by Jill Kemerer
“You’re not a jerk. We’ll handle this, and Wyatt will, too. It’s probably not going to be easy for him, though. You know how awful some kids can be. They smell weakness and pounce.”
“Yeah, I do. I was one of those kids. You should know.” The muscle in his cheek jumped.
“And you changed.” She pressed her palm to his face, meeting his eyes. “I forgave you a long time ago. Isn’t it time to let it go?”
“If you say so.” He passed her a coffee. “Full of cream and sugar. Just the way you like it.”
He remembered how she liked her coffee? Her throat tightened. She’d been taking care of herself for years. She’d forgotten what it was like to have someone care enough to remember the little details.
She’d closed herself off for a long time. Hadn’t dated. Had devoted all her energy to her job. But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe having someone who knew the little details—someone who cared—wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe this closeness—this taking care of Wyatt’s needs together—was what she needed, even if it scared her.
She was getting tired of living life on her own.
Drew sat at the table and opened the bag, sliding a doughnut her way. She sat across from him.
His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled. “Before we get into this, I think you’d better know there’s a chance more reporters and photographers will show up here. Articles tend to trigger something in them. The tabloids, especially. When Chase was on trial, every time an article was published, a bunch of photographers would try to get Wyatt’s picture.” He took a big bite of his doughnut, and when he’d finished chewing, he sipped his coffee.
Zingo trotted up to Drew and jumped on his lap. Drew stared wide-eyed at Lauren as if to say, “What do I do about this?”
“Relax. We’ve been through this already. It’s a cat, not a bomb.”
“Sure,” he mumbled, petting Zingo. “So what’s the plan?”
“Have you seen the article yet?”
“No.”
She went to her room, found the magazine and brought it back to him.
He flipped to the article. She watched him as he read it. His eyebrows dipped; then he grunted, and the final paragraph seemed to hit him. He appeared reflective.
“I didn’t realize I was mad at him until last night,” Drew said softly. “I’ve rationalized his behavior with excuses, but I haven’t admitted how angry I am that he went after Len and landed in jail.”
Lauren nodded, not sure what to say. This was a huge step for him. She thought back on all the times Drew blamed himself for Chase’s decisions. He’d probably never realized he had a right to be mad.
“I miss him,” Drew said softly. “I miss my best friend.”
“I know. And you don’t have to stay mad at him.” She covered his hand with hers. “What do you think of the article?”
“I think his intentions were good. I think it accurately reflects his sincere regret at taking the law into his hands and messing up his life. But I’m tired of him doing things like this without considering the effects on Wyatt. And, honestly, Lauren, if you weren’t here, I think Wyatt would be a mess. It hadn’t occurred to me the article would affect him. You get him in a way I don’t.”
He thought too highly of her. She had no idea what she was doing, and Wyatt could end up a mess in her care. She’d made bad decisions before. This job—trying to anticipate Wyatt’s needs—was hard. But she wanted to do it. If she could just be sure she wouldn’t fail him...
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t be a mess. You’re exactly what he needs. As far as the article, I agree. I think Chase had good intentions, too.” She sipped her coffee and tore off a small bite of a doughnut. “I think we should let Wyatt read it.”
“Okay. I have a feeling his friends are going to have a lot to say about it, too. He might lose a few of them.”
The food soured in her stomach. “I know.”
They sat in silence, sipping coffee. Wyatt shuffled to the table. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. His hair stuck up in back. As soon as he saw Drew, he fell into his arms.
“Hey, buddy. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Zingo slept with me. He’s soft.”
Drew kept his arm around Wyatt’s shoulders. “I heard about the magazine.”
“Oh.” Wyatt dropped onto the chair next to him.
“Here, I bought you a hot chocolate. There’s a doughnut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles in there, too.”
Wyatt plowed into the pastry but stopped midchew when he noticed the magazine on the table.
“We think you should read it.” Lauren slid it his way.
“I don’t want to.”
“Your friends might read it. It’s good for you to know what you’re dealing with.”
“Why did he have to go and be on the cover?” His pitiful eyes tightened Lauren’s chest like a screw. “I hate that he’s in jail.”
“We all do, buddy.” Drew clapped his hand on his shoulder. “But I think Chase wants to let other people learn from his mistakes.”
Lauren drank her coffee, trying not to stare at Wyatt as he turned the pages and read. When he finished, he closed the magazine and pushed it away from him.
Drew rapped on the table with his knuckles. “I have a feeling we might see more photographers and reporters over the next couple of weeks. So we’re all going to be extra careful.”
Wyatt slumped, but he nodded his agreement.
“And if your friends talk about the article, be honest with them.” Lauren wiped crumbs from her hands. “You don’t have to answer any questions, but you don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, either.”
“I’m not telling them Dad’s in jail.”
“They all know.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about it to them. I don’t want any of this!” He lurched to his feet and ran to the office. Drew followed. Lauren almost did, too, but she sighed, knowing he needed to take care of it. She wasn’t Wyatt’s mother or guardian. If she was going to adjust to not being Wyatt’s babysitter this fall, she needed to remember that.
The trouble was she didn’t want to adjust to life without them. She wanted to be there for Wyatt every day. Wanted to rely on Drew in a way she’d never relied on a man.
But how could she?
He thought she was good for Wyatt, but what would happen if he realized she wasn’t? If she made a poor judgment call that hurt him? He’d move on to someone else. Someone better.
She was better off alone.
Chapter Eleven
References: check. Phone charged: check. Notebook and pen: check.
Lauren’s nerves were twitching like sparks from a bonfire. Her interview with Principal Gilbert was in ten minutes. They’d originally scheduled it for yesterday, but a staff meeting had forced the principal to cancel. Lauren had tried to avoid having it while she watched Wyatt; however, the principal’s schedule was full. No other time would work.
“Wyatt?” He’d disappeared into his bedroom after lunch. All day he’d been secretive. Or was it her imagination? Drew told her Wyatt had met up with friends at the park the other day. Had they said something to upset him? Taunted him about the article?
If not, what was bothering him?
She straightened her papers on the kitchen counter for the tenth time. Wasn’t his dad being in jail and on the cover of a national magazine enough to bother anyone? Two reporters had nosed around town over the weekend, but the people of Lake Endwell had discouraged their questions and politely suggested they leave Wyatt alone.
After knocking on his bedroom door, she peeked inside. He lay on his bed with his knees up, earbuds in and his thumbs moving overtime on his iPod. She didn’t like that device. He spent entirely too much time playing video games and texting other kids. The open
window allowed a breeze to ripple through the curtain.
“Hey.” She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “I’m going to be on the phone for about thirty minutes. Do you need anything now?”
He shook his head, not looking up from the small screen.
“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. We’ll do something when I’m done. We could get the inner tubes out and go swimming. How does that sound?”
He didn’t bother responding. Tempted to rip the earbuds out and toss the iPod into the trash, she sighed, closing his door behind her. She missed his sweet nature. Wished the kid who’d been so excited to see the stars from her dad’s telescope would come back.
Her phone rang, and she hustled to the kitchen where she’d left everything.
“Lauren, it’s Principal Gilbert. Thank you for accommodating my schedule change.”
She chatted with the principal about Lake Endwell High and answered questions about her degree and the type of work she’d done in Chicago.
“I’m reassured about your experience with troubled teens. Your supervisor raved about the work you did. Our community, while quiet, isn’t immune to modern teen issues. We have our share of students dealing with typical problems, big and small.”
“What kind of problems?” Lauren pressed her hand to her stomach.
“Suicide. Depression. Bullying. Drugs. Alcohol. The usual.”
The list triggered anxieties she’d set aside for months. “Would you say you have a high percentage of troubled kids?”
“No, I wouldn’t. But we do have students facing challenges, and they need an adult who will guide them appropriately. Someone they can trust.”
Trust. Could teens trust her? The way Treyvon and Jay had? She still hadn’t heard from Treyvon. He must blame her. She would if she were him.
She’d been a fool to think she could handle this job. What if she counseled someone and they ended up committing suicide? Could she have that on her conscience, too? Her gut churned.
“Of course, if a student seems suicidal or is caught with drugs or alcohol, you would advise the parents to seek appropriate help like therapy or a treatment program. The support you’d provide would be limited. As for the cheerleading coach position, Lake Endwell High would be blessed to have you. You’re aware of what’s involved?”
After taking a shaky breath, Lauren described her experience and mentioned she was in the process of getting certified. Much easier to talk about cheerleading than the other position.
“If you have any questions, please call. I’ll be in touch with you soon,” Principal Gilbert said. “Thanks again for your time.”
She liked the principal but still wasn’t sure she could see herself working at the school. Although the principal’s assurance she’d be providing limited support helped. Lauren peeked at her watch. They’d talked almost an hour. She’d better check on Wyatt and get the poor kid out of here.
“Wyatt?” She knocked on his door. No answer. Big surprise. His earbuds might be permanently glued to his ears at this point. She cracked the door open.
The bedroom looked the same as it had an hour ago, except Wyatt wasn’t there. Video games were piled next to the nightstand. A bin of LEGOS sat on the floor. Shorts and a shirt were thrown without thought next to the hamper. The window was open, and his iPod was on his bed. Maybe he’d gone to the backyard while she was on the phone.
She padded on bare feet to the sliding door and stepped onto the deck. The small backyard was fenced, and there was no sign of Wyatt. She went back inside. He could be in the bathroom.
“Wyatt?” She stilled, listening for him. “Wyatt?”
Okay, now she was getting worried. Where was he? She rushed out the front door, hoping he’d slipped out to the dock or something, but she didn’t see him there, either.
Where had he gone?
Panic climbed her throat. He could have been kidnapped. Who knew what kind of crazy person had read that magazine article? Had they hatched a plan to hold Wyatt for ransom, knowing Chase was a multimillionaire athlete?
Calm down. Don’t rush into worst-case scenarios.
Wouldn’t a more likely reason be he’d left on his own?
She ran back inside, shoved her feet into sandals and grabbed her purse. She paused to check his iPod, but she didn’t know his pass code. Before she flipped out completely, she’d better cover any ground she could think of.
He could be at the park. Or the ice-cream shop. Or...
He wasn’t allowed to go to any of those places by himself. And he’d never wandered off on his own before. She scratched a quick note telling Wyatt to call her on her cell phone if he came back. Fighting down a choking sensation, she got in her car and backed out of the driveway.
She couldn’t prevent the fears drilling through her head. She stopped at the park, slamming the door shut behind her. Running through the play structure, she yelled Wyatt’s name. Didn’t see him or any sign of his friends, either. She went to the men’s bathroom, opened the door. “Wyatt? Are you in there?” But no one answered.
He wasn’t at the park.
Covering her eyes, she fought for breath. What could she do? Where could she go?
Get it together. You’ve got to find him.
She drove to the library, the ice-cream shop and finally ended up right back at Drew’s cottage. She hunted through each room and the yard one more time before panic consumed her.
She could barely breathe.
There was one thing left to do. She had to call Drew.
* * *
“I can’t find him. I don’t know where he is and I’ve looked everywhere. The house, yard, park, library, dock—it’s like he vanished!”
Drew froze, the skin at the back of his neck prickling as he held the phone. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”
Lauren’s breathing sounded choppy. “I told him to get me if he needed anything. That the interview would only be thirty minutes.”
“Did you leave him alone at the house?” Drew tried to make sense of what she was saying, but she sounded distraught. If only he was home and could take her in his arms and calm her enough to understand what she was saying...
“No! Of course not. I was on the phone, and I lost track of time.”
“I’ll text him.”
“He left his iPod at home. What if he’s been kidnapped? Or was hit by a car? Or he could have wandered into the woods. Oh, no—the lake! Could he have gone swimming? What if he drowned? I’m going out there right now!”
The phone went dead. He dialed her number, but she didn’t answer. He fired into action, rushing down the hall to the chief’s office.
The chief looked up from his desk. “What’s wrong?”
“Lauren just called. She can’t find Wyatt. I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I have to go look for him.”
“Go.” Chief Reynolds frowned, picking up his phone. “I’ll get someone to cover for you. Take the rest of the day off and let me know when you find him.”
Relief flooded Drew. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Get out of here. I’ll make a few calls. Maybe someone has seen him.”
Drew raced to his truck and called Lauren’s number again. No answer. He texted, Stay put. I’m looking for Wyatt. The chief is calling around. Call me if you find him.
He peeled out of the lot and tried to think where Wyatt would go. Lauren had said she’d gone to the park, but which one? Wyatt could easily ride his bike to three different parks within two miles. Drew gripped the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator.
He searched City Park first. No sign of the kid. Got back in his truck and drove to the big playground where most of Lake Endwell’s youth hung out. The sun blasted his face as he strode around the play structure. He shielded his eyes with his hand, but none of t
he kids even resembled Wyatt.
Fear clutched his chest, but he inhaled and shook his head. Keep your head on straight. You have plenty of places to look.
What about Wyatt’s friends? Drew had Hunter’s parents’ contact information. He gave Hunter’s mom a quick call, but she hadn’t seen Wyatt, and Hunter was camping up north with his grandparents all week.
Drew drove to the other park, but only a few young children were there. He sat in his truck, deciding his next move. What now?
Wyatt wouldn’t try to see his dad, would he? The kid knew better. What about trying to get back to Detroit? Doubtful. But he couldn’t take that possibility off the table yet.
Lauren had mentioned kidnapping. While the reporters and photographers were nuisances, they were hardly kidnappers. But with the magazine article recently published, who knew what kind of wacko might concoct a get-rich-quick idea?
Pressure built in his temples, and he dropped his forehead to his hands on the steering wheel.
God, I need You. Where is Wyatt? Help me find him. Please keep him safe wherever he is.
All Lauren’s scenarios roared back. Kidnapping. Hit by a car. Lost in the woods. Drowning...
He pounded the steering wheel. No. He wouldn’t let any of it happen. He was going to find Wyatt.
His cell phone rang. He hoped it was Lauren. The screen showed Tony Ludlow.
“Yeah.”
“Check the football field behind the middle school,” Tony said. “A bunch of kids Wyatt’s age go over there for informal practices this time of year to get ready for the rec season next month. I don’t know if he’s there, but it can’t hurt to look.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Drew stared at the trees ahead of him. “Thanks, man. I’ll go right now.”
“Let me know when you find him.”
“Will do.”
Drew hung up and drove over the speed limit the short distance to Lake Endwell Middle School. He parked and jogged around the building to the back where a baseball diamond and a large field used for football and soccer sprawled. A dozen or so kids in shorts were running around in the distance. He could hear calls of “Blue 52.” One threw a football. As he neared, he recognized Wyatt. Relief almost dropped him to his knees. Thank You, Lord.
