by Kathryn Shay
“Kel, what about this weekend?”
Quickly she glanced at the clock. “Maybe. I’ll catch up with you later.” Turning, she strode away. She liked Mike okay, but his junior high mentality irritated her sometimes.
Back in her room, she pulled out her cell and called her father, feeling like a little girl again, obeying Daddy’s edict. Exactly three, Kelsey. I have a staff meeting at four. Never mind that she might be busy at exactly three. No one kept the illustrious Dr. Reynolds Cunningham waiting. Not even his beloved daughter.
As the phone on the other end rang, she studied her room. On the back wall, framed photos of important historical figures smiled out at her. Around them were sayings about history. Posters with motivational quips and pictures decorated the rest of the space. She loved her room, with its thick carpeting, new desks, and huge windows with mini blinds.
Her father answered on the sixth ring. “Dr. Cunningham.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Kelsey, how are you?”
“Busy as hell. You?”
“Same.” She heard computer keys in the background. Her annoyance grew to pique. “I’m finishing up a chapter of my new book.”
“How is the world of political intrigue?” Her father taught Political Science at Yale and published nonfiction about the workings of the government.
“Hmm. Good,” he said absently. She pictured the crow’s-feet around his eyes and mouth, though he was still handsome at sixty, with a full head of steel-gray hair and the dark eyes she’d inherited. “How are you, dear?” Click. Click. Click.
Just tell him. Say what you’d say to anyone else. “It bothers me that you do other things while talking to me.”
But she couldn’t. They’d fought bitterly in her younger days, and by tacit agreement now, they both tried to keep the peace. It was only with Suzanna that Kelsey could be completely honest.
“I’m fine. Psychology’s going particularly well.”
“Did you get the article on schizophrenia I sent you?”
She rummaged around her desk. “Ah, yeah. It was insightful.” She winced at the lie. Please don’t ask me about it.
“Kelsey, is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just been an upsetting day. We had a fight—” The words were out before she realized she shouldn’t have said them.
“You weren’t involved, of course.”
“Um...”
“Kelsey Lynne Cunningham, what were you thinking?”
“You don’t think about a fight when it breaks out. You just act.”
A sigh. Here it comes. “High schools are dangerous places.”
“Actually, they’re safer than anywhere else for kids.”
“What about Columbine? Virginia Tech? Arizona? Tell those grieving parents how safe secondary schools are.”
“School shootings are rare, Dad, compared to the danger outside of the buildings. It’s just the media hype that calls attention to them.”
“That and the fact that teachers and students die.”
“Less than one percent of the deaths of school-age children happen at school. The odds of someone dying here are one in a million. Literally.”
“You seem to be well versed in the subject.”
“A student of mine did her report on it.”
Absolute silence. His favorite tactic when she backed him in a corner. One of the things Suzanna had given Kelsey was an openness and honesty that Kelsey had needed from an adult in her life.
“Why did you want me to call, Dad?”
In a moment, the computer keys clicked. Well, at least he’d stopped typing for a while. “I wish you’d take a position up here at Yale. You’re wasting that brilliant mind in a public school.”
“I like my job.” Her tone was cool. This was off-limits, and her father knew it. He was breaking their unspoken pact.
“All right. I’ll lay off. What time are you coming Friday?”
“I can’t come Friday.” What would he accept without sulking? “I have a date.”
“Really, with whom?”
For some reason, big hazel eyes, shaggy hair, and an adolescent slouch came to mind. Geez, Suzanna was right. She needed a man in her life if a new boy in class was the only phantom date she could summon. “Mike Wolfe, a PE teacher.”
“A jock?”
“He’s nice.” Even if he does have an ego the size of Texas. “Look, Dad, a student’s at my door. I’ve got to go.”
“Fine.” Clipped, cold, condescending. Like her whole adolescence had been whenever she crossed him. Cheerleading, Kelsey? Really...A B+ in Math. That’s unacceptable...I don’t like the boy; he’s unsuitable.
Just once, she was going to do something shocking to totally freak out the illustrious Dr. Cunningham. “I’ll see you about nine on Saturday, though. Take care.”
He hesitated. “I love you, Kelsey.”
Her heart leaped to her throat. “I love you, too, Daddy.” And she disconnected.
Kelsey sighed, feeling like one of the kids who sat before her all day. Embarrassed, she scrubbed her hands across her face and picked up the schizophrenia article.
o0o
“Hmm, it smells delicious.” From the table where she sat in Kelsey’s kitchen, Suzanna smiled and sipped a Pinot Grigio they both enjoyed, while Kelsey fixed fettuccine Alfredo. “Thanks for cooking for me, sweetie.”
Kelsey stirred the sauce and smiled back at her friend. “I love to cook for you.”
Suzanna cocked her head, ever the mother, surrogate or real. “You look tired. Having a rough week?”
“Nah, just the fight. Poor Luke Ludzecky. He got caught in the crossfire.”
“He’s a character, isn’t he?”
Kelsey thought of the troubled young boy and his uncle. What a mismatch. “Honestly, I like him.”
“So do I. He’s rough around the edges, but salvageable.”
“Everybody’s salvageable to you, Ms. Principal.” Leaving the stove to drain noodles, which had been boiling, Kelsey crossed to the sink. “So what do you think of his uncle?”
“I think he’s good at his job.” Suzanna frowned. “But cold.”
“He’s got a nice butt.”
Suzanna chuckled. Though she’d been a surrogate parent to Kelsey, and helped her through some rough times as a teen, they enjoyed an equal, woman-to-woman relationship now, as a mother might with her grown daughter. Kelsey valued it more than anything else in her life. “You going for an older man, like I did?” Suzanna asked.
Kelsey shook her head as she finished pouring sharp, cheesy sauce over noodles on two plates. “Nah. He’s not that much older, anyway, is he?”
“He’s forty-six.”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“Thirty-one? How did that happen?” Suzanna got a wistful look in her eyes.
Again Kelsey gave her a warm smile as she served the food. “Dad’s going to be sixty soon.”
Suzanna dished out the salad. “How is Reynolds?” she asked, trying for nonchalance. Kelsey’s father was a difficult topic for them to discuss. Ironically, these days Suzanna seemed to resent him more than Kelsey did.
“Demanding as ever.”
“He never changes, does he?”
“Nope. I’m going down there Saturday.”
“Do you want to?”
Shaking her head, Kelsey put fork to food.
“Kel?”
Kelsey shrugged. “I have a lot going on here.”
Suzanna took a bite of her dinner. “You could say no to him once in a while.”
“Yeah, and when has that ever gotten me anywhere?”
“When you refused to move to New Haven with him.”
The memory made Kelsey seethe. Not only had her father uprooted her in eighth grade to move to Fairholm, where she’d met Suzanna, but he tried to do it again three years later. She could still see him blithely amble into their house at the end of the summer before her senior year in high school and announce he’d gotten an associate pro
fessorship at Yale. He and Kelsey were moving immediately.
“I’d never been so blindsided in my life. It was worse than the first time, when he’d promised he wouldn’t do it again.” She sipped her wine and shook her head. “He really expected me not to protest again.”
“Up until then, you were a dutiful daughter.”
“Not that time. I lost it completely and made threats. He didn’t know what to do.”
Of course, Suzanna had come to the rescue. She and Kelsey had become close in ninth grade when, as her Global History teacher, Suzanna had seen Kelsey’s misery and taken her under her wing. They’d gotten closer each year, so when Reynolds wanted to move again, Suzanna had offered to have Kelsey stay with her and Lawrence to finish out her senior year at Fairholm. Kelsey’s father had been livid, but gave in eventually. “His loss was my gain. We all loved having you with us those months.”
Kelsey shook her head, remembering. “Then he pulled that crap when I wanted to go into high school teaching instead of ‘doing something more productive’.”
Suzanna covered Kelsey’s hand but said nothing.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t paid my tuition those last two years when he refused to give me any money. Remember what a fit he had then?”
“He got over it. Both times.”
“And you lived up to your promise, lady.”
He keeps pulling the rug out from under me, Kelsey had told Suzanna in complete adolescent outrage. I’ll never be able to trust him. What is this with adults? Can’t you trust any of them?
You can trust me, sweetie. I promise, I’ll always tell you the truth. Tell you what’s going on. I won’t ever manipulate you like he’s done.
“I tried to give you a sense of security, Kelsey.”
“Well, you did.” Because of those two huge betrayals by her father when she was a teenager, having a person in her life Kelsey could trust had become overly important to her. Her psychology background told her she was somewhat over-the-top about it, but thank God Suzanna would never let her down.
“I just feel bad he still has so much power over you,” Suzanna said in between bites.
“Yeah, well, maybe when I’m old and gray, he won’t. Meanwhile, I have you to keep me sane.”
“That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me. Josh tells me I drive him crazy.”
“He won’t know how lucky he was until he grows up.”
“You, young lady, are a doll.”
Kelsey smiled. “I had a good teacher.”
Chapter Four
“Breathe in. Now exhale,” the guru of the yoga class she live streamed advised. On the TV screen, the soothing desert background was supposed to calm her.
Taking in a long, hefty gulp of air, then slo-ow-ly letting it out, Suzanna tried to center herself, strove for the serenity and receptivity of mind and body that the young man promised.
But it was almost impossible to achieve a peaceful state these days. So many things infiltrated her brain like tiny undercover spies, without her even knowing about it. Being a high school principal, she was constantly battered with details to weigh and decisions to make. But something was different lately.
As she tried to listen to the wisdom of her breath and body, Suzanna admitted to herself what was causing this lack of concentration.
Joe Stonehouse.
Tonight he seemed stuck in her brain. She could still see his green eyes turn steely when he was told Luke had gotten in trouble.
Ah, and then there was Luke. What was Suzanna going to do for that troubled boy who seemed more like a full-grown man most of the time?
Per the instructor, she dutifully stood, put her legs together and lifted her chest. Exhaled. Raised her arms. All the while, instead of reaching inner tranquility, she wondered why Joe had taken Luke to live with him. They didn’t seem to get along at all...maybe Joe was close to his sister...what was his family like...did his sister have the same mink-colored hair? What was the texture of his hair? Soft...no, it looked a little coarse.
“Damn it! What the hell are you doing, Suzanna?” she said aloud.
“Hey, language like that is inappropriate. You could get detention.”
Suzanna looked up into the face of her son.
How would you know? You’ve got the angel child of Fairholm.
She smiled at the boy of her heart and knelt on the rug to continue her routine. “How are you tonight, buddy?”
Loose-limbed in that unique teenage way, he dropped down and sat cross-legged so he was at eye level with her. These days he towered over her, but she could remember when she carried him on her hip and held his hand crossing the street. A wave of nostalgia threatened to choke her; to diminish it, she went into a lunge position and stretched her calf muscles.
He’d brought with him a bowl of fresh popcorn; the buttery smell permeated the house. Tossing a couple of kernels up in the air, he caught them in his mouth. “Who’s got ya goin’, Ma?”
She laughed at his phrasing. In addition to being smart, Josh was one of the most articulate students in the high school.
“This new counselor. I can’t figure him out.”
Josh nodded toward the TV. “Must be a big deal if the great Omar can’t even distract you.” He continually teased her about her yoga videos and the class she took with Kelsey and her newspaper reporter friend, Brenda Way.
Suzanna smiled and lunged more deeply. “What do you think of Joe Stonehouse?” Maybe Josh would tell her about the Kids of Single Parents group.
“He’s okay.” Josh’s light brown eyes darkened. “All the girls are gaga over his nephew. Heather thinks he’s hot. And Morgan Kane drools over him.”
“I think Luke’s a handful.”
Josh stared blindly at the screen, as if his mind had wandered off elsewhere.
“Everything okay?” she asked as she stood to elongate her spine. Kids talked more if it looked like you weren’t prying.
“Heather’s acting funny.”
“Yeah?” Breathe. Exhale. Go down to a pushup position. “How?”
“I think the word is skittish. Around me.”
“Things been going well between you two?”
His face reddened right to his ears. Her mother uh-oh alarm went off. Forsaking the exercises, she grabbed the remote and put the video on pause. She knelt and brushed her son’s cheek with her palm. “Honey, you can tell me anything. Even if it’s personal.”
“I know.”
“Even if it’s about sex. I was young once.”
His eyes narrowed, and he angled his head. He had Lawrence’s chiseled features, and sometimes his mannerisms were so like his dad’s it brought tears to her eyes. “I...” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s hard to talk about that stuff with you, Mom.”
“I wish you’d try.” Suzanna sat back on her heels.
No answer. More popcorn. Josh stared at the frozen screen.
“But if you can’t talk to me, what about somebody else? Your school counselor?”
“Geez, Mom, I’d rather die than confide in No Neck.”
She laughed at the nickname. It was singularly appropriate for the stocky counselor/coach who’d been at Fairholm forever. Joe had mentioned the guy seemed to take more interest in his wrestlers than in the kids he counseled.
Josh munched on his snack, but didn’t get up and leave.
“You know, Joe Stonehouse is starting a Boys’ Concerns group in a few days.” She hesitated, wondering if she should steer her kid to somebody she didn’t completely trust. Though she didn’t think Joe was showing all his cards, she had an intuitive feeling about his ability to help teenagers.
Again Josh reddened.
“Honey, I know you signed up for the Kids of Single Parents group. I found out by accident, but it’s okay.”
He sighed. “I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“It doesn’t make me feel bad that you need to talk about
your father being dead.”
His look was forlorn, a lot like it had been when Lawrence died. In her mother’s heart, she sensed he needed a guy to hash things out with.
Staring into his eyes, she grasped his shoulders. “Josh, kids can’t tell parents everything. But you have to talk about things before you make big decisions about them. If not with me, then with someone else.”
“Maybe.”
“As I said, I think Joe Stonehouse is great with teenagers. You might want to go in and just shoot the breeze with him. I could set it up.”
He shook his head. “No, if I want to do it, I’ll arrange it myself.” He stood, then leaned over and kissed her on the nose, bringing tears to her eyes again. “Love ya, Ma,” he said, and walked toward the doorway; he stopped there and turned. “Thanks.”
“For?”
“Letting me have some privacy.”
“It’s killing me, kid. Get out of here before I tie you up and make you talk.”
He laughed and left.
Plopping back down on the floor, Suzanna hoped she’d done the right thing. Joe Stonehouse was a puzzle she was still trying to piece together, but if he could help Josh, she’d trust the guy.
Snapping green eyes flashed through her mind. And mile-wide shoulders. Very quickly, she banished the image and picked up the remote to restart the video.
o0o
“Twelve.” Joe counted out loud as he curled a fifty-pound weight up to his shoulder; he grunted as he let it down.
One more, he thought. Best to push yourself a little further.
He’d been in the workout room for almost an hour. One of the reasons he’d picked the sprawling two-story house, besides its being only four blocks from Suzanna Quinn’s, was because of this finished area in the basement with its high ceilings and rows of windows. Joe wanted a place to exercise that wasn’t claustrophobic; he’d insisted on state-of-the-art workout equipment to keep in shape, even though they’d be here only a few months. Secret Service agents couldn’t afford to go to flab.
Besides, you’re almost forty-six.
Over-the-hill, Josie had said on the last birthday she spent with him. She’d been fifteen, and he’d turned forty-two.
