Heartfire (2 page)

Grabbing the ladder, he shifted it sideways to prop it against the garage.  "You're welcome to stay with us, Tessa."

She glanced at the pile of shingles on the ground and for the first time in her life sounded...cautious.  "I don't want to get in Mrs. Clark's way."

"I'm not coaching basketball this year so Ryan and I decided we could learn to cook.  Mrs. Clark just comes in once a week to clean."

Tessa's eyes widened.  "But you love coaching."

"I felt Ryan and I needed time together, and coaching was taking up too much of it."

She studied him for a long moment, then nodded, as if she understood.  "Then if you're sure you don't mind, I'll stay."

Ryan jumped up and down and cheered.  But after one look at Tessa's small, tilted up nose, her wide green eyes and her wind tousled hair, Max wondered if he'd just made a monumental mistake.  Tessa could be a handful.

Then again, he could handle anything for a week.

Max grabbed his shirt from the branch of a bush, shrugged into it and swept up Tessa's bag and computer before she could protest—which she usually did.  She was the most independent woman he'd ever met.  He supposed her background had something to do with that.  Even though they’d dated that one summer when he’d worked at the same resort she had, he didn't know much, just that she'd spent part of her childhood in foster homes.  Tessa had always been reluctant to share anything about her background and he hadn’t pushed.  Maybe he should have.  Maybe then he would have understood better why she’d left.

Once in the house, he put her computer on the desk and was about to carry her bag upstairs when he noticed the blinking light on his answering machine.  He said to Ryan, "Go on and get washed up for supper."

"Pizza?" Ryan asked hopefully.

"If that's okay with Tessa."

"Pizza's fine," she agreed with a smile.

Max studied the blinking light again.  Going to the machine, he pressed PLAY.  A few moments later he heard,  "Mr. Winthrop, this is Mrs. Bartlett, Ryan's teacher.  Please give me a call."  She gave the number where she could be reached.

"Problems?" Tessa asked.

"I hope not.  But I’d better call her."

Five minutes later,  Max replaced the handset onto its base, worried.  "Mrs. Bartlett wants to meet with me Monday after school.  Ryan's having problems, and she wants to intervene as soon as she can so they don't get worse."

"What kind of problems?" Tessa seemed truly interested.  Over the past few years, he’d realized how much she cared about Ryan even if she couldn’t be around much.

"She mentioned inattention, reading difficulties, problems making friends."

"My gosh.  In the first few weeks of school?"

"She's good, Tessa.  She's been with the district about ten years.  She wouldn't have called on a whim.  She has too many other concerns."

He taught math at the high school in Ryan’s school district and knew the reputations of most of the teachers.  In a small town like Jenkins, gossip was rampant and nothing stayed a secret.

"Did Ryan have any problems last year?" Tessa asked.

"Not that I'm aware of."

Ryan had missed his mother and ever since she’d died, Max had tried to do double duty.  His expression must have manifested his frustration because Tessa offered,  "I'll go with you if you'd like."

When Leslie had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, Max knew Tessa had felt as powerless as he had.  Nothing they could do had kept the cancer from taking his wife away.  But even if Tessa wanted to help, he doubted if he could depend on her.

"I don't want to disturb your schedule."

"I'm working on a few articles, but there's no reason I can't take some time out to help Ryan.   I know how meetings can be.  Maybe I’ll ask questions you don’t think of."

Max looked at her for a long, probing moment.  Did he want Tessa to become involved?  Yet when he thought about Ryan’s recent silences and his own inability to get Ryan to open up—  "If you want to come, it can't hurt.  I know you love Ryan."  Max paused, then admitted,  "He has seemed quieter lately and he's been spending more time in his room.  I've tried to get him to talk to me, but he just seems to...remove himself."

Tessa touched his arm.  "Don't borrow trouble, Max.  Where does she want us to meet her?"

Max looked at her hand on his arm, surprised at the sudden heat he felt, surprised that he registered the sensual softness of her fingers on his skin.  "In her classroom at four."

All at once Tessa looked…uncomfortable.  Had she changed her mind about wanting to go with him already?

"What’s wrong?"

She was quick to answer, "Nothing’s wrong.  Mrs. Bartlett’s room at four is fine."

But Max suspected something about the appointment wasn’t fine.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Tessa cancelled.

He remembered why he and Tessa had broken up.  He remembered why he hadn’t been able to count on her then…and wouldn’t count on her now.

***

A few hours later, as Tessa sat at the foot of Ryan’s bed while Max read him a story, she was still concerned about the chill running up her spine when she’d found out the meeting with Mrs. Bartlett would be at Ryan’s school.  That was an obvious meeting place, of course.  And she wouldn’t rescind her offer.  She had to do this for Max and Ryan.  She might be uncomfortable for a little while.  But, hey.  She’d covered wars!  She could handle this.

Since she’d arrived, she’d seen how Ryan had changed and grown.   She'd visited Jenkins last spring before Leslie's parents had moved to Arizona.  He had Leslie's blond hair and it was even lighter now from summer sun.  He'd grown at least an inch.  But he'd also changed in some interior way.  She couldn't put her finger on it, except to notice he was more subdued.

Max closed the book and laid it on the nightstand.  Ryan reached up and wound his arms around Max's neck.  "G'night, Dad."

Max leaned away and brushed his son's sandy hair across his brow.  "Night."

The scene almost brought tears to Tessa's eyes.  Max's love was so evident, his sense of responsibility so complete.

As Max rose from the bed and moved toward the doorway, she went to the head of the bed, gave Ryan a hug and kissed his cheek.  "Sweet dreams.  I'll see you in the morning."

"Hey, Dad, do we have blueberries and everything else Tessa needs?"

"Sure do."

Whenever she visited, she made blueberry pancakes for Ryan.  It was one of the few things she cooked on a regular basis.  He always ate at least three.  That's why she'd given him the nickname "pancake."  She tossed him a grin and a thumbs-up sign and followed Max down the stairs.

"Another piece of pizza?" Max asked with a nod toward the kitchen.

"Sounds good.  Pizza's rare where I've been lately."

While Max warmed a few pieces in the microwave, he stared out the window into the dark yard.

Tessa guessed he was thinking about the meeting with Ryan's teacher.  "It won't do much good to worry."

He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest.  "That's what parents do.  And when there's only one parent—"

"You do a good job, Max."

"Apparently not good enough."  The timer went off on the microwave.  He transferred the dish to the table.

She doubted if anything she said could say could change his mind right now.  After she poured two cups of coffee, she carried them to the table.  "What do you have planned for tomorrow?"

"Ryan and I sometimes go to the roller-skating rink on Sunday afternoons."

"That sounds like fun."  She sat and took a bite out of her pizza.  The cheese strung out and fell down her chin.

Max caught it with his thumb.  When the pad of his finger slipped along her skin, tingles chased each other up her neck, and nine long years seemed to fall away.

Max leaned back against his chair and wiped his thumb on his napkin, as if he'd just wiped Ryan's chin.  "You haven't gone skating for a while?"

Apparently he did not feel the same sensations she did when they touched.  He had been so in love with Leslie and probably still was.  "Not since college.  Leslie and I went with a group from the dorm."

"It's hard for me to imagine you two as roommates, let alone best friends.  You were so different."

They certainly were.  Leslie was silk and lace and perfume.  Tessa was jeans and cotton and fresh air, if she had anything to say about it.  Still Max's comparison unsettled her, although she'd often made it herself.  Rooming with Leslie at college, Tessa had always been amazed at how different the two of them were yet how well they'd always gotten along.  When they'd decided to accept jobs at the resort in the Poconos the summer after graduation, they'd both been excited about it.  After all, in the fall, Tessa would be working as an intern on a morning show in New York City and Leslie would be returning to her hometown of Jenkins to work in her father's insurance office.  That summer, Max had been employed at the resort, too, in the business office while he looked for a teaching position.  As girl Friday for the manager, Tessa had run into him often and they'd begun dating.  But then she'd had her focus set on being a foreign correspondent and...freedom.  After she'd broken up with Max and left for New York City, he and Leslie had begun e-mailing.  And the rest, as they say, was history.

Finishing her pizza quickly, Tessa dumped her coffee into the sink and rinsed the mug.  "I'm going to head up to bed or Ryan won't get his pancakes until afternoon."

Max tossed the napkins into the trash.  "We have to make the bed.  I don't have sheets under the spread."

She smiled.  "To cut down on housekeeping?"

He shrugged.  "Mrs. Clark stripped it before she left.  I  never bothered to remake it.  I guess I hadn't thought ahead to your arrival."

"It seems funny to be staying here," Tessa mused, wondering if that's what was making the difference in her awareness of Max.

He nodded but didn't say how he felt about it.  But that wasn't unusual.  Max rarely expressed how he felt, except where Ryan was concerned.

As Max pulled the sheets from the linen closet in the hall, Tessa went to the spare room with the slanted ceiling.  Peach flowered curtains spilled around the windows and matched the spread she tugged from the bed.  Leslie had loved to decorate, to mix and match colors.  And she'd been a flower lover.  Almost all the drapes and upholstery in the house were pastel flowers of some kind.  Tessa liked swirls and patterns and bolder colors.

When Max came into the bedroom, the space seemed to diminish. Tessa looked at him, really seeing the man he'd become for the first time in years.

When she'd first met him, he'd been sexy,  good-looking, and a former basketball player who knew what he wanted from life—a teaching position, a home, a wife, children and a stability Tessa couldn't begin to fathom.  Now she saw a strong man whose strength came from the depth of his convictions, decency and caring—a man who loved his son and still believed in traditional values.