Crossroads

“I hope that smile is a good omen for our interview.”

Mitch glanced up, and the perfunctory greeting died on his lips. He knew the woman in the doorway was Tess Lockwood. He would recognize those eyes anywhere. But everything else about her was different. Her hair hung loose and free, softly brushing her shoulders. She was wearing makeup—not much, but enough to enhance her already lovely features. And her clothes—gone were the boxy suit and baggy sweater. They’d been replaced by a short-sleeved silk blouse that clung to her curves and a sleek black A-line skirt that emphasized her trim waist and shapely legs. The transformation was stunning.

The seconds ticked by, and Mitch suddenly realized that he was staring. A hot flush of embarrassment crept up his neck, and he cleared his throat, struggling to recover.

“Come in, make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs they’d occupied at their first meeting.

Tess made her way across the room, well aware of Mitch’s reaction to her new look, though he’d recovered admirably. But while that brief, slightly dazed expression had done wonders for her ego, she suddenly regretted her impulsive purchase of the stylish new outfit. She’d been out of the dating game far too long to remember the rules, she realized in panic. What if Mitch actually…well…did something about that look in his eyes? Like ask her out. What would she do then? Bruce already thought she’d sided with the enemy. She could imagine his reaction if Mitch and she saw each other socially. Her relationship with her son was strained as it was, especially after their long talk this weekend about the new house rules. Good heavens, what had she been thinking? she berated herself. She should have just stuck with her serviceable, if dowdy, wardrobe.

But as she sat down and turned to Mitch, her doubts and uncertainties melted in the warmth of his eyes.

“I hope you won’t take offense if I say that you look especially nice today,” he said as he sat across from her, intrigued by her becoming blush—a reaction more typical of a schoolgirl than a once-married woman.

The husky quality in his voice did odd things to her stomach. “No, not at all,” she replied a bit breathlessly.

He leaned back and propped an ankle on his knee. “Okay. Where do we start? I’m new at this, so you’re going to have to walk me through it step by step.”

Tess smiled and reached for her notebook. She might not be comfortable in the role of desirable woman, but she was quite comfortable in the role of reporter. “I like to think of an interview as simply a conversation. Except I get to ask most of the questions. Why don’t we start with the award? Tell me what led to it.”

He did so easily, talking about the innovative intervention programs and one-on-one involvement he encouraged between students, parents, administration and teachers. Under Tess’s astute questioning, he revealed his passionate commitment to the kids, his concern about societal pressures on teens and on the American family, and the satisfaction he found in his work.

“I’m impressed, Mr. Jackson,” she said honestly. “The world could use more people who care so deeply. And I’m also curious. I understand that you were once a police officer—in Chicago, I believe. This is quite a career switch. What prompted you to make the change?”

Tess sensed his sudden, almost imperceptible withdrawal.

“I saw a lot on the street,” he said carefully, his words slower and more guarded. “Almost always too late for prevention. I wanted to find a way to intervene earlier. This kind of work seemed to offer that opportunity.”

Tess’s job had taught her to be attuned to nuances, and there were plenty here. There was something very important that he wasn’t revealing, and she was both curious and intrigued. But pushing usually just made a wary subject back off more. And she didn’t really need to go any deeper for this interview. So, regretfully, she moved on. “What brought you to St. Louis?”

She could sense his slight easing of tension. “My uncle. He has a farm about an hour south of St. Louis, and a little over two years ago he had a bad fall that left him with a limp. I came that summer to help, and when it was obvious that he’d need ongoing assistance with the farm, I got a job here.”

“You must have been there this weekend,” she said with a smile.

He looked at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Your tan. When I saw you Thursday, your face didn’t have nearly as much color.”

He grinned. “Your powers of observation are admirable, Ms. Lockwood. You’re right. We worked in the fields this weekend. I spend most of my free time there, especially in the nice weather.”

“Any other family locally?”

“No.”

“How about back in Chicago?”

An intense flash of pain ricocheted across his eyes. “No. My parents are both gone and my…my wife died seven years ago.”

Mitch frowned. He hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t intended to reveal anything about Dana. Wasn’t sure why he had.

“I’m so sorry,” Tess said softly, taken aback by that fleeting glimpse of anguish. “I had no idea….” Her voice faltered. She’d wondered about a wife, found it difficult to believe someone like Mitch would have remained single all these years, had speculated there might be a divorce in his past. But she hadn’t expected this. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories,” she apologized.

He took a deep breath. “It’s okay.” And surprisingly, it was. It didn’t hurt nearly as much to talk about it as he’d expected. “It was cancer. It hit out of the blue and, mercifully, took her quickly. But it was still a terrible thing to watch. For a long time afterward I was…lost.” For a lot of reasons, he thought, his gut twisting.

“I can understand that,” Tess empathized. “I went through something similar with my father five years ago.” She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s awful to watch someone you love slip away.”

“Yes, it is. But it helps to have a support system. I had my mother and Uncle Ray. How about you?”

“I had Bruce. And my faith, which was a great comfort.”

“What about Bruce’s father?”

Tess looked at him in surprise. She almost brushed aside the question, but for some reason decided to answer it. “We divorced six years ago.”

His gaze softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Tess. Divorce can sometimes be as painful as death.”

“More so, in some ways,” she said sadly. “And don’t be sorry. The divorce was long overdue.” She tilted her head and forced herself to smile. “Now, how did things get turned around? I thought we were talking about you?”

He grinned. “You already know the story of my life.”

Hardly, she thought. The man across from her had secrets, which he clearly didn’t intend to reveal, she realized. Besides, she had plenty of material for her story. It was time to wrap things up.

Tess smiled and closed her notebook. “Well, at least enough for my story,” she amended.

“You know, this wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected,” Mitch admitted as they both rose and walked toward the door.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She paused on the threshold and turned to hold out her hand. “And thank you. My editor will be very pleased.”

He smiled as he took her hand in a firm grip. “I hope your readers will feel the same way. I’m afraid they might be bored by the story of a dull school principal.”

At first Tess thought he was kidding, but as they said their goodbyes she realized he was dead serious. Dull? she thought incredulously. Mitch Jackson? No way. Intriguing would be a more apt description, she decided as she walked down the hall. She’d thought that by the end of the interview she’d know all the important things about the principal. But she had a feeling that she’d barely scratched the surface of this fascinating man. Instead of satisfying her curiosity, today’s interview had made her want to find out more.

Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be much opportunity for that, she admitted with a pang of regret. Any future contact with the principal would be related to Bruce. Because to Mitch, she was just another mother dealing with a problem child.

Except at the end of the interview he had called her “Tess,” she realized suddenly, stopping abruptly. That was a good sign. Wasn’t it? Didn’t it mean he thought of her as a person in her own right, not just as a mother?

Tess wasn’t sure. Wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to think of her that way. It was too scary. And complicated. And probably unwise.

She knew all that intellectually. And accepted it.

But for some reason, her heart just wasn’t listening.

“So how was your day?”

“Okay.”

Tess sighed. So far the new dinner-hour-together rule hadn’t spurred the conversation and sharing she’d hoped for with Bruce. It was the old “You can lead a horse to water…” scenario. And Bruce wasn’t drinking. But she wasn’t going to give up.

“Did you look into the art club?” she asked, trying again. Chris Stevens had run through a list of supervised after-school activities at the meeting, and Tess had suggested the club to Bruce, who’d always shown strong artistic aptitude and interest.