A Mother's Reflection. Elissa Ambrose
she needs is a fresh start.”
A fresh start? It was Erika who wanted a fresh start—without his daughter. Rachel wanted to jump up and shake some sense into him. “Megan is feeling insecure. All girls her age go through it, but it’s worse for her, not having a mother. And now you’re asking her to leave her home, the only home she’s ever known. You grew up here—surely you can understand how difficult the thought of leaving must be. I know I couldn’t do it.”
“How did you know I grew up here?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. How did you know?”
“The way Megan talked about Middlewood, I, uh, just figured that you were a born-and-bred native.”
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I’m mystified. You said, ‘I know I couldn’t do it.’ Didn’t you just move here from Hartford?”
If she continued to blurt things out, she’d blow her cover in no time. She had to be more careful, but it wouldn’t be easy. Adam had a way of looking at her that was sharp and knowing. Even if she never said a word, she was afraid his probing steel-blue eyes would uncover her secret.
“Leaving Hartford didn’t bother me. All I meant was that if I’d had a real home, I never could have left it.” Even when he looked at her through half-closed eyes, the way he was looking at her now, it was as if he was seeing right through her.
When he didn’t speak, she felt she had to offer more of an explanation. “My mother is a concert pianist,” she said cautiously. “She moved up quickly in the music world, and we moved around a lot. Even though I ended up in Hartford, I learned not to become attached to any one place.”
His eyes softened, surprising her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the third degree.”
She almost sighed aloud with relief. She was off the hot seat. “What about Megan?” she asked, glad to turn the conversation away from the past. “You must have other reasons for wanting to send her away to school.”
“You’ve met Erika, haven’t you? I don’t know what Megan told you, but Erika is more than just the head of the drama department, such as it is. She and I have been friends for a long time now, and we—” He shifted uneasily on the bench. “I didn’t mean to bore you. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
Rachel knew exactly why. The poor guy didn’t have a chance. When it came to wounded animals, she was the local veterinarian. She’d always been a magnet for the wounded, and from the way Adam had been beating up the sideboards, she could tell he was as wounded as they got. “You’re not boring me. I like Megan, and I’d like to help.”
He hesitated before continuing. “Megan is a talented young actress. Erika believes she has a future on the stage. She thinks that the Manhattan School for the Arts will provide her with the tools she’ll need to succeed, and I think she might be right.”
Might be right? Maybe he was undecided after all, she thought with hope. “And on the other hand?”
“What other hand?”
“So far you’ve given me reasons why Megan should go to this school. What are the reasons for her staying?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s plenty of time for Megan to think about her future. If one day she wants to go to New York, I won’t stand in her way. But she’s still so young. In the meantime, what’s wrong with community theater? With me working here, we’ll get to spend time together. Although…”
“Although what?” Rachel asked when he didn’t continue.
“I’m not sure about the play, Annie. It’s no secret that Megan was adopted, and now that Cathy is…gone, what if she gets it in her head to go looking for her biological mother, like Annie?”
Rachel’s heart was thudding so loudly, she was sure Adam could hear. She didn’t want to discuss Megan’s adoption. “Annie is a wonderful play,” she said a little too loudly, as if to drown out the pounding in her chest. “Kids love it. The music is great, the scenery is imaginative, and it ends on such a happy note.”
“I’m not questioning its entertainment value, I’m worried about Megan opening up Pandora’s box. But it’s not just that. I’m also questioning the negative values the play projects. For one thing, Annie gets everything she wants while the rest of the world goes on starving.”
“It’s just a story,” Rachel said. “Escapism. Entertainment. Who wouldn’t want to be rich? And you forget that Annie finds love and acceptance. To me, this is emphasized much more than the material aspect. The play doesn’t project negative values at all! How can you possibly think that?”
“Whoa,” he said, holding out his hand as if to ward her off. “Take it easy. It’s not worth starting a war over. You said it yourself, it’s just a story. And you can ignore what I said about Pandora’s box. It was just a thought. A crazy, paranoid thought. Megan would never go searching for her natural mother. Cathy was the only mother she ever knew, and they were close. Closer than most mothers and daughters.”
“You’re right,” Rachel said in a small voice. “It’s just a story.” But it wasn’t just a story. It was her life.
An uncomfortable silence ensued. “It’s back to the ice,” he said after clearing his throat self-consciously. “Let’s meet in the morning to discuss costumes.”
She rose from the bench. “I should be going. The rain has probably let up by now.”
“Don’t bet on it. It’s not supposed to clear until later tonight. After I’m done here, I’ll give you a lift.”
“You don’t have to drive me. I can get a taxi.”
He laughed. “You’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a taxi. Middlewood is a great town, but transportation isn’t one of its best features. School buses and a two-car taxi stand just about does it. And even if you’re lucky enough to get one of the cabs to come, it’ll take at least an hour, most likely two.” He ran his fingers across her hand. “Forget about walking. You’re like an icicle. Can’t have my new drama teacher getting pneumonia.”
As if on cue, she sneezed.
“Here, take this,” he said, untying the sleeves of his sweatshirt from around his waist. “If you’re going to stay and watch me mutilate the boards, you’ll need to cover up. I’ve been working up a sweat, but for you it must be like winter in here.”
“No, I couldn’t—”
“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, handing her the sweatshirt. “You must be freezing in that thin suit. And it’s a nice suit, by the way. I know I acted like a jerk back there in my office, the way I criticized your outfit, and I apologize. Actually, I’ve always liked that shade of green.”
“You didn’t criticize—”
“I don’t even like gray,” he said, interrupting her again, his eyes crinkling with gaiety. “I must have been on a mental vacation when I asked Farley to paint the walls that dingy tone.”
There was something gentle and contagious about his humor. He was thoughtful and considerate, and for Megan’s sake she was glad.
She pulled the shirt over her head, catching a whiff of the scent lingering in the material. It was a masculine scent, reminding her of oak and earth.
She warmed up immediately. It was as if the heat had radiated from his body, right through the fleece and into her blood. A delicious shudder moved down her spine.
It had nothing to do with his cocky, boyish smile. It had nothing to do with his strong, athletic body or the way he’d slammed those pucks against the wall like a man with a purpose. And it had nothing to do with the way she had tingled when he’d brushed his fingers across her hand. No, it had nothing