by Brynne Asher
I shake my head. “Mr. Hollingsworth. I’m your children’s counselor and we’re here to discuss Emerson—”
But he corrects me again, “Emma.”
I sit back in my chair, surprised. “I didn’t know she preferred Emma. She hasn’t been very open with me, but I’ll remember that.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, also leaning back in his chair. He relaxes like he’s settling in, resting an ankle on his knee. “She hasn’t opened up with anyone lately.”
A perfect time to focus on the subject at hand. “Emma’s mother emailed a few months back and I understand your children are adjusting to a new living arrangement. That can be difficult for anyone, especially a fifteen-year-old girl. I’ve pulled all of Emma’s grades, and while they aren’t the lowest I’ve seen, after studying her history and middle school records, I can see she’s struggling.”
“I know,” he agrees. “She’s struggling with more than just her grades.”
“If you want to tell me more, I’d like to help.” I know better than most how changes at home can affect kids.
“She’s not hanging with her friends anymore. I know she’s only lived with me for four months, but she wasn’t this quiet in the beginning. She’s withdrawn, she looks like she’s losing weight, and even though she does nothing but lay around, she’s always tired.”
“Has she been to the doctor?” I ask, thinking Emma’s issue could stem from a million different things.
“The one time I mentioned taking her to the doctor, Emma flat out refused to go. I’ll drag her in if I have to, but as you can imagine, I need to gain her trust.”
I nod, thinking it’s odd Emma was so adamant, but we are talking about a fifteen-year-old girl here. Their behavior can be odd in general without looming issues. I change the subject to something I can help with. “Who did she used to spend time with?”
“Maggie Stockton and Beth Thorton. She also used to hang in bigger groups, but that’s who she was with the most.”
Neither of those students are mine. I have the middle of the alphabet. Maggie and Beth are assigned to my coworker. It still makes me curious, so I go to my computer to pull up their records for a glance.
Hmm. Without delving into their history, I have no idea if their grades have changed, but they each have quite a few absences, and unexcused, at that.
“That good, huh?” When I look up, Asa has his head tipped, studying me.
I give him a small smile. “I can’t discuss other students with you, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
He frowns and demands, “Call me Asa.”
Even though I would very much like to call him Asa, I straighten in my chair to keep to the topic of his daughter. “Let me look into things. I’ll speak with each of Emma’s teachers and see if they can shed any light as to why her grades have suffered. I’ll also check with another counselor since her friends aren’t under my watch. It’s a first step, then we can come up with a plan for Emma. She isn’t herself—we need to remedy that.”
“You’ll call me?” he asks, concerned for his daughter.
“Of course. Today’s Thursday, so I’ll reach out before the weekend and at least give you an update from her teachers. I’ll let you know if we need to set up conferences. Would you like me to call her in and talk to her?”
He brings his hand up, rubbing the back of his neck as he shakes his head. “I have no idea. See what her teachers say and we’ll go from there.”
I give him a smile. “I’ll do everything I can. Is Levi doing okay? He’s been with me since he was a Freshman, I know him better.”
Asa sort of nods and tips his head. “He’s busy—gone a lot with lacrosse starting up. He’s also almost eighteen, so being a new full-time parent to an adult is a balancing act. I think he’s good, though.”
“Good.” I push away from my desk to stand. “If that changes, you know where to find me.”
A smirk appears and he raises a brow, but doesn’t move from his seat. “I do now.”
I fold my arms across my chest and finally address the elephant in the room. “It is a weird coincidence, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t agree, but blatantly asks, “Who’s Stan?”
I stand up straighter and put my hands on my hips. “You’re awfully direct, aren’t you?”
“I’m raising two teenagers by myself for the first time ever and most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t have time to be anything but direct.” He still hasn’t moved, sitting across from me, relaxed in his chair. “Who’s Stan?”
I shake my head and give in. What does it matter anyway? “Stan is someone I had dinner with.”
He immediately states the obvious. “Stan doesn’t know how to change a tire.”
I try to hide my smile. “I figured that out while I was standing in the ditch. Apparently, those of us who don’t know how to change a tire still need to eat.”
“You shouldn’t be going to dinner with people who don’t know how to change a tire.”
I roll my eyes, smiling, and shake my head before I look back. “After Saturday night, I have to agree with you. The ability to change a tire will be a must before I agree to sharing a meal with anyone in the future.”
“Then it’s a done deal. I’m taking you to dinner.”
Wait.
I lose my smile. “Sorry. I’ve decided I’m not going to dinner with anyone else for a long while.”
His smirk returns. “But you’ve seen me change a tire. I’ve basically interviewed for the position.”
This is true. Even so, I’m not going to dinner with anyone—whether they can change a tire or not—so I go for the big guns. “I have children.”
“So do I.”
His responses come so quickly, it’s like he’s in my head.
“Yes,” I agree. I obviously know he has children. “But mine are young. I can’t leave them home alone and just go out whenever I feel like it.”
His eyes widen with shock. “But you went out with Stan?”
“Yes,” I repeat, but this time I’m frustrated. “Stan was a blind date. He works with my sister’s husband. After Saturday night, both my sister and brother-in-law were dead to me for like,” I shake my head at the memory of me banging around my kitchen while I berated Stephie for setting me up, “an hour because of it. I don’t have a ton of sitters hanging around to watch my kids.”
He shrugs like it’s no big thing. “Bring them. Everyone needs to eat. I don’t want to leave Emma home by herself—I’ll force her to come, too.”
I shake my head. “I can’t go out with you. I’m your children’s counselor. There has to be some rule about that.”
Asa stands and puts his hands on the desk to lean in close. I do my best to hold my ground and not step back or cross my arms again, but it’s hard. Eye-to-eye, he lowers his voice. “I don’t play by the rules, Ms. Lockhart. I never have. If there’s a rule I can’t have dinner with my kids’ counselor, then I plan on breaking it.”
I exhale quickly, speechless.
He stands up straight and holds out his hand. When I give him mine, hoping he’ll finally leave since I have no idea what else to say, he grips my hand with his big warm one. His grasp is firm, yet weirdly comforting. “Keelie.”
I give his hand a squeeze and my voice comes out in a whisper. “Asa.”
“I look forward to hearing from you,” he adds. “Now that I know where to find you, we’ll discuss dinner soon.”
“But—” I start when he interrupts, and when he does, his face turns genuine and meaningful.
“I appreciate your help with Emma. I’m worried about her.”
I exhale and release him. “Of course.”
With that, he gives me another nod and leaves my office. When the door shuts behind him, I collapse into my chair, wondering what the fuck just happened.
Chapter 3
Donkey Whisperer
Keelie
I get up from my desk and walk across the counseling center to Tom Logan’s off
ice.
Tom is younger than me by at least five years and landed this job when our long-term counselor had to retire for health reasons. Tom was a middle school teacher in the district who recently got his Master’s in counseling.
Tom counsels the end of the alphabet for the student body and manages both Beth and Maggie. I knock on his open door when I see him typing away on his phone. “Hey. I need to talk to you about Maggie Stockton and Beth Thorton.”
He’s distracted and finishes typing on his screen before looking up. “What about ‘em?”
“I had to look into them because of an issue with another student and noticed they’ve had a lot of absences lately—excused and otherwise. They’re both gone today, but have had too many similar absences to be a coincidence. Would you mind calling their parents and checking in on it?”
He looks at me curiously. “If they were called in, I’m sure it’s fine.”
I sigh. “Please? I think it warrants a call to their parents.”
He doesn’t look excited but agrees. “Sure. I’ll look into it.”
I hate telling someone how to do their job, so I try to justify myself. “The students are still reeling from the accident. Sure, kids are going to skip class—it can’t be stopped. But nothing good comes of it, and now more than ever, we need to keep a close eye on every single one of them.”
He gives me a small smile. “I agree.”
“I appreciate it.”
When I get back to my office, I give myself a pep-talk for the next agenda item on my to-do list.
He was just here yesterday and he’s a parent. I shouldn’t be anxious to talk to him. I pick up my office phone and dial.
Quicker than I expected, his deep, warm voice greets me. “Hollingsworth.”
“Hello.” I take a breath before continuing. “Mr. Hollingsworth, this is—”
His voice dips as he interrupts me. “Keelie. I thought we were on a first name basis.”
I close my eyes and give in. “Yes, sorry. Asa.”
“That’s better.” I hear a smile in his voice and all I can think about are those interesting little lines around his hazel eyes when it happens.
Shaking off my thoughts, I start in about Emma, explaining that for the most part her teachers have seen a similar behavior to what he has seen at home. She’s quieter, distant, and withdrawn compared to the beginning of the year. I relayed that her teachers don’t see her with the group of peers she used to hang out with, and they’re having trouble getting her to participate in class.
I’ve lost the smile in his voice, now being replaced with silence.
I lean back in my chair and keep talking. “I’m still working on the friend issue. Don’t give up on me yet. Let me see what comes from that. We can set up the conferences now, but maybe we should wait until we figure out what all this is stemming from.”
I hear some funny noises in the background, like he’s outside, when my email alerts me. It’s from Tom, stating both Maggie and Beth’s excused absences are legit.
So weird.
“If you think that’s best. You’ll let me know what you can?” Asa asks.
“Absolutely. I’ll call you as soon as I find anything.”
“Thanks.” I hear him sigh, and right when I’m about to say goodbye, he adds, “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
I try not to smile, but it’s hard. “Since today’s Friday, tomorrow’s definitely Saturday.”
“I can try to make it a good one if you let me.”
Since he seems to have a quick comeback for everything, I decide it’s time to say goodbye. “I’ll call you Monday with any additional information. Have a good weekend.”
I hear his smile return. “You, too, Keelie.”
Hanging up the phone, I look at the clock. It’s the last hour of the day and I don’t have any more appointments. On a whim, I pull up the student profiles for both Maggie and Beth.
I print off their addresses. Maggie doesn’t live too far from me.
The bell rings for the last hour of the day, so I shutdown my computer for the weekend. Tidying up my desk, I grab my jacket and bags and lock my office door.
When I walk by the office, I make up an excuse for leaving. Checking in on students outside of school isn’t exactly under my job description. “I have an appointment, so I’m sneaking out a little early. You can forward any calls to voicemail and I’ll check them this afternoon.”
“Sounds good. Have a good weekend, Keelie.” She smiles.
“You, too.” I sigh, wondering what the hell I’m doing, while at the same time wishing I had more on tap for the weekend. Maybe it’s time to get the kids involved in more. It’s good to stay busy.
*****
Asa
I’ve been sitting here for hours, and when something finally happens, I can’t believe my eyes.
My new favorite high school counselor pulls into the drive, parking her minivan right next to that shithead’s piece of junk.
I cringe when I think about what she’s walking up to and start my engine. Pulling forward the two blocks from where I was parked, I watch Keelie walk up to the door wearing another sweet outfit—this time a dress. In her high-heeled boots, she walks with purpose, and I can tell she’s already talking to the three standing at the front door—Maggie, Beth, and some guy who looks as credible as the expired plates on his car.
Keelie’s arrival just interrupted the hand off. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened had she seen the girls take something from a guy I’m sure is a dealer standing on their front porch. I memorize the license plate, make, and model of the other car in the driveway before I do the last thing I planned on doing this afternoon—make an approach.
After pulling the info of both of Emma’s friends, I decided to drive by and see where they lived. Turns out, my new house is in the same development as Maggie’s. After driving by Beth’s house first, I swung by here and happened upon both girls walking up. My kids are still in school, so I bet they should be there, too. From the sounds of their laughs, I’m guessing they aren’t sick.
Climbing out of my truck, I hear Keelie questioning what’s going on. “So, you’re both ill today?”
Not knowing which is which, one of the girls starts speaking quicker than a bunny on speed. “I think something’s, like, going around. We both must have had it. But … um … I’m feeling better, so I decided to come and check on Maggie.”
“And who are you?” Keelie looks up to the man caught on the front porch with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He can’t be over the age of twenty-one.
No one has the chance to answer as both girls and the guy look to me. When I walk up behind Keelie—she doesn’t know what’s about to hit her.
Putting my hand low on her narrow hip, she startles from the surprise of my touch. I take the last step as she turns her head toward me and her eyes go big. I ignore that and give her a warm smile as I pull her to my side. “Hey.”
She freezes.
I give her a squeeze and enjoy her body pressed to mine. “I was on my way home and saw your car. I thought we were meeting later, so I stopped to see what’s going on.”
Her frown deepens. “Later?”
“Yeah, later.” I turn to our three spectators. “Hi.”
“Um…” the brunette mutters.
“Hey,” mumbles the blonde.
I look to the guy and narrow my eyes as I offer him my right hand. “Asa. And you are?”
He looks uncomfortable, but finally takes my hand in a quick shake. “Ritchie.”
“Ritchie. Good to meet you.” I don’t let go of Keelie and look to her when I point out, “I thought everyone would still be in school.”
Keelie tries to push away from me but I hold tight as she throws a hand out in front of her. “I was just checking up on these two. It seems they’re often sick at the same time. I have no idea who Ritchie is.”
“He’s…” the blonde starts but then pauses for a second, thinking up a lie. “He was deliveri
ng something. For my parents. For their business. I think stationery?”
I tip my head. “Stationery?”
“Yeah.” She gives me a little nod. “Or letterhead. I’m not sure which.”
“I gotta go,” Ritchie announces and makes his way down the porch steps to leave. “I’ve got more deliveries.”
“I bet you do,” I agree. “Good to meet you, Ritchie.”
“Ah … yeah,” he mumbles and before I know it, we all hear the growl of his old engine start up and he’s off faster than a blink.
“Asa—” Keelie starts and tries to push against me, but I don’t let her go.
I interrupt, “I hope you girls feel better soon. I’ve gotta say, you don’t look a bit sick. We’ll get out of your hair so you can rest up. I’m sure you’ll be anxious to get back to school on Monday. Everyone loves Mondays, right?”
The girls’ expressions are a mix of relief and confusion, but I ignore them and turn Keelie on the porch, leading her down the steps, and straight to her van.
“But, I need to talk to them,” she hisses under her breath.
“You girls have a good weekend,” I call over my shoulder. They don’t answer, but scoot into the house in record time.
I give her one more squeeze and murmur into the side of her hair, “Time to go.”
When I get to her minivan, I open the door for her. She stands there for a brief moment before letting out a frustrated huff and climbs in. I slam her door and head for my truck. She pulls out of the driveway and passes me where I’m parked at the curb. I fire up my truck and follow.
I have no idea where she’s going, but she’s got to stop sooner or later. We leave the development and I stay on her tail.
We head west about two miles—it only takes us five minutes to arrive at another property. Keelie pulls up the long drive when I see a garage door go up.
Ms. Keelie Lockhart lives here?
There’s no other house in sight, and when I drive around the gravel lane to the front of the old home, it’s a plain mess. The front of the house has been ripped off and there’s construction happening everywhere.
When I open my door, I’m bombarded with farm sounds. Dogs barking mixed with what sounds like goats, and, if I’m not mistaken, maybe a donkey.
