The Good Mum. Cathryn Parry
maybe I could help,” Aidan said to Dr. Pingree. “I’m not a professional tutor, but I did go to St. Bart’s, so I understand the culture.” He lowered his voice. “When I was a student, I failed my algebra pretest. I had to work with a tutor myself—and work hard—but I managed to pull my scores up. To this day, math is one of my strengths.”
“You certainly would have a wonderful perspective to offer a newer, struggling student,” Dr. Pingree said. “You know how difficult it can be to catch up academically to St. Bartholomew’s standards.” He nodded. “Yes, I would support your choice as a mentor/tutor and give my recommendation to Brandon’s parent.”
He hoped she took his offer in the spirit of generosity with which he meant it.
But he managed a smile. “Please talk to Brandon’s mother, give her my name, before I get any more involved in this process,” Aidan said to the headmaster.
“Certainly, as long as Brandon is comfortable,” the headmaster said. He peered at Brandon. “Would you like to talk more with Dr. Lowe?”
Aidan looked at the kid. He just seemed worried. Aidan remembered feeling shell-shocked at Brandon’s age, when he’d realized he’d failed his pre-test. It had been the first time he’d ever failed anything in school. Maybe Brandon felt the same way.
“Come on,” Aidan said to the boy, motioning to a table close enough that they weren’t out of the headmaster’s earshot, but far enough away that the kids at the other tables couldn’t hear them. He was treading carefully with this situation.
Nodding, Brandon followed him. Sat down. Stared at a hangnail on his thumb.
“What’s going on?” Aidan asked the boy. “Did you study for the pre-test? I don’t know how it is now, but I remember that they recommended I study for it over the summer.”
“Yes,” Brandon said. He shrugged. “In my old school it was easier. I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”
“Yeah. I remember the same feeling.”
Brandon glanced up. Aidan could see the pain in his eyes. “My aunt was an anesthesiologist at Wellness Hospital. She went to a regular public school, and she became a doctor.”
“Well, yes.” Aidan paused. “Of course that’s possible. What’s your aunt’s name?”
“Dr. Elizabeth LaValley.”
Aidan struggled to keep a straight face. He’d done surgery with Dr. LaValley once or twice. Seemed like a million years ago, and he’d been in such a different place then.
“You know her?” Brandon asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t realize your connection to her at first.” He should have recognized Brandon’s last name. He’d just been so...caught up in his own situation. He needed to rectify that. Aidan cleared his throat. “Dr. LaValley is a good anesthesiologist. We worked on some hip replacement surgeries as part of a team.”
He’d been the bored hotshot surgeon blaring Led Zeppelin music while she’d sat in her anesthesiologist’s chair wincing because she preferred Mozart.
But he kept his expression level. None of that was the kid’s problem.
“My aunt tutored me this summer,” Brandon said. “We used Skype every Monday and Thursday. She’s in San Francisco now.”
Ashley had mentioned that. But oh, here was potentially another reason for Dr. LaValley to dislike him. He would be stepping in to help where Dr. LaValley had failed. Some people wouldn’t take that so well.
“Why do you suppose you didn’t pass the pre-test?” Aidan asked him.
Brandon shrugged. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Aidan remained silent. Brandon fidgeted. Finally he sighed. “I’m a commuting student, not a boarding student. The boarding students get special help from the resident teachers that I don’t get.”
Aidan nodded. Perhaps it was a valid reason, but it definitely wasn’t an avenue he was exploring. Brandon’s living situation was really none of his business.
“What else?” Aidan prompted gently. “Do you think there are any other reasons you didn’t pass?”
“Well...my aunt said I haven’t learned to be focused enough. My old school—the one I was in before this—I got all A’s there and I didn’t even need to try. I could just memorize stuff. But here, everything is faster. I guess I didn’t believe her this summer, but now I do. I think I’ll do better next time. Or I would if I was here at night with the other kids in quiet study session.” He looked longingly back at the group of boys eating breakfast together.
“Okay,” Aidan said. The last thing he wanted to do was to contradict either the aunt or the mother or the headmaster or his grandmother. “Why don’t we go back to see Dr. Pingree?”
“So are you going to tutor me?” Brandon asked.
“Do you want to be tutored?”
“Um. Yeah.” Brandon glanced at him. “Do you want to tutor me?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley in the corridor, being led to meet Dr. Pingree. She looked pretty, with her hair done up so that her long neck was exposed. He had to be content gazing at that attractive sliver of skin, because every other part of her was covered—in a conservatively cut tailored blazer and wide-leg trousers. She was making an effort to fit in, he observed, not wearing her trendy hairstylist clothes, and that just made her all that more remarkable in his eyes.
He stilled, remembering what Gram had said about Ashley going to alcohol rehab. Aidan didn’t hold that against her. He thought highly of her for it. Still, he couldn’t deny that it raised a warning flag. Would she think he was “interfering” in her home life? Would he have to worry that her alcoholism might influence her to do something she shouldn’t?
He should have thought of that before he’d reacted so impulsively, wanting to help Brandon without thinking it through.
He tried not to wince as Ashley noticed his presence. He watched as her eyes widened. She seemed wary. Her lips pressed together.
It saddened him to see her react that way toward him. He’d liked her yesterday. He liked her calm manner, her inherent gentleness, even though she’d had a steel spine, too. In her own sweet way, she was no pushover.
Brandon was staring at him. He hadn’t seen his mom yet. And he was waiting for an answer from Aidan.
“Let me talk with your mother,” Aidan said to the boy.
“Okay. Um. Here she comes, the lady with Dr. Pingree. That’s her.”
Ashley was stalking toward them, ahead of the headmaster. Brandon glanced at Aidan and smiled hopefully as she stood before them.
“This is your mother?” Aidan asked, by way of verification, even though he well knew it was.
“Yeah, this is my mom.”
Ashley crossed her arms. Two bright spots of color blazed in her cheeks. The corners of her mouth tugged down.
She looked at Brandon, and Aidan saw hurt in her eyes. “We need to talk about our discussion earlier this morning, but not now. We’ll do it when you get home this afternoon,” she said to her son.
“But, Mom, I—”
“I said we’ll talk later.”
Brandon didn’t argue. Looking pained, he shrugged and gazed at the headmaster, who led him away.
He and Ashley were alone. “What are you doing here, Aidan?” she asked.
“Ashley, I honestly did not plan this.” But then he paused, because in a sense, hadn’t he?
He gave her a guilty look and a shrug because he didn’t know