“I guess that makes sense. But what about missing school?”
“Well, most of our intensive family sessions run in the summer. Throughout the year we have shorter, one-to two-week sessions to coincide with school vacations. We also have longer adult-only sessions several times a year.”
“As the children’s activities director, what do you do during the sessions with no kids?”
“There’s always work to be done, new activities to plan. Sometimes I help out the other counselors. I keep myself busy.”
“But you live here year round.”
“Yep. This is my home.” Even more than that, it was her refuge from the harsh world she’d once known. A place that she never wanted to return to, that she never wanted her son exposed to.
“Don’t you ever wish for a normal life?”
Normal? She didn’t even know what that was. “Define normal. The way I was raised was far from ‘normal’ by most people’s standards. For me, this is normal now.”
“You don’t get tired of it?”
“Of what?”
“Dealing with damaged people. Listening to the same problems over and over. It seems like it would get…depressing.”
“It can at times. But I feel like I’m doing a lot of good here. That’s important to me.”
“It must keep you busy. I haven’t seen much of you the past couple of days.”
It might have been her imagination, but he sounded disappointed. “The first week is always a little crazy. We had a counselor leave due to a family emergency Monday, and her replacement arrived recently. That should lighten my load a bit.”
“I looked for you at dinner last night. I was hoping we could eat together again. When you weren’t there, I thought you might be avoiding me.”
There was no mistaking the disappointment that time. “Adam and I ate in our cabin. I try at least a couple of times a week to make dinner. It’s our special time together. And then there are the times when I’m so exhausted I don’t even want to think about cooking. In that case, it’s just easier to eat in the dining room.”
“I imagine you don’t get a lot of time with him.”
“As much as any working mother gets with her child. As children’s activities director, I have the luxury of stopping in and seeing him anytime I want during the day.”
“He’s a cute kid. He looks just like you.”
Abi couldn’t help wondering if he’d meant that as a compliment to her or if she was just reading too much into his words, seeing things that weren’t really there.
As they neared the main building, their steps slowed.
“I take it he doesn’t see his father,” Will said.
“He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He wouldn’t have been much of a father anyway. Everything worked out for the best.”
“How would he feel about you raising his son in this environment?”
She frowned. “What environment?”
“I just doesn’t seem very…stable. What about friends?”
“He has friends. He meets new children all time.”
“And in a week or a month they’re gone. That can’t be healthy. What does he do when there are no kids here? Doesn’t he get lonely?”
Abi didn’t appreciate his tone or his questioning her abilities as a parent. It was none of his business. Besides, she and Adam were doing just fine. He was happy and well-adjusted. “I don’t need to justify my decisions to you or anyone else.”
She was right. And besides, what did Will care how she raised her kid? It wasn’t his problem. In a few weeks he would be gone and he would never see them again.
But for some reason he did care and he couldn’t make himself shut up. He knew he was making her angry, but that remnant of his old man he’d never quite shaken off had reared its ugly head, and it was tough to beat it back down. “It just doesn’t seem fair to the kid. I grew up moving from military base to military base. It seemed like every time I made friends we were transferred somewhere else. It’s no way to grow up.”
“Until you’ve had kids, do not preach to me about what makes good parenting.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get back to work. Thanks for helping me with Eric and Leanne.”
“Abi—”
“I’ll see you around.”
He watched her walk away, shaking his head.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He’d made some really good progress; now he was back to square one. All that mattered was finding Ryan’s killer, and he’d let his damned pride cloud his vision.
What had he expected her to do? Agree with him and admit she was a lousy parent? Thank him for showing her the error of her ways?
She was right, it was none of his business.
Maybe it was the memory of his own childhood that was the real issue. Always moving, forever feeling like the outsider. Maybe it had hurt him more than he’d realized and more than he wanted to admit. As he’d gotten older he’d learned to compensate, to get the attention he’d craved by being a class clown. He was sure Adam would adjust, too, in his own way. And someday Abi might move on. She couldn’t stay in a place like this forever. She might meet a man and get married. Anything could happen, and it wasn’t fair of him to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.
He wasn’t the apologizing type. He’d always had a problem admitting he was wrong—another cast-off trait from his father. But if he was going to get back into her good graces, get to Maureen through her, he was going to have to do just that.
Even more importantly, he owed it to her.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Vince Collucci paced the carpet in front of the window of his penthouse apartment. The lights from the casino across the street reflected off the blinds, flashing a kaleidoscope of color across his face.
He could feel the beginnings of a migraine and snapped the blinds shut. “You have the picture. Either it’s her or it isn’t,” he said into the phone.
“That’s the thing. I don’t know what she looks like.”
Vince ground his teeth, felt his eyeballs throb. “You’re family, Mikey, and I love you like a brother, but my patience is wearing thin.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, Vince, I really can’t see her. She’s got this apartment or somethin’ in the main building and she never comes out.”
“So go in and get her.”
“The place is locked up like freaking Fort Knox and there’s security cameras everywhere in the building. I can’t get in to see her, Vince. No one can.”
“What about Bishop?”
“I don’t think he has, either. He’s been hanging around with a woman that works here. I think he’s using her to get to Crystal.”
If the woman hiding there was the real Crystal. He’d waited four long years to find her, the money-grubbing bitch. She would pay for stealing from him, for turning him over to the feds. “Bishop isn’t stupid. If he thinks this woman can get him inside, she probably can. You stick to him like glue and you find a way in. The minute you know anything, you call me.”
“I will Vince. I promise.”
“But you do not kill her, you understand? I’ve been looking forward to that for too long.”
“I know, Vince, I know.”
“Is something bothering you, Abi?”
Abi looked up to see Maureen carrying two cups of coffee to the table and realized she’d zoned out again. All through dinner her mind had kept wandering, drifting up into the ozone somewhere. It wasn’t like her to be so…flighty. But she knew exactly what the problem was. Ever since her conversation with Will that afternoon, the only thing she could think about was her son.
She glanced over at him, sprawled on the floor in front of Maureen’s big-screen television, his eyes glued to a cartoon. He looked happy and acted happy, but what if that changed? What if a time came that they had to leave? Where would she go? What would she do? She was no stranger to taking care of herself. She’d been on her own
for a long time. She’d always managed to keep her head above water. Now it was different. Now she had someone else to care for, another life she was responsible for. The idea of making a mistake scared her to death.
“Abi?” Maureen asked, concern in her voice.
She turned to Maureen and forced a smile. “No, I’m fine. Just a little tired. You know how the first week can be.”
Maureen set the coffees down and slid into the chair across from Abi, folding her legs underneath her. “How’s it going so far? Have you made much progress with Eric?”
Abi sipped her coffee, the hot cup warming her cold hands. “It’s going slowly, but he is opening up a little. Leanne Sanders seems to have a bit of a crush on him, so I sort of set the two up this afternoon.”
Maureen’s eyebrows rose. “Matchmaking, Abi?”
Will had asked her the same thing. “Not exactly. I thought they each could use a friend to help them open up.”
“Leanne? She’s the one who’s here with her father and sister?”
“That’s her.”
“From what I understand, the girl’s mother was always something of a free spirit. Apparently she took off with her personal assistant.”
“I’d heard something like that.” Despite strict rules about personal privacy, people talked and information spread. It was inevitable. “I take it he was younger?”
“She was younger.”
Abi cringed. “Now that I hadn’t heard.”
Maureen sighed. “After doing this for three years, nothing surprises me anymore.”
“Do you ever get…I don’t know…tired of it? Tired of the dysfunction?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you see yourself still doing this ten years from now?”
“I’m not sure. A lot can happen in ten years.”
She found herself asking the same questions Will had asked her, though when he’d asked, it had felt almost condescending—like a slight on her career, her decisions. But there was so much he didn’t know, didn’t understand. “Do you ever question your life? Ever think you made a mistake hiding out like this?”
“Of course I do, Abi. Everyone questions their decisions. Sometimes I get tired of the isolation. Then I think of what life would be like if my identity got out.” She shook her head. She was nearly the same age as Abi, but sometimes she got a certain look in her eyes, a sadness that made her look years older. The things she’d been through, Abi couldn’t even imagine. It made her own life look like a picnic. “I’m just not ready to deal with that part of my life yet.”
“But someday you will?”
“I can’t hide forever. Until then, I know I’m doing a lot of good here.” She reached across the table and slid her hand over Abi’s. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I just…someone said something to me earlier today and it got me thinking. I’ve made so many mistakes—”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Abi.”
“Lately I feel like…like I’m in limbo. I used to have a plan. I used to know exactly what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, but it feels as if I’ve been flung off course somehow.”
“Things never seem to work out the way we plan them to, do they?”
“So what now? Come up with a new plan? Wait it out and see what happens?”
Maureen squeezed her hand. “You’re my best counselor and more importantly you’re my friend. I don’t know how I would run this place without you and I would miss you terribly if you left, but if you feel it’s time to move on, I’ll understand.”
It amazed her sometimes the way Maureen understood her. Sometimes better than she understood herself. “You’ve done so much for me. You saved my life.”
“Eventually everyone has to face their past.”
Maybe that was what all this indecision, all this second-guessing herself, boiled down to—the idea of facing her past. Like Maureen, she knew someday it would come out. Someday she would have to deal with the things she’d done and make amends.
“But when?” she asked Maureen. “When do you know if it’s the right time?”
“I can’t tell you that. No one can. When you’re ready, you’ll just know.”
Chapter 6
Abi had just put the finishing touches on the spaghetti dinner she’d prepared—Adam’s favorite—when she heard a loud rap on their cabin door. She turned the heat off under the mixed veggies, headed for the door and through the screen saw Will standing there. She hadn’t spoken to him the rest of the afternoon yesterday and had avoided him all day today.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
She gazed at him through the mesh but didn’t open the door. “Now isn’t a good time.”
“I know you’re mad at me—”
“It’s not that,” she said, even though it was at least part of her reason. “We were just sitting down to dinner.”
“I’ll only take a minute, I promise.”
Glancing back to be sure Adam was still in his room, she stepped out on the porch, folding her arms across the red faculty T-shirt she hadn’t yet changed out of. “Okay.”
“I’m here to say I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day. I had no right to judge you or question the way you’re raising your son. It’s none of my business and it was wrong of me. I have no excuse other than to say I can be overbearing and opinionated sometimes.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets, looking sullen and remorseful, but he met her eyes. “It’s something I’m trying very hard to change. I hope you’ll accept my apology and not let my behavior get in the way of our friendship.”
The last thing she needed was an overbearing, opinionated man in her life. She didn’t need friends that badly. The problem was, he really did look sorry and he’d gone out of his way to apologize to her, which meant he probably did want to change. She knew how difficult it could be to admit your own faults. She had as many as the next woman.
What kind of person would she be if she didn’t accept his apology? If she held a grudge? She probably shouldn’t have been so harsh in the first place. If they were really going to try to be friends, she should simply tell him when he did something that upset or offended her. How else would he learn to change his behavior?
“I accept your apology,” she said. “And I apologize, too. If I was angry, I should have confronted you about it. I’m always telling people to talk their problems through, yet I have a terrible habit of bottling things up inside. It’s something I’d like to change.”
“I’d appreciate it if you tell me when I do something stupid. I have a really tough time saying I’m sorry, so the fewer mistakes I make, the better.” Will grinned, and she couldn’t help returning his smile.
“I think that’s just a guy thing,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met a man who liked apologizing.”
“I’m glad we can still be friends.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, his palm warm and a little rough, and shivers of sensation shimmied all the way up her arm. Then their eyes locked and held. There was so much sincerity in his, she felt a little choked up. The truth is, she’d felt miserable all day thinking their friendship had ended before it had a chance to bloom. She didn’t know why she liked Will so much, why she cared.
She just did.
He glanced behind him to the path, breaking the spell. He dropped her hand and tucked his own back into the pocket of his shorts. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your dinner before it gets cold.”
She didn’t have a second to think before the next words popped out of her mouth. “Would you like to stay and have dinner with us?”
“Are you sure? I know this is your special time with Adam. I don’t want to interfere.” Will should have jumped at the chance. The closer he was to her, the sooner he would get to Maureen. He just couldn’t help feeling guilty, as if he were deceiving her somehow. The truth was, he wanted to be her friend. He’d felt like a first-rate slime for the way he’d treat
ed her yesterday. He wasn’t just apologizing because he had to. He really was sorry. And that bit about changing his ways hadn’t been a lie.
He was here at Healing Hearts, and it wasn’t cheap. He might as well get his money’s worth, really make an effort to be a better person.
Abi looked hesitant for a second and then she smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure. Adam would love to have you. He talks about you a lot.”
“He does?” She held the door open and he stepped inside the cabin. The interior was much like that in the main building and the guest cabins but with personal touches added. It was warm and cozy and comfortable. And big. At least triple the size of his own cabin.
Abi stepped in behind him and the door creaked shut on squeaky springs. “He has a lot of questions about your face, what you do for a living. He’s not entirely convinced you aren’t a superhero.”
“I wish my life were that exciting,” he said.
“Adam!” she called. “Dinnertime. We have a guest.”
Adam came bounding out of his bedroom, sliding to a stop when he saw Will. “Hi, Mr. Bishop!”
Will crouched down to say hello. “Hey, Adam.”
“You’re eating dinner with us?”
“Yep.”
“Cool!”
He was so excited, so genuinely happy, Will once again felt that shaft of guilt. He had to remind himself that he’d done nothing wrong. He and Abi were just going to be friends. No harm done.
“Adam, it’s okay if you call me Will.”
Adam looked up at his mom. “Could I?”
“As long as Will doesn’t mind,” Abi said. “Now why don’t you set an extra place at the table?”
Adam trotted off to the kitchen—he didn’t walk so much as bounce—and Will pulled himself to his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can open the wine,” she called over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen. “It’s on the table.”
He found the bottle—a cabernet—and drove the corkscrew into the cork.
“Do you drink wine or would you prefer a beer? I have both.” She grabbed two oven mitts from the counter to lift a large pot from the stove and carry it to the table.
Out of Sight Page 6
