Crossroads Page 9

  Despite the teenager’s antagonistic look, Mitch smiled. “Hello, Bruce.”

  Bruce waited a long moment before mumbling a barely audible “Hi.” Then he turned his attention back to the TV, pointedly ignoring the two adults by the door.

  Tess frowned, but Mitch’s smile was reassuring. “Everything will be fine,” he said softly.

  She gave him a worried look and spoke in a low voice. “I hope so. Bruce hasn’t exactly been enthusiastic about this. I don’t want him to ruin your holiday weekend.”

  “He won’t.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could be so sure.”

  “Trust me on this.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  Actually, he did. But he couldn’t very well tell her that as long as she shared his holiday it was bound to be a good one. “Let’s just say I’m an optimist,” he offered. “And that I don’t intend to let anything ruin this weekend.”

  Tess gave him a weary smile. “I like your attitude.”

  “It beats the alternative,” he replied with a grin. “So are you ready? It’s too pretty a day to waste in the city.” He reached for her bag.

  “We’re all set. Bruce, help Mitch take the bags out to the car while I get the food.”

  Though Mitch had protested that it wasn’t necessary, she’d insisted on contributing her homemade lasagna and cinnamon streusel coffee cake to the weekend’s festivities. As she headed to the kitchen she glanced again toward Bruce, who was still slouched in front of the TV. “Now, Bruce,” she said pointedly in a tone that brooked no argument.

  By the time she returned from the kitchen, there was no sign of Bruce. She gave Mitch a quizzical look as he reached over to take the cooler of goodies.

  “He’s in the car,” he replied to her silent question.

  “Did he say anything?” Hope and fear mingled in her voice.

  “No. But he’ll loosen up.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. He’s gotten pretty good at shutting people out.”

  At the pain and discouragement in her voice, Mitch felt his throat contract with emotion. Parenting an adolescent was never easy, even for two people. Doing it single-handedly while coping with a new job, a new town and a son having difficulty adapting to a new school made it even tougher. He knew that Tess was doing her best, and he was tempted to reassure her that things would work out. But he couldn’t guarantee that. And he’d learned a long time ago not to make promises he couldn’t keep.

  “Maybe the change of scene will give him a new perspective,” Mitch said encouragingly. “If nothing else, it will brighten up my uncle’s holiday. He’s really been looking forward to this. He doesn’t have much company these days.”

  “I still can’t believe he was willing to invite two total strangers to stay with him,” Tess said, shaking her head. “He must be a very generous man. Will you tell me about him on the drive?”

  “Sure.”

  By the time they pulled into the gravel drive leading to the modest, two-story frame farmhouse that Uncle Ray had called home for forty-five years, she’d learned a lot about the older man. His beloved wife had died eight years before, and his only son had been killed in Vietnam. Though his uncle had coped with those losses, relying on a deep-seated faith to see him through, Mitch confided that he often worried about the older man spending so much time alone. Yet his uncle never complained, saying that he was too busy to get lonely.

  “Uncle Ray really is amazing,” Mitch told her, the admiration clear in his voice. “Even though he’s spent his life on a farm—and trust me, no one knows more than he does about corn and wheat and soybeans and soil and weather…you get the idea—his interests go far beyond the world of farming. And he’s a voracious reader.”

  According to Mitch, he fancied biographies and, interestingly enough, romance novels, citing their optimism and happy endings as tonic for the soul in a world where the concept of lifelong love and commitment had somehow lost favor. Tess liked him already.

  She’d also learned a lot about Mitch during their hour-long drive. It was clear that he felt a deep sense of responsibility toward his uncle—more, perhaps, than required by mere kinship. She sensed that these two men shared some sort of special bond, though Mitch revealed nothing that would verify that hunch. When he spoke of his uncle his voice held unmistakable affection, and if he ever resented spending his rare free time working with the older man on the farm, he gave no indication of it. Generosity, it appeared, ran in the Jackson family.

  Tess glanced into the back seat a couple of times during the drive, hoping to pull Bruce into the conversation, but he was hunched into the corner, his eyes closed. He might be sleeping, but more likely he was simply making a statement that he had no intention of participating in this weekend, she speculated resignedly.

  “There’s Uncle Ray.”

  Tess transferred her gaze to the house at the end of the gravel drive they’d just turned into, where an older man stood on the porch, waiting to greet them. Tall and spare, with fine, neatly trimmed gray hair, he radiated strength and tenacity—as if he had weathered the storms of life much as the huge oak tree in his front yard had weathered the storms of nature.

  As they pulled to a stop by the front porch, he made his way a bit stiffly down the three steps. During the drive Mitch had told her more about the accident that had predicated his own move to St. Louis, and she could now see firsthand the lingering effects of it. She knew it must be difficult for Mitch’s uncle, an independent man who was used to doing things on his own, to have to rely on help from others to keep up with the farm.

  Mitch set the parking brake and smiled at her. “Welcome to my home away from home. Sit tight and I’ll get your door.”

  She didn’t protest, waiting as the two men shared an uninhibited bear hug as they met in front of the car. She caught a glimpse of Bruce in the visor mirror and saw that he was awake—and watching the exchange. Good. Seeing Mitch in this caring context, relaxed and removed from his official capacity, was exactly what Bruce needed. Maybe in this environment he would realize that the principal truly had his best interests at heart, that his concern was genuine. And then maybe…just maybe…he would allow Mitch to get close enough to give him some guidance. Tess prayed that would happen soon. Because she knew that she desperately needed help with her son, just as she intuitively knew that Mitch could provide it.

  A moment later Mitch opened her door and reached down to take her hand, drawing her toward his uncle.

  “Uncle Ray, I’d like you to meet Tess Lockwood. Tess, this is my uncle.”

  He released her hand, and Uncle Ray engulfed her slender fingers in a work-worn grip. His voice was warm and welcoming when he spoke, and his cobalt-blue eyes were kindly—and as sharp and insightful as those of his nephew. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tess. Mitch has told me quite a lot about you, and I’ve been looking forward to this weekend.”

  She mulled over that nugget of information as she returned his greeting, trying to focus on the older man’s words rather than the delicious memory of Mitch’s hand momentarily holding hers. What exactly had Mitch told his uncle? Nothing bad, obviously, because the man appeared to be genuinely glad to make her acquaintance. In fact, more than glad. There was a gleam of interest in his eye that somehow seemed to go beyond mere hospitality. But before she could analyze it, he’d turned his attention to Bruce, who had gotten out of the car and now stood somewhat awkwardly behind the adults.

  “And you must be Bruce. Mitch tells me you’re new at school this semester. Must be hard, makin’ that kind of transition in the middle of the year. Never did like changes, myself. But the good Lord just keeps dishin’ ’em out. That’s life, I expect, whether you’re a senior in high school or a senior citizen like me. Hope you like farms.”

  Bruce seemed somewhat taken aback by the older man’s lengthy greeting. “Uh, yeah. I do.”

  “Good. I’ll show you around later. But
first, let’s get everybody settled.”

  Tess found herself in the guest room, while Bruce was given the room once occupied by Uncle Ray’s son. The older man planned to give Mitch his room, but his nephew insisted on taking the couch in the den.

  Once they were all settled, they regrouped in the cheery country kitchen for lunch.

  “I hope this is all right,” Uncle Ray said anxiously as he passed around the plates. “I’m not much versed in entertaining. That was always my wife’s department, and since she passed on eight years ago, I haven’t had many people over. ’Cept Mitch, of course. He’s a regular. Best farmhand I ever had, matter of fact. And not too picky when it comes to eating. Good thing, too. My repertoire is limited. That’s why I got some fancy store-bought food for lunch. I heard city folks like quiche.”

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Mitch warned, his eyes twinkling. “He makes a mean meat loaf. And the best beef stew I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Can’t take any credit for those,” Uncle Ray said as he eased himself into a chair at the head of the polished wooden table. “After Emma passed on, I got to craving some of her specialties, so I dug up her old cookbooks. Took some practice, but I finally mastered a few. Matter of fact, we’re having one of my favorites tonight. Tuna casserole. Nothing fancy, but real tasty.”

  “Bruce is a great fan of tuna anything,” Tess told him.

  “Well, then I picked the right thing, I guess,” the older man said. “I’ve been partial to it myself since I was a teenager. How old are you, son?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Is that right? I would have guessed sixteen.”

  That seemed to please Bruce. “I’m tall for my age.”

  “I’d say so. Probably top six feet by the time you stop growing. Why, you might even pass Mitch.”

  That seemed to please him even more. “I’d like to be tall.”

  “Why is that?”

  Bruce shrugged. “People can’t push you around as much if you’re bigger than they are.”

  Uncle Ray nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s true. Course, bein’ tall isn’t the only way to get respect. There was a man lived down the road a piece when I was younger. Couldn’t have been more than five-five, five-six. And nobody ever pushed him around. Looked up to him, in fact.”

  Bruce polished off the last bite of his quiche and looked at Uncle Ray with interest. “Why?”

  “I suppose it was because he always did the right thing. And I mean always. Not to mention the fact that he lived by the golden rule. Never turned anybody away who was in need, and was always the first to help in times of trouble. Amazing thing, too, considering a lot of the people he helped weren’t so nice to him when he was young. Called him ‘shorty’ and ‘stubs’ and lots of other things, from what I hear. Treated him pretty bad, sort of like an outcast.” Uncle Ray shook his head. “Kids can be real mean sometimes.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Tess saw Bruce’s nod of affirmation.

  “But he never let it turn him bitter or spiteful or mean. He just went about his business, doing his best. Never gave anyone a lick of trouble, though I expect if he’d wanted to get even with some of the kids who were giving him a hard time, there were opportunities. But eventually all those boys grew up, and then they recognized what a fine person Roger was. The girls did, too, by the way. In fact, Roger married the prettiest girl in town and raised three fine sons. He passed on to his reward twenty, twenty-five years ago now, but nobody who ever met him forgot him. And you know, when I think of him now, I remember him as one of the tallest men I ever knew.”

  Bruce pondered that for a few moments. “It wasn’t fair, what those guys did to him when he was young. He couldn’t help being short.”

  “That’s a fact,” Uncle Ray agreed.

  Mitch’s uncle had hit on a theme that was near and dear to Bruce’s heart. How many times had she heard the sometimes plaintive, sometimes bitter expression “But it’s not fair” in the past few months? More than she could count. And considering the frown on her son’s face right now, he was wrestling with the concept yet again. She wished she’d been able to come up with an explanation for the vagaries of the world, but in her heart she knew there wasn’t one. Bottom line, that was just how life worked. So maybe Uncle Ray’s response was best. Just acknowledge it rather than try to explain it. Bruce seemed to respect that.

  “How about a tour of the farm, Uncle Ray?”

  Mitch’s voice broke the brief silence, and she smiled at the older man. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  “Mitch knows the place as well as I do. Why don’t you two go on and we’ll catch up with you? Me and Bruce are gonna have some more of that fancy quiche. What do you say, Bruce? It’s pretty good for store-bought stuff.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tess stared at her son. She hadn’t heard him call anyone “sir” in—well, not since they’d moved to St. Louis. Amazing.

  Tess studied the older man as he rose to cut two more slices of quiche. He’d given little indication since their arrival that he knew the extent of Bruce’s problems. But Tess expected that Mitch had filled him in pretty thoroughly. And she also suspected that the casual conversation about fairness and respect might have been carefully orchestrated by Uncle Ray. Which impressed her.

  But what impressed her even more was that Bruce was listening. For some reason, he seemed to have connected with Mitch’s uncle. That wasn’t exactly what she’d expected this weekend—nor hoped for, if she was honest—but if Bruce bonded with Uncle Ray rather than Mitch, so be it. As long as it helped him get his act together, she was all for it.

  Uncle Ray returned to the table with two more loaded plates, and as Bruce began to ply the man with questions about the farm, Mitch grinned at Tess. “I don’t think we’ll be missed here. How about that tour?”

  “Sounds good.”

  As they stood, Uncle Ray looked up at them. “You two take your time. Bruce and I have plenty to talk about.”

  Tess gave Mitch a “Do you believe this?” look and followed him outside. Neither spoke until the door was firmly closed behind them, at which point Mitch voiced her exact thoughts.

  “I see signs of progress already.”

  Tess looked up at him. “How in the world did your uncle do that?” she asked wonderingly as they strolled toward the barn.

  Mitch shook his head. “If I knew that, I’d be ten times more successful with my students. He has an amazing ability to empathize with people. Young or old, rich or poor, man or woman, he has this uncanny knack of knowing exactly the right things to say to draw people out. And he listens well. I hadn’t really thought about him and Bruce clicking, but something is going on in there, that’s for sure. In fact, I feel a bit like the odd man out,” he teased.

  Tess smiled. “Hardly. If it wasn’t for you, we’d be spending the holiday in a cramped apartment instead of this glorious place.” She paused at the edge of a field and leaned on the fence. The freshly turned earth was rich and dark, and a pond shimmered in the distance. Puffy white clouds billowed lazily in the deep blue sky, and the silence was interrupted only by an occasional bird call or the distant moo of a cow. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, feeling the tension melt away from her. “This is the perfect antidote for a weary soul,” she said with a sigh.

  Mitch angled toward her and propped one arm on the fence. She looked at peace for the first time since he’d met her, he realized, as the bright, midday light turned the reddish highlights in her hair to glints of fire. The fine lines of strain around her eyes were dissolving under the caressing warmth of the sun, and he watched as she drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Since her eyes were still closed, he took the opportunity to let his gaze leisurely trace her upturned profile, drinking in the smooth brow, perfect nose, full lips, firm chin and the delicate, slender column of her throat. Her loveliness alone would attract any man, but coupled with what he already knew of her character, he couldn’t help but think again what a fool
her husband had been. Even if he’d married her for the wrong reasons, how could he have failed to eventually realize what a treasure he’d found? And how could he not love the son she’d borne out of their union? It boggled his mind.

  And it made him angry. Very angry. Bruce’s father had hurt his son in ways that Mitch could clearly discern. And in throwing away the love of the special woman who now stood beside him, her husband had hurt her in ways that Mitch could only begin to imagine. Ways he wished with all his heart he could erase.

  Tess chose that moment to open her eyes, and the expression on Mitch’s face made her heart stop, then race on. He was gazing at her with such intense tenderness that it took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her like that, as if she was someone precious to be cherished and protected. Her lips parted in surprise, and she unconsciously lifted her hand to her throat.

  At her movement, Mitch very deliberately—and with obvious difficulty—altered his expression from tenderness to simple friendliness. She watched his Adam’s apple bob convulsively, and his voice was noticeably husky when he spoke.

  “We haven’t made much progress on our tour. Come on, I’ll show you the barn.”

  He took her arm as they traversed the uneven ground, and Tess hoped he wouldn’t feel the tremors that ran through her. Maybe they hadn’t seen much of the farm, but she’d learned a lot more than she’d bargained for a few moments ago, when she’d turned to him and caught his unguarded expression.

  Tess wasn’t very worldly. She hadn’t had much experience with men other than her husband, and she’d been out of the dating game for a very long time. But she knew enough to recognize when a man was interested. And Mitch was definitely interested.

  The question was, did he intend to pursue his interest? And if so, how was she going to handle it? Because unless he and Bruce established a truce, any involvement she had with the boy’s enemy could make her son bond more closely with the gang that had become his adopted family. And that could only lead to disaster.