by Kathryn Shay
Amanda relaxed in her seat and took advantage of the mellow mood. “How’s everyone doing today?”
Both Sandi and Matt averted their eyes, as if they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Matt?”
“Aw, sh—” he began but stopped.
Amanda had made very few rules for the group but she’d insisted on no obscenities. Some hell and damn was tolerated, but she asked them to try hard to clean up the rest of their language, believing violent language was a precursor to the act itself. Matt made the most slips.
“Sorry.” He ducked his head and fiddled with the zipper of his leather jacket. “Anyway, I know you know about English class this week. I got so ticked off at that lady. She keeps prying, wantin’ me to write personal stuff.” He jutted a stubborn jaw. “So I did.”
“Very personal, from what I hear.” Amanda’s tone was dry.
“Well, she asked for it.” His green eyes were wide and innocent. Just like Cain’s before he did his brother in.
“Did she?” Amanda matched his raised eyebrows. “Tell me, Matt, aren’t there certain codes of behavior that are simply understood?”
“Like?
“Well, when you walked in here today, did you spit on the floor?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and his posture straightened. Amanda knew he loved a challenge. “’Course not.”
“Did I tell you not to?”
Matt shook his head, light dawning in his eyes.
She went in for the kill. “But you didn’t because you knew it was inappropriate behavior, right?”
Shaking his head, he grinned. “Your point, Teach.” Then, he scowled just like the English teacher in question was known to do, pulled in his chest, as she did her hefty bosom, and said with mock authority, “I’ll try to ‘control my impulses more.’”
Sandi and Heather laughed at his accurate, unflattering impression. Ron didn’t crack a smile when Amanda glanced at him, and she saw he had headphones on. At her frown, he grudgingly removed them. His face was somber. A sudden premonition made Amanda shiver. “Ron, what are you listening to?”
The boy’s usually impassive face sparked somewhat. “Magenta. Man, they’re totally rad.”
“Which song?”
“‘Blackout.’ It’s awesome. You listen to this, stuff, Ms. Carson?”
Amanda sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, buying time. “I know this particular song.” It was about suicide and had been the cause of much controversy several years ago when it was released. Experts worried that it glorified the ultimate act of despair.
Amanda knew she was on shaky ground here. Leronne Marshall had already tried to kill himself. He bore the slash marks on his wrists like a badge, a silent testament to his depression. And she was grimly aware that the people who’d attempted suicide once were at the highest risk to do it again.
Interjecting just the right mixture of concern and authority into her voice, Amanda asked, “Why do you like that song, Ron?”
He shrugged his thin shoulders.
She leaned closer and folded her arms in front of her. “What does it make you feel?”
Again, he shrugged, his black eyes staring at her blankly.
“It makes me feel creepy,” Sandi put in.
“Why, Sandi?”
“This guy says death is great. A peaceful way to escape. Gives me the willies.”
Ron set his cassette recorder on the floor and stretched his arms above his head in a deceptively casual gesture. “It shouldn’t, babe. It’s one way to stop the pain.”
“When nothing else will,” a small voice from the right side of the room confirmed, so softly it seemed to have slipped out almost against the speaker’s will. That it came from Heather, who had said nothing about herself in all their group sessions, made the statement as powerful as if she’d shouted it through a megaphone.
Though she was glad Heather had finally contributed to the group, Amanda wished the girl hadn’t chosen this fact to respond to. Suicide’s appeal to kids was that it was just a way to stop the pain, not really a wish to die.
Amanda forced her voice to be even when she wanted to shout how wrong this reasoning was. “Certainly death does that. But there are other ways to stop the hurt, too.”
Eight doubting eyes focused on her. They knew as well as she did that she had no magic to give them. But they all desperately wanted some hope.
Sitting up straighter, Amanda looked at each one of them. “You can talk about it. You can try to change your circumstances. You can know when something is going to trigger that suffering and take steps to prevent it.”
“How do you do that, Ms. C.?” Sandi asked. “Like, we sorta got an anniversary coming up and my ma, she’s already depressed over it. Makes me feel terrible, so I...” She trailed off.
“You what?” Amanda gently prodded.
“Ah, I smoke some pot to get rid of it.” Sandi ran a shaky hand through her curly hair, her hazel eyes suddenly old. “I skip school and veg in front of the soap operas.”
“Like you did this week?”
Before Sandi could give an excuse, someone asked, “What kind of anniversary?”
Again, Heather’s involvement in the discussion and her shyly uttered question touched them all.
Sandi turned in her chair and stared at Heather for a long time before she spoke. “I’ll tell you that if you tell us somethin’ about your problems. You ain’t said nothin’ yet and it’s cool, girl, if that’s how you want it. But I’d like to know what monkey’s on your back.”
Tears formed in Heather’s eyes and splashed down onto her very white cheeks. But she never broke eye contact with Sandi. She tilted her chin, her long ponytail swaying behind her. “Ten years ago, when I was three, and my brother was only two weeks old, my...my.... mother left us.” The tears were still falling, but the child dug her nails into her hand until her knuckles were white and continued. “We never saw her again.” There was a long pause while Heather took a couple of deep breaths and then spoke, “Jason’s birthday is on Thanksgiving. The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is always so...lonely.”
Heather’s breath came in gasps and she hung her head and dug her sneakers into the floor. She’d reached the end of her stamina. No one moved and the silence was deafening.
Finally, Sandi got up, went over to Heather, knelt before her and took her hands. “Heather, my stepfather left us a year ago this week. He was a bastard, but my ma went downhill after that. She says it helps to spend time with me during those days. How about you, who do you wanna be with when you hurt?”
Heather looked at Amanda. They both knew the answer to that question.
Time ran out for the session shortly after Heather’s confession. Sandi briefly hugged Heather for comfort and Matt said a few encouraging words about Heather’s first sharing before he left. Ron only responded with his eyes. The empathy he felt with the girl was obvious.
Amanda was shaken by it all. She’d make sure to set a private counseling session for Heather two weeks after Jason’s birthday, and she was halfway satisfied that the girl was calm and could cope when her aunt picked her up. She said nothing to Beth about the breakthrough, but telephoned Nick immediately. Although she wouldn’t share the specifics, she was going to tackle the issue of his spending more time at home. At some point, she would also have to address Heather’s need for information about her mother. But it was too soon for that. She just wished she didn’t have such a sense of foreboding about it all.
o0o
Several hours later, Nick pulled up the collar of his bomber jacket and rang Amanda’s doorbell. He’d been unable to banish thoughts of her from his mind all weekend and kept reliving how she’d felt in his arms. It was dangerous to think about her so much, but he couldn’t help himself. And now she wanted to see him!
She opened the door and stood before him dressed in baggy jeans and a blue Syracuse U sweatshirt that made her eyes glow. She looked sexy as hell and his who
le body tensed. He dragged her into his arms as soon as he stepped inside.
The kiss was drugging. His mind stopped functioning when his lips touched hers. His doubts forgotten, pure male reaction took over as he tasted her. She opened to him willingly and he relearned the recesses of her mouth with his tongue. Her hands slid up his chest and every muscle in his chest leapt at her touch. He heard her groan, and was thrilled, once again, with her response to him. He felt protective of her and seduced by her at the same time.
“God, I thought I’d imagined how good you felt under my hands, but I didn’t. You make me want, Amanda Carson.”
She peered up at him, her pupils dilated with arousal. “You make me want, too, Nick DiMarco. More than I should.”
More than I should, too. Much, much more. He pulled away then, afraid of embarrassing himself with further declarations, and walked arm in arm with her to the sofa. He sprawled across the couch and patted the cushion next to him. When she shook her head, his eyebrows raised in question.
Pushing her hair off her face, she gave a very female chuckle and shook her head. “No, we need to talk, and being close to you turns my brain to mush.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Smiling, she took a seat on the chair opposite him.
He shrugged off his jacket. “Okay, what’s up?”
“Nick, things are happening between us that I really like.” She blushed prettily. “And not just physically. I think you’re a good father to Heather and I really admire your grit and determination.”
His chest swelled with her praise. He could have said the same thing about her, but he didn’t want to interrupt.
“Anyway, because I’m working as Heather’s counselor, we have to keep our professional dealings separate from this personal thing. Otherwise, I won’t be able to live with the lack of ethics.” Then she added hastily, “I think we can do it, though, if we’re very careful.”
At her ominous words, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, bracing himself for her message. “What exactly do you mean by that, Amanda?”
Despite his wary tone, the beauty before him forged ahead, anyway. She squared her shoulders and stared at him intently. He hadn’t gotten comfortable with his feelings for someone so like his ex, and now he was glad. “Nick, my first responsibility is to Heather, and I’ll always honor that, no matter what conflict it causes between us. In other words, I won’t let my feelings for you, no matter how wonderful they are, keep me from doing what I think is best for your daughter.”
It was no more than he’d expected. Hell, it was what he really wanted. Yet, way down deep, it hurt that she’d asked to see him tonight because of Heather. Not because she’d missed him. But he pushed the disappointment away. “Is there something you want to tell me about my daughter?”
“This is pretty touchy. You know I can’t reveal what we discuss in the counseling sessions. As I’ve already told you, confidentiality is vital. But she’s only thirteen, so it’s my duty to make sure you understand the seriousness of what’s going on.”
“Don’t I know what’s going on?”
“Partially. I can’t tell you any more than I already have. The only thing I can say is that you need to spend more time with her.”
He remained seated and looked up at her, his gut churning. He could tell by the lines of stress on her face that this wasn’t easy for her, that confrontation was probably something else she hadn’t done much of in her life. “Listen, Amanda, it’s not that simple. I work at Corelli’s and fill in at my old construction company to pay for necessities. I clerk for Joris, Beech and Stowe ten hours a week now, and their demands will likely increase after Christmas. I have classes most nights and I have to study for the finals coming up. Where can I find more time to spend at home?” His words were clipped and he hated how cynical he sounded, but there was no sugarcoating this truth.
She sat down now, close to him and took his hand. “Something has to give, Nick. She needs you with her, now more than ever.”
In order to determine what was best for Heather, he quelled his irritation at the fact that Amanda wouldn’t see his position. “Why now?”
“I can’t go into detail. You’ll have to trust me that this is a crucial time for her, in the upcoming months. I can tell you that suicide attempts during the holidays reach all-time highs. Hotlines and crisis centers are inundated with calls and visits. Depression peaks in this season. There’s more to it for Heather, but just that should be enough for you to change something.”
Nick shuddered anew at the thought of Heather’s suicidal tendencies. He felt closed in by his dilemma. Just a little while longer and he’d have what he wanted, what he needed. How could he jeopardize that now? Yet, if his daughter truly needed him...
He stood up, trying to bear the weight of this better. He wanted it all—Heather’s mental health, the law degree and a good job—maybe even this woman before him. So he tried again. “Amanda, I have to study for these exams. If I don’t maintain my grade point average, Joris and the others who are wooing me won’t be interested any longer.”
“Then what about the job at Corelli’s? Can’t you let it go for a while?”
That one statement crystallized the differences between them, and reminded him, unhappily, that she was more from Suzanne’s world than his. “It’s about money. I have to worry about it, even if you don’t.” He winced at the edge in his voice.
Amanda rose to meet him, squared her shoulders and stared him down. “Don’t get defensive with me because you’re frustrated with the situation. I can help.”
He had to give her credit. For such a fragile-looking woman, she stood her ground solidly. That worried him even more—he liked her moxie, he liked so many things about her. Exasperated, his thoughts slipped out. “We’re so different, Amanda. This whole conversation makes me realize how little chance we have of making a relationship work. Add that to the conflict of interest and professional concerns we face...”
“But you said the other night you thought we could do it. You just kissed me like—”
Unable to bear to hear his foolishness recounted so emotionally, he cut the air with his hand to silence her. “I know how I kissed you. What I said. But maybe we should put on the brakes here. I can’t let you rearrange my whole life. I did that once before and it’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”
He saw the hurt etch itself first on her mouth, then glimmer in her eyes. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Fine. I get the point. We’ll slow down. Or stop all together, if that’s what you want. All personal stuff aside, will you think about easing up on the work load to spend more time with your daughter? It’s my professional opinion that she needs you now.”
Her agreement caused angina-like pain. If he’d been a more optimistic man, if life had been a little kinder to him, he might have reached for her, as he wanted to. But he’d learned not to read things into a woman’s pleas, and never to trust the vulnerability in a pair of guileless blue eyes.
“All right, I’ll go over my finances tonight. I’ll find a way to be home more.”
Making his way around her, careful not to touch her, he headed for the door. He was afraid if he came too close to her, he’d drag her to him to erase that haunted look in her eyes with a kiss and give her promises that he knew he couldn’t keep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hi, honey. Is everything okay?” Slouched in a corner on his cell phone, Nick looked around the huge foyer of the Syracuse Law Library buzzing with activity.
“Yes, Daddy, we’re fine.” Heather’s voice was soft and sweet, as usual. “Mrs. Castellana made supper and I cleaned up. She just put Jason to bed.”
“Did you eat enough?” he asked, trying to mask his concern. She had been eating more, and sleeping a little better in the last few days, though she still stayed up late in her room.
“Yes, Dad.” Teenage exasperation seeped through.
“All right, I’ll be home in hal
f an hour.”
“Great, I’ll wait up.” Her enthusiasm reached clear across the phone lines.
He clicked off, closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall. His presence at home nights had made a difference already. He’d never forget the joy on Heather’s face when he’d told her he was giving up his job at Corelli’s for a few months. Winning the lottery couldn’t have come close to causing that look.
As he walked the few feet to where he’d dropped his things, he realized again how right Amanda had been last week. And just thinking about her made his gut clench. Damn, he’d really blown it.
After he’d left her house that night, he’d thought long and hard about her warnings about his daughter. And in the subsequent days, he couldn’t ignore the way Heather prowled around late at night and how she picked at her food. The crying had been the worst. He’d tried talking to her, but it didn’t help. Frustrated and frightened, he’d taken steps to spend more time at home. She really did need him. Why hadn’t he done this before?
Because you are a first-class jerk, DiMarco, he told himself as he sank into a chair in the corner and wearily rubbed his hand over his face. That had never been clearer to him than when he told Amanda he wasn’t sure they could make things work between them. He knew how much her response to him had meant to her; he also knew she’d begun to care for him. Yet, he’d left the relationship in limbo because of his fears that he was getting into another fiasco like the one he’d had with Suzanne.
But Amanda hadn’t backed down about Heather. She’d done precisely what she said she’d do: she’d asked him to put Heather’s welfare before his personal conflict over her. God, that made him feel like a heel, that she had to ask him to do that. Closing his eyes again, he could see her standing proudly before him, her jaw clenched, pleading her case for Heather.
