He ran a hand over his face. “I need time to think about this. Luke is my priority and I have to figure out what’s best for all of us.”
The flames popped in the fireplace, emphasizing what he’d said. She wanted to protest and tell him, You don’t have to think about what’s best for me. I know what’s best for me. But she knew his history. She knew he’d married Kelly because she’d gotten pregnant. And although Dawson loved Luke dearly, he might not be sure now that that had been the best decision he’d made.
Her silence seemed better suited to the situation right now. If she kept her mouth closed, foolish things wouldn’t come tumbling out of it. More than anyone, she knew Dawson couldn’t—wouldn’t—choose her over Luke. More than anyone, she knew what it felt like when a parent had divided attention or paid no attention to a child at all.
“Maybe I’d better go.”
When Dawson didn’t protest, she couldn’t help but feel like that child again who’d been abandoned and deserted and left behind. He was going to let her go. He wasn’t going to tell her what he was thinking or, more importantly, what he was feeling.
Dawson went and got her coat from the foyer closet. As he helped her into it, the concern on his face made her want to cry.
“I’m okay,” she said, as she’d always told everyone after her mother had left…after Alan had left.
As if Dawson didn’t believe her, he put his arms around her and gave her a hug that lasted a good long while. As he was holding her, she could feel the turmoil inside of him. He’d had his life turned upside down once before and now when he was starting to patch it back together again, she’d delivered a body blow that could shake up his world and his son’s.
“I’m looking for another therapist for Luke. But I’d still like to see him on Monday,” she said. “We’re making progress. Considering his nightmare, I don’t want to let up now. You and I… We’ll just have to figure things out as we go.”
He lifted her face and gave her a gentle kiss. As she drove home, she’d try to figure out if it was a kiss that meant goodbye.
* * *
Dawson dropped Luke off at Mikala’s studio on Monday afternoon after school. When their gazes met, Mikala saw longing in his eyes. But they didn’t have time to talk now. This was Luke’s time.
Dawson waved to his son and managed a smile for Mikala. “I’ll be back around five.”
As Luke shed his coat and went into the music room, she focused on him…only on him. Once they were seated on the sofa, she said, “Tell me how your weekend went.”
“I had an okay time with you and Dad Saturday,” he said with a small smile.
She smiled back, trying to remember the camaraderie, the guitar playing, the feeling that she was part of a family, rather than what came after. “What about yesterday? Did Jake come over?”
“Yeah. He did. We played with my Wii and shot some hoops. He’s not any better than I am.” Luke stared down at the floor for a minute or two, then back at her. “Dad said he told you about my nightmare.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not really.”
“Are you afraid if you talk about it, you’ll have it again?”
He shrugged.
“It could be the opposite, you know. That if you talk about it, then maybe you won’t have to have a nightmare about whatever it is again.”
Luke seemed to think about that.
“If you don’t feel like talking, we can do something else first. How about if you draw again to some music.”
He considered her suggestion. “To my iPod shuffle?”
“No. This time I’d like you to draw to a CD I made. Would you consider that?”
“I guess. What kind of music?”
“A little bit of everything. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get my pad to take notes, and you tell me when you want to start.”
Luke didn’t take long. He kicked off his sneakers, poured the markers onto the table and opened the lid on the box of crayons.
“Ready,” he announced with a half smile that reminded her of Dawson’s.
She switched on the CD.
At first Luke’s drawings were stream of consciousness scenery. There were trees, an elk, a house with a chimney with smoke coming out. The first piece of music was Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. He was relaxed as he listened, drew easily, realistically, with suitable colors anyone would use.
The next selection was a recent pop hit. Luke’s foot tapped with the music. He almost drew in rhythm with the song, first a kid dancing, then a man clapping. Maybe a dad?
They were going to have a lot to talk about. Luke obviously wanted his father’s approval, whether he was playing basketball, doing math or ice skating. He wanted to do well so his dad would be proud. That was typical for a ten-year-old. The defiance and the fights didn’t seem to click with his personality because Luke was a sweet kid. Was the anger stemming from the fact that his mom had died and he’d been with her when it had happened? Was he angry at himself because he hadn’t been able to help her? Did he resent the fact that Dawson hadn’t been there to protect him and his mom? They hadn’t gotten into that yet. Their therapy hadn’t gone that far.
Another selection played—Duke Ellington from another era. Luke didn’t seem to react to it, just kept drawing small figures, larger ones, a boy and a man and an older man and a dog. No hidden secrets there. Luke wanted to be near his granddad again and she knew for certain he wanted a dog. Maybe now that he and Dawson were settled in the house that would be possible.
Mikala was lost in where she would go next with Luke, when she suddenly saw a change in his reaction. A popular country singer’s ballad was playing.
Luke pressed so hard on the crayon in his hand that it broke. He stared at it, blinked a few times and then fixed his gaze straight ahead.
Mikala went on alert. Watching him closely, she saw him take the broken crayon and angrily draw a circle with legs—a table? His hand was shaking as he dropped the crayon. Suddenly he put both his hands to his face to cover it.
Mikala went over to the table and sat beside him while the country tune kept playing.
“Luke?”
When he looked at her, there were tears wetting his lashes, dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t want her to see them, that was obvious. He was wiping them away as quickly as he could with the backs of his hands.
“Luke, it’s all right. Tell me what’s happening.”
“It’s the music! I hate that music,” he yelled at her.
She went over to the CD player and turned it down—not off, just down. She wanted it low in the background to keep him in the memory because she was sure that’s what was happening. He was remembering.
Sitting beside him again, a little closer this time, she asked, “Why don’t you like the song?”
He shook his head, stared straight ahead, fingered the broken crayon and looked down at the paper. He just kept shaking his head as tears ran.
“What’s going on, Luke? Can you tell me what’s happening? What are you seeing?”
“We went Christmas shopping that day,” he said, his voice breaking.
Mikala held her breath—she was afraid to interrupt the flow of memory.
“We went into a little store, and Mom bought a present for a friend. I asked her if we could get something for Dad for Christmas, but she said not now, not today. And she looked…funny.” He glanced at the chart on the wall they’d used when he’d been trying to find the right word to describe his dad, then he stared at Mikala with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. “She said we were having dinner with a friend before we went to our motel. His name was…Barry.” Tears were coming again now and Luke couldn’t seem to clear them to find his voice.
Mikala patted his hand so he’d know he wasn’t alone
. “What’s upsetting you so much?”
“We went to a restaurant and country music was playing. That song played while we ate.”
Luke caught his breath and a little hiccup escaped. The words poured out as if a dam had burst and he couldn’t keep them in. “I don’t think Barry knew Mom was bringing me. They were kinda quiet. They didn’t talk much when we ate. Barry asked me about school, what I liked to do, but he…he didn’t really care. I could tell.”
Children were so much more perceptive than adults gave them credit for. “How do you know he didn’t care?”
“He just wanted to look at my mom. He just wanted to be alone with her. He didn’t want me there.”
“Did he say or do anything to make you think that?” All of Mikala’s instincts were in high gear now and she had a terrible foreboding about what Luke was going to say next. His tears were muffling his voice, so she had to listen closely.
“Mom sent me for our coats. I gave the girl our tickets and she gave them to me right away. It didn’t take long. Maybe Mom thought it would take longer. When I came back in— They were kissing!” He almost spat out the word as if it were the worst possible thing in the world he could have seen. “Mom saw me and she pulled away from Barry. He didn’t look happy. She didn’t look happy, either. They whispered something to each other and then we left.”
“You and your mom.”
He nodded and swiped at his nose.
Mikala handed him a tissue, but he just balled it up and held it in his fist. “She didn’t talk right away. She looked…looked funny and she was holding the steering wheel really tight. Snow was falling when we were driving. We couldn’t see through it. But I had to know— I asked her why she’d kissed him. I told her she shouldn’t be kissing anybody but Dad. That’s when she started crying. She told me she loved me, but she said she loved Barry, too. She said tomorrow she was taking me back to Dad and moving out of the house. But she’d come back and see me. And I could visit her.” Luke shook his head, reliving it. “I didn’t want her to move out! I told her she couldn’t go. That’s when…that’s when the car slid on the ice and we went off the road. We rolled over and then we banged into a tree. She called my name and I tried calling to her but then…but then— I don’t remember anything else, not until I woke up in the hospital and Dad was there.”
Without hesitation Mikala put her arms around Luke and held him as he cried, seeing the scene in her own mind as he described it, reliving the conversation in the car with him. Kelly probably hadn’t fastened her seat belt because she was distracted…upset about what she was doing…leaving her son.
Luke mumbled against her neck, “It was my fault. It was all my fault.”
Her protest was vehement and firm. “No, Luke. It was not.”
But Luke didn’t seem to hear her. “Dad’s going to hate me. He is. He’s going to be so mad at Mom. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”
Slowly Mikala pulled away from the ten-year-old, took a tissue and helped wipe his tears. She loved this little boy…was beginning to love him as if he were her own. She’d tried to keep her distance but that had been so hard to do. Now she had to convince him that none of this was his fault. But she might need Dawson’s help with that.
“Luke, sometimes grown-ups make decisions that hurt other people. Your mom made a decision that was going to hurt you and your dad. But that’s not your fault. She was the adult and she was driving. You didn’t cause the accident. I think you really need to tell your dad what happened. If you keep secrets, he’ll know something’s wrong. You want to stay close to him, don’t you?”
Luke sniffed, swiped at his nose with the tissue, and then nodded.
“I know your dad, and I know he won’t be angry with you. Will you let me call him so he can come here and help you, too?”
“You want me to tell him now?”
“Yes, I do. And if you need help, I’ll be right here.” Now was the time. She was sure of it. A memory like this would be awful for Luke to carry.
She let Luke think about it for a while, and then he nodded.
“Okay.”
Mikala didn’t tell Dawson much on the phone, just that she thought it would be best if he would come join their session. He came immediately. When he saw his son, his bedraggled appearance with tear-stained cheeks, his woebegone expression, Dawson looked to Mikala for an explanation.
She said, “Luke remembered what happened the day of the accident. I think it’s best if he tells you about it, but I’ll help him if he can’t. Right, Luke?”
Luke nodded, but looked fearful.
With Mikala on one side of him and his dad on the other, Luke told Dawson the same thing he’d told Mikala and began crying all over again. Dawson kept his arm around his son, brought him into his shoulder, squeezed him tight.
Hurting for both of them, Mikala could see Dawson’s pain, feel the sense of betrayal that went so deep he couldn’t look at her.
Yet he kept telling Luke, “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. We’re okay. You and I are okay.”
Dawson held on to Luke as long as Luke needed to be held. In that time when father and son bonded so deeply, Mikala was happy for them. But she also understood in her soul that her hopes for a future with Dawson were dashed. How would he be able to get beyond his wife’s affair? Because that’s what it had obviously been. She’d been prepared to leave him for another man. What would that betrayal do to Dawson’s sense of pride? To his sense of trust? To Mikala’s chance at a relationship with him?
When Luke’s tears stopped, Dawson looked as if he’d been through a war. “I know we should talk,” he said to Mikala, “but I don’t want to leave him right now.”
“Of course you don’t. You need some quiet time. He needs to let the rest of it come out, if there is any more.
“Luke…” she said, gently touching his shoulder. She wasn’t going to talk about him as if he weren’t there. “If you remember anything else, it’s okay to tell your dad. And you can call me if you want to, anytime.”
Luke slipped his hand into Dawson’s. “I’ll tell Dad.”
“That’s the way it should be.” Father and son could face the world together now in a new way.
Dawson held on to Luke, but his gaze locked on to Mikala’s as he opened the door.
Her heart broke for Dawson and what he must be feeling, and she ached for Luke. He’d remembered his mother was going to desert him. She so knew how that felt. Luke and Dawson were going to have a tough night, but they had each other and that’s what mattered.
As she stood in the doorway and watched them walk away, she put her hand on her stomach. She might not have Dawson, but she had her baby. That’s what had to matter to her most now.
Chapter Twelve
Forty-eight hours later Mikala waved goodbye to her last client of the day, watching as mother and daughter climbed into their van in the B and B’s parking lot. She was fine as long as she was working. But at night, and at every moment in between when her thoughts roamed, she thought only about Dawson and Luke. She could call them and yet…
If they needed her help, they’d call. Wouldn’t they? Besides, Luke had another appointment tomorrow.
She was about to turn away and go back inside when she saw Dawson’s SUV pull into the slot the van had vacated. Her heart heaved a sigh of relief…but then it tripped fast. They still had so much to discuss.
He was dressed casually in a sweater and jeans and hadn’t bothered with a coat. She had to wonder if this had been an impulsive decision to come see her.
He was at the door before she noticed the manila envelope in his hand. What was that about?
He attempted a small smile and she attempted one back. “Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“No. It’s fine. How’s Luke?”
“I’m not
sure. I think he’s still blaming himself. But I’m hoping you can help him with that. I keep telling him he was eight years old. There’s nothing he could have done that would have changed anything. But there’s still a gap between us, and I don’t know if he believes me. When you see him tomorrow, you’ll get a better gauge on that. I didn’t come to talk about Luke, though.”
She backed up a few steps and gestured him inside. They went over to the love seat and sat. Yet she didn’t feel close to Dawson. It wasn’t simply the six inches between them, but it was in his posture and the way he leaned away rather than toward her. His green eyes were so serious she started to get very scared.
He handed her the envelope. “This is for you. There’s information in there about two bank accounts I’ve opened. One is for you to use now for whatever you need. The other is for our child’s education. All you have to do is go to Miners Bluff Community Bank and sign the papers.”
Mikala’s breath left her lungs. Her heart seemed to fall to her toes. What Dawson had learned about his wife had changed everything between them. Everything but her feelings toward him. Those were stronger than ever. But Dawson…
She could see the turmoil in his eyes, feel the tension stringing his body. He was having trouble accepting all of it, as much as Luke was. Still, she was hurt that he thought money would solve anything.
She handed him back the envelope. “I don’t want your money.”
“I know you’re independent, Mikala, but you have to be practical.”
“Oh, I am being practical. Your money won’t take your place if I raise our child alone.”
“That’s a low blow, especially right now.” He looked disappointed in her and hurt himself.
“I didn’t mean it that way. But can’t you see? Didn’t you learn anything from what happened in your marriage?”
There was an impatient edge to his voice. “My marriage has nothing to do with this. You and I were both careless and now we have the consequences to deal with.”
“Your marriage has everything to do with this,” she protested. “You wanted to give Kelly and Luke material possessions. But what they needed was you—your presence, your caring and your attention.”
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