Heartfire Read online

  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.

  Tessa knew she was strong, too. She'd had to be, being shuffled from one foster home to another. But tradition didn't mean much to her. How could it when she never seemed to fit in to her surroundings? When tradition had only been something she'd experienced in storybooks.

  Max shook out the sheet and flipped it over the expanse of the mattress. Tessa caught the edge and her gaze met his across the bed. Was he remembering the summer they'd spent together? The walks? The kisses that had made her wonder what she was giving up when she left him? And she had left him. If it had been his choice...

  Feeling deep regret, Tessa lowered her gaze and pulled the corner of the sheet over the mattress. When she stooped, the ring on a chain around her neck swung free.

  Max came to the foot of the bed. "Is that from someone special?"

  She automatically reached for the circle of gold and protectively covered it with her thumb. "Not in the way you mean." Realizing she was being silly, she slowly took her hand from the ring, letting it dangle.

  After she and Max had broken up and she'd found her niche with work and started traveling a lot, she'd decided to wear her mother's ring on a chain around her neck to keep it safe. She'd never discussed her background with Max in any detail...never wanted to revisit her childhood with anyone...not even with Max or Leslie.

  Max stepped closer until he was in front of her, until she could see the buttonholes on his flannel shirt. He lifted the small antique-looking band set with opals. "In what way? I don't remember ever seeing this before."

  "It was my mother's," she told him.

  His brows hiked up. "I never thought you were the sentimental type."

  Just what "type" did he think she was? She was afraid she knew.

  The only explanation she had was, "It's all I have that was hers. She put it on my thumb the morning she left."

  His gaze filled with compassion. "You never told me about that. I guess I thought you were abandoned as a baby. How old were you?"

  His compassion unnerved her, and she wanted to run. "Seven. If I'd been abandoned as a baby, I might have been adopted." To her dismay, the loneliness was there for him to hear. She'd thought she'd discarded it along with her knee-high socks. She was a journalist who could ask tough questions and turn a spotlight on anyone's life—except her own.

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, "Did you look for your mother?"

  "As soon as I got my first job in New York and could hire a P.I." Tessa remembered her disappointment, her hurt and her anger when the man had given her the information she'd sought. "She'd died five years before in a woman's shelter from pneumonia. I guess she never managed to pick herself up."

  "I'm sorry. That must have been a shock."

  "It was. I guess I always hoped some day I'd find her and have a mother...some sense of permanency. But it wasn't to be. At least I know she was never in a position to take care of me, so she couldn't get me back even if she'd wanted to."

  "I'm sure she wanted to."

  Tessa had wondered about that all of her life and hoped it was true.

  "So why do you do it?" Max asked.

  His question seemed out of context. "What?"

  "Keep hopping from one place to another. You call London your home base, but you're only there a few weeks at a time, if that long. You've had so much moving around in your life. Why don't you put down roots?"

  She could tell him she didn't know how to belong. She could tell him she was afraid to keep still because so many people had abandoned her, including Leslie. But she didn't. She'd decided long ago not to feel sorry for herself, to take control of her own life and make it what she wanted it to be.

  "When I was a kid, Max, I didn't have choices. My mother made one for me, so did the human services department each time they didn't know what to do with me. When I graduated from high school, I decided I'd go where I wanted to go, be where I wanted to be. With cable news channels and twenty-four hour feeds, all the online news websites now, someone is always interested in what I write or where I am or an interview I'm taping...if I'm in an interesting place."

  He said gruffly, "You made it clear to me when you left for New York after our summer together you always intended to be in an interesting place."

  He'd never brought it up before. Neither had she. They'd both gone on with their lives. Max had gotten to know Leslie and had loved her as deeply as a man could love a woman. Tessa was sure of it. With Max, Leslie had found her vocation and career, being a wife and mother. And Tessa... Tessa had known herself well enough to know she'd needed freedom of choice, freedom of space, freedom to grow, all on her own terms because she'd been trapped by the system for so long. She'd never resented Leslie's marriage to Max. She'd been glad they'd found each other and built a life together.

  But now being here with Max, in his house, had stirred up feelings she'd thought were buried if not gone. In some ways, her life was no different now than it had been nine years ago. She still needed her work—it was the major force in her life. As far as romantic relationships were concerned, her one try in the midst of a foreign uprising had failed badly. So that left her where she'd always been—with a few good friends...but on her own.

  Lifting the ring, she dropped it back inside her blouse.

  Max watched the soft material mold to her breasts as it settled into place.

  Stooping to tuck the sheet along the side of the bed, Tessa realized that in nine years nothing had changed. As he returned to his side of the bed, she knew Max understood that, too.

  ***

  Tessa worked in the kitchen Monday afternoon, humming along to her iPod. She didn't dislike cooking. She simply didn't have much experience doing it. She usually ate on the run, tossed a salad, picked up something wherever she happened to be. But there was no reason she couldn't throw together a dinner so Max wouldn't have to worry about it.

  Max. When he stepped too close, when they laughed together as they had yesterday at the roller rink, she'd felt young, gauche, unnerved. But it didn't matter. She'd be gone in a week. Tessa put the roast in the oven and wrapped potatoes in tinfoil. She was making a salad when the phone rang. She pulled out her ear buds and answered it.

  "Tessa?" an elderly woman asked.

  "Yes, this is Tessa. Can I help you?"

  The older woman's voice trembled. "This is Flo Duffrey. Next doo
r. Max always says if I need anything..."

  Tessa knew Max's neighbor. She'd spoken to her now and then on her visits. She'd seen Flo yesterday evening walking her little dog Scruffy and had chatted for a short while.

  "Sure, Flo. How can I help you?"

  "I fell and hurt my arm. Thank goodness, I'd already made my pies for the church bake sale this morning. I can't get hold of my daughter. If you could just take me to the emergency room in New Haven..."

  "I'll be right over." Tessa checked her watch. She could make it to New Haven and back and still be on time for her appointment with Max. She was sure of it.

  Chapter Two

  Traffic had been horrendous! Rattled because she was late, Tessa parked in the school's lot. In her hurry to leave Max's house, she'd remembered to turn down the oven, but had forgotten her cell phone. She would have called him from the hospital, but she really thought she could get here on time. She would have been on time if it hadn't been for the road construction.

  Pushing her hair back from her face, she climbed from her rental car, wondering how Flo was faring. The ER had been a madhouse and Flo hadn't yet been X-rayed when Tessa left. She hadn't wanted to leave Max's neighbor there alone. But her daughter had finally arrived and Tessa had dashed out.

  Running up the steps to the school, Tessa pulled open the glass door and felt like a child again. A few paces into the hall, she stopped and involuntarily shivered. After-school silence was unnatural. The halls seemed to echo with muffled children's voices.

  The school corridors were shadowy. Despite artwork hanging on bulletin boards splashed with fall colors, she remembered not laughter and academic successes, but taunts of children dressed better than she and stern voices that seemed to control her destiny. She'd sat in a hallway like this one after a day in second grade while the principal called her mother. Or tried to call her mother. The principal had been a man, taller than the tallest tree or so it had seemed to a second grader. Tessa hadn't known how to tell him she and her mother had been living in their car for a week.

  The authorities had never found her mother. Tessa had never known her father. The ring was her only memento of family. Social workers over the years had told her her mother must have loved her very much to give her up so she could be cared for properly. Tessa had preferred to believe that. It was the only way she'd survived in the children's home, in the foster homes where the authorities had placed her.

  Her sneakers squeaked on the tile as she rushed to Ryan's classroom, grateful Max had given her directions to it. She pushed away painful memories.

  Max stood in front of the door in his navy suit, his arms crossed over his chest, looking fierce enough to make her want to turn around and go back to the hospital with Flo.

  "Where have you been?" he asked in a low voice. Before she could answer, he went on, "You knew what time we were meeting Mrs. Bartlett." His gaze flicked up and down her sweatshirt and jeans, her wind-tossed hair. "Or did something more important come up? The least you could have done was call."

  She would have told him why she was late and about the roast and her phone, but he was condemning her without a trial. She kept her temper in check and asked evenly, "Did you start yet?"

  "No! You said you wanted to be included. Mrs. Bartlett has been gracious enough to wait but—"

  "Then let's not keep her any longer than necessary," Tessa suggested smoothly as she slipped by Max into the classroom.

  He followed but glared at her while she introduced herself to the teacher and sat in one of the chairs provided in front of the desk. She made a point of not looking around the room and not getting involved in her surroundings.

  The middle-aged teacher with the pleasant smile said to Tessa, "Mr. Winthrop tells me you're a close friend of the family."

  Mrs. Bartlett's hair was auburn, swingy and chin-length, her suit lime green. "That's right. Is there anything I can do to help Ryan?"

  "Needless to say, Mr. Winthrop asked me that same question. He says he's tried talking with Ryan. And I've tried talking with Ryan to find out if something is troubling him."

  Tessa crossed then uncrossed her legs. Out of the corner of her eye, Max was watching her restlessness with a frown. "You don't think this is a learning problem?" she asked the teacher while she willed herself to relax.

  Mrs. Bartlett leaned forward. "We could have him tested for learning disabilities. But sometimes his work is up to par and his attention is focused. Others— He seems distracted more than anything else." She sighed. "This might not be complicated at all."

  Tessa became involved in what Mrs. Bartlett was saying and forgot about where she was. "I don't understand."

  "Some children can be disrupted easily. They could watch a monster cartoon, get frightened and be afraid to go to sleep every night for a year until they grow out of the fear."

  Tessa certainly understood childhood fears...and nightmares.

  "And you think it's something like that with Ryan?" Max asked.

  "I don't know. But with Ryan losing his mother, all kinds of fears could be bothering him." She explained to Tessa, "At the start of the school year, Mr. Winthrop told me he's talked to Ryan about his mother being in heaven, being an angel now and watching over them both. And Ryan seems to accept that. But you never know what goes on in a child's mind."

  "So what can we do?" Tessa was a purpose-oriented person and she wanted something concrete to tackle.

  Mrs. Bartlett looked down at her notes for a moment. "We could bring the school counselor in on this, but my instinct is that Ryan won't be any more open with her than he is with me." She looked up. "He needs someone he already knows."

  "But not me," Max said grimly.

  "As a teacher, Mr. Winthrop, you and I both know a parent can be too close to a situation. How often have the boys you've coached or the students you teach opened up to you?"

  Max thought about it and nodded. "You're right. They tell me things they'd never tell their parents. Still, I want to be the one Ryan trusts."

  "You can support him. You can be there when he needs you. Ms. Kahill, I understand you're in and out of Ryan's life like a favorite aunt."

  "Yes. Some visits are longer than others."

  "I don't know how much time you have to spend with Ryan right now, but maybe encouraging him to share what happens at school, what he's thinking, what he's feeling, might give us a clue as to what's going on with him."

  "Of course, I'll try. I wish I could do more." She felt Max's gaze on her.

  "Maybe this is my fault for not dating, for not having a woman around," Max said.

  He was taking the whole burden on his shoulders. Tessa wished she could put her arms around him, give him a much-needed hug and tell him none of this was his fault. "I'd imagine it would have to be the right woman, Max."

  He shot her a surprised look. "I wouldn't have anyone around Ryan who wasn't right."

  "I just meant you can't date to find the right person for you and expect Ryan to get along with each one."

  "I certainly wouldn't be parading women in and out. You know me better than that."

  He was still obviously annoyed with her for being late, and she was making matters worse. She glanced at Mrs. Bartlett. The woman was watching them speculatively, and that made Tessa feel awkward.

  "Mr. Winthrop, there's no one answer. Just listen to Ryan carefully. Let him elaborate on anything he wants to talk about."

  "What about the problem he's having with not making friends?" Max asked.

  Tessa nodded. "At the roller-skating rink, he wanted to stay with us instead of skating with children he knew. Is that normal?"

  "He probably feels more secure with you. Encourage him to play with other children. Maybe invite some of his classmates over. If he's on home turf, he might feel more self-confident to interact."

  When the conference was over, Tessa's surroundings began to close in on her, but she did her best to ignore the school smells of floor wax, disinfectant and chalk, the sight of frosted
classroom door windows, the books stacked on a cafeteria-style table outside a classroom as she walked down the hall trying to keep up with Max's long-legged stride. Instead, she concentrated on Ryan and his problems that could become more serious if they weren't dealt with now. Would it make a difference if she stayed in Jenkins longer than a week?

  When they reached the parking lot, she stopped at Max's car instead of going to hers. "I'm sorry I was late, Max. You know I wouldn't have missed this meeting."

  "Do I? For all I know you could have gotten a phone call and taken off for Africa."

  She took a step back. "I wouldn't do that to Ryan."

  "I'm never sure how your priorities stack up."

  "I love Ryan and want to help him."

  Max studied her, searching. His eyes darkened, and she wondered what he was thinking.

  "Don't you believe me?" she pressed.

  "I believe you want to help. I don't know if you can. Commitments aren't your style."

  The blow was swift, neat and unexpected. It hurt deeply. Tessa turned from Max and went to her car. She heard him call her name, but she slammed her door, put her key in the ignition and backed up. Leaving the parking lot, she didn't look back.

  The hurt lingered as she drove back to Max's, glad he had to pick up Ryan at the baby-sitter's, where Ryan went after school every day until Max picked him up. While she was in Jenkins, he could just come home to her. But if Max didn't trust her—

  The smell of the roast and baking potatoes met her at the door. The salad was half made, and the carrots, tomatoes and cucumbers were still spread across the counter. Thankful she had a few minutes alone, she washed her hands, set the table and finished the salad by the time Max and Ryan arrived.