To Protect Her Son. Stella MacLean

       CHAPTER THREE

      NATE PARKED HIS car in front of Gayle Sawyer’s house and started up the walk toward the bright blue door, his cane supporting his damaged hip as always. He’d been with Sherri at Anna’s house for dinner the other night, and was impressed with his cousin’s continued praise for Gayle. He’d liked the woman despite the fact that he’d been sent packing from Ted Marston’s office without an explanation. She certainly hadn’t behaved the way he’d expected, throwing him off guard. And the hand holding thing. He’d never, ever had to be reminded to let go of someone’s fingers. When he was asked to rejoin the conversation it was clear from Gayle’s body language that she was uncomfortable with him being there.

      She was beautiful and sexy, yet her eyes were guarded, wary. He’d caught her staring at him, and couldn’t help but wonder if she was deciding whether or not his use of a cane would affect his ability to help her son. Was Gayle Sawyer the kind of person that saw his disability first, and made a judgment based on that?

      Whatever his feelings, whatever judgment she had made about him, none of it mattered, because behind this brightly painted door lived a teenager who was on the edge of serious trouble. Officer Andrew Edwards was a caring young man who was doing night classes in Bangor in order to get his degree in psychology. From what he’d described of the fight that night, there was a great deal of pressure for Adam to join this gang of high school dropouts.

      A tap of the brass knocker on the solid wood door resulted in the door swinging open immediately. Gayle stood there, her mass of black curls swaying around her shoulders.

      She’d been waiting for him. The thought pleased him more than he was willing to admit to anyone but himself.

      “Please come in,” she said just as her son appeared. Adam Sawyer was tall for his age with a smattering of acne on his cheeks. His dark hair was cut short, and his green eyes radiated distrust. They both stared at Nate as if he were bringing bad news.

      Once inside, they moved to the living room, where Adam sank onto the sofa, leaving Gayle and him facing each other in chairs near the fireplace. Nate placed his cane discreetly by the fireplace, but not before he became aware of the sympathy in Gayle’s expression. He’d become accustomed to the concerned glances of those he met, the sympathy that followed, and even the pity he’d seen in others. Such behavior was now part of his life, nothing more.

      To give everyone time to settle in, he checked out the room’s interior. It was small and cozy with pastel blues and yellows accenting the dark woodwork typical of many homes in Eden Harbor.

      Gayle’s hands smoothed the fabric of her well-worn jeans as she sized him up. “I made the curtains and the slipcovers. I love decorating, and this house offers plenty of opportunity.” Her smile was genuine as she spoke, a smile that Nate found very attractive.

      “We’ll start off today talking a little bit about the two of you, and I can answer any questions you might have.”

      “That sounds okay...” Her anxious glance swerved to Adam and back to Nate. “What do you need me to do?”

      “Just be here for your son. Although the focus is on him, there will be times when you and I will talk about how you feel, your concerns as his mother, what your family life was like. Things like that. Occasionally the three of us will talk about how things are going.” He looked at Adam. “But mostly Adam and I will be getting to know each other.”

      “So what’s next?” She twisted her fingers in her lap as she eyed him from under thick lashes.

      Anxiety was usual in these situations, but Gayle Sawyer seemed a little too anxious. Clearly she was worried about her son. But was that all? Single parents often lived with myriad concerns that were heightened during a crisis: the result of having to make all the adult decisions alone.

      “How this works is that Adam and I will get together once a week to shoot pool, go to a sporting event, maybe a basketball game, talk about things that are bothering him. It won’t be about the fight he was involved in necessarily, but we’ll cover what’s going on in his life.”

      “You don’t have to talk as if I’m not here,” Adam said in a sullen tone.

      “Adam! Mr. Garrison is trying to help!”

      Nate watched the troubled teen as he slouched farther into the sofa. Did he feel unnoticed, maybe unwelcome, in his new home? He’d lived here about a year, and making friends was sometimes difficult.

      Nate smiled encouragingly as he directed all his attention to the teenager. “You’re absolutely right. And I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself. I was eleven when my father died. I missed him every day of my life. Then I met up with a police officer in circumstances similar to yours. Luckily I had family and friends who were willing to vouch for me, and I got my life turned around. I know what it’s like to feel so alone you want to lash out at people, especially as you get older and realize how important it is to have a dad’s influence in your life. And of course your move here probably wasn’t easy.”

      Adam pressed his fists into the cushions of the sofa but said nothing.

      “I suspect that you came here knowing no one, and had to start over finding friends. You felt like you didn’t fit in anywhere.”

      Adam began picking at his nails. “I should have made the basketball team. I was on the team back in Anaheim. The school I went to there was awesome.”

      “Why didn’t you make the team here?”

      Adam shook his head, burying his chin in his chest. “Dunno.”

      Nate made a note to call Coach Cassidy and see what he had to say about Adam.

      “What’s your favorite subject in school?” Nate asked.

      Adam lifted his head. “Computer science. I want to work in computers when I...when I get out of this place.”

      “Adam, I didn’t know you were so unhappy in Eden Harbor,” Gayle said, her voice tight with worry.

      “That’s because you work all the time at the hospital, and we don’t talk anymore like we used to when...” He rubbed his hands through his short hair, looking at neither of them.

      Clearly there was a lot going on emotionally with Adam. Nate changed the subject. “Adam, do you like living in this house?”

      “Yeah, it’s nicer than the apartment we had in Anaheim. Mom likes working in the garden. I never had fresh vegetables until we moved into this place.”

      “I like this house, too,” Nate said. “I had a summer job mowing lawns, and one of them was across the street. I would watch Mrs. Cooper working in her flower beds and wish I had her talent with plants.”

      Gayle’s face brightened. “Susan was my aunt. She left this house to me in her will.”

      Adam sat up straighter and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his eyes bright with interest. “You cut grass, too? How many lawns did you do?”

      “I had five. Two during the week, and three on the weekend.”

      * * *

      GAYLE LISTENED AS Adam talked to Nate about his lawn work and began to feel the tension ease from her shoulders. Nate had found something he and Adam had in common. She could have hugged the man on the spot. She had no idea how a mentor worked, but if Nate’s behavior so far was any indication, this