Blue Clouds (13 page)

Watching the boys cavorting like any two six-year-olds, Pippa vowed to make it happen. She'd almost swear Chad was losing the race on purpose. His state-of-the-art electronic chair could run circles around Mikey's ancient one. This was precisely what Chad needed, even without the therapist.

“I'm interviewing three therapists tomorrow. Got any input?”

With determination, Pippa started taking notes. The Grim Reaper would just have to start acknowledging that a world existed outside his fortress—not that that world was a very friendly one, she realized. That hunter had to have known whose land he was on.

***

Pippa contemplated screening the therapists from the relative sanity of Meg's kitchen, but Seth had insisted on sitting in on the interviews. Since she didn't think her reclusive employer would appreciate the eyes of the town on him in the fishbowl of Meg's home, she reluctantly arranged for the interviewees to visit the mansion.

The mentally challenged gardener accidentally anointed the first candidate with a hose, soaking her carefully hair-sprayed coiffeur. As Doug hastened to her rescue, the tiny blonde took one look at the hulking black ex-football player racing in her direction, screamed, and leapt back into her car. Pippa watched her screech her Civic down the drive and shook her head.

“No stamina,” she said as Doug stopped on the porch stairs and watched the car speed off.

Doug grunted. “If that means no brains, you're right.”

Pippa grinned. “That's what it means, all right. Let's sic Chad on the next one.”

Doug threw her a suspicious look. “You ain't supposed to be enjoyin' this so damned much.”

“If I'm not, who is?” Lifting an eyebrow, Pippa returned his look with aplomb. This bachelor household didn't need cute blondes swinging their hips around anyway.

The next candidate agilely dodged sprinklers, Doug's menacing arm-crossed stance, Nana armed with blue wig and vacuum, and Chad's mutinous “She's butch” insult. Pippa gave the woman credit for keeping a cool head. But the newcomer's reaction to Seth showed how little six-year-olds knew about sexual preferences.

Tall, blond, and stacked, the therapist stopped cold in her tracks as Seth stood to greet her.

“Why, Mr. Wyatt, I had no idea you were so young,” she purred.

As if a six-foot Amazon could purr, Pippa added to herself. And since the Amazon was clearly just out of college, and Seth was pushing his late thirties if she knew anything at all, the Amazon was lying through her gleaming, milk-fed white teeth. Thirty-somethings were ancient to twenty-two-year-olds.

Get a grip, Pippa
, she muttered to herself as she gestured Miss Amazon toward a chair. Seth was a big boy. If he wanted to play with children's toys, that was his business. She pulled out her clipboard of prepared questions.

Seth glowered silently, staring out the window as Pippa worked her way through the basics of education and experience. Other than having very little experience with children, Miss Amazon qualified on all counts. Pippa still didn't like the woman any better. She wished Seth would lend a hand here. He was the one who had insisted on sitting in on the interview. He was supposed to have corporate business experience. He ought to know how to ask those tricky questions that caught out the irresponsible types.

Diving into treacherous waters, Pippa threw away the prepared list and plunged into her own concerns. “You'll be dealing primarily with a five-to-nine age group, both boys and girls. Your experience has been mostly with adults. Are you prepared to handle their hyperactive energy? How would you deal with a child who doesn't cooperate?”

Miss Amazon smiled confidently. “I have two younger siblings and I baby-sat the neighbor's children for years. When they got out of hand, I just bopped them on the rear or whacked their hands and they straightened out. Children need discipline.”

Pippa's mouth dropped open. Too astonished to form a reply, she merely stared.

Seth reared up from his cave and towered over them. “The interview is over. You may go now.” He stalked out without further explanation.

Well, she'd have to give him credit for terminating an interview without wasted breath. Standing up, Pippa gestured toward the doorway.

The bewildered therapist looked from the doorway to Pippa and back again. Shaking her head, she stood up. “What did I say?”

“You just suggested physical abuse to the father of a child who is already physically damaged. I'd suggest you acquire a little experience dealing with children before seeking employment in this field. Corporal punishment might have its place; that's not an issue I'm prepared to argue. I just know that it has no place with these kids. They've already suffered enough. Good day.”

Pippa watched her second candidate depart. If these were the best the area offered, what the hell was she going to do? Take physical therapy classes and teach them herself?

She found Seth stalking up and down her office, wearing a path in the Persian carpet. She liked that carpet. The browns and golds had faded and blended into a pattern that intrigued her imagination. It would be nothing but bare threads if he didn't halt soon.

“Cretins!” he shouted, as if she couldn't hear.

Well, at least he knew she was in the room. She took a seat at her desk. “Just very young,” she modified. “I dumped water on Chad and he survived. You would have had a conniption if I'd told you beforehand that's how I'd shut him up.”

Seth spun around and glared at her. “And I fired you. Why the hell didn't you just leave then?”

Good question. She should have. She really should have. But they both needed her so much....

Dumb, Pippa. Seth Wyatt didn't need anyone or anything. But Chad did. The old need-to-be-needed urge raised its ugly head. Pippa stuck out her chin. “I needed a job and Chad needed a friend. I couldn't leave.”

Seth's glare didn't waver. “I'm not buying that tripe. With your credentials, you could get a job anywhere. So help me, if I find out Natalie is paying you, I'll have your reputation cut into mincemeat. I can do it with just a phone call.”

“You're such a pleasant person when riled, I do love talking to you. Will you just fire me and get it over with so I can get back to work?” Pippa didn't flinch as Seth's temper visibly flared. The mule-headed grouch had had his own way entirely too long, but she'd seen the fear in his eyes the day she'd arrived. Maybe he could beat the tar out of illegal hunters, but he couldn't deal with the chaos around him alone. She had him over a barrel.

And he knew it. She could see it in his eyes and the way he snapped his mouth shut on his first impulsive reply. He shoved elegantly long fingers through his thick mop of curls and tugged with frustration. “This isn't working,” he snarled, not specifying to which
this
he referred.

“It's working very well; you just don't like it,” she suggested, supplying her own definition. “We'll find a therapist who has experience with children. Sometimes credentials aren't everything.”

“I won't leave Chad with strangers,” he stated obdurately, returning his hand to his side and clenching it into a fist.

“I'll stay with him and keep watch,” she reassured him. “You can't protect him from the world. It's out there. He has to learn to deal with it.”

“Children are too young. They're not prepared to deal with it by themselves.”

He said it with such emphasis, Pippa realized there was more to it than that. She'd been raised in a small town and had seldom known a stranger as a child. Seth's experience had apparently been different.

“Okay, tell me where you're coming from.” She set her pencil down and waited for his explanation.

He paced. He shoved his hand through his hair again. He glared out the window. Then he swung around and glared at her some more. But he didn't scare her. She saw the pain in his clenched jaw, the uncertainty hidden behind the intimidating scowl. She wanted to stroke his face and tell him everything would be all right. The man was a menace to society and probably to himself. Why couldn't she remember that?

“Look, just take my word for it, all right?” Some of his scowl faded as she did no more than watch him patiently. “Kids need the protection of the adults they know. You can't just heave them out into the cold world and let them fend for themselves.”

He was speaking from experience. It was in every ounce of pain he held back. Thoughtfully, she nodded agreement. “We don't have an argument there. They need to be certain of the adults around them so they can proceed with confidence on their own, knowing they have a fall-back position. Chad has you. He'll learn soon enough that he has me. And once he gets to know the therapist, he'll have still another person. The whole point is for him to gradually explore the world outside and learn which people he can trust and how to deal with others he doesn't know about. Where's the problem?”

“I can't trust you or any therapist,” he stated coldly. “I can't trust anyone.”

Pippa quirked her eyebrows. “Not even yourself?”

For a moment, his glare blackened, and then it disintegrated entirely as he shook his head in sadness. “Not even myself.”

With that, he stalked into his own office and slammed the door.

Well, dammit, then
, Pippa muttered to herself. She'd just have to place her trust in God or that poor kid wouldn't have anyone.

But she'd always believed God helped those who helped themselves, and it looked like Seth Wyatt and his son needed one whale of a lot of helping.

“Look,” the detective's voice replied over the phone, “I've got a couple of live leads, which is a hell of a lot more than I've had up till now. I've tracked the owner of the house on the hill where you went off, and the tow-truck driver who pulled the car out of the ravine. The thugs you laid out cold aren't talking, but they're out on bond and I've got tails on them.”

Seth grimaced and clenched his pen so hard it should have broken. He dropped the pen and tapped his fingers against the desk. The phone in the other room rang and he heard Pippa answer. The clatter of her computer keyboard barely halted long enough for her to pick up the receiver. He'd like to know how she did that. That unfathomable mind of hers apparently had different compartments for different tasks. He wished he could say the same.

He was postponing making the decision Dirk was demanding he make. The horror of that night five years ago never stopped haunting his sleep. He had to solve it. He'd like to know who the bastard was who'd hired those thugs, too, but Natalie and her lawyers were in his face now. He had to strengthen his current position before he could indulge his fantasy of finding out what really happened that night. Chad's present was more important than his past.

Or was he rationalizing, avoiding what Dirk might uncover? That thought brought him up with a jerk. If Dirk could prove Seth wasn't drunk that night, it would pave the way to unquestioned custody of Chad. But if Dirk proved the opposite? He could lose Chad forever.

Choosing Chad's future over his own need for justice, Seth reluctantly gave Dirk his orders. “If you have someone you trust, put them on those leads. I want you on Natalie's case right now. They've set a court date for the custody hearing, dammit. There's no way in hell I'm letting her have Chad. Have you made any headway in that direction?”

“Not much. Her husband got sacked from that last consulting position. Far as I can tell, they're living on future earnings and they're up to the year 2100 by now. I'm not real sure she understands the debt outstanding. Their maid said she overheard Natalie asking him how come the restaurant wouldn't take her charge card, and he told her he'd canceled it because the interest rate was too high. Is she that dumb?”

Seth gritted his teeth and swiveled his chair to absorb the view of mountains in the distance, but they were obscured by morning fog. “She's not dumb, just oblivious. And single-minded. She's always had money, thinks it pours from faucets like water. I doubt if it has ever occurred to her that it can run out. And he's deliberately keeping her in the dark. She's focusing on getting Chad back, slandering me across half the state. If I walked into the country club down there, they'd probably draw and quarter me on her behalf.”

Seth leaned his head back against the leather headrest and waited out Dirk's silence. Dirk was damned good at what he did, but he was a detective, a man with a cop mentality and blue-collar middle-class values. He could practically hear Dirk's brain ticking as he sought a polite means of telling Seth what he should do.

“I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to talk to her,” Dirk finally said.

If he were capable of humor, Seth would have grinned at the predictability of Dirk's reply. “Is it self-defense if I throttle her?” he asked facetiously.

“Look, man,” Dirk replied with exasperation, “I don't want to tell you how to live, but the woman ought to know she's got bigger problems than that kid right now. If you don't tell her, who will? You must have had something in common when you married her.”