Under An Adirondack Sky

* * *

THE BUS GROUND to a stop on the dirt-and-pebble drive before a stately white farmhouse with red shutters and a wraparound porch. Rebecca angled her neck from side to side, working out the kinks that’d formed as she’d nodded and listened to the chattering school psychologist beside her. It’d been hard to focus on the guy with the Walsh brothers just a seat behind and diagonal to her. She’d wanted to observe their interactions and begin planning therapy activities guaranteed to help Connor and her other three students to make the gains they’d need to demonstrate at the showcase.

Instead, she’d heard all about her seatmate’s IRONMAN training, something called the paleo diet, gruesome details of his various knee surgeries, his five cats (okay, that’d perked her up) and why, after spending his teenage years training to be a hypnotist-mentalist, he’d decided to use his “powers” for good as a school psychologist.

Oo-kay...

And no, she did not want to be hypnotized at this time, thank you very much, though she’d get back to him. Yes, she’d had to promise, she wouldn’t forget.

Sheesh.

After eight hours of his chain saw voice buzzing in her ear, she needed a break. Maybe even earplugs. Definitely some aspirin and a scroll through her photo library of Freud. She already missed the pup so much. Luckily, her neighbor Marcy had agreed to let him stay for the next two weeks.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw Aiden stand to his impressive height, his dark hair nearly brushing the bus’s ceiling.

When he turned to his brother, she gave in to temptation and studied his strong profile. His short, straight nose stopped above a full mouth and strong chin, the jut of which underscored his stubborn side. Yet the tired smudges beneath his eyes, the furrow of his brow, suggested conflict and struggle, too. Something about his face, about him, appealed to the therapist in her and made her want to help him...though it wasn’t her place or her job. She was here for Connor, no matter how much his older brother snared her attention.

“So the bone was just sticking right out of my...” crowed Jeff Cringle, the man beside her.

“Let’s save that one for the campfire, okay?” Rebecca shot to her feet and shouldered her backpack. Enough was enough. Maybe Jeff could turn his “war stories” into a sing-along.

Knowing the teenagers, they’d like the gore factor, too. A win-win.

She waited for the jostling kids and weary adults from the rear of the bus to shuffle by, then looked up when an empty space appeared.

Aiden’s thick eyebrows rose over his startling hazel eyes and he nodded for her to move ahead into the aisle.

“Thanks,” she murmured. Warmth crept up her neck when her shoulder brushed his chest as she slid in front of him.

“You’re welcome.” The deep baritone of his voice rumbled by her ear.

She released a breath once she stepped into the sunshine, then gasped. Turning in a circle, she soaked in the wild beauty around her.

Living with her wealthy aunt, Rebecca had grown up surrounded by beautiful things: one-of-a-kind art pieces, music played by world-famous orchestras, elaborately plated food she’d stared at before devouring. But this untamed riot of nature robbed her lungs of air.

Tree-covered mountains surrounded the farmstead’s large clearing. Their pinnacles rose above the cloud puffs dotting the azure sky, their sides alternating between rocky cliffs and lushly forested angles. It looked as if someone had adjusted the whole world’s tint to green. Who knew there were so many shades of it? Mint, emerald, hunter, olive, kelly, teal and that fancy one that was always the last in her old crayon boxes—what was it? Chartreuse! She couldn’t come close to naming all of them, she thought, studying the sweeping tree lines and thick brush. The effect instantly released the tension in her shoulders and relaxed her tight neck.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“Do we have cell service up here?” asked Aiden. He had his head down, scowling at his screen, oblivious to the miracle he’d stepped into.

“It’s sketchy, I’m told, but there’s a phone in the farmstead. We’ll use walkie-talkies when we hike and camp.”

“I’m more concerned about checking my business.”

She dragged her eyes off the swooping falcons overhead, their cries sharp and joyous, and took in Aiden’s grim face. His naturally pale skin looked even whiter around his pressed lips. Her gaze swerved to Connor, who stood awkwardly on the edge of the group of students sorting through the luggage heap.

“You should be more concerned about your brother,” she muttered quietly.

“I’ve got to make sure he still has a home to return to when we get back.” Aiden stalked off and reached ahead of his brother to grab one of the large duffel bags the driver tossed off the back of the bus.

Rebecca held in a sigh. This was definitely going to be one of her toughest cases and she wasn’t sure which Walsh brother would be the hardest to crack. If she didn’t get through to them, they’d probably put on a boxing match at the showcase. It’d take more than one student’s failure to demonstrate progress for her superintendent to give her and the program a bad evaluation. Still, she really wanted to succeed with Connor.

“What? No bars?” screeched a nearby boy, who turned in a circle, his phone held high as if checking for radiation.

Several other students pawed at their phones and a frantic groan rose from the group.

“Do they even have internet here?” cried one of the chaperones, a parent from another district. She looked as upset as the kids.

“How will we survive?” moaned a girl as she tightened the band around the bottom of her side braid.

“Or call our friends and families?” A boy frowned at the cell phone he cradled. A screen door squealed and an older man and woman appeared on the porch. With his worn overalls stretched over a potbelly and her rooster-patterned apron belted around a small waist, they looked like they’d stepped from another era.

“Welcome,” boomed the ruddy man, whose thick, white beard curled beneath his chin and jaw. As for his head, not a wisp broke up the smooth dome of flesh. “I’m Marty Sikes and this is my wife, Judith.”

The dainty woman’s wide smile revealed a little too much gum, the color only a shade lighter than her short auburn perm. “Hello, everyone,” she called.

Several of the adults called back, as well as a few kids. Rebecca shot the four students she’d brought from her school a significant look and was gratified when Connor stopped bending a stick back and forth and flipped a hand in Mrs. Sikes’s direction.

Baby steps, Rebecca reminded herself. For all her kids. Would they add up to enough progress to impress the superintendent?

The group pressed closer to the base of the stairs. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Sikes,” Rebecca began. “Some of the kids are worried. Do you have internet? Wi-Fi?”

Mr. Sikes scratched his head. “Can’t see why.”

A gasp rippled through the crowd and one of her students, Tameya, gripped Rebecca’s arm hard. “Can’t see why we don’t get on the bus and leave,” she whispered.

Rebecca held in a laugh and patted the girl’s hand before prying it off her numb arm and turning to the group. “We’d been waiting to announce this, but cell phone use will be restricted to one hour before bedtime and designated free time. Our focus is on each other and ourselves. We can’t do that if we’re on our phones all the time, so let’s look at this as a positive.”

“But what’ll we do for fun?” said a boy from the back of the group. He pulled off his Yankees’ cap, then replaced it backward. A murmur of agreement pulsed through the crowd.

Judith Sikes shrugged narrow shoulders. “Well. I’m going to teach you how to make jar candles for starters.”

“No!”

“What?”

“I’m allergic to wax.”

Tameya closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting her perfect, long black plaits sweep across her shoulders. “Wake me when this is over.”

“Needlepoint,” continued Judith, undeterred.

“I’m not allowed to touch needles,” called a girl, her hands on her hips.

“These are a different kind, dear,” the woman said kindly.

“Then there’s bird watching,” suggested her husband, setting off another round of groans.