He got that from me, too.
It’d been more than a month now. A month of frustration as I tried to get him to pay attention, to stay awake, without seeming to single him out. I didn’t want any of the other students—or teachers—to think I was treating JT with any sort of preference. But it was driving me crazy, watching him destroy every opportunity that appeared before him without thought to his future. If he slept through all his classes like he did mine, he’d never make the grades required to get into a good college. And then where would he be.
And then it bugged the crap out of me that I was beginning to think like my own father.
It was frustrating having no control. So I thought, calling in his sister, suggesting a few ways to help out, perhaps it would make a difference.
But then she walked in here, all covered in flour, looking incredibly sexy…I wasn’t expecting the perfect curves hugged by low rider jeans and that simple cotton tee. Or the exhaustion in her eyes that made them seem bigger and greener than they looked in pictures. And the way her wavy mahogany-colored hair sat askew in its ponytail only made her look more vulnerable, more innocent, in a most alluring way. I couldn’t hardly put two thoughts together from the moment she walked through the door. And then she got mad—as if she had a reason to get pissed off—and that just set me off.
I hadn’t meant to make threats. But watching her storm out of here like that loosened my tongue.
I cursed under my breath after she’d gone, aware that I’d just opened a door that should have remained closed a little while longer. I gathered my things, shoving student essays into a leather case that was meant to carry million dollar business deals rather than badly written essays on Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, and stormed off to the tiny house I was renting six blocks from the house where JT lived.
Everything in my life right now seemed to be measured by how it related to JT. How far my house was from his, how long until he was scheduled to sit in my classroom, how many days until I could sit in the stands and watch him dominate on the football field. At least when he played football I could take pictures to send back to Libby without someone thinking I was some sort of pervert, or something.
I walked into the house, dropped my case on the floor, and wandered into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of rather expensive bourbon. A swallow or two and the uneasiness that had settled in my chest began to dissipate. My first instinct was to call my lawyer. That woman was clearly in over her head. All it would take was a petition by my lawyer in the local courts, and I could get custody of JT. The paperwork was already in order. My lawyer put it all together weeks ago when my investigator presented him with a DNA test done with a blood sample stolen from JT’s doctor’s office—JT had to have a physical at the beginning of the school year to play football; it was a cinch to steal a blood sample and have it tested in an independent lab with a stellar reputation.
I knew he was my son before I came here. No doubts. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.
He was mine and I wanted him in my control. This teaching thing—yeah, it was kind of nice teaching after all those years of dreaming about it and all the time I’d spent doing the one job I’d never wanted—it was fun. But I was needed back in Oregon. And watching JT sleep through class and bully his way through the hallways was growing old quite quickly. And the lies. I was not a man who liked to lie. Keeping this secret was killing me.
Even my mother had no idea that I’d found JT. I was almost afraid to discuss it with her. A part of me really didn’t want to know if she was involved in whatever happened that caused some lawyer to think I’d given up my rights to my own child when I had no clue he even existed. If I’d known…
I think about it a lot. How would my life be different if I had known? Would I have dropped out of school? Would I have offered to marry Julia? Would she have accepted? Would we have tried to live a nice, quiet middle class existence, both of us college dropouts, both of working dead end jobs that would get us nowhere? Or would I have still caved when my father died, gone home and taken over the company anyway?
There was no way to know, really. Our lives might have gone differently. They might not have. But Julia seemed happy in her life with her Wall Street husband and two perfect little girls. So maybe her life took the path it was meant to take. But mine?
I thought I wanted to teach. I thought I wanted a quiet life. I thought being CEO of Ashland Furniture was the worst thing I could possibly do with my life. But in the last twelve years, I’d built it into something so much more than my father had ever dreamed of, let alone managed to achieve in his lifetime. Ashland-Philips Corporation was a billion dollar company where Ashland Furniture was barely staying out of the red year after year. I liked that I’d done that. I liked the reputation I’d built, the money I’d made, the success I’d achieved. What started out as a desperate attempt to keep my mother and sister housed and cared for had become a challenge that I welcomed every day without really realizing it. Without it these last few weeks, my days felt almost empty.
Except for JT.
I wanted my son. I wanted to take him back to Oregon with me, wanted to show him who I was and what I could provide for him in terms of his future. I wanted him to be more a part of my life than just what he was now: my student.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I said to my sister a little while later. “I can’t keep watching him throw his future away one exhausted day after another.”
“He’s a teenager, Harrison,” Libby said. “All teenagers behave that way.”
“But you should have seen the defiance in that woman’s eyes. She’s not going to do anything about his behavior. She’s more concerned about that bakery than she is JT.”
“She’s just trying to survive in the wake of tragedy. Sounds kind of familiar, doesn’t it?”
I stopped pacing my makeshift office in the spare bedroom of my rental, the ball of anger I’d been holding on to since Penelope walked out of my classroom suddenly dissipating in place of a sudden rush of incredulity.
“Are you seriously comparing her to me?”
“There are similarities. You had to give up your dreams when Daddy died to take care of me and mom. This Penelope did the same thing when her parents died.”
“Yeah, but—“
“Give her a break, Harry. It’s only been a little while. Maybe she needs more time to figure things out.”
“And maybe more time will just lead to JT going to jail. Or worse.”
“I know you’re frustrated. But marching in there and taking custody of that boy—her only surviving family—isn’t going to make things any easier on JT. And the last thing you want to do is traumatize your son before you even have a chance to tell him who you are.”
Why did she always have to be right?
“Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m telling you, if something happens to him, I won’t hesitate to call my lawyer and set things into motion.”
“It sounds to me like he’s just acting out. He’s like his father that way.”
There was laughter in her voice that I didn’t appreciate. But, then, I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. I wasn’t exactly the best behaved teenager, either. I was, after all, the guy who went to New York on a college summer trip and came home with two tattoos and a kid I didn’t know about. My father must have hit the roof when he realized what had happened. Worse than the time I came home drunk off my ass and threw up in the bushes in front of the house when I was sixteen.
But my behavior wasn’t the issue here.
We hung up a while later, after discussing business back at Ashland-Philips. Libby was a great CFO, but the big decisions still had to cross my desk. So, on top of grading high school essays, I spent most of my evenings making phone calls and reading over contracts. It made for a very long day, and morning often came much sooner than I would like. Exhaustion made my temper a little sharper than it needed to be. I was beginning to regret my words to Penelope Monroe when the principal of the school ca
lled and made me feel even worse.
“I understand that you’ve never worked in a small town like this. But things move a little slower around here. And we don’t usually make threats against the guardians of our students unless they give us no other choice.”
“I realize my words might have been a bit hasty.”
“More than a bit, Mr. James. You can’t threaten to call child protective services just because a child doesn’t turn in his homework as often as he should.”
I closed my eyes, picturing JT—hair unwashed, clothes wrinkled, creases in his cheeks from sleeping on his crossed arms in my class—and bit my lip to keep from saying that I believed there was more at stake here than just unfinished homework. I was learning my lesson, slowly, but I was learning it.
“I’ll apologize to Miss Monroe.”
And that’s exactly what I was attempting to do the next morning when I pulled up in front of the ranch style house where JT had lived since he was three years old. It looked quite innocent from the sidewalk, a neat brick exterior that looked just like the other houses on the block. But as I made my way to the front door, I could hear screaming coming from inside.
“I go to bed plenty early enough,” JT’s voice said.
“You go to bed at one o’clock in the morning and then don’t understand why you can’t stay awake in class. How many teachers are going to call me into the school to talk about you sleeping at your desk?”
“It’s bullshit!” JT yelled. “Mom and Dad never cared how late I stayed up as long as I kept my grades up. My grades are fine.”
“When you bother to turn in homework, yeah, they’re great. But you’re not even turning in homework anymore! What are you trying to do, JT? Do you really want to flunk out of high school before you’ve even started?”
“Why don’t you go to work and leave me alone?”
The door suddenly opened and JT rushed out without looking up, likely completely unaware that I was standing there on his front porch.
“JT…”
But he didn’t hear me, either.
Chapter 3
Penelope
“Why don’t you go to work and leave me alone?”
Those words stabbed me in the chest almost like JT had wielded an actual knife. Was I really spending too much time at the bakery? Was that why he was becoming so insolent? So disrespectful? Or was there something else going on?
Drugs had crossed my mind a few times, as I’m sure it crosses the mind of most parents of a teenager. But a cursory search of his room didn’t turn up anything. And he had that physical at the beginning of the school year. That would have picked up something, wouldn’t it have?
Nick kept insisting it was just teen angst. But that seemed too easy.
I grabbed his backpack and went to the door, his name on my lips. But Mr. James was standing there, looking quite professional in his jeans and sports coat, a quizzical lilt to his eyebrows that made it pretty clear that he had witnessed at least the explosive last minute of our family dynamics.
Great.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone a little sharper than I’d intended.
“I came by to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was…uncalled for.”
That took a little of the wind out of my sails. I wondered if Susan had said something to him. I hadn’t meant to complain to her, but she was the principal of the high school and she had come into the bakery to order some cookies for a staff meeting later in the week…and it felt so good to take a little control of the situation.
“Thank you,” I said curtly. “I appreciate that.”
“You must understand that I’m simply concerned about JT. He is very intelligent and he’s not working up to his potential.”
“Tell me about it.”
I backed up a little, glancing at the soiled plates and trash that filled the living room behind me. It made me tired just to look at it. I was never going to get ahead of all the housework, not with all the time the bakery required of me. JT was no help. And now all of this school stuff…
Mr. James must have taken my movement as an invitation to come into the house because he suddenly towered over me, his expression tight as he scanned the living room.
“It’s not always like this,” I mumbled, dropping JT’s backpack in favor of gathering dishes. “We’ve been busy this week.”
“I’m sure you have been.”
“The bakery…we had five major orders this week. Things aren’t usually as chaotic, but with school starting and kids going off to college and there’s been more weddings this fall than last…we just seem to be busier than usual.”
“The bakery takes a lot of your time.”
“It does. I only have two employees right now because money has been tight. But I’m hoping that’ll change soon and I can hire someone else. Maybe then…”
I stopped, realizing I was making excuses to the same man who had threatened to call child protective services on me. Why was I defending myself to him?
“You have JT first period, right?”
Mr. James studied the living room a moment longer before finally focusing on me. “I do,” he said, his eyes narrowed slightly as they dropped to the dishes in my hands.
“Would you mind taking his bag to him? He forgot it on his way out.”
“Sure.” But he hesitated, his eyes moving over me once again. “Listen,” he said, his tone a little softer than it’d been. “Would you take my card? Maybe I could help you out with JT, hang out with him in the evenings or something? It seems like you need a little help.”
My spine stiffened at the thought. What was he doing? Trying to get more evidence of how I was neglecting my brother? But I took the card, hoping he’d just leave if I did.
He stared at me a minute longer, his eyes softening slightly as they lingered on mine. Then he grabbed the bag and left. I’d never been so happy to see someone’s back in all my life.
I looked around the room, seeing it through a stranger’s eyes, and groaned. If he was really serious about turning me into child protective services, I’d just handed him all the motivation he could possibly need.
~~~
“No one’s going to try to take JT from you.”
I shook my head as I carefully manipulated a cake out of its pan. “You didn’t hear him.”
“But you talked to Susan. And he apologized.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t see the look on his face when he saw the mess at the house. And he probably heard JT and me arguing. I can just imagine what he took from that.”
Nick moved up behind me, trapping me between the work table and the length of his body. He was taller than me, a little on the heavy side, the heat of his body both comforting and suffocating.
“Let me help you,” he said softly.
“How?”
“I could take over the early shift. I could come in at four and start the donuts so that you can be at home with JT.”
“Nick…”
“I know we’ve talked about this before and you feel like it’s your responsibility to handle that part of things. But I used to come in at four with your dad. I know what I’m doing.”
I turned, nearly falling into his arms. Nick has been a part of my life for a long time. He started working at the bakery in high school and was a fixture here. I knew he was capable of taking over the morning shift. It just…it seemed wrong to ask someone else to open the bakery in the middle of the night – to take charge of the most important part of the business while I lay at home asleep.
I studied his dark features, his rounded face and hazel eyes, the five o’clock shadow that was already darkening his jaw at nine o’clock in the morning. I lay my hand in the center of his chest, wishing he’d back off just a little. I knew Nick had ideas about our relationship. He’d asked me out a few times over the last three years, assuming that my negative response had more to do with my circumstances than the fact that he simply wasn’t someone I saw myself dating. That sounded
a bit pretentious of me, but it was the truth. If he’d known me when I was in New York, if he’d seen the life I had there, maybe he would understand. But, of course, he hadn’t. And that reality was gone, never to be my reality again.
“Do you really think if I didn’t have to come in so early things would be better with JT?”
“I think it wouldn’t hurt.”
I thought about it for a second, the memory of that teacher’s expression as he stared at our house filling my mind. I had to do something. I had to get my priorities straight.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll try it for a week and see how it goes.”
Nick gripped my upper arms and pulled me closer to him. “I won’t let you down.”
I was afraid for a second he might try to kiss me. And then I’d have to tell him to back off and he’d quit and everything would just fall apart and…
But he didn’t. He just smiled like a child who’d gotten the best present ever for Christmas, then went back to his worktable and hummed under his breath as he decorated a cake for a retirement party.
And I turned back to my own tasks, wondering if I’d just made another in a long list of horrible, devastating mistakes.
KIRKLAND: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) Page 78
