Crossroads

“Is there a father figure in Bruce’s life?”

Tess’s eyes went cold. “No.”

“Any friends outside of school?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Not that I know of. It’s…hard for him to make friends. His self-esteem isn’t…isn’t all that high.”

“Why not?”

She took a deep breath, and her eyes shuttered. “That’s a long story, Mr. Jackson.”

“And not a pleasant one, I take it.”

“No.”

The answer was terse—and telling. For a long moment there was silence, and then Tess spoke again.

“Look, Mr. Jackson, I do the best I can. I’m a single mom who has to work full-time to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I try my best to be mother, father and friend. Lately Bruce has been shutting me out. He obviously didn’t tell me the whole truth about the smoking incident.” She paused and took a deep breath, bracing herself. “You said there were others?”

Mitch nodded and consulted his file. “We haven’t caught the perpetrators, though we have strong suspicions. And in all cases I suspect that Bruce was involved, either as a participant or bystander. Five weeks ago we found obscene graffiti on the wall in one of the boys’ rest rooms. The next week several cars in the parking lot were vandalized during a basketball game—tires slashed, rearview mirrors ripped off, long scratches on the sides. Two weeks ago some software disappeared from the computer lab. The smoking incident is the latest problem.”

Tess began to feel ill. “But you said you have no proof that Bruce was involved in those other things,” she pointed out faintly, a touch of desperation in her voice. “Why do you think he is?”

“Because of the group he hangs out with. I won’t go so far as to call it a gang, but it’s borderline.”

The principal had just confirmed the suspicion that had been niggling at the edge of Tess’s consciousness for the past few weeks, and her spirits slipped another notch—as did her confidence. She was trying so hard to juggle the demands and responsibilities of her life. But clearly her best simply wasn’t good enough. She was failing Bruce, the only person in the world who mattered to her. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

Mitch watched the play of emotions on the face of the woman across from him. Pain. Despair. Panic. On one hand, he hated to put her through this. On the other hand, he felt a sense of relief. The presence of those emotions told him that she cared—truly cared—about her son. She might not know how to help him, but she wanted to—and that was the key. He could work with parents like Tess Lockwood. Because they were generally willing to work with him.

“I’m sorry to upset you, Ms. Lockwood. But it’s better to find out now rather than later. And we can work this out, I’m sure.”

At the man’s gentle tone, Tess’s gaze flew to his. She’d expected to be read the riot act from a stern disciplinarian with a shape-up-or-ship-out stance. She hadn’t expected warmth, caring and the offer of assistance.

Tess’s throat tightened and her eyes filmed over with moisture at this stranger’s unexpected compassion. She glanced away on the pretense of adjusting the shoulder strap on her purse, willing herself not to cry. She blinked several times, fighting for control, and when she at last looked up, her voice was steady, her gaze direct.

“I agree that sooner is better. I just hope we’re soon enough. Bruce is a good boy at heart, Mr. Jackson. And I’ve tried to be a good parent. But I can see now that I need help. Obviously, parenting isn’t one of my talents, and I’d appreciate any advice you can offer.”

Mitch caught the glimmer of unshed tears, clearly held in check by the slimmest of control, and frowned. His gut told him that she really was trying her best. But she was clearly stressed to the limit. “I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t a good parent, Ms. Lockwood. On the contrary. I can see you care deeply about your son’s welfare.”

“But that’s not enough.”

The despair in her voice went straight to his heart, and he had a sudden, unexpected impulse to reach out and take her hand, to reassure her that she wasn’t quite as alone as she seemed to feel. But that kind of gesture would be completely inappropriate, he reminded himself sharply. So before he could act on it and embarrass them both, he rose abruptly and walked over to his desk.

The flyer he wanted was right on top, but he made a pretense of shuffling through some papers, buying a moment to compose himself. For some reason, this woman had touched a place deep in his core, nudged feelings that had long lain dormant. He wanted to help her, and not just because it was his job. Which was crazy. After all, he’d just met her. Besides, he wasn’t in the market for personal involvements of any kind—especially with mothers of troubled students. And he’d better remember that.

The expression on her face when he turned back almost did him in. Clearly, his abrupt movement had disconcerted her. She looked vulnerable and uncertain and in desperate need of comforting. It took every ounce of his willpower to calmly walk back to his chair and simply hand her the flyer he’d retrieved.

“Caring is the most important thing, Ms. Lockwood,” he said, his voice a shade deeper than usual. “But sometimes it does take even more. You might want to attend this meeting next week. Chris Stevens, one of our counselors, is going to talk about the pressures teens face and how parents can help. There’ll also be an opportunity for discussion and questions. I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”

Tess glanced down at the sheet of paper. It had been a long time since anyone had offered a helping hand, and once more her throat constricted with emotion.

“Thank you. I’ll do my best to make it.” She folded the paper and put it in her purse, then rose. Mitch was instantly on his feet, and when he extended his hand, she once more found her fingers enveloped in his warm grasp.

“In the meantime, I’ll keep my eye on Bruce. And don’t hesitate to call if you have any other concerns.”

Tess gazed up into his kind eyes, and for the briefest moment allowed herself to wonder what life would have been like if Bruce had had a father figure like Mitch Jackson in his life these past few years. Somehow, in her heart, she knew that things would have been a lot different. For him—and for her.

Suddenly afraid that he would read her thoughts, she withdrew her hand and lowered her gaze. “I appreciate your interest,” she said, her voice quavering slightly as he walked her to the door.

“It goes with the territory. Goodbye, Ms. Lockwood. And try not to worry. I have a feeling that things are going to improve.”

She gazed at him directly then, and once more something in her eyes reached to his very soul. “I hope so, Mr. Jackson. And thank you for caring.”

Mitch watched her speculatively as she walked across the reception area and disappeared out the door. Unlike the parents from his previous conference, Tess Lockwood seemed to have taken his comments to heart. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t easily dismiss their encounter.

And for reasons that had nothing at all to do with her son, Mitch didn’t think he would, either.

Chapter Two

“O kay, let’s talk.”

At Tess’s no-nonsense tone, Bruce looked up from his desk, his eyes wary. “About what?”

She moved to the side of his bed and sat down. “Guess.”

“I suppose Mr. Jackson told you a lot of garbage.”

“‘Garbage’ is a good word for the behavior he discussed.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Bruce declared defensively.

“You know what? I believe you. But from what I heard, you’re heading in the wrong direction.”

“Mr. Jackson just wants to get me in trouble.”

“Wrong. He wants to keep you from getting in trouble.”

Bruce looked at her defiantly. “So now you’re on his side.”

“That’s right. Because he happens to be on your side.”

“That’s a bunch of—”

“Bruce!”

He clamped his mouth shut and stared at her sullenly.

“That’s exactly the kind of behavior I’m talking about. Since when did you start using language like that?”