A Mother's Reflection

“Hey, don’t aim those fake nails at me,” Megan said, not moving from her perch. “I was only doing what he asked me to do, showing Rachel around. And it’s not dangerous in here. Farley’s way upstage. It’s not like he’s going to drop a hammer on anyone’s head.”

The woman directed her attention to Rachel. “So you’re the new teacher,” she said coolly. “I’m Erika Johnson.”

“Rachel Hartwell. I’m glad to meet you. I understand we’ll be working together. And please don’t be angry with Megan. She’s been so helpful. She’s been giving me a tour.”

Rachel made a quick assessment of the woman standing next to her. Erika was poised and sophisticated in a raw silk jacket that closed in a deep vee, and a matching midlength skirt that was slit down the side. Definitely out of place in this dangerous war zone, Rachel thought.

Two gray eyes bored through her. “You must have misunderstood,” Erika said. “We won’t be working together. You’ll be reporting to me.” She turned to face Megan. “Your father had a phone call. There was a minor crisis involving your grandmother, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. He had to go home, but he’ll be back later to pick you up.”

“Nothing I need to worry about? She’s my grandmother!”

“Don’t shout at me, Megan. Those were his words, not mine.”

“Yeah, right. Hey, Ricky, I’ve got a great idea. Maybe you can send Grandma away to boarding school, too. Oops, I forgot. They don’t ship grandmothers off to boarding schools the way they do kids. They lock them away in homes.”

“Watch that mouth of yours,” Erika retorted. Then, as though catching herself before she went too far, her voice took on a sugary tone. “That’s our Megan for you,” she said to Rachel, “always the drama queen. She’s one talented little girl.”

“Little snot, you mean. Admit it, Ricky, you can’t wait to get rid of me.”

Erika blew out an exasperated breath. “I refuse to get into this again, especially in front of a stranger. In any case, rehearsal is about to start. They’re all waiting for you in the cafeteria.”

Megan hopped off the crate. “See what I mean? Even now she’s trying to get rid of me. You coming, Rachel?”

“You go on ahead. I have to fill out some papers for Doreen, and then later, when your father returns, I have to meet with him to discuss the costume budget.”

Megan set off down the aisle. “If you’ll excuse me,” Rachel said to Erika, “I’d better get started on that paperwork.”

“Just one minute.”

What now? Rachel thought.

“I realize that Megan can be a handful, but I don’t want you giving her extra attention. For one thing, it wouldn’t be fair to the other children, and as a friend of the family, I can tell you that extra attention is precisely what that child doesn’t need.”

Who did this woman think she was, talking to her this way? This was the woman who had Adam’s undivided attention? This was the woman who presumed to take on the role of Megan’s mother? “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. Let me remind you that Mr. Wessler is a very busy man, so I would appreciate it if you directed all your questions to me. And that includes any questions regarding the budget—although I fail to see how the financial details of this center are any of your concern.”

Erika was acting like a jealous shrew. Which was crazy, Rachel thought. Or was it? She hadn’t missed the frosty way the other woman had scrutinized her. Although Rachel wanted to tell this impossible woman exactly what she thought of her, she held back. Her sounding off would only get back to Adam, resulting in an invitation to leave. “I see,” she said in a controlled voice.

“There’s one more thing. Adam is very particular about the image he wants this center to project, and I don’t want anything to embarrass him. He mentioned that you were a few minutes late for your interview. The ceremony is at seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Please don’t be late.”

“Ceremony?” Rachel said, confused. “What ceremony?”

“The center’s official opening. Friday night, seven-thirty sharp. Didn’t you see the signs on the wall?”

No, but Rachel could see the proverbial handwriting, all too clearly. It was warning her that Erika was someone to be reckoned with. “No, I guess I missed them. But it doesn’t make any difference. I won’t be going.”

“Oh? You have something better to do?”

“I’d like to come, but I don’t have…I didn’t bring…”

“The attire tomorrow is casual. This is Middlewood, not Hollywood. No one dresses up here. Even that old suit you’re wearing would be adequate.”

What did she mean by “that old suit”? Who made her the fashion police? “I guess I can dig something up,” Rachel said, wanting to tell this woman where she and her attitude could go.

“Good. Now that you and I understand each other, I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Oh, we’ll get along, Rachel thought. As long as I stay out of your way and you stay out of mine. Except that staying out of each other’s way would be impossible now that they would be working together.

Correction. Rachel would be working for her. That, Erika had made clear.

Rachel was still angry when she handed the completed paperwork to Doreen.

“You’ve met Erika,” the older woman said, grimacing.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Try not to let her get to you. She likes to think she runs this place, but there’s one thing about Adam you should know. At times he might seem like a pushover, but don’t let that fool you. No one tells him what to do.”

“What are you getting at, Doreen?”

“I’m saying that Erika is all bark and no bite.”

Maybe so, Rachel thought as she made her way back to Adam’s office, but until she knew exactly what kind of enemy she was dealing with, she would play it safe.

And Erika was an enemy. She was making Megan unhappy, and that alone was enough cause for Rachel to call out the National Guard.

Adam wasn’t in his office, and Rachel wasn’t sure if she should wait for him or go home. When Erika had told her that all matters concerning the job were to go through her, the message had been clear: stay away from Adam. Yet if Rachel didn’t wait for him, Adam might consider her irresponsible. She was in a no-win situation.

She looked at her watch. Good heavens, it was nearly five! The paperwork had taken longer than she’d thought. Well, that decided it. He’d said he wanted to meet in an hour, and an hour had long passed. She headed down the corridor, noting that all the windows had been shut. At the front door she stopped and groaned.

A little rain she could handle, but a person would need more than an umbrella in this weather. She would need a rowboat. Rachel had no choice but to wait it out.

To pass the time, she decided to check out the rink. She went back into the main corridor and found her way to the indoor passageway that led from the center to the arena.

She peered through a small oval window. Inside the arena all the lights were on, and she felt a twinge of disappointment. If she’d known it was open, she would have brought her skates.

Now that would have looked ridiculous, she thought, grinning. Who brought skates to an interview?

She opened the metal door and went inside. What was that noise? Whish, whish, clunk sounded over and over, a pattern in her ears. Curious, she walked over to the bleachers and sat down.

On the ice, Adam was swinging a hockey stick as though it were a weapon. He’d changed into sweatpants and a sleeveless jersey. Tied by its arms around his waist, a sweatshirt hung down like a backward apron. He was shooting pucks, one after the other, smashing them against the sideboards. After exhausting his supply of artillery, he would gather it up and start the process over again.

Rachel’s nurturing instinct switched on like a light-bulb. Here was a man with a problem. Here was a man in pain.

She watched him steadily, mesmerized by the way he would glide across the ice and then suddenly stop to make his hit. Whish, whish, clunk. He wasn’t a bad skater, she decided. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the rink. The suit he’d worn earlier had concealed his muscular build, his massive shoulders, his athletic stance. She found herself wondering what it would be like dancing with him on the ice, being lifted into the air by those powerful arms, feeling his hands gripping her waist….

She pushed the thought aside. It was a ludicrous notion. Besides, hockey wasn’t figure skating. She doubted if Adam Wessler could adapt to a different set of rules—even if it was just about skating. He was a stickler, all right. She couldn’t believe he had hired her after she’d had the audacity to show up late for her interview! My, my, a full minute late—the minute she had spent outside the tall glass doors of the center, deliberating whether to turn around and run. It also irked her that he had mentioned her tardiness to Erika. The two of them deserved each other, with their picky ways.

Erika, picky? Another word came to mind, but Rachel was loath to repeat it. Just what was that woman’s problem? Erika had acted as though she considered Rachel a personal threat. As if Rachel could be interested in a man so…fastidious. Not in this lifetime, no matter how many scars he had.

Erika had it all wrong. She was the threat, not Rachel. As far as Rachel was concerned, anyone who even looked the wrong way at Megan was a threat, and Erika had done more than her share of glowering.

If Rachel honestly believed that Erika cared for Megan, she would back off, as painful as that would be. She would pack her bags and head back to Hartford. All she really wanted was to make sure her child had a mother watching over her, someone who had Megan’s best interest at heart. Adam was Megan’s legal father, and he had a right to choose whomever he wanted as his wife.

Unless his choice was wrong. Unless the woman he chose was planning to stash his daughter—Rachel’s daughter—away in some boarding school.

“No one tells him what to do,” Doreen had said.

Maybe no one could tell him what to do, but Erika was talking and he seemed to be listening. Maybe Adam and Erika deserved each other, but there was no way Rachel would allow that woman to have a say in Megan’s life.

As though sensing her presence, Adam looked up. She smiled and waved.

Chapter Three

Left foot over right, right foot over left. With a series of quick, forward crossovers, Adam stroked across the rink to the bleachers. He brought his feet together, bent his knees and swiveled to an abrupt stop. “Well, well, it’s Ms. Hart-well,” he said teasingly, passing through the gate. “Here to watch me skate?”

Not only was he pompous, he was downright presumptuous. “I didn’t know you were here when I came. And I wouldn’t describe what you were doing out there as skating. More like war maneuvers.”

He sat down next to her and pulled off his gloves. “If you didn’t come to see the heroic hockey hotshot in action, what brings you to the arena?”

“We were supposed to meet, but you weren’t in your office. I’m just passing time, waiting for the storm to let up before I go back to the inn.”

He tapped himself on the forehead. “The meeting. We were going to talk about the costume budget. Sorry about that. I had a family emergency earlier, and the meeting slipped my mind.”

Just like that, he abandoned his flamboyant facade, and her annoyance dissolved. “Is everything all right?” she asked, concerned.

He shrugged. “Just another episode in the continuing saga of the Wessler household. We’ll get over it.”

A strand of hair had fallen down his forehead, and she resisted the urge to smooth it away. “You should wear a helmet.”

He smiled with faint amusement. “Do you wear a helmet when you skate?”

He didn’t fool her with that lofty grin; his shell was just a veneer. “No, but I don’t have pucks getting shot at me from left and right.” She motioned to his jersey. “You should wear long sleeves. What if you fell? You’d make mincemeat of your skin.”

“The ice wouldn’t dare meet my face, and in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been doing all the shooting in this one-sided war.”

One-sided war? A revealing choice of words for someone who was supposed to be so private. He might not be as open as a clam in a cookout, but he was definitely loosening up. This was going to be easier than she’d thought. A man’s confidence was easy to win when he wasn’t wearing his armor.

And win his confidence was what she aimed to do. She and Adam were going to become friends. Good friends. It wasn’t enough for her to become part of Megan’s life; she had to embed herself in his, as well. How else could she persuade him that sending Megan away was no solution? How else could she get him to see that Erika wasn’t the kind of role model Megan needed?

“If it’s one-sided, who are you fighting?” she prompted.

“Why don’t you tell me? You seem to be full of advice.”

Might as well dive right in, she thought. They weren’t bosom buddies yet, but this was as good a time as any. “You’re fighting yourself. And you’re in a deadlock.”

“Do tell. Go on.”

“I don’t think it was the incident at home that started this particular war. It’s part of the reason, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more going on.”

“And I have a feeling you’re going to tell me exactly what that is.”

Got that right, Rachel thought. He asked, didn’t he? “I think you’re undecided about Megan going away to school.”

“My daughter’s been blabbing again. What else did she say?”

“Please don’t be angry with her. She just needed someone to talk to. Can’t you tell she’s upset?”

“She can talk to whomever she pleases,” he answered tightly, “but for your information, I’m fully aware of how my daughter feels. And, I might add, I’m not undecided.”

Rachel’s heart sank. “So it’s definite? You’re sending her away?”

“I’m not sure I like the way you said that. I’m not sending her away, I’m furthering her education.” He stared out onto the ice. “Ah, hell, it’s not just her education I’m thinking of. I guess you’ve already figured that out, too. Megan has problems, like that mouth of hers. She’s defiant and rebellious, and I’m convinced she sneaks out of the house every chance she gets. But no matter how much I threaten her, she denies it, and she won’t tell me who she hangs out with. Frankly, the whole thing scares me.”

Rachel remembered the scene in his office. She’d thought that Megan was a little ill-mannered, but that it wasn’t serious. Nothing the guidance of a loving mother wouldn’t fix. So far she hadn’t seen anything to warrant what Adam had told her, but she knew how deceptive appearances could be.

She recalled her dreams, and a wave of anxiety swept through her. Two years ago a voice had begun to call out to her, soft and wistful, while she slept. With a certainty she couldn’t explain, Rachel knew that something had happened. Worried that her daughter was in some kind of trouble, she contacted the adoption agency, but her request for information was denied. The records were to remain sealed.

Then, two months ago the dreams changed. The voice in the night was no longer faint and distant, but insistent and compelling, demanding to be heard. Determined to find her daughter, Rachel had hired a private investigator. She’d learned that two years ago—when the dreams first started—Megan’s adoptive mother had been killed in a car crash. But the P.I. hadn’t mentioned another crisis. Why had the dreams changed? The question wasn’t something she could ask Adam. Not only would she rouse his suspicions, he would think she was crazy.

“You think sending her away will solve her problems,” she stated, trying to keep her voice steady. “Do you really think this is what she needs?”

“What 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 to do with any of that.

As she watched Adam skate away, a voice popped into her head. At first she thought it was Megan’s, but then realized it was her own.

Puh-leeze!

“She won’t start,” Adam muttered, fiddling with the key in the ignition. “I think it’s the switch.”

“Why don’t you just buy a new car?” Megan piped up from the back seat. “What’s the use in having money if you don’t spend it?”

Over his shoulder Adam cast her a stony look. He wasn’t about to discuss his financial situation with his daughter, especially with Rachel sitting next to him in the car. “Ethel has a few miles left in her yet,” he said, although he doubted the truth in these words. If this relic didn’t have major surgery soon, it would probably disintegrate before his eyes.