable, Paige grabbed the heavy wooden door that squeaked as it opened, and flipped on the overhead lights. The pungent odors of manure and hay assaulted their nostrils. Zach wrinkled his nose as he stepped inside.
“I’ll show you the horses first.” She led the way to a stall where a large brown head peered over the door. “This is Mabel. She’s our oldest mare.”
Zach hung back, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the dirt floor. Most kids who’d never been around horses were nervous the first time they encountered one. She reached out to stroke Mabel’s nose, and the animal whinnied in greeting. “She’s very gentle. Would you like to pat her?”
The boy hesitated, eying the horse’s big head.
“I’ll show you how if you want.”
Zach looked up at her, brown eyes wide and uncertain. With the harshness of his scowl finally gone, Paige caught a glimpse of the vulnerable, lost child inside. Her heart squeezed with sympathy, knowing firsthand the pain and confusion that haunted him, and at that moment, she made her decision. Despite some lingering reservations, Paige resolved to do whatever she could, not only to help Zach get over the loss of his mother, but to heal his relationship with his father, as well. Zach needed to be able to depend on the only parent he had left.
Zach held out his hand. Paige took the warm fingers in hers, still sticky from Lou’s cookies, and reached up to place them on the mare’s nose. When he relaxed, she moved their hands up and down until he was stroking Mabel on his own.
“I think she likes you.” Paige’s comment earned a wavering smile from the boy. “Maybe next time we could bring her some treats. She loves apples and carrots.”
They continued down the corridor, greeting the gelding, Horatio, and two more mares, Sadie and Matilda. Zach’s confidence grew with each encounter.
“Will I get to ride one?”
“Probably. Jerry usually gives everyone a riding lesson.” She patted Matilda one more time and moved away from the stall.
“Who’s Jerry?”
“He helps me run the camp. Mainly he’s in charge of the sports and the outdoor activities.” Maybe if Zach knew there’d be a male involved with the camp—that it wasn’t just a bunch of girls—he’d be more excited.
“What kind of sports?”
“All kinds. Canoeing, swimming, volleyball, baseball. You name it, we play it.” She smiled down at him, grateful for the small spark of interest. She’d take any opening she could get. “Let’s go see if we can find Misty and her babies.”
* * *
Nathan tried to relax in one of the deck chairs on the big stone porch, but his mind was consumed with Zach and how he might be behaving—or misbehaving—with Paige McFarlane. Judging from his son’s initial reaction, Nathan doubted it was going well.
He stood and paced the deck, hands clasped behind his back. Never had he felt so frustrated, so helpless. Since Cynthia’s tragic death, Zach’s behavior had escalated in severity, and nothing Nathan said or did seemed to make a difference. It was a double bl
ow to him since helping people was an integral part of who he was, both personally and professionally. As a pastor, he used to pride himself on his ability to shepherd his congregation through the worst times of their lives. But that all changed the moment his life fell apart, crumbling his faith.
Now he seemed incapable of helping anyone—least of all himself.
His thoughts turned to Paige McFarlane, and an uneasy emotion churned in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—maybe someone with bifocals and a double chin. Certainly nothing had prepared him for her.
What kind of experience could she possibly have? Was he making a huge mistake entrusting his son’s emotional well-being to someone still in school?
Nathan sighed and looked at his watch. They’d been gone for almost an hour. Was that a good sign or bad? He started to say a prayer for his son, but anger rose up instead, and he pushed the thoughts away.
Praying was the last thing he could depend on. His wreck of a life proved that.
Chapter Two
Paige smiled as she watched Zach cuddle the tiny ball of orange fluff close to his chest. After a few seconds, the pitiful mews stopped and the kitten curled up to sleep, soothed by Zach’s steady heartbeat. Seated beside him in the straw, Paige stroked Misty’s gray head, while three other wriggling bodies struggled to find a comfortable spot against their mother.
Paige glanced over at Zach, relieved to see the tense lines of his face had relaxed. “You like the orange one best?”
“Yeah. I’d name him Willy if he were mine.”
“Good name.” The slight upturn of his mouth in response sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. “Do you have any pets at home?”
The hard, angry look returned. “My dad won’t let me.”
Paige’s heart clutched, remembering how her old hound dog, Chester, had absorbed buckets of her tears after Colin died. The unconditional love of a pet might be the perfect remedy to help Zach through his grief. “That’s too bad. Do you or your dad have allergies?”
He shook his head. “Dad says pets are too much trouble.”
Paige held back a comment, knowing she was walking on thin ice. One wrong word and the delicate trust she’d established would collapse. “Well, while you’re here, Willy can be your pet. Would you like that?”
“Really?” The tentative smile reappeared.
“Sure. But he has to stay with his mother. He’s too young to leave her yet.”
“I’ll come and visit him here then.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stood and brushed the straw off her shorts and shirt. “We’d better get back to the inn before your dad gets worried.”
The scowl returned. “He won’t be worried. He hates me.”
Paige could only stare as Zach placed the kitten down beside its siblings. “Why would you say your dad hates you?” She closed the barn door behind them and made sure the latch had caught.
Zach shrugged, his eyes trained on the ground as he walked. “He yells at me all the time. He’s always mad.”
Nathan Porter didn’t exactly exude a sunny disposition, but what could you expect from a man who’d just lost his wife? “Your dad’s not himself right now. Sometimes when adults seem angry, they’re really hiding how sad they are.” Her heart ached for Nathan and his son. She remembered all too well the feeling of being mired so deep in grief she thought she’d suffocate.
“My dad’s not sad. He’s glad my mom’s dead. Except now he’s stuck with me.”
Paige fought to keep her jaw from dropping. For a second time, Zach had stunned her into silence. She decided against saying anything else until she’d had a chance to talk to Nathan Porter. Something a lot deeper than grief was going on between father and son.
Something she needed to figure out before she went any further.
* * *
By two o’clock, Paige had tidied her office in anticipation of her appointment with Nathan. She’d made arrangements with George’s wife, Catherine, to look after Zach while they talked. After the last piece of paper had been filed, Paige stood back to survey the small room with a twinge of dismay. The surplus metal desk, file cabinet, ancient laptop and scarred wooden credenza didn’t exactly portray the professional impression she’d like. But then she’d never imagined entertaining patients here.
Still she’d done her best to cheer the place up with a couple of soft lamps, a few pieces of artwork and some pictures of her favorite moments at Wyndermere.
A sharp knock brought her back to the present. She wiped her damp palms on her shorts and exhaled. “Come in.”
Nathan Porter stepped inside, his larger-than-life presence making the room seem to shrink in size. He’d changed into a casual polo shirt, navy shorts and sneakers, which made him a little less intimidating than wearing a suit and tie. Still the air crackled with a subtle tension. Too bad his attitude hadn’t relaxed, as well.
“Mr. Porter. Thank you for coming. Please sit down.” She indicated the chair across from her desk. As he folded his tall frame onto the chair, she prayed for the right words to reach him.
“Look, Miss McFarlane,” he said curtly before she could begin, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to help my son. I’m sure George coerced you into doing this.”
A band of heat crept up her neck, but she lifted her chin, determined to keep a professional image. “George asked me to see what I could do for Zach, and I agreed to try.”
He let out a defeated breath that matched the tired lines around his eyes. “Are you aware that professional therapists have failed to get anywhere with him?”
Was that a subtle jab that she wasn’t a professional yet? She pushed back the doubts creeping in and forced a calm expression. “George mentioned it. Which is why I’d like to keep this very casual. I’ll incorporate Zach’s sessions with the everyday activities, so it’s more natural.”
Nathan nodded. “That might help.” He paused. “What about...compensation for your services?”
She cringed. Money was an uncomfortable topic for her. Especially when she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get through to the boy. “Why don’t we leave that until I see if I can make any headway with Zach.” She gripped her hands together. “Which brings me to the reason I asked to see you. In order to help your son, I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”
She swore she could see the walls go up around Nathan, brick by brick. He shifted on the metal chair that groaned under his weight.
“Was Zach’s behavior out of line?”
“No. In fact, we got along pretty well, all things considered. But something he said made me wonder if I’m missing part of the picture.”
Nathan’s piercing eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
She took a deep breath before continuing, hoping to untangle the knots in her stomach. “I’m sorry if this sounds cruel, but I’m only repeating what Zach told me. He said you hate him, you’re glad his mother died and you’re mad because you’re ‘stuck’ with him.” She ticked the list off on her fingers.
His mouth tightened into an even grimmer line as the color drained from his face. “You must know none of that is true.”
“Of course.” She kept an even tone. “What I need to know is why Zach believes it’s true.”
He threw out his hands. “How should I know what goes on in the mind of a seven-year-old?”
Paige fought to keep her manner sympathetic. “Mr. Porter, I understand you’re in a terrible position—trying to cope with your own loss, while helping your child deal with his overwhelming emotions.”
When there was no response, she picked up her pen and battled the urge to tap out her nerves and frustration on the legal pad. “Zach is most likely acting out quite a bit right now—creating scenes, having tantrums. Am I close?”
Nathan looked at her wi
th unconcealed surprise. “Very.”
“This type of behavior would be difficult enough to deal with in an ordinary situation. But dealing with your own issues as well must make it almost impossible.”
“Yes.” The relief in his voice accentuated the release of tension in his broad shoulders.
She sensed he hadn’t shared this burden with anyone—that he’d been keeping his own grief bottled up. “May I ask how your wife died?” she asked gently.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, pain leaped from their blue depths. “A brain aneurysm—five months ago. Zach found her when he got home from school.”
“Oh, no. How awful.” The thought brought the sting of tears to her eyes. “No wonder he’s having such a hard time. Did he call you right away?”
Nathan looked away again. “He called his grandmother and she phoned for an ambulance. But it was too late. Cynthia had been dead for hours.”
“I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one...unexpectedly.” She struggled with a lump in her throat as painful memories surfaced. The flashing lights of the police car spearing the rain-soaked night. The wail of the siren that matched her own wail of grief. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed the images away. She couldn’t afford to relive her own sorrow every time she treated a patient.
Nathan still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Once again, Paige sensed there was far more to the situation than he was telling her. She forged ahead to cover the awkward silence. “Right now, Zach is suffering from the classic anger associated with the grieving process. He’s also experiencing severe abandonment issues. Subconsciously, Zach is testing your limits to see if you, too, will abandon him.”
Nathan’s focus riveted back to her, as though she held the secrets of the universe. When she shifted under his intense stare, the wheel on her rickety chair creaked. “It’s important to keep reassuring him of your unconditional love and support. Make him understand that no matter what he does, you love him and will never leave him.”
Healing the Widower's Heart Page 2