She’d always been able to finesse even the stickiest boardroom situations, but this was different. This was about her daughter, and everyone in the room clearly knew more about what was going on than Amy did.
“If indeed what we’re dealing with is ADD,” the fourth-grade teacher continued, “there are some wonderful treatment plans that can offer Becky relief from a great deal of the symptoms.”
“You mean drugs?” The idea of doping her child into conforming in school made Amy’s skin crawl.
She sought out Josh’s reassuring presence across the table, as she had so many times during the meeting. When Mr. Fletcher had gone into detail about the most common symptoms of the disorder and how they affected a child’s ability to focus and settle into the classroom, Josh had gifted her with the same half smile he did now.
“I’m not going to medicate my daughter so she’s less of a problem for you in the classroom.” Amy looked down at her clasped hands rather than at the teacher.
“That’s not what Mrs. Cole was suggesting.” Josh’s tone was also full of understanding. But unlike the others, his reassurance didn’t seem condescending. His support made her more relieved than she wanted to be that he was there. “Medication is one course to consider. But it, like the other treatment options, aren’t implemented simply to control a child’s behavior. They’re meant to reduce her difficulty while she learns strategies to help her deal with her disorder. Becky’s frustration and the effects her low performance and interpersonal issues are having on her self-esteem need to be addressed. Some children with milder forms of ADD can learn to tackle their obstacles without meds. And we don’t even know for sure what we’re dealing with yet. That’s where the specialized testing comes in. Bottom line, we need to start helping Becky now, before school becomes even more of a negative experience for her.”
Amy twisted her pen between her fingers as she reread the notes she’d taken throughout the meeting. She could handle this. She just needed to focus on the facts, not the panic and fear of failing her daughter. She could fall apart later, when she wasn’t depending on a roomful of strangers for answers.
“And this testing. Would you do that here?” She fingered the stack of Becky’s papers Mrs. Cole had brought from class. Papers that were half-finished and full of incorrect answers to problems her bright daughter was more than capable of handling.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Fletcher nodded. “We can do that here, or you might want to find a specialist in Atlanta.”
“Well, I…” Not knowing what to say, not wanting to offend the good-intentioned man, she looked toward Josh. “I don’t know….”
“Doug’s being modest, Amy,” Josh interjected. “He’s not only a nationally certified school psychologist, but his masters from Duke qualifies him to provide comprehensive evaluations in any number of areas. As well as personalized counseling when it’s warranted. He can also advise you on modifying Becky’s curriculum, if that becomes appropriate.”
Amy looked to Doug Fletcher. “What kind of modifications?”
“The law provides kids like Becky with the opportunity to request greater curriculum flexibility in any public school in the country,” the counselor explained. “For example, the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act mandates that special educational services and accommodations be provided in the classroom for anyone, when testing and performance show they are needed. Suffice it to say—”
“Hold on.” She held up her left hand while her right scribbled away with wrist-numbing speed. She’d been up half the night surfing the Internet about all this, and the more information she recorded in her notebook, the more she realized she didn’t know.
“Suffice it to say,” Mr. Fletcher continued with an apologetic smile, “you have legal grounds to make sure Becky receives whatever accommodations she needs, whether in an Atlanta public school or here. And everyone in this room wants Becky to succeed, for as long as she’s with us in Sweetbrook. Once we have a thorough understanding of the challenges your daughter’s facing, we’ll work together on an individual education plan she can follow here, and then take with her when she returns to Atlanta. It’s clear from her standardized test scores that she’s a gifted child.” He ran a finger down a page of the report in front of him. “With the right kind of help, I see no reason why we can’t reverse the decline we’ve seen in Becky’s performance and her demeanor toward school.”
Amy breathed through the rush of tears building behind her eyes. She wanted so much to cling to the man’s assurance that they could make something better in her little girl’s life.
“I don’t want to talk to you. I hate you!” Becky had shouted when Amy returned to Gwen’s last night. And the ten-year-old had refused to speak with either her mother or grandmother since.
“We can help her, Ms. Loar,” Becky’s teacher said. “More importantly, she can learn strategies that will enable her to help herself. School will become a successful place for her again.”
Josh checked his watch. “Why don’t I walk Ms. Loar through the rest, then she can speak with Becky and let us know their decision?”
“I really enjoy having your daughter in my class,” Mrs. Cole said as she gathered her papers and rose. “I can tell she’s frustrated, but I know she’s a sweet little girl inside.”
The other woman’s smile seemed more genuine, as did Mr. Fletcher’s as he shook Amy’s hand and left. Or maybe their helpfulness had been sincere from the start.
Amy had come to the meeting prepared for battle, expecting the worst. Expecting to be judged, because she was sure that by now everyone in town knew of her divorce, her decision to remain in Atlanta while her daughter stayed here, and the toll the entire situation was taking on Becky. Instead, Amy had found herself in the presence of professionals as concerned about her daughter and as determined to help her as Amy was. Josh’s staff was as amazing.
She couldn’t remember why she’d imagined they would be anything less.
“You don’t have to make these decisions on your own, Amy.” Josh moved to the chair beside hers. “I’ll help any way I can.”
The tempting image of turning to him for support felt so familiar, just like when they were kids. And his clean, spicy scent teased her with the memory of the one time he’d pulled her close and kissed her as if he might never let her go. As if he’d wanted to keep her safe with him forever.
Panic raced through her on the heels of the memory—a survivor’s reflex to the temptation of accepting comfort and help that could so easily turn into more disappointment and pain.
Distance.
Distance was what she needed, not Josh’s help. She couldn’t afford to want anyone’s help as badly as she wanted his.
She threw down her pen and shoved her chair away from the table so she could stand. Pacing, she chewed her thumbnail.
“Amy?” Josh prompted.
“What?” She turned back from the other side of the room.
“Have you thought about how you’re going to discuss all this with Becky?”
Amy refused to let herself drop into one of the conference room chairs. “She’s not talking to me at all right now.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” He settled deeper into his own chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I still haven’t told Daniel about his father coming to Sweetbrook. It’s kind of hard to do that, when the kid refuses to stay in the same room with me for more than five minutes.”
In a rush, everything Josh was dealin
g with himself hit home. Amy felt about two inches tall.
“Josh, you shouldn’t be spending so much time on my problems. You’ve got Daniel’s father to deal with. You need to be worrying about your own stuff.”
“There’s enough worry in me to go around,” he assured her, but his smile lacked conviction. “Besides, we used to make a good team. Still do, it seems. I don’t know what I would have done to Jenkins if you hadn’t shown up and managed to get me away from him. He’s a snake, and he deserves to be drop kicked back out of town.”
The violence of Josh’s words surprised her, though his outrage was perfectly understandable. Something in her expression must have relayed her shock. Hands that had been clenched on the table in front of him relaxed. The fury in his eyes cleared.
“Thank you for stopping me earlier,” he said with a wince. “Given your…what you’ve been through, I’m sure it wasn’t easy to step between Jenkins and me.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She braced herself against the memory. “But I knew something must have been terribly wrong for you to be so upset, and I trusted you.”
“So you’ll trust me when I’m losing it with someone as dangerous as Daniel’s father, but you’ve had enough of my help with Becky’s situation?” His expression darkened.
“I… It’s not that I don’t trust you, or that I’m not grateful for all you’ve already done.”
“I don’t want your gratitude, Amy. I want to help, like you helped me yesterday with Daniel. Your daughter’s part of this school, a member of this community. That makes her partially my responsibility. Besides, do you really want to be sifting through all the testing and treatment options alone?”
“It’s not that simple.” He had to stop being so nice. “The idea of accepting help…especially from a man… I know it sounds shallow and mixed up, but that’s not something I can do. Ever. Not again. I have to figure out what’s best for Becky on my own.”
Josh pinned her with a determined look.
The cell phone at her hip began buzzing. Amy grabbed at the excuse to stop rambling like a moron. She checked the monitor, made a mental note of the name of the junior assistant who was calling her from Enterprise, and turned the unit off. A look at her watch confirmed it was after two. She needed to contact the office before the rescheduled video conference call with Kramer Industries. She had to double-check the figures Jacquie had e-mailed over that morning.
“Why does it sound as if you’d rather have anyone’s help but mine?” Hurt flashed across Josh’s face. “If this is because I made an idiot of myself when you decided to marry, then please let me apologi—”
“No.” She couldn’t let him believe that. All he’d done was try to protect her from her own stupidity. “It’s not about you, it’s me. Don’t you understand? I’m scared, Josh.” Amy let her anger race at feeling so helpless. “It’s this whole situation. It would be so easy to depend on you—”
“Then depend on me!” he sputtered. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m your daughter’s principal. Becky’s in trouble, and you’re out of your element here. You need help, whether you want to admit it or not. And I’m a friend. Lean on me as much as you need to.”
“No!” The word came out too loud, too desperate. The thought of depending on anyone, for anything, even this kind man she’d secretly had a crush on since she was a teenager, made her want to run from the conference room. “You don’t understand. I can’t. I have to do this alone. If I let you help me, if—if I let you in…”
“Exactly how badly did Richard Reese hurt you?” Josh’s expression softened, even as his gaze heated with the same anger she’d seen when she’d interrupted his argument with his nephew’s father. “Did your husband hit you? Did he hurt Becky?”
“No, he didn’t beat me!” The words came rushing out, stumbling over themselves despite her resolve to never discuss her marriage with another living soul besides her mother. “Not with his fists, anyway. And the only person responsible for my daughter being hurt is me.”
Amy was shaking, and she couldn’t make it stop. The truth wanted out, and it refused to be silenced a moment longer.
“He didn’t want much,” she continued. “Just control. Control of me, our relationship, my career and every other part of my life. What I thought, what I wore, what I did and with whom. He was a pro at belittling and intimidating me until he got his way. And I let him. I stayed with him. Kept trying to please him, because by then I was too much of a coward to think I could make it on my own. And Becky saw the whole thing. Including the one night he finally did hit me, right in front of her, because he’d caught me talking alone with a man who lived nearby. Somehow, I found the strength to get out then. But it was too late. I should have left years ago, for my daughter’s sake. But I was a coward, and Becky’s still paying the price.”
Her tirade over, she found Josh completely silent. Totally still. At least he finally knew it all. That the wreck her and Becky’s lives had become was no one’s fault but her own.
“I have a call to return.” Amy moved to leave. She was about to fall apart.
Josh stepped behind her as she reached the door, but he didn’t touch her.
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” His concern washed over her. “I wish there was something more I could do.”
Pressing her forehead against the cool surface of the door, she breathed in his compassion. He made her want to believe that there still were wonderful men in the world. Or at least one wonderful man.
“Good luck talking with Daniel tonight.” She turned partially toward him, wanting him to know she was sincere. Finally, she reached out her hand to cup his cheek. “I know you’ll find the right way to tell him about his father.”
Josh stepped closer. “Amy—”
“I have to go.”
Before I start bawling like a baby.
She made herself walk away.
Away from his kindness and concern. Away from the temptation to let Joshua White into her world even further than she already had.
* * *
JOSH WATCHED AMY GO, his pulse racing from the fear he felt for both her and her daughter.
Amy’s ex might not have physically abused her, but the damage he had done to her spirit, and to the little girl who’d watched it all, had left deep scars just the same. Amy’s hesitation to accept any kind of help, even from him, spoke volumes. Becky had been suffering in silence for years most likely, as she worried about a mother whose self-esteem had been battered by her father.
Josh could understand Amy’s need for independence. He could even respect the courage it must have taken for her to pick up the pieces of her life after her divorce and move forward. But she and her daughter were paying an awfully high price for Amy’s determination to do everything on her own.
He wanted to help this family, and it had little to do anymore with friendship, or his job as Becky’s principal, or even a desire to make up for how he’d failed his sister. Things with Amy and Becky had become personal somehow, not that that came as a big surprise. The truth was his interest in Amy had gone way beyond friendship a long time ago, when he’d faced the reality of her marrying another man, and realized just what he’d let slip through his fingers.
The tension sparking between them each time they were close enough to touch terrified Amy, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. He’d keep his distance, if that’s what she needed, but he was still going to
help her in every way he could.
Amy and Becky deserved hope and a better future, just as Daniel did. And Josh was tired of letting down the people who needed him the most.
* * *
BECKY SAT AT THE kitchen table and listened as her mom finished up whatever superimportant business call she’d been having for the last hour. Becky’s stomach growled, demanding the dinner she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow.
Her mom had gone to that meeting at school today, the one with her teacher, Mr. Fletcher and Principal White. Becky had stepped off the bus this afternoon, ready for her mom’s disappointed frown. After everything she’d pulled at school over the last month, plus her half-baked attempt to run away last night, she deserved it.
Only her mom hadn’t looked disappointed, or even angry. She’d just hugged her and asked her about her day, then had disappeared into Grandma Gwen’s room to prepare for some kind of video business meeting thing.
Her mom had seemed…worried, in a scary sort of way. Nervous. And her mom didn’t get nervous. Not anymore. Not after she’d finally wised up and given Becky’s dad the boot.
Her mom got sad sometimes, and she was tired a lot. But she’d been an it’s-going-to-be-okay-no-matter-what-it-takes robot since the divorce. To the point that most days Becky just wanted to scream. But this afternoon, her mom had looked ready to cry.
They’d talk about the meeting at school later, she had said. After her work was finished.
What a surprise!
While Grandma Gwen hung laundry on the line out back, Becky was supposed to be doing her homework. Instead, she was about to break her neck, leaning back in her chair so she could listen to the conversation in the other room. The house was so small that working at the kitchen table, she could hear every word her mom uttered.
“Great job, Jacquie,” she was saying. “E-mail me when you have the minutes of the meeting typed up. I want to review them before sending them on to Hutchinson.”
A Sweetbrook Family (You, Me & the Kids) Page 10