A Mother's Reflection. Elissa Ambrose
nurturing instinct switched on like a light-bulb. Here was a man with a problem. Here was a man in pain.
She watched him steadily, mesmerized by the way he would glide across the ice and then suddenly stop to make his hit. Whish, whish, clunk. He wasn’t a bad skater, she decided. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the rink. The suit he’d worn earlier had concealed his muscular build, his massive shoulders, his athletic stance. She found herself wondering what it would be like dancing with him on the ice, being lifted into the air by those powerful arms, feeling his hands gripping her waist….
She pushed the thought aside. It was a ludicrous notion. Besides, hockey wasn’t figure skating. She doubted if Adam Wessler could adapt to a different set of rules—even if it was just about skating. He was a stickler, all right. She couldn’t believe he had hired her after she’d had the audacity to show up late for her interview! My, my, a full minute late—the minute she had spent outside the tall glass doors of the center, deliberating whether to turn around and run. It also irked her that he had mentioned her tardiness to Erika. The two of them deserved each other, with their picky ways.
Erika, picky? Another word came to mind, but Rachel was loath to repeat it. Just what was that woman’s problem? Erika had acted as though she considered Rachel a personal threat. As if Rachel could be interested in a man so…fastidious. Not in this lifetime, no matter how many scars he had.
Erika had it all wrong. She was the threat, not Rachel. As far as Rachel was concerned, anyone who even looked the wrong way at Megan was a threat, and Erika had done more than her share of glowering.
If Rachel honestly believed that Erika cared for Megan, she would back off, as painful as that would be. She would pack her bags and head back to Hartford. All she really wanted was to make sure her child had a mother watching over her, someone who had Megan’s best interest at heart. Adam was Megan’s legal father, and he had a right to choose whomever he wanted as his wife.
Unless his choice was wrong. Unless the woman he chose was planning to stash his daughter—Rachel’s daughter—away in some boarding school.
“No one tells him what to do,” Doreen had said.
Maybe no one could tell him what to do, but Erika was talking and he seemed to be listening. Maybe Adam and Erika deserved each other, but there was no way Rachel would allow that woman to have a say in Megan’s life.
As though sensing her presence, Adam looked up. She smiled and waved.
Chapter Three
Left foot over right, right foot over left. With a series of quick, forward crossovers, Adam stroked across the rink to the bleachers. He brought his feet together, bent his knees and swiveled to an abrupt stop. “Well, well, it’s Ms. Hart-well,” he said teasingly, passing through the gate. “Here to watch me skate?”
Not only was he pompous, he was downright presumptuous. “I didn’t know you were here when I came. And I wouldn’t describe what you were doing out there as skating. More like war maneuvers.”
He sat down next to her and pulled off his gloves. “If you didn’t come to see the heroic hockey hotshot in action, what brings you to the arena?”
“We were supposed to meet, but you weren’t in your office. I’m just passing time, waiting for the storm to let up before I go back to the inn.”
He tapped himself on the forehead. “The meeting. We were going to talk about the costume budget. Sorry about that. I had a family emergency earlier, and the meeting slipped my mind.”
Just like that, he abandoned his flamboyant facade, and her annoyance dissolved. “Is everything all right?” she asked, concerned.
He shrugged. “Just another episode in the continuing saga of the Wessler household. We’ll get over it.”
A strand of hair had fallen down his forehead, and she resisted the urge to smooth it away. “You should wear a helmet.”
He smiled with faint amusement. “Do you wear a helmet when you skate?”
He didn’t fool her with that lofty grin; his shell was just a veneer. “No, but I don’t have pucks getting shot at me from left and right.” She motioned to his jersey. “You should wear long sleeves. What if you fell? You’d make mincemeat of your skin.”
“The ice wouldn’t dare meet my face, and in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been doing all the shooting in this one-sided war.”
One-sided war? A revealing choice of words for someone who was supposed to be so private. He might not be as open as a clam in a cookout, but he was definitely loosening up. This was going to be easier than she’d thought. A man’s confidence was easy to win when he wasn’t wearing his armor.
And win his confidence was what she aimed to do. She and Adam were going to become friends. Good friends. It wasn’t enough for her to become part of Megan’s life; she had to embed herself in his, as well. How else could she persuade him that sending Megan away was no solution? How else could she get him to see that Erika wasn’t the kind of role model Megan needed?
“If it’s one-sided, who are you fighting?” she prompted.
“Why don’t you tell me? You seem to be full of advice.”
Might as well dive right in, she thought. They weren’t bosom buddies yet, but this was as good a time as any. “You’re fighting yourself. And you’re in a deadlock.”
“Do tell. Go on.”
“I don’t think it was the incident at home that started this particular war. It’s part of the reason, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more going on.”
“And I have a feeling you’re going to tell me exactly what that is.”
Got that right, Rachel thought. He asked, didn’t he? “I think you’re undecided about Megan going away to school.”
“My daughter’s been blabbing again. What else did she say?”
“Please don’t be angry with her. She just needed someone to talk to. Can’t you tell she’s upset?”
“She can talk to whomever she pleases,” he answered tightly, “but for your information, I’m fully aware of how my daughter feels. And, I might add, I’m not undecided.”
Rachel’s heart sank. “So it’s definite? You’re sending her away?”
“I’m not sure I like the way you said that. I’m not sending her away, I’m furthering her education.” He stared out onto the ice. “Ah, hell, it’s not just her education I’m thinking of. I guess you’ve already figured that out, too. Megan has problems, like that mouth of hers. She’s defiant and rebellious, and I’m convinced she sneaks out of the house every chance she gets. But no matter how much I threaten her, she denies it, and she won’t tell me who she hangs out with. Frankly, the whole thing scares me.”
Rachel remembered the scene in his office. She’d thought that Megan was a little ill-mannered, but that it wasn’t serious. Nothing the guidance of a loving mother wouldn’t fix. So far she hadn’t seen anything to warrant what Adam had told her, but she knew how deceptive appearances could be.
She recalled her dreams, and a wave of anxiety swept through her. Two years ago a voice had begun to call out to her, soft and wistful, while she slept. With a certainty she couldn’t explain, Rachel knew that something had happened. Worried that her daughter was in some kind of trouble, she contacted the adoption agency, but her request for information was denied. The records were to remain sealed.
Then, two months ago the dreams changed. The voice in the night was no longer faint and distant, but insistent and compelling, demanding to be heard. Determined to find her daughter, Rachel had hired a private investigator. She’d learned that two years ago—when the dreams first started—Megan’s adoptive mother had been killed in a car crash. But the P.I. hadn’t mentioned another crisis. Why had the dreams changed?