Something welled up from inside her, causing her to blurt out, “I see what he has. By your own admission you’re continuing to live your lives in the same manner, right down to the calendar, providing Kent with the stability, the security, the assurance that even through tragedy life goes on. Every child needs that.”
No, no. She was getting personal again.
His gaze was searching, and she couldn’t withhold what he was looking for.
“Look at his collage, Sherman.” Mr. Paulson. “He’s saying how important all of these things are to him. Look at the colors. Look where there’s green. Or light red. Or purple.”
On the depictions of family. The food. The basketball. The picture of the bedroom.
“He doesn’t own, nor has he ever expressed desire, for a single one of those toys.”
They were back to the crux of their problem.
“He’s understandably angry,” she said now, grasping at straws rather than gleaning anything from Kent’s personal expression. “He lost a fabulous mother.” She wanted to believe that was all this was.
“It’s been two years. He should be through the first stages of grief by now. Especially as young as he is. Kids are more resilient, I’m told.”
“I’m concerned about the guns,” she told him. “And the concentration of black. My concern means nothing,” she hastened to assure him as soon as her words were out of her mouth. “I’m not a professional therapist or even a social worker. But I’d feel better if you’d at least talk to his therapist.”
He didn’t need her. Didn’t need her help. He’d just needed a way for Kent’s therapist to get past Kent’s walls. She’d just given it to them.
“You think he’s prone to doing something violent? Like maybe hurting others?”
“No. Not at all. He chose a cap gun. A squirt gun. I think he’s telling us that his anger is raging inside. But by the amount of dark red on this collage, I don’t think it’s going to go away anytime soon. Not by itself. From what little I’ve been told, he had an episode the week before last that required discipline. I just don’t want it to get out of hand.”
“It’s already out of hand.” His words fell ominously between them. Sherman sat forward, put both elbows on the table and faced her. “It wasn’t one incident two weeks ago. It was four. In one week. A boy cut in line in class, and he shoved him so hard the kid hit his head against the wall. But this has been going on, escalating, for the entire school year. We’ve tried just about everything, and every time I think we’re onto something or might have it licked, he gets into more trouble.”
She remembered the day she’d overheard Kent in the hallway, mouthing off to his teacher. Not that she could tell Sherman Paulson that she’d been spying on his son. Because she certainly couldn’t tell him why she’d been spying.
But she’d noticed something then—Kent had exhibited no fear of being in trouble.
“He didn’t seem all that upset to be spending last week in the principal’s office,” she said.
“The more whatever this is escalates, the more he seems not to care about other things, either.”
“But he cooperated fully with me. Without any attitude at all.”
“Confusing as hell, isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe now you can understand why I’m so eager to hear what you have to suggest—a hundred times more eager, crossing the line to desperate—now that I’ve seen your work.”
He smiled. Not a flirtatious or even a charming smile. It was a plea for whatever help she could give him.
She could have no more to do with Sherman Paulson. He wasn’t her problem. And there was absolutely, unequivocally, no room for a man in her life.
At least not for a very long time.
His smile faded. “You said you had an idea?”
If she went forward with this, if she entered into any more of a relationship with either of the Paulson men without coming clean, she would be making a big mistake. A potentially catastrophic one where her own heart was concerned. If they ever found out the truth about who she was, they’d never trust her again.
But if she came clean...if she told Sherman Paulson who she was, would he be as apt to trust her now? Would he change his mind about the faith he’d placed in her where Kent’s collage was concerned?
And if he discounted all that they’d done here, all that he’d discovered, if she didn’t give him the option she had for Kent, her son could suffer.
This was more than just a week’s expulsion. The kid was on a course to severely hurt his life.
God, she’d made a mess.
“I have an idea.”
She wasn’t like him. She didn’t take enough time to consider her responses. She reacted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“HEY, WHAT DO you say we have a fire?” Speaking over his shoulder to the kitchen table as he finished up the last of the dishes, Sherman made the suggestion lightly.
He didn’t want to come on too strong. Or let his excitement make him misstep. They might finally have an answer that would suit Kent. If he could get his son to buy in to the idea.
Without that critical agreement, they would be right back where they started. At least Kent had managed to mind his manners and stay out of trouble at school so far this week.
His son slurped his soup, picked up the bowl and drank out of it, then burped out loud without excusing himself.
“I’ve got homework,” he mumbled, reaching for a math book that was sitting beside him on the table. Per their schedule, Kent had made dinner that night. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and canned spaghetti. Dinner was his responsibility one night a week. And that was the night Sherman did the dishes alone.
“I know. After that. Instead of television.” There’d been a picnic on that collage. And several smaller items that, while not really picnic items, had graced the outdoor meals he and Brooke used to have with Kent on cool winter nights. Like a near-exact replica of the stool that Brooke used to sit on when she roasted marshmallows.
And a butane lighter—theirs had been blue as had the one in his collage. There had also been a clothesline that Talia Malone had thought spoke of family and motherhood—Sherman was surprised Kent even remembered the clothesline they used to have. It had been there when they’d bought the house, and Sherman had removed it when they’d put down the pavers and the grill and the butane fireplace.
He’d tried so hard to keep things the same after Brooke’s death, but they hadn’t had a fire since then. He hadn’t even realized it until now.
“So what do you say?” he asked, drying his hands on a paper towel, tossing it into the trash can and taking his place at the table.
“Is someone else coming over?” Kent glared at him.
“Of course not.”
The boy answered a decimal division problem correctly and turned the completed page over to the work on the other side.
“So what do you say? A fire sound good?”
“We don’t have any wood,” he mumbled to the eraser on his pencil.
“I got some.”
Kent sat up straighter. Looked like a normal kid as he perused Sherman’s face. “You did?”
“Yes.” Why was that so hard to believe? He’d forgotten about fires. He didn’t have anything against them.
Kent went back to his work. Sherman watched him complete every problem on the page correctly. “So what do you say?” he asked when the homework was done.
“I don’t care. Whatever.”
He’d take it.
With a grin.
* * *
TANNER SAT AT one end of the dinner table on Tuesday night, Sedona at the other, with Tatum and Talia facing each other between them. Her big brother had a thing for family gatherings at the family table—once upon a time she had,
too. And was glad he was finally living the life he so rightly deserved.
“So...” Tatum didn’t quite grin at her, but she wiggled in her seat as though she could hardly contain herself. At least she’d waited until they’d finished eating the baked chicken and rice that she and Sedona had prepared.
It wasn’t Tatum that Talia responded to, though, as she said, “I...” Then she stopped. Tanner wouldn’t ask. Not anymore. Not since his overprotectiveness had driven her away. But she needed him to ask.
“Obviously you have something important to talk about or you wouldn’t have made a point of making sure we’d all be here for dinner tonight,” Tatum persisted.
“Okay.”
“It’s about Kent, isn’t it?”
“Indirectly.”
Tanner and Sedona were watching them like a tennis match. Talia could see them out of the corners of her eyes.
Sherman Paulson had been more eager than she could have hoped. And he’d been attracted to her, too.
The first was good—but only if it wasn’t because of the second. In her life, it always was.
Or had been.
“Do you need help with something?” Tanner’s quiet voice was like a warm breeze from the past, settling something within her.
She glanced at Sedona, saw her beautiful, compassionate smile, noticed Tatum’s concerned gaze and then focused back on Tanner. He was just sitting there. Waiting. She could talk. Or not.
She wasn’t good at talking. Never had been.
“I can’t do this,” she said, scooting back from the table. “I can’t talk about it.” To him. She couldn’t leave the more recent past behind where he was concerned. And she needed him so badly.
Tanner’s hand on her arm, gentle and not the least bit firm, stalled her departure from the table. “Don’t give up on us, sis. I know it’s hard. Please, stay.”
He was only asking for what she wanted, too.
“Pretend you’re ten again,” Sedona said. She’d changed out of her work duds—a silk suit and pumps—into the jeans and blouse she always wore around the farm and out into the vineyards to help Tanner with their highly sought after crop.
Ten-year-old Talia hadn’t worried about disappointing her big brother. She hadn’t thought it possible back then.
She was there because she wanted to be. Because this was the life she’d chosen. She couldn’t let herself down again.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I met Kent’s father. At school. Professionally. I might see Kent again. I don’t intend to tell either of them who I am. I wanted to discuss my choice with you.”
Tanner’s expression didn’t change. With his wrists resting on the table on either side of his dirty plate, he just sat there patiently.
Only the people in that room, and the workers at the adoption agency, knew of Talia’s relationship to Kent. Her secret was safe. And necessary.
“I really don’t think I’m taking the easy way out,” she said. “That little boy needs help, Tanner. Far more than I even realized. I was right about his anger issues and his disregard for authority. What I didn’t know is that he hasn’t gone a full week without disciplinary action since school started last fall. I just couldn’t chance prejudicing his father against my assessment because of who I am. My work is valid and...I really think it could be critical in this case.”
Tatum jumped up. Started clearing away plates.
Tanner didn’t seem to notice. “Okay.”
Her mouth actually dropped open. When she realized it, she closed it. And then took a sip from the glass of the wine Tanner and Sedona had produced the previous fall—the first of their own brand that actually got labeled and shared.
“That’s it?” she asked. “Before I ever saw him you said you thought I should just introduce myself to his father and try to make arrangements for visitation.”
“I didn’t tell you to do anything of the kind. I told you I thought it was completely appropriate for you to introduce yourself if you wanted to. And that you needed to be very sure of your reasons if you attempted to see him without introducing yourself first. Because once you met him under any other circumstances you could be sentencing yourself to a life without your son and I know how much that’s going to hurt you.”
Well, yeah, technically that was what he’d said. “If I screw up this time, it’s going to be completely my own doing, huh?”
“You aren’t going to screw up, sis. I know that.”
Talia shook her head. Why did life have to be so damned hard?
“You know what I want from all of this?” he asked, leaning on the table toward her, holding her gaze until it was just the two of them in the room.
Talia shook her head. But maintained eye contact with him.
“I want you to learn to trust yourself, to start to see who we all see when we look at you.” His response made it hard for her to breathe. “And I want to somehow be able to make it up to you for letting you down.”
He’d said something similar before. A few times. She’d thought he’d just been saying it to get her home. To make her feel better.
Tanner hadn’t let her down. It had been the other way around. Mostly.
Talia’s eyes landed on Sedona’s hands on the table. They were soft, feminine hands. Tender hands. Not calloused from years of swinging on a pole.
The only dirt in Sedona’s life was out in the vineyard, nurturing very expensive grapes.
“I have to do everything I can for him. He’s desperate.” She finally forced words that sounded unnatural even to her own ears. And as Tatum quietly cleaned the kitchen, with intermittent glimpses over to the table, letting Talia know that she was following every bit of the conversation, Talia gave them a replay of the day—minus the closeness she’d felt to the man who’d adopted her son.
“Right, so I told him about the Lemonade Stand.” She held her breath, ready for recrimination.
“Good,” Tanner said. “If anyone can help him, Sara can.” The counselor had helped bring Tatum back to them. As far as Tanner was concerned the woman was a Malone family guardian angel.
Somehow, he believed in such things.
“He won’t really be with Sara,” Tatum said. “He’ll be in that group with the other boys his age.”
“The anger management group,” Sedona added. “He’ll be playing board games, learning to be competitive in a healthy manner. And learning how to talk about his feelings with others, too, of course. They’re planning a few outings for the boys later in the spring, I think.”
Sedona would know. She worked at the Stand as legal counsel for abuse victims. She’d represented Tatum. That was how Tanner and Sedona had met.
“It’s a good idea, sending him to the Stand,” Tanner agreed with a nod.
“I spoke to Lila before I met with Kent’s dad.” Lila McDaniels, the Stand’s managing director, had to approve any nonresidents receiving the Stand’s services. It was unusual, a nonresident taking part in resident activities, but it wasn’t unheard of. Most particularly in the physical therapy department. Under special circumstances patients could be approved and then the Stand benefitted from the money charged for services that were free to victims.
“When’s he going to start?” Tatum piped up.
“I don’t know yet.” Talia’s gaze bounced from one to the other of them. She’d been alone so long... “Sherman’s going to talk to Kent and then get back to me.”
Did she sound as desperate as she felt? As out of control? She stood up. “Well, I’ve got homework to do and an art class to prepare for tomorrow,” she said, longing for the chair that sat empty on the back deck of Sedona’s little beach cottage.
Tatum grabbed a box of cards. “Sure you don’t want to stay and play?”
“I’m sure.” Maybe someday. When she was more comfo
rtable in her new skin.
Grabbing her bag, Talia made a beeline for the door, down the steps and out to the driveway where she’d left her old car. She had the driver’s door open before she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, you okay?” Sedona grabbed the top of the slightly dented, faded red door. Her thick, wavy hair added a bit of drama to her fine-boned, fair-skinned features in the moonlight. She’d have made a mint on stage, Talia thought, and then hated herself for thinking it.
“Yeah. Fine.” She wondered who’d sent the other woman, Tanner or Tatum. Maybe both.
“You know that you could end up getting badly hurt here.” Sedona was always honest. It was one of the qualities Talia admired most about her.
“I know. I stand to lose no matter what.” Amazing how easy she found it to talk to this woman. “I’m basically kissing goodbye to any chance I have of ever being a part of my son’s life as his birth mother.”
“For now, at least, yeah.”
“I couldn’t risk telling Sherman who I was and having him shut the door on the chance to see that Kent gets the help he needs.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think he’d have been as open to listening to me if he’d known who I was. He probably wouldn’t have even met with me, not with Kent in his current fragile state, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have seen me as just another professional. He’d have had his defenses up and—”
The touch of a hand on hers stilled her words.
“I agree, Talia,” Sedona said, that soft smile making her more beautiful than ever. Talia was so glad Tanner had found this woman. He deserved every inch of her goodness.
“I just worry about you,” her sister-in-law continued. “The more you see this little boy, the more of your heart he’s going to take.”
“I know.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t have a lot extra to lose. You’re just a baby when it comes to loving, Tal. You’re only now learning how to open your heart to the goodness of others. I don’t want to see you clam up again...”
Child by Chance Page 9