by Kathryn Shay
o0o
During her third private counseling session since she’d joined the group, Heather was struck by a scary thought. She was coming to care too much for her counselor. Ms. Carson’s genuine smile always warmed her. Today, the deep purple outfit she wore called attention to her blue eyes that, as usual, sparkled with sympathy and humor. Each time Heather saw her, she liked being with her more than the last.
Heather frowned, knowing it didn’t pay to get too close to anyone. That’s why she had so few friends. But she needed help. Ms. Carson did make her feel better enough to get through each day. Maybe even the tough ones coming up. She shuddered at the thought of enduring another anniversary of The Day, as she had come to call it. Now, Ms. Carson was prodding her to reveal this, too. But she just couldn’t say the words out loud. Instead, she buried her face in her hands.
Ms. Carson hesitated, and Heather had come to learn that this meant she was deciding whether to give some advice or dig deeper. “Does this issue concern your mother?”
So, she’d decided to dig. Heather dropped her hands and shook her head, refusing for the fourth time to talk about it.
Standing up, Ms. Carson went to stare out the window. Another adult tactic—wait it out. Her father did it all the time. After a moment, the counselor turned to face her. “Have any of our sessions helped you feel better?”
“Yes,” Heather answered truthfully. “A lot.”
“And why do you think that is?”
Absently, Heather pulled her hair off her shoulders and held it up behind her head in a mock ponytail. This was some sort of trap, she could sense it. “Because you get me to see things different. They don’t seem so...big...anymore.”
Ms. Carson smiled and casually leaned back against the window frame. The light from outside made her hair shine like a golden halo. “Then, how about letting me help put this in perspective, too.”
She’d been right, she’d gotten cornered. Heather smiled weakly at having fallen for the counselor’s ploy. Then she felt those terrible tears pushing from the insides of her lids and she hung her head in shame. She fingered the seams on the sides of her jeans. God, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry today.
Ms. Carson grabbed some tissues and came to kneel before her. “Here, honey.” Handing her the Kleenex, she looked right into Heather’s eyes and spoke in such a convincing voice that Heather almost believed what she said. “It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to be brave with me. It’s better if you let it all out. Keeping all those emotions inside is the worst thing you can do.”
“But...but I’m big now...I should be able to handle things.” She had to stop between words because the sobs were coming so fast they kept her from talking. She gripped the edges of the chair for support.
“Big people cry, too,” Ms. Carson said, and Heather glanced up sharply at the counselor’s choked words. It sounded as though the woman had felt this way before, maybe even cried over it. A sudden image of her father flashed into Heather’s mind. He had cried that day at Nana’s when she’d confessed just how depressed she was. She’d been shocked by his emotion. That experience, and Ms. Carson’s reaction, made Heather want to open up.
“Come on, you can tell me. You’ve already discussed how bad you feel for your brother, how much sympathy you have for your dad. Let’s talk about you. What’s hurting you so much?”
There was a long pause and finally the pain won out over her shame. “You were right earlier.”
“It’s about your mother.” Ms. Carson stood and eased back onto the edge of her desk.
Heather averted her eyes and stared at her battered sneakers. She nodded, those words making her unable to speak. Your mother. God, she really did have one.
“What are you feeling about her?”
Heather sifted through the thoughts and emotions she’d had about this, all the ones nobody ever asked her to say out loud. Finally, she zeroed in on the most pressing feeling. “I wonder about her. What she’s like, what she thinks about.” Then, she barely whispered, “Is she married again? Does she have any more...” Heather couldn’t finish the thought.
“How could you get some of those questions answered?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, who would know this about her?”
“Oh, no, I could never ask him. No, Ms. Carson. I couldn’t do it. Please, don’t tell me to. Oh, God, what have I done? I shouldn’t have said anything.” Heather scanned the room frantically, ready to bolt from her chair.
Just then, the landline phone in the office rang. Ms. Carson looked as if she didn’t want to answer it. She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost the end of our session, and the call could be for you.” She grabbed the receiver. “Can you hang on till I answer it?”
Heather nodded.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Carson, this is Beth DiMarco. I’m supposed to pick up Heather in ten minutes and there’s no way I can make it. I’m stuck in a meeting that I’ve already canceled twice. Could she possibly wait there an extra half hour? I know it’s putting you out, but I’m desperate.”
“Beth, it’s fine, don’t worry. Why don’t I just run Heather home? It’s on my way and you can meet her there. I’ll stay until you get to the house. I did that for your mom once.”
“You’re a doll, Amanda Carson. I’ll take you out to dinner to pay you back. I’d like to get to know you better, anyway.”
“I’d like that, too.” Amanda hung up, oddly touched by the other woman’s gesture of friendship.
During the phone conversation, Heather had closed down. Amanda decided to let it go for now, gathered her belongings, put on her coat and waited for Heather to do the same. They chatted about little things on the short drive to the DiMarcos’ apartment.
Nick’s mother was there again and greeted her warmly. She looked around the small living room, seeing Nick’s stamp in the orderliness of his house and smelling the faint aroma of his cologne that lingered in the air.
Jason lounged on the floor, propped up by the couch, his navy sweatshirt emblazoned with a colorful Spiderman. As soon as his grandmother left, he eyed Amanda with relish. “What do you get when you cross an insect with a rabbit?”
“A hairy aunt?”
“Nope! Bugs Bunny.”
Amanda ruffled his hair while Heather groaned and bent to pick up the baseball cards strewn around him
“Heather, don’t, I’m just checking out how many I have to trade.”
Amanda was reminded again of Lisa. She had loved baseball, too, and Amanda had always watched the games with her, impressed by her interest and knowledge. Jason’s obvious enchantment with it made her feel close to Nick’s son.
Shaking off the sad reminder of her sister, Amanda turned to the children and told Jason an even cornier pun than his, and the three settled down to wait for Beth.
Forty-five minutes later, the kids’ aunt flew through the door, her arms full of packages, her chestnut hair tumbling around her cheeks, her face flushed. Jason was reading stats to Amanda out loud from his cards, while she French-braided Heather’s hair.
Amanda could smell the distinctive Chinese sweet-and-sour combination as Beth set down the cartons. “Sorry, I’m later than I thought.” She whipped off her coat. “I stopped to get dinner. And there’s enough for you, too, Amanda. You’ve got to stay and eat with us.”
Heather frowned at all the packaging.
“Don’t worry, doll, we’ll put the food in pans and plates and keep it warm in the oven,” Beth said easily. “That way, your dad will never have to see all the cardboard boxes and bags that make him crazy. Honestly, I’m not sure how my brother got to be such a neat nut.”
But Amanda knew. He had to have some control, had to put some order in a world that had spun out of his grasp. Though she sympathized with the man who felt this need, she was worried about its effect on his daughter.
After securing Amanda’s promise to remain for dinner, Beth went to the kitchen to heat up the food
. When she returned, she joined Jason on the floor.
“Turn on the game, buddy,” she told him, picking up the cards and perusing them. Amanda watched as Jason maneuvered himself with his hands to the get the remote on the floor, switched on the World Series and settled back with his aunt as if they’d done it a hundred times. They discussed each player and Amanda was amazed at Beth’s involvement in the game.
“What would you like to do, Heather?” Amanda asked.
“Can we do a make-over?”
In a few minutes, the two were immersed in coloring Heather’s eyelids and accenting her cheeks with makeup from a bag Heather had retrieved from her room. The effect on her widely spaced eyes and creamy skin was dramatic. The girl would be a beauty when she was a few years older.
At six-thirty, Amanda glanced at the clock and mentioned the late hour to Beth. Nick was not home and he hadn’t called. As if by telepathy, the phone rang. Beth went to answer it and her frown gave them cause for concern.
“You what? How long ago?” After a pause, she said, “Oh, Nicky, why didn’t you call us? You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
The atmosphere in the small room was charged. Heather left the couch and made her way to Jason, sitting down carefully next to him. The boy leaned into his sister, and they held hands as they listened to what was clearly something bad about their father.
After a moment, Beth hung up and went to the children. She knelt down, taking a young hand in each of hers. “Your dad is okay. But there’s been an accident at the construction site. He hurt his head a little bit. They’ve bandaged it and he’s on his way home from the hospital right now. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Jason began to cry first, then tears slipped down Heather’s cheeks. Amanda joined Beth on the floor in front of them.
“Heather, are you all right?” The girl had gone as pale and when Amanda touched her, Heather’s hands were cold. There was terror in her glassy blue eyes.
“He...could...what if he...who would...” For the second time that afternoon, Amanda watched Heather deal with thoughts she couldn’t utter.
“Listen to me, both of you.” Amanda’s firm tone made their heads snap up. “Your father is fine, do you understand that?” They nodded simultaneously. “But let’s talk about what arrangements he’s made in case one day he can’t take care of you. Do you know what his plan is?”
The children shook their heads simultaneously. Amanda looked at Beth. “Do you know?”
Clearly surprised at Amanda’s candor, Beth nodded. “I get custody of them to raise as my own.” She smiled at Amanda as understanding dawned. Beth turned to the kids. “Didn’t you guys know that? I’d take care of you until you left me to get married and have kids and ask me to baby-sit for them.”
Beth’s lightness alleviated much of the tension in the room. Both children visibly relaxed. Then Beth added, “And I’d love every minute of it. You’ll always have me.” She hugged them fiercely, her eyes moist. They remained that way, a tableau of love, until their aunt pulled back. “Uh-oh, Heather, your makeup is smearing. And Jason, you’re bending back the corners of a Derek Jeter card.”
Amanda was repairing eye shadow and Beth was smoothing creases out of the ball player’s face when Nick walked in minutes later. He stood by the door and looked around at the four of them, something close to amusement flickering in his gray eyes. Then he held out his arms. “Well, you’d think I could get a little sympathy around here.”
Heather flew across the room to him, encircling his waist with her slender arms and burying her face in his wide, safe chest. Jason eased into his wheelchair and spun over to hug his dad. Amanda had to turn away from the scene.
Beth got dinner on the table soon after that, and when they’d finished cleaning up, Amanda announced it was time for her to leave. Everyone followed her to the door and Heather gave her an impulsive hug after she’d donned her coat. Amanda returned it with fervor. She was surprised to see Nick grab his jacket and murmur he’d see her to her car.
When they reached the curb, he settled her into the driver’s seat and went around to the other side and got in. She was acutely aware of him looming next to her in the small interior of her Honda Accord. It was dark out, but the faint streetlight allowed her to see him sink wearily into the seat and rub his neck. Then he turned to face her. “Thanks for everything you did tonight.”
“You’re welcome. Are you sure you’re all right? You should be in bed.”
The sexy stare he favored her with made her knees weak, and the words she’d said took on a whole new meaning. Her eyes riveted on the plain white T-shirt and how it outlined the muscles of his arms. She wished they were around her.
“I just wanted to spend a few minutes alone with you.” The words were like a caress, and just as potent.
“You did?”
In answer, he smiled at her, raised his arm and settled it on the seat behind her. He slid a few silky strands of her hair between his fingers. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why?” She was mesmerized by the huskiness of his voice and the feel of his hand in her hair.
There was a long, meaningful pause and Nick’s gaze traveled from the activity of his fingers to her eyes. “Because I appreciate all you’re doing for Heather, even though I was so wary of it. Because I like how you want to help all the troubled kids at Eastside.” His gaze dropped to her lips and his voice turned whiskey-soft. “Because I want to kiss you.”
Amanda swayed toward him and without censoring her words, she whispered, “I want that, too. I just don’t believe it.”
“You don’t? Why?”
“Well, for one thing, Heather is my student, and I’m worried about the blurring of roles here.”
His face softened. “Conflict of interest?”
“Yes.”
Sighing, he stared ahead. “It’s no secret we’re attracted to each other. I wanted to kiss you in the kitchen that night you came over for Heather, even though my world was falling apart. And I felt damned guilty about having those thought during such a crisis.”
She waited a bit, then nodded. “I wanted to kiss you too. Terrible timing, but it was there just the same.”
“As for who we are, it isn’t like either of us is married.”
“No, no we aren’t.”
“And I think we could keep it separate from Heather.” He paused. “That is, if you want to try.”
His vulnerability touched her. “I want to try, Nick.”
“But I sense that our connection to my daughter isn’t the only reason you’re surprised, is it?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me, Amanda.”
“I’m not sure I can. I’ve never talk about this with anyone.”
“Tell me. Please.”
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard. “I...I told you I was divorced, remember?”
Nick only nodded.
“Well, with Porter, my ex-husband, I wasn’t very good at this.” She waved her hand limply in the air.
His forehead creased and he shook his head. “I’m lost. You’re not good at what?”
Embarrassed, Amanda buried her face in her hands. “I haven’t had good experiences with sex. I’m not very...responsive to men, Nick.”
She was stunned as he threw back his head and laughed. It was deep and from his belly. Pulling away from him, she said haughtily, “Well, I didn’t expect you to mock me.”
When he calmed to a near chuckle, he reached out to stroke her hair. “I’m not mocking you, Amanda. I’m mocking him.”
“Why?”
Nick eased toward her and his closeness made her pulse accelerate. Shaking his head, he said huskily, “Lady, someone’s been feeding you a big line.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, he peered intently into her eyes. For a long time. Then he took her shoulders in his hands. “Come here. A little demonstration should clear this up.”
Without waiting for her verbal acquiescence, he
pulled her to him. First, his lips brushed hers, back and forth, then back and forth again. All her muscles turned to gel and Amanda found it difficult to breathe. Increasing the pressure, he settled his lips over hers and his tongue demanded she part them. When she did, he invaded her mouth, encircling her teeth, probing every corner and every recess. She inched closer to him, instinctively trying to press her body to his. Denim met silk. After a few moments of bliss, he pulled back and took her face between his callused hands.
“Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”
Though she blushed, she was helpless to refuse him. “Light-headed. Breathless.”
His smile was masculine smugness personified. Moving one hand from her face, he slowly traced her jaw, then her throat with his fingers. They went lower, and when his knuckles skimmed her breasts, she started. “And here, Amanda. What do you feel here?”
“Achy. I want you to touch me there.” She could barely breathe but she was under his spell and had no choice but to answer.
Nick’s jaw clenched in reaction to her words, and she felt a spurt of feminine satisfaction. But all thought fled when he cupped her breast. He kneaded it gently, then more aggressively and she moaned. Caught in a tidal wave of desire, she was further engulfed when his palm went lower, to briefly whisk her lap. “And here, Amanda, what do you feel here?”
This she could not answer, and she felt herself blush vigorously. She tilted forward and met his forehead with her own. “I can’t say it, Nick.” But she knew what she felt. Wet. Totally, gloriously wet. And she knew exactly what it meant.
He gave a low, male chuckle in her ear. “You don’t have to say it, but I know what I’d feel if I touched you there.”
Easing back from her, he lifted her chin. The desire she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.
“Listen to me. You’re a very responsive woman. I’d like to stay and convince you further, but we’re on a city street in a parked car and my kids are waiting for me inside.” He skimmed her cheek with his knuckles, his voice was hoarse with his own arousal. “But know this, Mandy. Your ex-husband was a fool. However, I can’t say I regret that. His loss is definitely my gain.”