Nick ran like the devil was after him. It was true, in a way. His own personal demon had been on his tail since Suzanne had left him. Slowing to a jog and then a walk, he finally bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in air. He banished thoughts of his ex-wife, but then his mind turned to Amanda Carson, as it had done all too often since he’d helped her with her coat in his living room a week ago. He was drawn to the woman, and he didn’t like it a bit.
To outrun the memory, he took to the track again. Perspiration poured down his face from the too-warm temperature. He was grateful for the fitness center at Syracuse University. The indoor arena with its basketball courts and the surrounding quarter-mile track had saved his sanity more than once when he’d needed a physical outlet.
“You’re slowing down, buddy, showing your age.”
Nick stopped his trek, smiled and turned to see Adam Sherwood gripping a basketball. He surveyed his friend from the top of his balding head to the toes of his wiry medium-height body. Outfitted in crisp white trunks and a loose polo shirt, Adam contrasted sharply to Nick in his cutoff sweatshirt and ragged shorts. “Yeah, well, I’ve still got years on you. Which I’m about to prove.”
With that challenge, Sherwood tossed Nick the ball and the two began to warm up for their weekly one-on one match. Nick dribbled around his opponent and sank a long one from the three point line.
“You’re hot today,” Sherwood said.
“Yeah, at least I can do something right.”
Adam stopped mid-shot. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, the usual. Family problems, not enough money, not enough time, overload before finals.” Nick stole the ball and went in for a lay-up, making the move smooth and sure. Lord, it felt good to enjoy the exercise and leave the mind games behind.
Sherwood took the ball from him and swished his own hoop. “Want to talk about it?”
“The last thing I want to do is talk, or think. Let’s play.”
For thirty minutes, there was little conversation, loud grunts and the cleansing sweat that accompanies a vigorous workout. They finished their game, exhausted and exhilarated, and jogged companionably around the track to cool down. Nick glanced at the man beside him and remembered the first time he’d met Adam. He’d sought out the best divorce attorney he could find. Sherwood had been some kind of prodigy, only eight years older than Nick, but already a professor at Syracuse Law School and a member of a glitzy downtown practice…
“I’ve scraped together the money and I have evidence of my wife’s unfitness as a mother,” Nick had told Adam. “I want total custody of the children.”
In the end, Suzanne hadn’t contested anything, only too happy to legally sign away her right to her babies.
“Stay in contact,” Sherwood had said when the papers were finalized. “I like you, DiMarco, and I believe in you.”
So Nick had kept in touch, and Adam Sherwood had been instrumental in getting him into Syracuse University to finish college and apply for law school. Without his friend’s help, Nick doubted he would have been awarded the grants and scholarships that paid for his tuition, and he suspected Adam had pulled other strings along the way. Like the clerkship Nick had started in a prestigious, coveted firm. Nick knew that although he was third in his class, this was a plum position not easily attained. He couldn’t have done it without Sherwood’s recommendation.
“Let’s grab something cold in the Union,” Adam suggested, tearing Nick away from his reverie.
Nick glanced at his watch. “I need to pick up Heather in an hour.”
“I, ah, want to talk to you.”
Alerted by his serious tone, Nick followed his friend into the break room next to the gym. When they were seated with their drinks, Adam turned to face him. “I’ve quit my job.”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I’ve resigned from Lowell and Bean, effective today.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been in a rat race. Because I want to spend time with my family.” Adam wiped his face with a towel looped around his neck and took a swig of his drink.
Shaking his head to clear it, Nick took a sip of his water. “But you’re giving up exactly what I’d sell my soul for.”
“Soul being the operative word here.” Adam’s expression was sad and Nick felt ominously chilled. “You may have to do that, buddy, especially if you go with Joris, Beech and Stowe permanently. Once they’ve decided they want you in the firm, they’ll really test your mettle. Be careful what you wish for.”
Nick stared down at the tabletop. God, he couldn’t fathom giving up what Sherwood had. This was the goal Nick had nearly killed himself to attain, had worked day and night for years to achieve and for which he’d sacrificed everything. He was finally close to giving the kids all they’d missed out on, and never having to worry about Jason’s doctor bills.
And prove yourself to the world, DiMarco. Be honest about that.
“What will you do?” Nick asked, trying to ignore the prick of his conscience.
“I start with the public defender next month. I’m taking a few weeks off to be with Joanna and the new baby. I don’t want to miss his infancy like I did the others.”
“So you’re going to spend your time, expertise and considerable intelligence freeing criminals?” Nick propped his elbows on the table, his smile sardonic.
Adam shook his head. “There are criminals everywhere, Nick. At Lowell and Bean, I did a lot of things, got a lot of people out of things that I’m not proud of. As a public defender, at least I’ll be honest about what I’m doing and be able to retain my integrity when I do it.”
“But you got paid well at Lowell.” Nick heard the criticism in his tone and fought it.
“But the personal price was too high. For me, at least.”
At a loss for what to say, Nick kept silent. He used to feel like Adam did about law and about life. Sometimes he missed that idealism.
As if he’d read Nick’s mind, Adam smiled. “You’d be a natural for a job at the public defender’s office, buddy.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Your desire to take care of people. Your basic integrity.”
“Nah, it’s not for me anymore. I’m not idealistic about anything anymore.” To change the subject, he asked, “How’s the baby?”
Adam gave him a shrewd look, then took out his wallet.
Nick studied the picture of the smiling boy. “I still can’t believe you’re this happy about a completely unexpected event. Your other kids are practically grown up.”
Adam’s grin was wide as he peered at the child. “Yeah, well, after all Joanna put up with those first few years, I never thought we’d make it together. This is like a whole new chance with her and the baby. Even if he does keep me up half the night.” The lawyer glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to get home. I like to give him the dinner feeding.”
Nick watched his friend retreat and experienced such poignant regret, his chest ached with it. He’d never had a chance to enjoy his children’s infancies, to have fun as a father. Those years had been too fraught with tension and despair to ever fully appreciate the wonder of their babyhood. Ah, hell, maybe once he finished law school and got that prize job, he’d have more time with his kids. He vowed he’d make up to them, and to himself, all that they’d missed.
Unbidden, a picture of Amanda Carson came into his mind. Damn. Though he banished it quickly, the connection to his previous thoughts stunned him. Adam was right, he thought, gathering up his gym bag and heading for the door. “Be careful what you wish for...” It was a mistake to have even fleeting thoughts of her. He vowed ten years ago to steer clear of women like her. Better to concentrate on his goal to become a hotshot lawyer and give up the wishes and dreams that Nick had learned were meant for other men.
o0o
Heather tried to hold back the tears, but it just hurt too much. She couldn’t keep it inside any longer. Wiping the moisture from her face and squaring her shoulders, she adjusted the collar of her pink oxford shirt, smoothed down her clean, pressed jeans and knocked on the counselor’s door.
“Come in.”
The small office had a big window and the precious sunlight warmed Heather when she entered. Ms. Carson swiveled her desk chair around, and it took all the courage Heather had not to turn tail and run. It was her third time here, and seeing the counselor didn’t get any easier. But her dad was big on guts and Heather DiMarco decided it was time she showed some. She hated the tears that escaped, but she hated even more the horrible pit she felt in her stomach every single day now.
Ms. Carson rose and came to stand beside her. “Heather, it’s okay. I know you’re hurting. I can help you; that’s why we set up another meeting today.”
Nodding in shaky agreement, Heather let the counselor lead her to one of the four chairs that formed a semicircle across from the desk.
“Can I get you something?” Ms. Carson asked.
Heather shook her head and clasped her books tighter to her chest. Ms. Carson eased into a chair, folded her hands and watched her.
Tears continued to slip down Heather’s cheeks and she brushed them away with the sleeve of her blouse. “I knew I shouldn’t have written those things for English class, but they just wouldn’t stop coming.” Heather felt like a million tiny paper cuts sliced at her when she said this out loud, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Handing her some tissues, Ms. Carson coaxed, “Let’s start with those things you wrote for English. You wouldn’t talk about them before.”
Once the floodgates were open, the pain kept coming. An hour and a half later, Heather had about reached her limit. She buried her face in her hands and spoke through her fingers. “He does his best. He just isn’t around to do all the things most fathers can, so I have to take care of them.”
“But that doesn’t mean you have to accept it as fair, does it?”
Heather took a tissue from her lap and blew her nose, then scowled up at the counselor. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that there are a lot of things in life we have to do, but we don’t have to pretend they’re fair.”
She just doesn’t understand. No one does.
Scooting her chair closer, Ms. Carson leaned over to take Heather’s hands. “In the last ninety minutes, you told me that you feel bad about not having the kinds of clothes other kids have. You said you don’t like all the chores you have to do after school. And you indicated that you wish you could have a messy room and play music like most teenagers, right?”
“‘Uh-huh.”
“How do you feel now?” Ms. Carson asked. “Take an internal inventory. Do you feel any better than you did at three o’clock?”
Heather dug deep inside herself. Something felt different, a little lighter, not so dark and scary. “I do feel better. But I don’t understand why. Nothing’s changed in the time I’ve been here.”
“Sometimes, just getting all that stuff out, looking at it, seeing what it really is, and isn’t, makes a difference in how heavy we feel inside.”
Heather looked at her for a moment and felt the tears well in her eyes again. She swiped at the wetness on her cheek. This just wasn’t enough, Ms. Carson just didn’t know. She closed her eyes to keep from saying it aloud.
“What makes you so sad now?”
Heather shook her head. Too nervous to sit still, she got up from the chair and went to stare out the office window. She liked the sun on her face.
After a long time, Ms. Carson spoke again. “You’re thinking that you’ve only told me surface stuff, aren’t you? That maybe talking about these issues helps, but nothing could possibly affect the important secrets you’re keeping inside.”
Heather whirled around. “How do you know that?”
The counselor smiled, as if Heather had just admitted something. “We all have our secret fears.” Then, she stood slowly, made her way to the window and ruffled Heather’s hair
“I think that’s enough for today. But I’d like to ask one more thing before you leave.” When Heather nodded, Ms. Carson leaned against the wall. “I’d like to see you more than once a week. I’d like you to be part of a group of kids I meet with regularly.”
Heather wrapped her arms around herself and stepped back. She struggled to catch her breath.
“What bothers you about that?”
“Everything!”
“Try telling me one.”
Heather sucked in some air and spoke. “I...I can’t talk about this in front of anybody else.”
“Okay, then listen to what they say. Maybe you’ll find you’re not the only one with bad feelings inside.”
“Why do you want me to do this?”
“Because sometimes hearing how others feel helps you understand how you feel. You find out that a lot of people have some nasty things plaguing them. And you can learn to cope better from those same people.”
“Daddy won’t like it. He didn’t even want this at first.” She waved her hand to indicate the office.
Ms. Carson didn’t look intimidated. “Okay, then, I’ll talk to him personally. Will he be home tonight?”
“Yes, Grandma’s staying with Jason now, but Dad’s done at five-thirty. I was supposed to call Aunt Beth to pick me up.”
Nodding her head, the counselor walked over to the closet and took out a beautiful gray raincoat with a wide belt and silver buttons. “Good. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
Ms. Carson’s eyes were filled with humor. “We’re going to beard the lion in his den.”
“What does that mean?”
“To meet him on his own turf and convince him.”
Despite herself, Heather grinned. “He can’t be bearded.”
“Okay, then we’ll shave him,” Ms. Carson joked, shrugging her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest, “or we’ll tie him up, or we’ll feed him to the gladiators.”
Heather laughed outright.
Ms. Carson joined her. After a moment, the counselor sobered and reached out to touch Heather’s arm. “You’re important enough to fight for.”
When the tears welled in Heather’s eyes again, Ms. Carson nodded to the phone. “Call you aunt first and tell her you have a ride.”
After Heather talked to Beth, Ms. Carson grabbed her hand and led her out the door. “Did you hear the joke about the nurse who interrupted the doctor’s phone call to tell him, ‘There’s a man in the waiting room who thinks he’s invisible.’”
Heather’s smile returned. She rolled her eyes but shook her head, indicating she would play along.
Ms. Carson giggled. “The busy doctor responded, ‘Tell him I can’t see him.’”
On that silly but mood-lightening note, Heather left the office, hoping the woman knew what she was doing, because she herself was more confused than ever.
o0o
“Grandma, I’m home,” Heather called out as she and Amanda entered the apartment at five o’clock. The late-October afternoon sun made a crisscross pattern on the living room furniture. Though it accented the worn patches on the sofa and the stains on the rug, the place looked more cheerful than on the gloomy night Amanda had last been here, fifteen days ago.
Amanda’s thoughts were interrupted when Grace DiMarco walked in from the kitchen. “Hello, Heather. Ms. Carson!” The older woman’s shoulders tensed. “Is everything all right?”
Amanda smiled reassuringly. “Yes, we’re just fine, Mrs. DiMarco. I was hoping to catch your son, so I offered Heather a ride home.”
“He isn’t here.” Mrs. DiMarco glanced at her granddaughter. “Sweetheart, I have to go to the church supper tonight. I’m in charge,” she added proudly. Then, her forehead furrowed. “But you’ll have to come with me. Your papa called a few minutes ago to say he’d be late, and I don’t like to leave you here alone.” Mrs. DiMarco’s frown deepened. “It’s just that my arthritis is acting up today and I’m not sure about Jason’s wheelchair on the church steps.”
“It’s okay, Nana. We’ll be fine here.”
“I don’t know. This neighborhood isn’t like it used to be.” The older woman’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. “Maybe I could go across the hall and see if Mrs. Castellana can come over for a while.”
Amanda stepped forward. “I’d be glad to stay with them, Mrs. DiMarco. As I said, I want to talk to your son, anyway.”
Peering closely at Amanda, Grace sighed. “I guess it would be all right. If it wasn’t my first time in charge...Maria Martino would just love to see this go bad and then tell everyone I couldn’t do a good job like she did last year.”
Heather, who had stood by with her hands clenched and her shoulders stiff, obviously waiting for the adults to agree, visibly relaxed and smiled at her grandmother’s comments. “Go ahead, Nana. Dad will be glad we’re not alone.”
After Nick’s mother left, Jason, outfitted in denims, a superhero sweatshirt and hightops, whizzed in from the bedroom. “Hi, sis,” he said cheerfully. “Hey, Ms. Carson.” His blue eyes shone with mischief. “I waited in the other room for you to convince Nana to go.”
When Heather seemed to comprehend his obtuse comment, Amanda asked, “What do you mean?”
The two children exchanged a look of mutual understanding, so deep, so poignant, that Amanda’s heart sank. How well she remembered having the same connection with her sister.
Jason moved the wheelchair back a few inches, then forward again. He repeated the process as he talked. “Grandma worries about me the most,” Jason said matter-of-factly. “If I’d come into the room and reminded her again that I’m in this thing, she would have changed her mind about leaving. Heather and me, we know how to get around older people.” Again his eyes glittered and his smile was impish.
“I’ll remember that,” Amanda drawled.
Heather’s face suddenly sobered and she headed for the kitchen. “Okay. Now we have to finish our homework, set the table, fold the laundry and get the lunches ready for tomorrow.”
Digging her heels into the rug, Amanda held her tongue.
“Aw, sis, can’t we play one game before we do that? We’ve been cooped up in school all day.”
Heather stopped her trek to the waiting chores and turned to them, her face a study in conflict. Amanda knew she was getting a glimpse at the kind of pressure Heather felt every day. Torn between her own teenage response to crash for a while and her father’s rules, the girl stood rigidly in the middle of the floor. Well, Amanda knew she could help with this.
Shucking off her coat, she suggested an alternative. “How about if you set the table, Jason makes the lunches and I fold the laundry. Then we’ll all play a game of...”
“Monopoly,” Jason interjected cheerfully.
“Monopoly,” Amanda confirmed, “and then start homework.” She looked at Heather. “Would your dad really mind so much?”
In the end, Heather succumbed to her instincts and agreed. Soon the three were ready to play. Jason had to be assisted out of the wheelchair, and Heather showed surprise when Amanda secured the break, held on to the sides and allowed Jason to ease to his knees and then his backside. He arranged the pillows Heather had put out for him for comfort.
As they set up the board, and Amanda’s phone blaring music behind them, Jason’s face lit. “Did you hear about the duck who went to the drugstore?”
Taking out the game pieces, Heather groaned but refrained from supplying the punch line. Amanda shook her head as she kicked off her pumps and sank to the floor, placing a bowl of popcorn within everyone’s reach.
“He bought some lip balm and told the clerk, ‘Put it on my bill.’”
Chuckling, Amanda settled into the rug. “Okay, smarty. Why did the tomato cross the garden?” When Jason’s brow knitted, she said, “To get a head of the lettuce.”
The ten-year-old guffawed. Amanda quelled the tears that threatened. He was so like Lisa.
That was how Nick DiMarco found them sixty minutes later. Amanda had just demanded rent for two hotels on Park Place, when she looked up to find Heather staring past her in panic. “Heather,” she teased. “It’s only five hundred dollars. Listen, I’ll lend you—”
Then she realized more was wrong than an unlucky roll of the dice. She tracked the girl’s gaze to the door where Nick stood like an avenging angel. Or devil. Amanda bit her lip as she took in his taut stance and narrowed eyes. She also noticed the way his white T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, outlining every line of his torso. His hair was in disarray and his chiseled features stood out more clearly due to fatigue. He looked tired but so sexy that Amanda experienced an unfamiliar feminine rush of response. Hell, for a student’s dad?
“What’s going on here?” Nick’s voice was low and somewhat impatient. Amanda guessed that Nick DiMarco didn’t like surprises, couldn’t afford to like them.
Heather sat up straight and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them with her arms. “I’m sorry, Daddy, we lost track of the time. We only planned to play—” Her voice broke off and tears welled in her eyes. She lowered her forehead to hide them.
Jason jumped in. “No, Dad, it’s my fault. I begged everyone to play. I—”
“Hey, you guys, when did I become such a monster that you have to stick up for each other?”
When neither answered, just stared at him, he glanced around the room as if looking for some way to break the tension. Spying the popcorn, he automatically bent down, picked up the bowl and some of the kernels scattered over the rug. “I’ll be right back,” he said and headed for the kitchen.
In the small room, Nick tromped to the sink and ducked his head under the faucet, trying to get rid of the dirt and his irritation—and feelings of inadequacy. Exhausted from four hours of construction work, after a morning spent studying for final exams, he could taste the grit in his mouth and smell the sweat that had covered him all afternoon.
But it hadn’t masked the expensive and provocative perfume wafting from the woman who sat on the floor with his children. He pictured them as he wiped his dripping face with a dish towel. They’d made quite a sight and Nick’s heart sank when he realized how natural—and how rare—such a comfortable scene was in his home: his son, propped on pillows, leaning forward like a normal kid, intent on the game; his daughter—until she’d seen him—sprawled lazily on the rug like a typical teenager. He felt guilty for ending their blessed normalcy.
It wasn’t just that, he concluded as he dried his hair and combed it back with his hands. He was annoyed because he’d thought about Amanda Carson today as he’d hoisted girders, and here she was in his house, as if he’d conjured her. Although the kids had specific tasks to do after school, he wasn’t upset with them for taking a needed break. Her presence was what got to him. Hearing a flurry of activity in the living room, he grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator, popped it and took a slug before he returned to the scene of the “crime.”
His heart fell to his stomach when he saw the trio lined up before him as if facing a firing squad.
The counselor and his daughter flanked Jason, who bravely said, “Hey, Dad, why did the tomato cross the garden?”
Nick saw Amanda bite her lip to keep from laughing. When he caught sight of the misery on Heather’s face, and the hope on Jason’s, he let the corners of his mouth turn up fractionally. “I don’t know, Jase, why?”
With his compliance, all three visibly relaxed, and Nick’s heart plummeted further, realizing again how intimidated his own children felt. Lord, when had that started?
After the punch line, Heather scrambled to pick up the game, while Jason tried to grab the pillows off the floor and Amanda sought her shoes. Nick intervened in the frantic motions.
“I see the chores are done, but my guess is that the homework was saved until last.” When both children nodded, he smiled at them gently. “All right, now that you’ve relaxed, go do it before supper.”
As they hurried past him, Nick grasped his daughter’s arm. “Heather, it’s okay. You’re entitled to some fun. I never meant for your afternoons to be so grim.”
“I know, Dad. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Honey, you never disappoint me.” He gave her arm a tender squeeze.
When they were settled in their bedrooms, Nick closed their doors for privacy. Looking at Amanda standing warily before him, he sighed. “I seem to keep making mistakes with Heather, don’t I?”
“I think you’re trying really hard, but I do have some suggestions.”
In a gesture of frustration, Nick ran a hand through his hair. “Is that why you’re here?”
Amanda took a step back but held his gaze. She might look soft, he thought fleetingly, but there was steel underneath. “Yes, it is. Heather needs psychological help.”
“She’s seeing you, isn’t she?”
The woman faced him, her jaw set. “Heather needs more, Mr. DiMarco. After our session today, I drove her home so I could speak with you about it.”
Nick jammed his hands into his jeans. “How much more?”
“I want her to join a group of students I counsel. I think it will loosen her up a little, give her kids to identify with.” She bit her lip. “It’s a suicide prevention group.”
“What?” Too late, he realized he’d raised his voice, and he hoped it wouldn’t draw Heather from her room. He grasped Amanda by the arm and pulled her into the kitchen for more privacy. When they reached it, he faced her squarely. “Are you telling me that my daughter wants to die?”
Amanda stood up straight, though she didn’t nearly match his imposing height. “I’m telling you that from three ninety-minute sessions with your child, I’m concerned that she has so little self-esteem, such a bleak outlook on her future and such dissatisfaction with her present that she is dangerously depressed. Yes, I think she has suicidal tendencies. And ignoring this could have dire consequences.”
Gulping for air, Nick stalled. “I can’t believe this. Not Heather, not my child. She’s only thirteen!”
“I know the feeling.”
Something in her tone made him study her. “Do you?”
The color drained out of her face. “Yes. More than I want to.”
Almost involuntarily, he reached out and grasped her shoulders. “Amanda—”
“I can help your daughter, Nick. Please, give me a chance...Trust me.”
It’s too much, Nick thought desperately. The worry. The guilt. The fear of the future. And now this. Could his little girl possibly be that unhappy? Could he trust this woman, who’d obviously buried deep inside her a kindred pain?
As if to override his doubts, or to underscore them, she raised huge, vulnerable eyes to him. Suddenly, in the mist of his pain, he wanted comfort from her for himself. He wanted her to hold him…
Holy, hell! What was he thinking at a time like this?
His phone rang, breaking the spell, catapulting him back to reality. He fished it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” he said.
“It’s Beth. Are you okay? Heather called…”
“I know. Everything’s fine. “
“You don’t sound fine.”
“You just caught me at a bad time. Can I call you back?”
After he disconnected, he looked at the woman before him. And suddenly, he knew she felt the same draw to him as he did to her. “You’d better go, Amanda.”
“Nick, I...I...you...”
Caught off guard by her vulnerability, he raised his palm to halt her explanations. “Don’t say anything.” Turning from her, he exited the kitchen. He thought he felt her hand on his arm, but he kept going.
“Nick, we need to talk more about Heather.”
“No.” The word ripped from him as he reached the door.
“Why?”
Because I don’t trust myself around you. “Please, go.”
“All right. I will. But even if you won’t let her attend the group, can she keep the private sessions?”
Hands fisted at his sides, he turned to her. “I don’t know about either right now. I can’t think straight.”
“Nick...”
“Just...leave.” He enunciated each word, but his voice was raw and raspy with emotion.
Hesitating for a moment, she looked around, grabbed her coat and fled without another word.
After she’d gone, Nick sank onto the couch in the loneliness of his apartment, stunned. Okay, sure, he was attracted to a pretty woman. He didn’t have to act on it. He’d just forget about it. But, he couldn’t forget what she’d said about his daughter.
Could it possibly be true?