Crossroads

“For a lot of reasons. Number one, I enforce the rules. Number two, I care about my students, and I make it a point to keep my eye on the ones who seem to need a bit of extra supervision. Number three, I used to be a cop, and I can spot trouble—and the potential for trouble—pretty quickly. That’s why I’ve been watching Bruce. He seems to be a basically good kid who just needs a little more help than most to stay on the straight and narrow.”

Tess stiffened at what she perceived to be criticism. “You make it sound like he’s on the verge of becoming a delinquent. Don’t you think you’re overreacting to one little smoking incident? Which Bruce tells me he didn’t even participate in, by the way. Most kids experiment with cigarettes at some point or other. I don’t approve, but I don’t think it’s necessarily a sign of serious trouble.”

Mitch frowned. “Is that what he told you? That this meeting is just about a simple smoking incident?”

Now it was Tess’s turn to frown. “Isn’t it?”

Mitch rose to retrieve a folder from his desk. As he rejoined her, he flipped it open. “The smoking situation was only the latest in a series of incidents,” he informed her, the seriousness of his tone and demeanor in sharp contrast to his initial conversational manner. “Though even that was more than you’ve been led to believe. Those guys weren’t smoking cigarettes. They were smoking a joint.”

Tess stared at him incredulously. “You mean marijuana?”

He nodded. “Yes. There was no sign of it when I showed up. But the odor is unmistakable—and lingering.”

“Marijuana?” Tess repeated the word in shock. “Drugs? You mean Bruce is involved with drugs?” Now there was a note of panic in her voice, and her fingers tightened convulsively on her purse.

Mitch wished he could bring back her smile of moments before, erase the twin furrows of worry on her brow and ease the tension that had made her skin go taut over the fine bone structure of her face. But his job wasn’t to make parents feel good, he reminded himself. It was to help kids.

“I don’t think he’s into drugs,” he replied carefully. “At least not yet. But he hangs around with a rough, older crowd, and sooner or later they’ll pull him down to their level. Kids like Bruce are easy prey, Ms. Lockwood. He doesn’t seem to have a lot of self-confidence, and it’s tough to break into established cliques, especially midyear. That makes him vulnerable to groups that are on the fringe. They offer a haven of friendship that can be very powerful—someone to sit with in the cafeteria, a sympathetic ear, somewhere to belong. A ‘home,’ if you will.”

“Bruce has a home,” Tess protested, a tremor of fear running through her voice.

Mitch studied her for a moment. He knew he was venturing onto shaky ground, but the more information he had, the more likely he could help. “May I ask a question?”

Tess eyed him cautiously. “What is it?”

“Is there a father figure in Bruce’s life?”

Tess’s eyes went cold. “No.”

“Any friends outside of school?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Not that I know of. It’s…hard for him to make friends. His self-esteem isn’t…isn’t all that high.”

“Why not?”

She took a deep breath, and her eyes shuttered. “That’s a long story, Mr. Jackson.”

“And not a pleasant one, I take it.”

“No.”

The answer was terse—and telling. For a long moment there was silence, and then Tess spoke again.

“Look, Mr. Jackson, I do the best I can. I’m a single mom who has to work full-time to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I try my best to be mother, father and friend. Lately Bruce has been shutting me out. He obviously didn’t tell me the whole truth about the smoking incident.” She paused and took a deep breath, bracing herself. “You said there were others?”

Mitch nodded and consulted his file. “We haven’t caught the perpetrators, though we have strong suspicions. And in all cases I suspect that Bruce was involved, either as a participant or bystander. Five weeks ago we found obscene graffiti on the wall in one of the boys’ rest rooms. The next week several cars in the parking lot were vandalized during a basketball game—tires slashed, rearview mirrors ripped off, long scratches on the sides. Two weeks ago some software disappeared from the computer lab. The smoking incident is the latest problem.”

Tess began to feel ill. “But you said you have no proof that Bruce was involved in those other things,” she pointed out faintly, a touch of desperation in her voice. “Why do you think he is?”

“Because of the group he hangs out with. I won’t go so far as to call it a gang, but it’s borderline.”

The principal had just confirmed the suspicion that had been niggling at the edge of Tess’s consciousness for the past few weeks, and her spirits slipped another notch—as did her confidence. She was trying so hard to juggle the demands and responsibilities of her life. But clearly her best simply wasn’t good enough. She was failing Bruce, the only person in the world who mattered to her. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

Mitch watched the play of emotions on the face of the woman across from him. Pain. Despair. Panic. On one hand, he hated to put her through this. On the other hand, he felt a sense of relief. The presence of those emotions told him that she cared—truly cared—about her son. She might not know how to help him, but she wanted to—and that was the key. He could work with parents like Tess Lockwood. Because they were generally willing to work with him.

“I’m sorry to upset you, Ms. Lockwood. But it’s better to find out now rather than later. And we can work this out, I’m sure.”

At the man’s gentle tone, Tess’s gaze flew to his. She’d expected to be read the riot act from a stern disciplinarian with a shape-up-or-ship-out stance. She hadn’t expected warmth, caring and the offer of assistance.

Tess’s throat tightened and her eyes filmed over with moisture at this stranger’s unexpected compassion. She glanced away on the pretense of adjusting the shoulder strap on her purse, willing herself not to cry. She blinked several times, fighting for control, and when she at last looked up, her voice was steady, her gaze direct.

“I agree that sooner is better. I just hope we’re soon enough. Bruce is a good boy at heart, Mr. Jackson. And I’ve tried to be a good parent. But I can see now that I need help. Obviously, parenting isn’t one of my talents, and I’d appreciate any advice you can offer.”

Mitch caught the glimmer of unshed tears, clearly held in check by the slimmest of control, and frowned. His gut told him that she really was trying her best. But she was clearly stressed to the limit. “I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t a good parent, Ms. Lockwood. On the contrary. I can see you care deeply about your son’s welfare.”

“But that’s not enough.”

The despair in her voice went straight to his heart, and he had a sudden, unexpected impulse to reach out and take her hand, to reassure her that she wasn’t quite as alone as she seemed to feel. But that kind of gesture would be completely inappropriate, he reminded himself sharply. So before he could act on it and embarrass them both, he rose abruptly and walked over to his desk.

The flyer he wanted was right on top, but he made a pretense of shuffling through some papers, buying a moment to compose himself. For some reason, this woman had touched a place deep in his core, nudged feelings that had long lain dormant. He wanted to help her, and not just because it was his job. Which was crazy. After all, he’d just met her. Besides, he wasn’t in the market for personal involvements of any kind—especially with mothers of troubled students. And he’d better remember that.

The expression on her face when he turned back almost did him in. Clearly, his abrupt movement had disconcerted her. She looked vulnerable and uncertain and in desperate need of comforting. It took every ounce of his willpower to calmly walk back to his chair and simply hand her the flyer he’d retrieved.

“Caring is the most important thing, Ms. Lockwood,” he said, his voice a shade deeper than usual. “But sometimes it does take even more. You might want to attend this meeting next week. Chris Stevens, one of our counselors, is going to talk about the pressures teens face and how parents can help. There’ll also be an opportunity for discussion and questions. I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”

Tess glanced down at the sheet of paper. It had been a long time since anyone had offered a helping hand, and once more her throat constricted with emotion.

“Thank you. I’ll do my best to make it.” She folded the paper and put it in her purse, then rose. Mitch was instantly on his feet, and when he extended his hand, she once more found her fingers enveloped in his warm grasp.

“In the meantime, I’ll keep my eye on Bruce. And don’t hesitate to call if you have any other concerns.”

Tess gazed up into his kind eyes, and for the briefest moment allowed herself to wonder what life would have been like if Bruce had had a father figure like Mitch Jackson in his life these past few years. Somehow, in her heart, she knew that things would have been a lot different. For him—and for her.

Suddenly afraid that he would read her thoughts, she withdrew her hand and lowered her gaze. “I appreciate your interest,” she said, her voice quavering slightly as he walked her to the door.

“It goes with the territory. Goodbye, Ms. Lockwood. And try not to worry. I have a feeling that things are going to improve.”

She gazed at him directly then, and once more something in her eyes reached to his very soul. “I hope so, Mr. Jackson. And thank you for caring.”

Mitch watched her speculatively as she walked across the reception area and disappeared out the door. Unlike the parents from his previous conference, Tess Lockwood seemed to have taken his comments to heart. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t easily dismiss their encounter.

And for reasons that had nothing at all to do with her son, Mitch didn’t think he would, either.

Chapter Two

“O kay, let’s talk.”

At Tess’s no-nonsense tone, Bruce looked up from his desk, his eyes wary. “About what?”

She moved to the side of his bed and sat down. “Guess.”

“I suppose Mr. Jackson told you a lot of garbage.”

“‘Garbage’ is a good word for the behavior he discussed.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Bruce declared defensively.

“You know what? I believe you. But from what I heard, you’re heading in the wrong direction.”

“Mr. Jackson just wants to get me in trouble.”

“Wrong. He wants to keep you from getting in trouble.”

Bruce looked at her defiantly. “So now you’re on his side.”

“That’s right. Because he happens to be on your side.”

“That’s a bunch of—”

“Bruce!”

He clamped his mouth shut and stared at her sullenly.

“That’s exactly the kind of behavior I’m talking about. Since when did you start using language like that?”

“Like what?”

“Come off it, Bruce. You’ve let enough slip these last few weeks for me to realize that you’ve expanded your vocabulary. And I don’t like it.”

“Words don’t hurt anything.”

“I disagree. They hurt your character. And they can also give you a juvenile record if you scratch them on the walls in the boys’ rest room.”

Bruce’s face grew red. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“I didn’t say you did. And I don’t believe you vandalized the cars or stole the computer equipment.”

“I wasn’t smoking, either.”

“Maybe not. But when it comes to drugs, the cops bust you first and ask questions later.”

He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Jackson gave me a few more details about the smoking incident.”

He still looked confused. “What does that have to do with drugs?”

Tess stared at him, and slowly the light began to dawn. He honestly didn’t know! Relief coursed through her and the tension coiled deep inside eased ever so slightly. “That wasn’t just a cigarette, Bruce,” she said gently. “It was a joint. Marijuana.”

His face blanched. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Jackson.”

“I don’t believe it! Besides, how does he know? He didn’t see anything.”

“He was a cop, remember? He could tell from the smell. You’re lucky he contacted me instead of the police.”

Bruce frowned. “He didn’t have a case, anyway,” he said slowly, some of his cockiness returning. “There wasn’t any evidence. And the smell would have been gone by the time the police got there.”

Anger flashed in Tess’s eyes. “Maybe the next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Bruce glared at her defiantly. “I can take care of myself.”

“Really? So what are you going to do when they pass around the next joint?”

His gaze skittered away. “I don’t have to smoke. They’ll be my friends even if I don’t.”

“They’re not your friends now, Bruce. They’re bad news, and they’re going to drag you down with them. Can’t you see that?” she pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into her voice.

“No! I like them! They’re nice to me! They’re the only ones who are at that dumb school. Do you know what it’s like not to have anyone to sit with at lunch? It su…it stinks! I sat by myself every day until they invited me. I owe them,” he said fiercely.

An ominous chill went down Tess’s spine. The scenario Bruce had just described was exactly the one Mitch Jackson had used as an example. By drawing him in, by accepting him, the group he’d hooked up with had evoked not only a sense of gratitude, but of obligation. Which could be very dangerous.

“You don’t owe them a thing,” Tess shot back, but she could see that her words fell on deaf ears. She rose, trying to control her panic. “Okay. Until further notice, you’re to come home right after school.”

Bruce sent her a venomous look. “You’re grounding me?”

“You got it.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong. You said you believed me.”

“I do. But I think you’re on dangerous ground.”

“So you’re going to lock me up? I bet that was Mr. Jackson’s idea,” he said angrily.

“As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. I thought it up all by myself.”

“I’ll still see the guys at school,” he countered defiantly.

“That’s true. But I think Mr. Jackson will be keeping his eye out for you there.”

“I should have figured you two would team up,” he said bitterly. “Adults always stick together.”

Instead of responding, Tess simply left the room. Once out of sight, she leaned against the wall, struggling to control the tremors that ran through her body. Please, Lord, help me! she prayed desperately as another wave of panic washed over her. She had no idea how to deal with this situation. But she knew she needed help. The counseling session Mitch had invited her to couldn’t come soon enough. Because Bruce was in way over his head.

And so was she.

“Morning, Tess. Have I got a story for you!”

Tess glanced up at the managing editor and smiled. Caroline James was about the same age as Tess, but she was light years ahead of the paper’s newest reporter in terms of sophistication and polish. Why someone with Caroline’s experience, abilities and contacts was content to be the managing editor of a suburban newspaper was beyond Tess’s understanding. She was just grateful to have the chance to hone her skills under the guidance of a true pro.

“Hi, Caroline. What’s up?”

“A great coup for our little paper, that’s what.” Caroline sat on the single chair in Tess’s cube and crossed her legs, revealing their shapely length under her fashionably short skirt. As she leaned back, her silk blouse shimmered in the overhead light, as did her simple but classic gold necklace. Style. Class. Poise. Caroline had it all, Tess thought wistfully. In her tailored slacks and baggy sweater, Tess felt dowdy and plain by comparison. Not to mention awkward. Even on her best days, Tess didn’t move with the lithe grace that came so naturally to Caroline. Yet her boss was completely down-to-earth, without a pretentious bone in her body, and she had gone out of her way to make Tess feel at home on the paper. It was hard to be envious of someone so nice.

“Sounds promising,” Tess replied.

“More than promising. A sure thing. It seems we have a man of great distinction right here in our midst.”

“Really? Who?”

“One Mitch Jackson, local principal.”

Tess stared at Caroline in shock. “Mitch Jackson?”

“Yeah.” Caroline tilted her head and gazed at Tess. “You look funny. Do you know him?”

Tess nodded and cleared her throat. “Yes. Sort of. That is, we’ve met. Briefly. He’s the principal at my son’s school.”

“Great! A connection! That will make it even easier to scoop the daily. Hopefully he’ll give us first crack.”

“At what?”

“A feature profile. He’s just been chosen to receive the governor’s award for excellence in education. He’s introduced some really innovative programs at the school. We’ve tried to do a story on him before, but apparently he prefers to stay out of the limelight.”

Tess tried to calm the sudden pounding of her heart. “So what makes you think he’ll be any different this time?”

“The school board,” Caroline informed Tess smugly. “My sources tell me they’ve been after him for quite a while to be more forthcoming with the press about his programs. Good publicity for the school district, which is handy when it comes time for funding. They aren’t going to let him get away with a ‘no comment’ this time, I guarantee it. Besides, if you know him, we already have an in.”

“I don’t really know him, Caroline. We only met once.”

“That’s okay. He’ll remember you.”

Tess frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you are one attractive gal. You have terrific eyes, gorgeous hair, a great figure—even if you do hide it under oversize clothes—and you’re single. What guy wouldn’t notice?”

Tess felt hot color creep onto her cheeks. “I think maybe you need to get your contacts changed,” she said with an embarrassed smile.

“Trust me on this,” Carolyn said with a grin. “By the way, I understand he’s single. Not to mention handsome, if you can believe this picture that just came over the wire.” She tossed a clipping onto Tess’s desk. “Probably make a great catch.”

“Maybe you should interview him,” Tess suggested. “I’m not in the market.”

A shadow passed over Caroline’s eyes, so brief Tess almost missed it. “Me, neither. I already had my taste of heaven,” she said lightly, but Tess heard the whisper of sadness in her voice. “Anyway, personal stuff aside, you’re one of our best feature writers. You’ll be able to do this story justice. What do you say?”

Tess frowned. She hadn’t counted on another opportunity to spend time one-on-one with Southfield High’s principal. In fact, she was still recovering from their last encounter. She’d lain awake far too many nights thinking about Mitch Jackson. And that was based purely on a meeting that had focused on Bruce. Now she was being asked to get “up close and personal” with him for a profile. The mere thought of it sent a delicious, anticipatory tingle down her spine. Which was silly, of course. She would be dealing with him in a purely professional capacity, much as he’d dealt with her the last time.

Yet the yearning to see him again was inexplicably strong. For some reason, just being in his presence made her feel…tingly was the word that came to mind. For the first time in years she’d felt more like a desirable woman than a mom. And it was renewing, quenching a place in her heart that had long been parched and lifeless. Though she wasn’t in the market for romance, she was enough of a romantic to want to have that feeling again, if only for the duration of one more meeting.

“Don’t think so hard, Tess,” Caroline advised her with an understanding smile. “I can see you’re interested in the story—and maybe in the man. Just go for it.” Before Tess could reply, Caroline stood and made her way to the door, pausing on the threshold. “In case I haven’t told you lately, we’re really glad to have you aboard here. Not only are you an excellent writer, you’re smart and intuitive, and you have a warmth that makes people open up. We’re lucky to have someone with your talent. So give this a shot, okay?”

Tess watched Caroline walk away, then slowly reached for the clipping and studied the grainy picture of Mitch Jackson. Her boss was right—he was one handsome man. But he was also much more. She had seen and felt firsthand things that the picture didn’t reveal. The caring and compassion in his insightful eyes. His ability to make you feel that your problems were his problems. The innate strength and sense of honor that seemed to radiate from his very core. His total dedication and commitment to his students. None of those things could be captured by a picture.

Nor could his almost tangible virility. It awakened yearnings in her that had long lain dormant, yearnings she thought had slowly withered up and blown away like a once-beautiful autumn leaf. It was frightening—and intimidating—to discover that those yearnings could so unexpectedly be brought back to life. Not that it mattered, of course. Despite what Caroline had said, someone like Mitch Jackson would never give her a second look. Even if she wanted him to. Which she didn’t, she told herself firmly. The last thing she needed in her already complicated life was another complication. Or distraction. And she knew instinctively that Southfield High’s principal could definitely be both.

Tess deliberately shifted her attention to the sketchy text that accompanied the photo. There wasn’t much in it that she didn’t already know. He’d been a cop earlier in his career, had moved to St. Louis two years ago, was a hands-on principal who believed in getting involved in the lives of his students. The only new piece of information she gleaned from the write-up was that prior to coming to St. Louis he’d lived in Chicago.

Tess’s face grew thoughtful. Clearly there was a whole lot more to Mitch’s story. Whether or not he’d reveal it, however, remained to be seen. But she did seem to have a knack for getting people to open up and reveal more about themselves than they’d planned to. And she liked challenges, especially intriguing ones.

Tess glanced back at Mitch’s picture. Intriguing was a good word for Southfield High’s principal. Other words came to mind as well, but she chose to ignore them. She didn’t have the time or inclination for romance, she reminded herself. What she did have was a son to raise—a job that required her full-time attention. And she would do well to remember that.

Tess glanced around the crowded meeting room, relieved to see that other parents also seemed to feel the need for more information about raising teenagers. It helped a bit to know that she wasn’t alone.

Her quick scan revealed few available seats, but she spotted one in the middle of the last row and quickly made her way toward it. As she carefully edged past those already seated, trying not to step on toes as she went, she glanced at her watch. She’d made it with two minutes to spare.

Tess was still settling in when a familiar voice over the microphone drew her startled gaze. She hadn’t expected Mitch to extend his workday by attending the evening meeting. Once more she was impressed by his dedication.

“Good evening. For those of you I haven’t met, I’m Mitch Jackson, the principal,” he said, looking completely at ease in front of the crowd. “I’d like to welcome you to tonight’s program and thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend. I think you’ll find it very worthwhile. As you know, we are extremely fortunate to have Chris Stevens on our staff, and even more fortunate that she agreed to make this presentation tonight. Let me review her credentials for you and I think you’ll agree.”

As he did so, the resonant, well-modulated timbre of his voice reflected both warmth and competence. Despite his casual attire of open-necked shirt and sport jacket, he radiated a quiet confidence and authority that marked him for leadership and engendered respect. He seemed to be a man in absolute control of his life, who had found his place in the world and had his act together, Tess reflected.