Her Secret, His Son

by Linda Wisdom

  “No, we’re-” Her shriek of protest lowered. “No, we’re not. You’re here as Tim’s guest, not mine.”

  Jess released her hand and walked back to the kitchen. “Tim, your mother and I are going for a walk to talk over your case.”

  “You can’t do it here?” He sounded suspicious. “Not when there’s a smart-mouthed kid around with big ears,” Jess said humorously. “By the way, that pan isn’t too clean. You better do it again.”

  “Thanks again.” Tim’s sarcasm followed Jess as he regained Sara’s hand and pulled her out of the house.

  “We can’t be seen together,” Sara protested as he dragged her down a path.

  “Like what? Are you throwing off your clothes and doing a pagan dance?” His lips quirked. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  “That’s not funny!” Sara tried vainly to dig in her heels, but Jess wasn’t going to allow her to pull back. “There are people in this town who would believe I was capable of such a thing and more.”

  Jess halted so suddenly Sara skidded to a stop and almost fell. “Take off the scarlet letter, Sara,” he snapped. “That, along with the sackcloth and ashes, isn’t becoming to you.”

  “The scarlet letter was for adultery,” she pointed out.

  He shook his head. “Who do you blame more in this, me or you? Sometimes I wonder if you’re not happy playing the martyr.”

  She flushed. “You’re wrong on that count,” she protested in a low voice, her fists clenched at her sides, a clear sign of her agitation. “I don’t allow anyone to make me feel guilty for having Tim, much less keeping him.”

  “I never thought you did,” he murmured, before moving off again. This time Sara followed on her own.

  “You told Tim we were going to discuss his case,” she prompted. “You don’t want to be thought a liar, do you?”

  He sighed. “No, I’m not going to lie about that.” He looked around the grassy clearing situated a fair distance from the house and sat down Indian style, patting the spot beside him. “Pull up a chair.”

  She sat down curling her legs under her.

  “About Tim,” he went on. “One afternoon spent with him doesn’t tell me all, but I have a strong idea he’s very angry at the world and he’s troubled.”

  “Thank you for telling me something I didn’t know.”

  Sarcasm laced her words. “Not to mention making my son sound like a novice psychopath. Next you’ll tell me he’s changing his name to Norman Bates.”

  “This is not a joke. He can’t stand to upset or hurt you,” he went on. “At the same time I don’t think he truly knows how to stop. He’s young, he has a hot temper, and he needs to learn how to control it.”

  “And you intend to show him.” She clearly didn’t believe him. Jess nodded. “Sara, I went back to school and got a degree in psychology. I’ve worked with a lot of troubled kids over the years.”

  “Kids like Tim.”

  “Kids like Tim,” he acknowledged, “I don’t admit to having one hundred percent success, but I’ve dealt with enough kids to recognize the signs. I feel confident I can help Tim as long as the two of you let me work with him on a regular basis and he’s willing to work hard.”

  “Don’t you mean if Judge Carmody allows you to work with him on a regular basis?” She reminded him of the hearing that wasn’t all that far off.

  “If we play our cards right, I’ll get that chance.”

  Sara looked down at the pile of grass she had been methodically shredding during the past few minutes.

  “What happened to you back then, Jess?” Her whisper drifted with the breeze. “Where did you go?”

  “I went off to find myself,” he said cryptically.

  She sat up straighter. “Why won’t you tell me the truth? What secrets are you keeping from me?”

  He looked up at her face, flushed pink from the heat and indignation. “What secrets I have are mine to keep.”

  Sara moved to get up, but Jess swiftly jackknifed upward, pulling her down beside him, threading his fingers through her hair so she couldn’t escape.

  “Why worry about the past when the present is more interesting?” he murmured, pulling her face toward his. This kiss wasn’t innocent or that of a young, eager lover. This was a man who once knew her intimately and drew upon those memories as he made a leisurely second meal of her mouth. Sara was beyond protesting. She was too busy melting against him, awash with the desire to rediscover his male contours. She forgot all but the man making her feel like a desirable woman again, and she only knew she wanted more as her body angled closer to his.

  “As much as I like your idea, I don’t think this is the place for it.”

  As the meaning of his words sunk in, Sara could only feel mortification.

  “I can’t believe I…” She groaned, ducking her head.

  “Showed you’re a woman with feelings? Sara, we were once lovers, no matter what, we still share some of those old feelings,” he explained, framing her hot cheeks with his hands and staring deep into her eyes.

  “But you’re our minister.” She sounded appalled and disgusted with herself. “You’re not the man I knew long ago.”

  No, he wasn’t, he sadly admitted. That man had been literally reborn into someone who learned to care more for others than himself.

  “So why can’t two grown-up individuals meet, get interested in each other and perhaps even go on a date?”

  Sara’s distress with herself was promptly forgotten as she stared at him, unable to believe her ears. “No, Jess.” She was determined not to say anymore.

  He grabbed hold of her. “Give us a chance, Sara.”

  She drew back slightly. How tempting that would be, but at what cost? She wanted to refuse, but a part of her ignored her better judgment. Would it be so wrong?

  “By my rules?” she asked, knowing she was setting herself up for a lot of pain if it all blew up in their faces.

  “Rules?”

  Sara nodded. “Surely you understand that no one can find out about us, at least not right away. This is a very delicate situation, and I don’t want to see you hurt. I know what these people can say and do. If they found out Tim is your son, they’d grind you up and spit you out.” She cupped his face with her hands, her fingertips tangled in his hair. In the bright sunlight she noticed the strands of silver among the dark and thought how distinguished they made him look.

  “Sara, you have so little faith,” he chided. “It’s clear we were meant to be reunited so I could help you with Tim. What we have to do is take this one day at a time and see where it leads. Is that so difficult?”

  She shook her head. Who couldn’t have faith when he had so much to give?

  “For your peace of mind we’ll keep it very low-key.” Jess lowered his voice. “You know what I mean. I come by your bedroom window at midnight and rap three times so you’ll know it’s safe.”

  Sara couldn’t help it. She had to giggle. “This is the Jess I used to know,” she pronounced, when she regained her self-control. She glanced down at his watch. “We should go back. I’m sure Tim is wondering where we’ve gone.”

  Jess agreed. He stood up and helped her to her feet. They held hands through most of their walk until they were in sight of the house. Then, by silent mutual agreement, they moved apart several feet.

  “I’d like to talk to Tim for a few minutes before I go.” Jess was the first to break their self-imposed silence.

  “Of course.” At that moment she would have granted him anything. Jess tracked Tim down in his room, and Sara went into the den to wake up Jackson, who insisted he hadn’t been asleep but merely resting his eyes. She remained with the older man until Jess appeared, delivering a polite thank-you for the meal and his promise to be present for Tim’s hearing. Sara managed a bland smile and nod of her head for Tim’s and Jackson’s benefit. After Jess left she noticed her son didn’t look as happy as he had earlier.

  “Now you look as if you have a pile of homework, which
you know I’ll insist on your finishing’:’ she teased.

  “I just thought I’d have to go over there a couple times to prove to the judge I’m okay and that would be that,” he blurted out. “It won’t be that way at all.”

  “Ain’t no free rides in life, boy,” Jackson intoned. Sara rolled her eyes. “That sure made me feel better,” Tim jeered, before running out of the room.

  “What’s wrong, Sara? Don’t you think the preacher can make everything right?” Jackson asked her. “The time had to come when Tim would learn he can’t slide through life.”

  “I can’t let him go to jail just so he can learn a lesson,” Sara protested. “No, that isn’t the way, either, and I have an idea the preacher has a few good ideas up his sleeve, and they don’t all concern Tim, either. But if he can get him straightened out, we’ll all be happy.” He then added, “Just as long as he don’t make me go to church.”

  “No, I don’t think he’ll insist on that,” Sara murmured. She knew Jess already had his part in the hearing figured out. She just wished she knew more about it. She remembered Jess’s injunction that she have faith. He made it so easy, so why couldn’t she feel as confident as he did?

  Chapter Nine

  Sara slept little the night before Tim’s hearing. When she saw her pale skin and shadowed eyes in the bathroom mirror, she knew she would have to apply an extra layer of makeup in order to appear fresh and glowing, as so many cosmetic advertisements claimed. She hoped they were right, because she certainly didn’t feel all that fresh and glowing. A wrung-out dishrag was more like it.

  She dressed carefully in an off-white suit with an apricot blouse to add color to her still unnaturally pale cheeks. She entered the kitchen to find Tim eating cereal at the table.

  “What is this?” she cried, staring at her son as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

  Tim looked up bewildered. “What is what?”

  Her gaze flew over his uncombed hair, rumpled T-shirt and faded jeans. She was afraid to see what was on his feet.

  “You can’t be planning to see the judge dressed like that?” Sara wailed. “You said I still had to go to school afterward, so I just put on what I wear to school.”

  She closed her eyes, slowly counted to ten and opened them. “You go back to your room, put on your brown slacks, a dress shirt and a matching tie. And comb your hair.”

  “I can’t go to school wearing a tie,” Tim protested.

  “You’ll wear a three-piece suit if I say so. I don’t intend us to be late, so get going now!” Tim jumped, and Sara could have sworn she had never seen him move so fast as he bolted out of the room. “And brush your teeth,” she called after him.

  “I’m not six years old!”

  “Anyone who dresses like that for a court hearing has the sense of a six-year-old.” She poured a cup of coffee and lifted it with shaking hands.

  “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna spill that allover your nice clothes,” Jackson commented.

  “I’m hoping it will calm my nerves,” she said wryly, sipping the hot brew. “I thought there was nothing to worry about.”

  “Tell that to my stomach.” She looked up when Tim later ran in, now dressed to her specifications with his hair neatly combed. “I should have had you get a haircut,” she mumbled, ushering him out to the car.

  “Good luck,” Jackson called after them.

  “Can I drive?” Tim asked as they got into the car.

  “No.”

  Tim knew this wasn’t going to be easy when his mother rattled off instructions during the drive to the courthouse.

  “Mom, I’ll never be able to remember all you’re telling me,” he protested, slumping down in the seat.

  “And sit up straight, don’t forget to call him sir,” Sara went on, but by then Tim had tuned her out. I44

  He prayed the reverend didn’t have further orders for him, because he was positive his brain was on overload.

  “Give me a break, Mom,” he groaned, climbing out of the car. “Either the judge lets me go, or he puts me in jail. It’s one or the other, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

  “That does not comfort me,” she muttered. “Manners can go a long way to make a good impression.”

  When something landed on her shoulder, she screamed and jumped away. “Hey, it’s only me,” Jess said hastily for fear she’d lash out with her purse before she recognized him.

  She stood there a moment, breathing heavily to restore her equilibrium. “You scared a good ten years off my life,” she said slowly, pressing her hand against her rapidly thumping heart. “And I cannot afford even one.”

  “She’s nervous,” Tim confided in a man-to-man tone.

  Jess nodded, noting Sara’s pale features and rigid stance. If she was any stiffer, she’d break in half.

  “Glad to see you dressed for the occasion, Tim,” he told the boy. “If you’d heard Mom this morning, you’d understand why it was safer not to wear jeans.”

  Sara studied the slip of paper she’d scribbled the information on.

  “Room one-ten,” she muttered, walking rapidly into the courthouse with her entourage on her heels. “Don’t let her talk to the judge,” Tim pleaded to Jess under his breath. “She might start talking about when I was a baby or something.”

  “We’ll see what happens,” he replied absently, deciding he liked seeing Sara wear high heels. They did nice things for her legs. He found himself thinking about her more and more lately. He was well aware there could be complications for them, but he had endured other trials, and he knew they would emerge from this experience stronger. Now all he had to do was convince Sara of this.

  Sara couldn’t decide if they were better or worse off meeting in the judge’s chambers. She settled on the latter when she met Judge Carmody. He looked like a cross between John Carradine and Boris Karloff, she thought miserably, mustering up a faint smile as she shook hands with the dark-robed man with a face that had probably never cracked a smile in his lifetime. She shot Jess a look of desperation, but he merely smiled and winked at her. She did not feel all that assured as she glanced around the walnut-paneled office and couldn’t find one item out of place or a speck of dust anywhere. Even his desk blotter didn’t show any wear and tear, she thought sadly.

  The judge fixed a steely-eyed glare on Tim, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, young man, you had yourself quite a time, didn’t you?” Sara decided even his voice was from a B prison movie.

  “Yes, sir, er, no, sir,” Tim muttered, unsure exactly what to say. “Yes or no, which is it? And speak up clearly,” he barked. “I, ah, I didn’t mean to do it,” Tim stammered) shifting uneasily in his chair.

  Sara resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. Hadn’t he listened to one word she had said during the drive here? He could be so articulate if he wanted to be, and now … well, he wasn’t making a very good impression.

  “You didn’t mean to severely damage a car and beat up several boys?” Judge Carmody said sarcastically. “Now why do I have trouble believing that?”

  Sara stared at Jess, silently pleading for help.

  “Judge Carmody, if I may say something?” Jess thought it was time he spoke up.

  His head swiveled in Jess’s direction. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Pastor Jess Larkin. Timothy is a member of my church,” he said smoothly, rising to his feet. “So what do you have to do with this case?” he demanded. “Surely, you’re not going to tell me how he’s heavily involved in your church’s youth group and he attends church every Sunday. From what I’ve read in this boy’s file it’s an open-and-shut case. He’s incorrigible, the mother is single with no prospects for marriage, therefore no father figure around for him to learn from. I see no reason why he shouldn’t be sent to a place where he’ll learn how to behave properly.”

  Sara gripped the chair arms so tightly her knuckles were white. Dark spots appeared before her eyes, and she feared she was going to fa
int. It was much worse than she thought it would be. She would have spoken up, possibly saying something she would have regretted later, but Jess’s firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

  “Let me explain further, Judge,” he went on. “My previous work was in Atlanta working in a church funded halfway house. I have a Ph.D. in psychology, and my specialization was counseling runaways and kids with severe emotional problems. Tim was wrong in reacting the way he did to the other boys’ idea of a joke. He’s at a fragile age where he’s neither a boy nor a man, and emotions can be a bit unstable. What I would like to propose is that Tim take an extra job to pay for the damages and that he undergo counseling to learn how to control his temper. This is his first offense, and we’re both aware a structured facility isn’t always beneficial for a boy.”

  The older man stared long and hard at Jess, gauging his sincerity. It was clear he trusted few people, and he was deciding whether or not Jess was one he could trust.

  “And I suppose you’re volunteering to counsel him?” He sounded skeptical.

  “Yes, I am. Of course, if you’d care to check my credentials first, I would understand.” He handed the judge several business cards. “These are the numbers of the head of the halfway house I worked in, several psychologists I shared a clinic with and two fathers of boys I counseled.”

  Judge Carmody barely glanced at the cards as he dropped them on his desk blotter. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers touching in a steeple shape at his lips as he stared long and hard at Tim, who bravely returned his stare.

  “You’ll be working pretty hard to pay the repair bills for that car, boy,” he told Tim. “And I’ll be checking the reverend’s credentials thoroughly. And if they don’t check out to my satisfaction, we’ll be back here for another meeting you won’t like one bit.” He turned to Jess. “I’ll expect a written report weekly. If the boy gets out of line once, if his grades aren’t kept up, fun time is over, and he’ll be sent to a correctional facility.” He closed the file folder, indicating their time was up.