The Wrong Man For Her
Kathryn Shay
Never say " Never again" Nick Logan had a gift for counseling teens who came from violent homes, but his job at the Rockford Crime Victims' Center wasn' t easy. Three years ago he and Madelyn Walsh had started out as coworkers and turned into lovers. Until he' d broken their engagement, convinced anyone else would make a better husband.Now Madelyn was " Dr." Walsh and the boss. Their new relationship was about rules–not romance–and she wasn' t about to let herself fall for him again. But time had taught Nick a thing or two about love–like not worrying too much about being wrong for her if she was right for him….GOING BACKWhat if you discovered that all you ever wanted were the things you left behind?
“I want to apologize for everything in the past. How I behaved.”
He cringed thinking of the last time he’d seen that pretty face of hers; she’d been crying. The last thing he’d heard her say in that husky voice of hers was “You’re leaving because I thought I was pregnant, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry Maddie,” he repeated.
“Apology accepted. In return, I’d like your promise you won’t bring up our past again. We need to concentrate on helping people here. Are you capable of that? Because if you’re not, this will never work.”
“I’m capable of that,” he returned, offended. “Obviously we’ve both gotten on with our lives.”
“Yes, we have. Best you remember that, Nick.”
“I will, Dr. Walsh.”
Although he wasn’t sure he could…because it was a lie.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to one of my favorite Harlequin Superromance novels. The idea for this story came to me in two parts. Every summer I work at a camp for kids with cancer. Our group meets to wait for the bus at the Crime Victims Resource Center in my hometown. The place is in a beautiful old brick building in the heart of the city, and houses organizations that help the victims of crimes. I thought, “What a great place this is. And there would be so many story lines for a novel.” I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind all year.
So when I finished Tell Me No Lies, which had Nick Logan, the hero’s brother, as a teen counselor, I promptly moved him to Rockford, New York, where his brother relocates, and gave Nick his own story. (No need to read his brother’s book first, though, as this one stands alone.)
The Rockford Crime Victims’ Center, is self-contained, not just a resource center, based on similar national operations. The people at these centers do wonderful work, helping those victimized by crime with the emotional, legal and practical ramifications. Because of my background as a teacher, and my love for helping kids, I made Nick the counselor for teenagers. Their situations are heartbreaking, but very real. And, of course, Nick is able to make great strides with them.
Nick also ends up working with Madelyn, a woman he broke up with three years before. And she’s now his boss. They hate working together, opening old wounds and resurrecting old feelings, but they’ll do anything for kids, which makes them immensely admirable to me. And yes, in the course of helping two troubled teens, Nick and Maddie find a way to overcome their differences and past hurts.
I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at kshay@rochester.rr.com or write to me at P.O. Box 24288, Rochester, NY 14624. And please visit my Web site and blog at www.kathrynshay.com, and the Superromance site at www.superauthors.com.
Kathryn Shay
The Wrong Man for Her
Kathryn Shay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathryn Shay is the author of twenty-one Harlequin Superromance books and seven novels and two novellas from the Berkley Publishing Group. She has won several awards. Among them are five Romantic Times BOOKreviews awards, three Holt Medallions, three Desert Quill awards and the Booksellers’ Best Award. A former high school teacher, she lives in upstate New York, where she sets many of her stories.
This book is for people all over the world
who dedicate their lives to helping others.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
NICK LOGAN SLAMMED on the brakes of his little red Mitsubishi Eclipse. Too late. The front end rammed into the back of the van ahead of him. Damn it! Though he’d only glanced away from the snarl of traffic to check the clock, it had been enough time for the long line of vehicles snaking down Route 390 to come to an abrupt halt.
“Great,” he said, unbuckling the seat belt. “Just great.” He vaulted out of the car and hurried to the driver’s side of the van.
Behind the wheel, a man in a business suit had a cell phone to his ear. The guy said something into the mouthpiece, closed the instrument and stuffed it into his pocket. He finally opened the door and got out. “What the hell did you do?”
Nick refrained from reminding him that using a cell phone while driving in New York State was illegal. “You stopped fast. I hit you. Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right.” The man’s face flushed. “I have an important meeting in thirty minutes, and I don’t have time for this.” He pointed to his van. “Or this.” He gestured toward the traffic around them.
“Me, either.” The last thing Nick needed was to be late for his first day on the job. Well, his first day back on the job. He glanced at the two bumpers. “I think I took the brunt of it.”
The man strode to the rear of the van and whistled. “That’s what you get for going foreign. And buying a sports car.”
“Whatever.” Nick hated lectures. “How do you want to handle this?”
“You’ll pay, of course.”
“I mean, do you want to call the police or take care of this privately?”
The driver raised his brows. “Can you afford the cash outlay? The cost of your repair is going to be steep, even if it’s just a crumpled bumper.”
“Probably not.” Nick wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d been up pacing the floor most of the night, worried about returning to his old job after a three-year absence. He whipped out his cell. “I’ll call.”
The guy surveyed the traffic. “They won’t be able to get through.”
“The cops’ll find us.” They always did. Nick knew that from personal experience.
“I…”
The wind picked up around them, along with a fine March drizzle. Oh, man, this just kept getting worse. As he punched in 9-1-1, Nick hoped like hell his lousy morning didn’t foreshadow the rest of the day. At least he’d given himself an hour-and-a-half leeway before his meeting with John. And his good friend would be an understanding boss. Or he used to be, anyway.
It took close to sixty minutes for the police to arrive, deal with the reports and for Nick to exchange information with the other driver. It took another twenty to get out of the heavy traffic, which had worsened because of the accident.
He pulled into the Rockford Crime Victims Center parking lot at nine. His need for haste kept him from succumbing to the memories that swamped him as he took in the old, brick building on Plymouth Avenue. He shoved aside any feelings of nostalgia at being back at the Center, where he’d spent several years doing a job that helped other people and made him feel worthwhile.
It was also the place where he’d fallen in love. Though at the time, he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Or to Maddie. At least she wasn’t working here anymore. He didn’t know where she was now, or even if she was still in Rockford. He’d made sure, whenever he’d seen John over the past three years, or exchanged e-mails with Bethany, the Center’s part-time minister, that they didn’t discuss Maddie. All he’d learned was that she’d left the RCVC shortly after he had and had gone on to graduate school. Today, there would only be painful reminders of her within those walls.
The entrance door was unlocked and the reception area was empty. Nick knew Francy Baker, the Center’s secretary, still worked here so perhaps the staff meeting had started. He headed to John’s office on the first floor to check where he was supposed to be.
The door was ajar.
Nick stopped short when he heard the voice that had haunted so many of his midnights say, “It’s past nine. Do you think he’s coming?”
Maddie. His Maddie? What the hell?
“Yes, of course.” John sounded weary. “Today’s his first day as the teen counselor. I’m surprised he’s late.”
Nick stepped into the entrance. “I’m here.”
When Maddie faced him, his pulse sped up. This was his first sight of her since that cold November night three years, four months and two weeks ago when he’d broken off their relationship. She’d changed. Her dark blond hair was shorter now, falling over her eyes in cute bangs. And she wasn’t smiling at him.
He tried to calm his thumping heart. “Hi, Madelyn. John. Sorry I’m late.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Car accident.”
“Hey, buddy.” Rising from a chair, John Kramer, the founder and head of the RCVC, circled around the desk. Without hesitation, he gave Nick a bear hug. When he drew back, he held Nick by the arms. John’s hair was grayer than the last time Nick had seen him, and he looked exhausted. “You okay? Anybody hurt?”
“Only the front of my car. At least it’s still drivable.” He glanced at Maddie, then dropped into a chair when she did the same. John went back to his desk. “What’s going on?” Nick asked. “Why are you here, Maddie? I was under the impression you left the Center a few years ago.”
John sat forward. “Nick, some things have happened you need to know about. Things that have brought Maddie back to the RCVC.”
“What?”
“Lucy had a heart attack six weeks ago.”
Nick recoiled. “Oh, no. H-how is she?”
“Recovered, miraculously. I took the month off to be with her.”
“I see.” Relief came quickly and, on the heels of it, a glimmer of understanding. “So Maddie filled in for you?”
“In a sense.” He cleared his throat. “My wife’s illness shocked me into admitting some things. Ever since my daughter died, I’ve devoted my entire life to this place and neglected other important aspects. It’s time to focus on them now.”
“Well, that’s good. I told you before you needed to slow down.”
Something wasn’t right here, though. He and John had kept in touch since he’d left the Center and it was unusual for them to go six weeks without talking. Of course, Nick had spent the past few months rearranging his life to move back up to Rockford. Still, given how close he was to the Kramers, he was surprised John hadn’t told him about something this serious. “Why didn’t you call me about Lucy? I could have come up early to help at the Center. Or to support you two, at least.”
John glanced at Maddie. “I was afraid if you knew my circumstances you wouldn’t accept the job.”
“Why? Because you won’t be running the place?”
“Yes, though I’ll be here part-time. And will still do your evaluations. But I’m no longer in charge.”
“I don’t understand. Won’t the new administrator…” His words trailed off as awareness dawned. He looked to Maddie, whose stricken face confirmed his suspicions. “You’re the new administrator of the Center.”
“Yes, I am. I took over for John a month ago and I’m staying on to run it.”
“Permanently?”
“Yes.”
Nick gripped the chair. It took him several seconds to rein in his resentment at being duped—by both of them. He struggled to control his anger only because John didn’t need a tirade now. Choosing his words carefully, he addressed his friend and mentor. “I’d like to speak to Madelyn alone, if you don’t mind.”
“This isn’t her fault, Nick. I made the decision to keep you in the dark. As I said, I was afraid you wouldn’t come back if you knew Maddie was in charge.”
“It’s okay, John.” Maddie’s voice was calm. Of course, she’d had time to adjust to this very bad idea. “I’d like to talk to Nick, too. Alone.”
Sighing, John stood. “All right. But if anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Meanwhile I’ll go to the staff meeting and tell everybody you’ll be along shortly.”
When John circled around the desk, Nick rose, too, and grasped his arm. Ignoring the hurt caused by the fact that the Kramers had shut him out, he said, “Don’t worry about this, John. Just take care of Lucy.”
After John left, Nick turned and anchored his hands on the back of the chair. “Surely you must know this can never work.”
Her amber eyes flared, making them look like hot brandy. “No, I don’t know that. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I didn’t think we could do this.”
“Why the hell did you take it?”
“For the same reason you just assured John everything would work out. He’s lost too much in his life and now he has a personal crisis. We have to help out.”
“Madelyn, you can’t want to work with me.”
“Of course I don’t!” She slapped her pad down on the desk. “We might as well get everything out in the open. I never would have hired you back if I’d been in charge when John offered you the job. But that would have been a real loss to the Center, since you work magic with kids. It’s right for you to be here, so we’ll have to make the best of the fact that we have an unpleasant past together.”
His grip tightened on the chair. Her compliment didn’t ease his anger. “It is not acceptable that I wasn’t told about Lucy’s attack or that you’d be running the Center!”
She just stared at him. He could see the strain around her mouth and the tension in her jaw, but she held her ground.
“Damn it,” he said, “what am I supposed to do now?”
“Stay. For the Center’s sake and John’s.”
“And if I do?” He practically spat the words out. “What about us?”
“There is no us, any longer. Right now, we have to think about the victims we can help and what we can do for the Kramers. They were like parents to both of us. We owe them a lot.”
The mention of the role the Kramers had played in Nick’s life diluted some of his rage. Okay, so he should stay at the Center. Hell, he wanted to. But, man, he hadn’t signed on for this. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Yet, did he really have a choice? “I guess I can give it a shot.”
“Fine.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “The staff is probably finished with doughnuts and coffee. We should get down there.”
“Wait a second, Maddie.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Please, don’t call me that.”
“What?”
“Maddie.”
“Why?”
She raised an eyebrow, and he remembered that only he, Beth and John had ever used the nickname. For some reason, her admonition ticked him off.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Would you prefer Dr. Walsh?”
“Madelyn is fine.” Without saying more, she turned and headed out the door.
Rattled by the events of the morning, he followed her. Holy hell, could things get any worse?
UNDER THE conference room table, Madelyn gripped her pen and tried to take surreptitious deep breaths. Her voice was even when she said, “Hi, everyone. Sorry we’re late.”
She nodded to Nick, who’d casually sat down in an unoccupied seat at the other end of table, as if he was merely some new employee. Her pounding heart told her differently. It didn’t help that he looked better than ever in his navy sports coat, silk T-shirt and khaki pants; his dark hair fell boyishly over his navy blue eyes. But she’d be damned if she’d reveal her personal reaction to him.
“Some of you, of course, will remember Nick. Those of you who don’t, this is Nick Logan. He’s a psychotherapist, with an undergrad degree in social work and a masters in psychology, specializing in teenagers. He worked at the RCVC for six years then left for a while. He’s back now and is heading up our new teen division. Hiring him was John’s last formal act as director.” She gave everyone a forced smile. “Let’s start today by introducing ourselves. Those of you who don’t know Nick can fill him in on what you do here.”
At her left, John waved. “Hey, there. Glad you’re back, Nick. It means a lot to me.”
“It’s good to be here.” Nobody else would know from his tone of voice, but a little muscle leaped in his jaw telling Madelyn he was anything but happy.
“I’m in-and-out, periodically, and I’m still writing the grants,” John continued. “I guess I couldn’t quit altogether.”
“You have a lot invested.” Madelyn smiled affectionately at John. “I’m thankful for whatever time you can give us.”
She nodded to the next person. Francy greeted Nick and welcomed him back, as did Abe Carpenter and Deanna Gomez, the counselors for adults. Madelyn knew that both Abe and Deanna liked and respected Nick.
“Hi, Nick. I’m Reid Taylor. I came a few months after you left. I’m a social worker and in charge of the new hotline. I also head the education division. I’m sure we’ll be working together on school programs.”
On Reid’s left, Connor Worthington absently straightened his tie. Classically handsome with dark blond hair and somewhat cold gray eyes, he introduced himself as the lawyer on board.
Nick studied the other man. “We have full-time legal help now?”
Connor said no more, just nodded, so Madelyn explained. “The New York State Bar Association voted to give specially selected organizations like ours a grant for legal aid. Connor’s been with us for six months. We also have a lawyer who helps us out pro bono, but since she’s a volunteer she doesn’t make many staff meetings.”
Madelyn nodded to Emma Jones to continue the introductions. “Hello, Nick. I don’t know if you remember me. I started volunteering a few weeks before you left and am now coordinating all the Center’s volunteers. Welcome back.” She gave him a brief rundown on the people at the RCVC who donated their time to do everything from office work, to court accompaniment, to child care when victims went to their myriad appointments.
“Our police rep isn’t able to be here today.” Madelyn finished up with, “And neither is Bethany Hunter. Her son is ill. You remember her, of course.”
Their part-time minister who oversaw all faith-based initiatives was also Madelyn’s best friend, even though Beth had maintained contact with Nick after he left town. The fact that her calming presence wouldn’t be around today had worried Madelyn till dawn, when she’d finally given up on sleep and come here.
Madelyn gestured to Joe, a paramedic who worked at the Center two days a week. “Logan,” Joe said curtly. “Never expected to see you back here.”
There was a brief, uncomfortable moment of silence. Joe’s tone of voice could not be misinterpreted. Only Madelyn, John and Nick knew the reason for his hostility.
Nick’s gaze zeroed in on Joe, and a bit of the old street kid Nick used to be surfaced from beneath the sophisticated exterior. “I bet you didn’t. But the chance to head a newly funded teen division was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He stared hard at Joe. “Still advising on insurance forms and medical issues?”
“Yep. I also teach self-defense classes a couple times a week.”
Madelyn jumped in. “I guess that’s it for introductions. Nick, you can meet the people who aren’t here and catch up on what they do later. You and I will have more time to talk after the meeting.” She glanced at her agenda, though she knew it by heart. “I’ve tried to keep this short.” She held up a blue paper. “Schedules are due today by three. Leave them with Francy. If you have any questions, see me. I’ll be in my office until five forty-five, except for a meeting with the mayor at eleven.”
Nick frowned down at the paper, then up at her. “What schedules?”
“Since our hours vary according to need, counseling sessions, court visits, et cetera, on Monday I get a schedule of what everyone will be doing that week.”
He tossed the paper aside. “I won’t be able to fill this out.”
“Why?”
“I don’t meet with the kids until Wednesday. I won’t know their requirements until then, which will determine what I do. And I’ll be off-site a lot when I go to their schools.”
“You’ll have to run all that by me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s protocol.” She winced at the edge in her voice and the vagueness of the comment. “Look, I have to know where everyone is so I can find people if they’re needed by clients. And when emergencies arise.”
Irritation flared in his face. “I see. Anything else new?”
A few of the staff snickered.
“What?”
Francy shook her head. “The reactions are in reference to the luncheon support group we have every Friday.”
“For the clients?”
“No, for the staff.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” John said, “she isn’t. It’s something I wholly endorse. The National Crime Prevention Bureau recommends personal reflection and support groups for all employees who work at centers like this.”
Nick ran a hand though his dark hair, disheveling it. “Is participation optional?”
“No.”
“Any other policies I should know about?”
Maddie raised her chin. “Some. But we don’t need to review them as a group, since you’re the only newbie. As I said, I’ll fill you in at the end of the meeting. Today’s agenda includes updates on the grant for a part-time counselor for the teen support group, some new reporting forms from the state and the week-long training at the New York State Victims Academy in Buffalo this summer. We also need to talk about the plans for National Crime Victims’ Rights Week coming up in April.” During which John will be honored in Washington, D.C., with the Award for Professional Innovation in Victim Services. “Want to start with that, Francy, since this year’s so special for us?”
Nick held up his hand. “Wait a second. A part-time counselor for my kids?”
“Yes. We don’t run any groups of six or more with one counselor anymore.”
“I work alone.”
“Not in the group sessions. Of course you’ll meet individually with each kid by yourself, but policy dictates you’ll have someone else in the group with you.” Madelyn could tell he wasn’t happy, so she tried to be professional. “Nick, think about it. With someone else assisting you, you’ll have more face time with the kids and more help with the paperwork. And everyone knows the smaller the ratio of kids to adults, the better the sessions go.”
He stared at her, his jaw clenched. When he didn’t say anything more, she told Francy to begin. As the secretary handed out a memo on the National Crime Victims’ Rights Week, Madelyn glanced at the clock. She kept these meetings to an hour, if possible. Only forty-five minutes to go, then she’d have to deal with Nick’s objections to her policies, to her style of management. To her.
So be it. She’d faced worse. Like climbing out of the morass of poverty all by herself. Like recovering from her own victimization. Like getting over Nick Logan when he dumped her three years ago. She’d handle his return to the Center with equal efficiency and success.
Even if it killed her.
“WOULD YOU LIKE a break before we meet?” Maddie’s tone was clipped, giving Nick an indication of how their private meeting was going to unfold. They were the only ones left in the conference room.
“No, thanks. I have a lot to do before my first session with the kids.”
Folding her arms over her chest, she faced him squarely. “Which you will run by me.”
Okay, so he’d make the first move. He stood, walked down to her end and took an adjacent chair. “Maddie…Madelyn, what’s going on? It sounds like I have to tell you everything I plan to do.”
“You have a problem with running things by me?”
“The problem is, I was hired to head the teen division.”
“I’m your boss, Nick.”
“Technically. But we both know I was brought here unaware of that fact.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “No, let me finish. You’re right, I owe it to John to stay. I want to help him out. And truthfully, this is an ideal job for me. But John assured me I’d be given carte blanche here.”
“John assured me you weren’t going to fly solo on this.”
“Are you assigning another counselor to my group because you don’t trust me? Because our counseling styles are different?”
“No, I meant it when I said I think it’s better for the kids. The other counselors agree.” She studied him. “You have a tough group there, Nick. I’ve already met with each of them. You’ll need all the help you can get.”
“I’ve read their files.” He planned to have them memorized by the time he met with the kids.
“Then you know what’s ahead of you.”
“Who’s the other counselor?”
“I’m not sure. I have three people interested, but I have to get the funding before I can hire someone. I’m expecting confirmation today.”
“Maybe it won’t come through,” he said almost to himself.
“I hope it does. Don’t forget, you’ll be doing more than counseling. You’ve got to oversee the kids’ legal situations, restitution and a whole slew of other details.”
“There are people working here who take care of those areas.”
“But you have to determine what those people need to do and make sure that everything is being done. Your job involves a lot of juggling.”
He shook his head.
She stared at him. “You’re going to have to learn to play nice with others, Nick. No matter how much you need to keep that personal shield around you.”
He hadn’t expected a dig so soon, especially after she’d asked him to stay. “Is that what this is all about, our former relationship?”
“No.” Her face reddened. “And don’t ever accuse me of that again.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“We aren’t arguing. You’ll have another counselor in the group with you, period. And I’m entitled to know your plans for the kids, what you’re doing, how it’s going.”
“You want to know, or approve my plans?”
She sighed heavily. “I’m sure there won’t be much disagreement between us about those things. We do have different styles, as you say, but I never opposed yours when we worked together before. I don’t know why you think I would now.”
Leaning back in the chair, he tried to appear relaxed and confident. “All right. I’ll agree to that. But I’m not coming to the staff support group.” Surely she’d let him off this one. She knew how hard it was for him to open up, damn it. He’d only recently been able to talk about his feelings with his brother Dan and sister-in-law, Tessa. His close relationship with them was one of the reasons he’d come to Rockford when they’d decided to relocate here.
“You have no choice in that, either.”
“It’s not my thing, Maddie.”
“If you’ve read the psychology journals lately you know that having a staff support group prevents burnout and alleviates stress. I’m not flying by the seat of my pants on this, Nick. And for the record, I’m well aware of your personality. This, however, is nonnegotiable.” She drew in a breath and seemed to collect herself. “You can pass on the personal stuff if you have to.”
“Personal stuff?”
“Each week we share a professional success and challenge and a personal success and challenge.”
“Oh, great.”
“It is great. After the first few meetings, the staff voted unanimously to keep the sessions going.”
He stared at her.
“And I provide lunch. Sometimes I even cook.”
“That’s a switch. When we were together, you could barely boil water. I cooked for you all the time.”
“I take cooking classes. And please don’t refer to our personal relationship.”
“Why? Your subtext is referring to it all the time.” When she didn’t respond, he watched her. “How are you, really?”
Her intense gaze never wavered from his. “I’m good, Nick, really good.” She stood. “I’ll show you your office.” She gestured around the room. “This is where you’ll hold your support groups.”
Nick studied the formal space with its dark cherry paneling and furniture. “Unacceptable.”
She sighed, exasperated. “Why?”
“I can’t hold a support group here for kids. It has no teen atmosphere.”
Her eyes sparked with interest this time.
“We need a place to call ours. Teen-friendly furniture, posters on the wall, books and materials spread around. I’ll also need a fridge for snacks, personal journals for each kid, arts and crafts materials.”
“Sounds like you have things all planned out.”
“As you said, I know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, of course you do.”
“Is my office big enough to turn into a group room?”
She thought for a minute. “We can do better than that. Come on, I’ll show you a storage area that you can use. It’ll need some work, though it does have big windows.”
“Thanks. For giving in on this.”
“I’m not giving in. I never had any intention of blocking good ideas. I will not, however, let you steamroll me.”
“Of course you won’t.”
She started to gather her papers.
“I’d like to say one more thing.”
“What?”
“I, um, want to apologize for everything that happened in the past. How I behaved.” He cringed, thinking of the last time he’d seen that pretty face of hers; it had been awash with tears. The last thing he’d heard that husky voice say was, You’re leaving because I thought I was pregnant, aren’t you? “I’m sorry, Maddie.”
“Apology accepted. In return, I’d like your promise not to bring up our past again. We need to concentrate on helping people here. Are you capable of doing that? Because if you’re not, this will never work.”
For some reason, he felt offended. “I’m capable of doing that. Obviously, we’ve both gone on with our lives.”
“Yes, we have. Best you remember that, Nick.”
“I will, Dr. Walsh.”
CHAPTER TWO
“WATCH OUT THERE, beautiful, you’re up damn high.”
Tessa smiled down at Nick from the ladder, which allowed her to reach the twelve-foot ceiling of his newly designated group session room.
“Because you’re afraid of heights, doesn’t mean everyone is.” Tessa giggled at his phobia. It was good to see his sister-in-law happy after the trouble she and his brother had last summer. A man from her past had stalked her and ended up dead. The scandal almost destroyed their marriage. “Anyway, it makes you human.”
“Oh, I’m all too human.” He tapped the side of the paint can. “You sure about this color?”
“The kids will like it. Blue is soothing, makes people more relaxed. Its deep shade won’t be too prissy for teenagers.” She scanned the area she’d already done. “The four windows are great and there’s enough room for the kids to sprawl out. But maybe we could have waited for them to pick out the color.”
“No, I’ll let them choose what stuff to put up on the walls. I want them to feel welcome here at the first session. Lucky me that you had today off and could help paint.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m expecting the furniture tonight, so we’d better get going.”
Roller in hand, he began to slather paint on the parts of the wall he could reach, while Tessa cut in from the top. They made small talk as they worked. “Everything going well at the Villa?” he asked.
Tessa had taken a job as a librarian at a local teen detention center. Much like him, she worked well with troubled kids because she’d been one herself.
“Couldn’t be better. I got a grant from the New York State Arts Foundation for more books and am itching to spend it.”
“I’d be interested in what you’re ordering. I was hoping to have some teen lit in here.”
“I could do some research into adolescent literature about victimization.” She cocked her head. “One author I know of is David Pelzer.”
“Yeah, his books are gruesome enough to snag the kids’ attention.” Pelzer had been abused by his mother for years and vividly recounted his experiences in his writing.
“He’s coming to town for Crime Victims’ Rights Week.”
“Really?” Nick said. “Nobody told me about it. Then again, nobody told me about a lot of things.”
“The Villa clients are going. Your kids probably can, too.”
From the corner, soft rock drifted out from the CD player as they continued their task.
“What did you mean, nobody told you about a lot of things?” Tessa asked.
He hesitated. “Madelyn’s back at the Center.”
Tessa stopped painting and looked down at him. “What?”
When she and Dan had put pressure on him to move to Rockford, Nick had confessed to them what had happened between him and Maddie. God, he hated to talk about his failures, even with people who loved him.
He also explained about John and Lucy.
“I’m so sorry. I know how close you are to them. Is Lucy all right?”
“Yes, but John’s easing off on his work here because of her.”
“That must have been a hard decision for him to make.”
Tessa was right about that. John’s daughter, Zoe, had been beaten and raped, then shot to death twenty years ago. The Kramer family had practically fallen apart and there’d been no organizations to help them out. After they’d begun to heal, John had vowed to do something in Zoe’s memory for other crime victims’ families, as well as for the victims themselves.
Nick smiled, proud of the fact that, two decades later, the Kramer Group, which eventually became the Rockford Crime Victims Center, was one of the most renowned victim assistance organizations in the state.
“It gets worse, Tessa.”
“How?”
“Madelyn’s my boss.”
This time, she climbed down from the ladder. “Oh, Nick. How on earth is that going to work?”
“It has to. John needs us both and you know how I feel about abandoning people.”
“I guess.” Her expression was trouble. “How is Madelyn?”
“Distant.” He rolled harder, faster. “In charge!”
“Damn. We wanted you to come to Rockford with us, but working with her won’t be easy.”
“I can’t believe it.” He set the roller down and whipped off his overshirt, revealing a ragged University of Rockford T-shirt. “She wants to check everything I do.”
“Well, you can’t blame her, if she runs the place now.” Tessa picked up her bottle of water and sipped from it. She looked about twenty in her jeans, T-shirt and curly hair, though she was thirty-eight, his age.
“Tell me about it. Her new policy also dictates I work with another counselor in the support group. I’m trying to block that.”
Tessa’s gaze focused on him.
“What?”
“Do you think that’s best for the kids?”
He crossed to the fridge Maddie had gotten for him yesterday afternoon and retrieved a bottle of soda. “You think I’m being unreasonable?”
Tessa dropped to the floor and patted the space beside her. “Sit.” When he joined her, she said, “Two people to help eight clients? You can play off each other’s observations. Talk things over. Seems ideal to me.”
“That’s what Maddie said.” He peeled back the label on the bottle with his thumbnail. “I hope my judgment hasn’t clouded by my relationship with her.”
“Your past relationship.”
“What’d I say?”
Tessa leaned against the ladder. “Nick, are you certain you’re over Madelyn? Because if you’re not, things could get really rough with you working here.”
“Excuse me.”
Nick and Tessa glanced to the open doorway where Maddie now stood. Any fleeting hope he might have had that she hadn’t overheard Tessa’s comment was squashed by the tightness in her jaw and the squint around her eyes. She was dressed in a dark pink workout suit that looked great with her coloring. She hadn’t been wearing the casual clothes this morning.
Nick rolled to his feet. “Hi, Maddie.”
He pulled Tessa up. Maddie’s eyes focused on their clasped hands.
“Madelyn Walsh, this is Tessa Logan. My brother’s wife.”
A polite smile. The women shook hands. “Hi, Tessa.”
There was no I’ve heard about you. Nick talked to me about contacting you, reuniting with his family. I urged him to do it.
Instead, Maddie gestured to the room. “Looks terrific in here. I like the color.”
Tessa jabbed his ribs. “See, I told you.”
“It’s nice of you to come to help, Tessa. I offered to get some volunteers in to do this for him, but he wanted to do it by himself. His usual M.O.”
“He isn’t painting alone. My family will be here to pitch in—” she checked her watch “—anytime. I hope you get to meet them.”
“I’m sorry, I probably won’t. I’m leaving soon. I have a yoga class at six.” She tugged on her top’s drawstring. “Hence the suit.”
She was taking yoga? And cooking classes?
“Yoga?” Tessa’s face brightened. “I’ve been planning to find a studio. Would you recommend yours?”
“Yes. It’s the best yoga center in Rockford. I’ll pick up a brochure for you and give it to Nick.” To him, she said, “I stopped in to tell you that I have bad news. The funding for a second counselor to help you run the group was denied. We’ve got a call into Albany, where the money was supposed to come from, but John doesn’t hold out much hope.”
Tessa and Nick exchanged glances.
“That’s unfortunate. Tessa was just telling me what a good idea it was.”
“Yes, I heard Tessa and you talking.”
Nick shifted uncomfortably.
“In any case, I’m not giving up. We’ll have someone by tomorrow afternoon even if I have to assign another staff member.”
“Seems to me everybody’s already overextended.”
“Schedules are full, yes. I’ll keep you informed.” She pointed to the walls. “Again, this looks great. Tessa, nice to meet you.”
Maddie had just started away when two whirlwinds burst through the door. They collided with her, and she stumbled backward. Nick grabbed her by the arms.
Amidst the screeches of his nieces’—“Sorry…” and “Oh, no…” and his brother’s deep, “Girls…uh-oh…”—Nick was aware of only one thing.
Maddie close to him again. Her upper arms were solid, supple. The shampoo she used smelled like lilacs. Her hair brushed his cheek, its texture still silky.
She recovered before he did. Wrenching out of his grasp, she righted herself.
“I’m sorry.” Dan drew one of his daughters close. “My kids were anxious to see their uncle. This is Sara.” He patted the other’s head. “And this is Molly.”
“Hello. I’m Madelyn Walsh.”
Dan’s eyebrows skyrocketed and he threw Nick a questioning look. Nick shrugged.
“Did we hurt you?” Molly asked.
“Um…no, no, I’m fine.”
Nick cleared his throat. “Sorry. The girls are overexuberant.”
Breaking away from Dan, Sara approached Maddie and stood before her. “Sorry, ma’am.”
She smiled at his niece, a genuine, pure-Maddie smile that had often been directed at him in the past. Nick was mesmerized by it. “Don’t worry, honey, no harm done.”
Not to her, maybe. After holding her, even briefly, Nick knew he would spend another night tearing the covers off the bed. Any physical contact with this woman was going to ruin his peace of mind.
Tessa came forward. “Madelyn, this is my husband, Dan.”
“Nice to meet you.” Maddie nodded to his family. “All of you.” She’d never met them before because Nick had been estranged from Dan when he and Maddie were together.
Dan kept a poker face, but Nick could guess what he was thinking. “You, too.”
“Nice to bump into you,” Molly said, chuckling.
Maddie gave a short laugh and the tension eased. “If you’ll excuse me. Nick, I’ll get back to you on the grant.”
Nick watched her leave. When he turned around, he caught sight of Dan’s face. “What?” he asked.
THE YOGA INSTRUCTOR, Hillary, sat in the middle of the wooden floor in lotus position. Early March meant the days turned dark at 6:00 p.m., and the inside of the cavernous loft of Open Heart Yoga was in shadows. “Keep your eyes closed,” Hillary said softly, “chin down, sternum up, tailbone settling into the floor or bolster.”
As Madelyn had only taken classes for two years, she was elevated on a cushion, her legs merely crossed, not sliding easily into a complete lotus. Beside her, Bethany Hunter, who’d been at this since she was twenty, was in perfect harmony with the instructor.
Blank your mind. Don’t think. Concentrate on the light. Breathe in. Out.
Still, no harmony. Damn it! Damn him!
“Madelyn, ease the tension in your shoulders. Get rid of that frown.”
Chastised by the instructor, Madelyn tried like hell to relax.
For an hour and a half.
It never happened.
When the final namaste came, Madelyn’s stomach was still in knots.
“That felt terrific,” Beth said, stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes.
“Yeah, terrific.”
Her friend nodded to the huge statue on the front altar. “Buddha will smite you for lying in his sanctuary.”
“I know somebody else he can smite instead.”
Beth stood. She was a tall, graceful woman with a slender body and a core of inner strength. “Come on, let’s put our props away and go get juice.”
When they were settled into a corner of the juice bar downstairs, Beth sipped her cranberry drink. “It didn’t go so well with Nick?”
“On how many levels do you want to hear about it?”
“All of them.” She squeezed Madelyn’s hand. “I wish I’d been at work the last two days.”
“You had your own problems, Beth.” She took a swig of her drink, enjoying the tart pineapple flavor. “It was hard to see him.”
“I’ll bet that’s an understatement. How’d he react to the news about Lucy? And you?”
“He was shocked.” She tried hard not to feel sorry for him. She had to stifle all emotional involvement with this man, or the floodgates would open.
“Still think you can work with him?” When John had asked her to come back and then told her Nick was also returning, she and Beth had discussed the issue at length. Beth had advised against it.
“Yep. I can. For John and for the Center.”
“Tell me about the meeting.”
“Right off the bat, he objected to the schedule sheets. Then he balked at the idea of running his program by me.”
“Nick doesn’t deal well with authority.” Beth smiled. “It’s one of the reasons he understands kids so well.”
“He tried to talk me out of a second counselor for his group sessions and absolutely refuses to participate in the staff support group.”
“I warned you about the last thing. But objecting to the additional counselor is bad judgment. And I’m kind of surprised. He usually sees what’s best for kids.”
“Well, we ambushed the hell out of him with my being his boss.”
To be fair, Madelyn also told Beth about the space he’d set up for the teens. However, she didn’t mention that while he’d been painting the room, he’d been talking to his lovely sister-in-law about her or that, when his nieces had unbalanced Madelyn, Nick had grabbed on to her. That slight touch had brought back so many associations. At that moment, she’d realized she couldn’t afford to get anywhere near him physically. She’d have to keep her distance—a lot like an alcoholic had to stay away from booze.
“Always the innovator. That’s the Nick Logan I know and love.”
Madelyn clenched her hands in her lap.
Insightful, and closer to Madelyn than any other human being, Beth watched her friend for a minute. “Maddie, I know you hated that I talked to him after he left you and had an e-mail correspondence with him, but A, I’m a minister and I can’t turn away people in need. And B, he suffered. Almost as much as you did.”
Madelyn drew in a breath that would make Hillary proud and released it slowly. “I realize all that. And I’m glad you were there for him. He got cold feet and ditched me but I was still in love with him.”
“He ditched you because he was in love with you, too. In his words, he ‘couldn’t handle how his life had begun to revolve around you.’”
She shook her head. “You don’t leave someone because you love them too much.” She arched a brow. “And I bet he never used the L-word to you. I know he didn’t to me. It’s not in his vocabulary.” Of course, Madelyn had held back that particular declaration, too.
A silence. “Isn’t that a little unfair? You know what caused his commitment issues.” Beth hesitated. “You knew it when you got involved with him.”
After Daniel Logan Sr. had embezzled a half million dollars out of the bank he worked at and gone to jail for it, Nick had rebelled. Because she couldn’t handle him, his mother had kicked Nick out of her house when he was sixteen. A “tough love” kind of thing that had backfired in ways Claire Logan couldn’t have imagined.
Still what Nick had done to Maddie was unforgivable. “At some point, you have to stop blaming your past for your present insecurities and faults and take control of your life.”
Across the table, Beth gave her an indulgent smile. “You’re so strong, Maddie. Not everybody could overcome what you did.”
Madelyn shivered, remembering her absent father, her alcoholic mother and how she’d practically supported herself since she was eleven. For most of her early life, she’d been intimately acquainted with the word impoverished.
“Because you overcame such odds, you think everybody else can, too.”
“Maybe. But, Beth, he’s a psychotherapist, he should be able to figure out a way to deal with his personal issues.”
Beth laughed. “If that were true, I’d be able to forgive my ex for all the damage he’s done. I’m a minister, but truthfully, when he disappoints Parker, I want to kill the S.O.B.”
Madelyn loved Bethany like a sister and didn’t want to fight with her, especially over Nick. “Let’s stop talking about Nick. I can’t change the things that happened in the past. I can just try to work with him at the Center.”
“What are you going to do about the additional counselor?”
“No money for one. But I’m not going to let a little thing like that violate my new policy.”
“Can you assign Reid to help?”
“No. He’s taking a vacation—long overdue. There’s something going on in his family he won’t talk about, but I gather this time away is important.”
“John can’t do it.”
“No, it would be too much of a burden now.”
“I’d help out but I can’t afford any more time out of the house. Parker needs me there.”
“I wouldn’t let you anyway. You already put in more hours than the local ministerium pays you for.” Beth was a part-time pastor at a local church, and her part-time salary at the Center was footed by a group of inner-city churches. “How is Parker?”
“Better.” Beth scowled. “I’m so mad at his father. He canceled their plans on Sunday, which sent my son into a serious depression.”
“I’m mad at him, too.”
They chuckled, as if being angry at the men in their pasts would help.
Beth studied Madelyn with what Madelyn called her minister look. “You aren’t thinking about doing the counseling yourself, are you Maddie?”
She didn’t say anything.
“That would be a very bad decision.”
“I know.” Her throat tightened at the mere thought. “And I swear to God, I don’t want to work that closely with Nick.”
“We’ll find another way.”
“By three o’clock tomorrow?”
“Hey, God does some of Her best work on deadline.”
Madelyn laughed, and so did Beth. Once again, Madelyn was grateful to have this woman in her life.
She had a lot to be grateful for. Friends like Beth and John. A job she loved. Enough material things.
Hearing a thud from above where another yoga session had started, she vowed not to let Nick Logan ruin one more class, one more hour, one more minute of her good and happy life.
“WHAT ARE YOU still doing here?”
Nick turned to find John in the doorway of the newly painted group session room. “Is it that late?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“I wanted to finish up as much as I could tonight.” He scanned the area. “Not too shabby for one day’s work, is it?”
John wandered inside. “Who paid for these?” He swiped his hand over a beanbag chair, one of a set of four. “And the futon? And the director’s chairs?”
He missed the table and “kewl” lamps, as Nick’s nieces had called them.
“Everything was cheap. I got it all at the furniture warehouse outlet.”
“How much?”
“Two fifty.”
“Did Maddie approve the expense?”
“What? Without bloodletting? No, I paid for it myself so I didn’t have to open a vein.”
“I thought so.” John slouched down into a beanbag. “Ouch. Wow, I’m getting old.”
“Try the futon.”
When John was settled on the couch, he looked up at Nick. “You can’t spend your own money on this place.”
Though social work didn’t pay big bucks, Nick lived frugally and had saved some money. “I don’t have anybody else to spend it on, except maybe my nieces.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Nick stared down at the man who was more of a father to him than his own had been. A friend Nick had almost lost because of what he’d done to Maddie.
She’s like a daughter to me and Lucy. You’re like a son. What the hell are you doing to your lives?
Nick’s response had been so weak, so milquetoast, he’d been embarrassed by it. John, when she thought she was pregnant, I began to realize what I’d gotten myself into. I wouldn’t be any good at that kind of life. I’d be like Daniel. Claire was right, I have his genes. Maddie’s better off without me.
John had practically begged. Please, Nick, don’t do this.
“Where are you, son?”
“Thinking about the past.” He glanced up at the ceiling fan Dan had put in. “I…” Damn it, he had learned something in the last three years. “About how grateful I am that you didn’t write me off after what I did to her.”
“Never gonna happen.” The expression on John’s face was full of warmth and acceptance. “No matter how hard you try to alienate everybody who cares about you.”
Nick dropped down into a director’s chair opposite him. “John, I’ve agreed to stay on. But I hope Maddie doesn’t get hurt in the process.”
“She tells me she won’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have hired her back.” John smoothed his hand over the light wood arm of the futon. “She’s moved on, Nick. She had a steady guy in her life for almost a year.”
“Joe?” The macho paramedic who’d dated Maddie before Nick.
“No, somebody else. Somebody serious.”
Did the lights dim? “Who?”
“A nice guy. Professor at the University of Rockford where she did her doctoral work. Lucy and I spent some time with them.”
“Huh!” His stomach roiled. “Well, I’m glad for her.”
“You should be. He worshipped the ground she walked on.”
“You talk in the past tense. What happened?”
“He got a job at American University in D.C. before Maddie came back to the Center. He wanted her to go to Washington with him.”
Couldn’t be she cared about him enough if she’d passed on that. “Why didn’t she?”
“I’m not sure.”
John waited a beat. “What about you? Any women in your life?”
“No. There was someone, but…”
She was married. Still, his relationship with Katie Gardner had been comfortable and easy. Probably because there was no danger of commitment. She’d loved her husband, but he was absent and neglectful. They’d even separated a time or two, though they always got back together again.
“But what?” John asked.
Because he was embarrassed by the affair, Nick couldn’t tell his friend the truth. “It didn’t work out. End of story.”
“All right. But I’m here if you need to talk about it.”
“Sure.”
“And do me a favor? Be careful with Maddie. Don’t oppose her on everything.”
“I— You’re right. This has all been a shock to me. And I was blindsided by the changes around here.”
“They’re solid ones.”
“Maybe. I don’t know how I’m going to manage that support group thing. The thought of spilling my guts in front of people I don’t know well, especially my colleagues, makes me crazy.” He sighed. “And, yes, I do get the irony. I ask clients to do exactly that. It’s the old ‘physician heal thyself’ cliché.”
John chuckled. “You’re not alone. A lot of mental-health workers find opening up difficult. The first time I talked about Zoe and what her death did to mine and Lucy’s marriage, I broke down.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“So, young man, if I can put it out there, you can, too.” He stood. “Now grab your car keys.”
“Why? I want to make some informational posters to put up on the walls temporarily.”
“Not now. Our church members are still bringing us food every week and there’s a spaghetti dinner waiting as we speak. Lucy would hit the roof if she knew I’d left you working here. You’re coming home with me.”
“Like the prodigal son?”
His friend’s face sobered. “Nick, why do you continue to see yourself like that?”
“Like what?”
“You know.” He nodded to the door. “And in case you don’t, Lucy will fill you in while she stuffs you with pasta.”
CHAPTER THREE
NICK STARED at the eight young faces in the room and felt a surge of adrenaline rush though him. “Hi, everybody. Thanks for getting here on time.”
Some of the kids said hello. A couple watched him with suspicious eyes. A boy in a beanbag chair, which he’d dragged to a far corner, was reading the posters Nick had tacked onto the wall. Another, in a wheelchair, doodled in a notebook on his lap. A girl, who’d taken the futon, appeared to be text messaging on her cell phone.
The door behind him opened before he could continue, and Nick sighed. It must be the new counselor. Though Maddie hadn’t mentioned a name, she’d assured him someone would be here. This morning they’d had a row about his paying for the furniture and he hadn’t seen her since. He pasted on a phony smile and glanced over his shoulder.
“Hi, sorry I’m late.”
“Hi, Madelyn.” He cocked his head. “What do you mean, you’re late?”
“I’m your second counselor.”
Like hell. On Monday, he’d wondered how this situation could get any worse. Now he knew. He’d had a bad enough time being around her for the three days he’d been back at the Center. There was no way he was going to share counseling duties with her.
She smiled at the kids. “Hello, everyone.”
Nick was about to ask to speak to her in the hall when he noticed the expression on the face of one of the girls. She’d yet to take a seat and had been wandering around the room as if she was going to bolt. When she saw Maddie, the stiffness seemed to leave her body. “Dr. Walsh, hi.”
Maddie walked over to the girl. “Hi, Kara.” She sat in a director’s chair and Kara followed suit in one close by.
Nick gave them a weak smile. “Obviously, I’m surprised we have another counselor. But glad for the help. Welcome, Madelyn.”
She nodded.
Stretching his legs, Nick addressed the group. “So, here we are.” He pointed to the food he’d set out on a low table—chips, cookies and some fruit. “Help yourself to snacks first and there’s soda in the fridge by the door. I’ll give you a few minutes to get what you want before we start.”
When the kids began to mill about, he stood and crossed the room. Kara had gone to get a soda, so he took her chair and leaned in close to Maddie. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The red tunic and pants she wore darkened the color of her eyes. “Just what I said.”
“Maddie, no. This is a bad idea.”
“It’s the only idea.” Her jaw tightened. “Do you think I’d be here if it weren’t?”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“This isn’t the time to get into that, Nick.”
When he saw the kids returning to their seats, he stood. “We’ll talk later. I want some answers.” Back in their midst, he took a sip from the bottle of water he’d put by his chair. Its cool wetness didn’t soothe the heat in his throat. With a poise he didn’t feel, he started his intro. “What I’d like to do today is get to know you better and hopefully have you get to know each other some.” Actually, he’d memorized the contents of their folders and would only have to refer to the clipboard by his side in an emergency. “Then I’d like to talk about how our group will run. You all are going to decide much of how we’ll operate here.”
A snort from the corner. He glanced at the kid’s name tag. “What, Hector?”
“Real choices, dude, or phony ones like they give us in the group home?”
Hector Santos and his twin sister Carla had been placed in a teen shelter after their father had brutally beaten and killed their mother—in front of both sixteen-year-olds. The elder Santos had been put in jail, with no bail, and the kids were going to have to testify in court about what they’d seen. Meanwhile, they were headed to foster care.
“I hope I give you real choices. But if I don’t, you got the job of telling me I’m not living up to what I said I’d do.”
The kid shrugged.
“Remember, Hector—and all of you—I’m fully aware that you’re the victims of crimes, and not the perpetrators. Nor are you at-risk juvenile delinquents. This is your group. Together, we have to find the best ways to help you deal with any issues caused by your victimization.”
Most of the kids nodded or made eye contact at his acknowledgment of their status.
“Let’s start with introductions.” He patted his chest near the square that held his name. “I’m Nick Logan. I have a bachelor’s degree in social work and a masters in psychology, but more important, I’ve worked with teenagers extensively in the past.” He held up a sheet. “On here, along with other information, are the e-mail addresses of three kids from my last job who’ve agreed to tell you what kind of guy I am.”
That brought surprise to many of their faces.
“What do we call you?” A skinny boy with red hair that looked like he’d chopped it himself asked the question. J. J. Camp. Before his fifteenth birthday, J. J. Camp had fallen victim to a series of tragic incidents. His parents had been killed in a car accident a year ago and he’d gone to live with his aunt in the city. As the new kid on the block, and a gawky one to boot, tough inner-city school life had been miserable for him. He’d consistently been the brunt of bullying. Two of his taunters had been suspended for a month and sent to juvenile detention because, in one of their harassment incidents, J.J.’s arm had been broken. It was still in a cast. Nick suspected the bullying hadn’t ended there. One set of bullies had just been replaced by another.
“I hope you’ll call me good things, J.J.,” Nick joked.
“I mean, Dr. Logan, Mr. Logan, Nick?”
“Either of the last two. Though I’d prefer Nick.”
“What about you?” Hector’s sister Carla asked Maddie. The twins shared the same dark curly hair and big, almost-black eyes. “When we met that day we signed up, we called you Dr. Walsh.”
“That or Madelyn’s fine, Carla.” Maddie’s smile was forced. Too bad. If she’d let Nick know she’d be joining them, he and she could have discussed how she wanted to be addressed.
“Now that that’s settled, let me tell you about the schedule.” He was giving them time to acclimate before he asked them to introduce themselves. He held up the paper again. “The schedule for the group sessions is on here; we’ll meet in this room. I’m offering them Tuesday after school, Thursday nights and Saturday mornings.”
Hector shook his head. “I gotta work on Saturday.”
His sister said, “And I got softball practice most days at three.”
“That’s why there are three sessions. I’m trying to make this easy on you. You’re welcome to come to all of them, but I do want a firm commitment from you that you’ll attend at least two. This support group isn’t meant to be a drop-in thing.” Since they’d all agreed to come—either by choice or coercion from their guardians or parents—he expected their cooperation. “For individual counseling appointments, we can meet here at the Center, at your school if we can find some place inconspicuous or even at a coffee shop. I hear the Spot is still hopping in Rockford.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Maddie shift in her seat. One of the differences in their style was his informality. She played by the rules. In the past, he’d liked to tease her out of that box.
Kara leaned over and her light brown hair obscured her face as she whispered something to Maddie, who responded to her privately, then said aloud, “I won’t be doing any individual counseling with you. But I promise to be at all these group sessions. And as Nick told you, he’s very experienced.”
Nick rose and picked up one of the brand-new notebooks. “First off, I’m suggesting we write in these at each session. If the activity doesn’t work for us, we can stop, but I’d like to try this because it has worked with kids in the past. The entry today should be one you can share with us.”
Anne Nguyen raised her hand and Nick nodded for her to ask her question. A fourteen-year-old Asian girl, she’d been traumatized by a break-in at her house. Her father had been severely injured when he’d tried to stop the intruder, who’d been caught, tried and put behind bars. “What about other entries?”
“I thought we’d have several types.” He moved to the whiteboard he’d set up. “One will be a communication between you and us.” He wrote down, types of journals, then you, Nick and Madelyn. “Or you can choose one of us to read it. The second will be for teen eyes only.”
“Sounds like a song.” From his wheelchair, Tommy Danzer looked up for the first time. His curly blond hair fell over big and distrusting blue eyes. The victim of a drive-by shooting, the boy had a spinal cord injury and would never recover. He was only fifteen years old.
“Yeah, but don’t expect me to sing. I’d only do that to punish you.” Nick smiled. “Some entries you can record and plan to share at a later date.”
Slouched in a chair far away from the group, Nato Keyes called out, “Yo, man. I don’t do writing.” The young black boy had been assaulted on the street and his assailant was awaiting arraignment. In the intake notes, Madelyn had indicated his anger seemed to be seething inside him. Nick hoped to bring it to the surface.
Nick picked up a different notebook from the stack and brought it to Nato. “I happen to have a journal without lines.” He also knew from the intake interview Nato was an artist. “You can draw or doodle entries. But you have to discuss some of them.”
“No shit?”
“Speaking of that, I’d prefer we keep the language clean in here. Even if it’s not your or my style.” He hoped including himself would ease the caveat.
“What about language in the journals?” Hector asked.
Since she needed to be included, Nick looked to Maddie. She said, “Anything’s fine by me in the journal, but I’d prefer you didn’t read aloud language that might make somebody else uncomfortable.”
“Can you guys live with that?” Nick asked.
“What if we can’t?” Hector’s mutinous expression was one Nick was familiar with. When he was the boy’s age, he’d perfected it.
“Por favor, el hermano,” Carla said softly.
So Hector was here for his sister. She might be his Achilles’ heel and Nick’s entry into his life.
Hector shrugged. “Sí, bien.”
Nick made eye contact with everybody but Kara, who wouldn’t look at him. Her file stated that she’d been beaten up by some girls in the school parking lot, but Madelyn had commented in her folder that something about her story didn’t ring quite true. Counselors paid attention to gut instincts.
Maddie asked, “Kara, this okay with you?”
“I guess.”
“Shamika?” Nick addressed the one girl who hadn’t yet spoken and was still fiddling with her cell phone. Overweight, with cornrows gracing her dark head, she was quiet, reports said. Which might explain why she spent most of her time on the computer and had become the victim of an online predator. He’d ended up being a level-three sex offender and had taken her halfway across the country before he was apprehended. He was back in jail now, as Shamika was under seventeen, the legal age of consent in New York.
Her face was impassive. “Yeah, no worries.”
“First entry, then. Write down what you’d like to get out of this group. Why you’re here. Anything specific you might want to do. You can read all or parts of it today to us. Any portion can be marked private, which means neither Madelyn nor I will read it. But you’ve got to share at least one thing. Also, put in what snacks you want to have this week.” He glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes. Madelyn and I will write, too, of course. We’ll never ask you to do something we wouldn’t do.”
“That’s a switch,” J.J. said.
“Not for me. It’s the way I operate.” Nick passed around the books. “I hope you’ll come to see that.”
“What about you, Dr. Walsh?” Tommy asked. “You gonna do what you ask us to?”
“Yes. I fully agree with everything Nick has said.”
Hmm. Now that was a switch.
J.J. WROTE FURIOUSLY in his journal.
Duh!! Like hell this is gonna be our group. Adults always say crap they don’t mean, like those assholes at school. My aunt’s okay, even though she looks at me like I walked off some Martian space craft. This guy’ll probably be like the ones at school. We’ll play some freaking games for a while, then he’ll make us do whatever he wants. The chick, too. She seemed cool at the intake interview, but that didn’t mean anything.
J.J. glanced up and saw the other kids writing. He looked at the posters on the wall. They were printed from the computer. The first showed statistics on teen victimization. It read:
Teens are twice as likely as adults to become victims of crimes.
58 per thousand of 16-to 19-year-olds are victimized.
46 per thousand of 12-to 15-year-olds.
Revictimization is 80% for teens who’ve been victimized once.
Right on, man. Nobody knew the number of times he’d been stuffed into lockers. Knocked against the wall. Doused with soda or water or whatever the frigging jocks had handy. Cripes, a couple of girls had even gotten into the act. His arm hurt like hell today, though the doc said it was healing. He wished his father were still alive. He could have helped. He was such a great guy… Even his mother would have been there for him. Now they were in long, cold graves. Sometimes J.J. wished he’d been with them on that rainy night when they’d skidded into a guardrail. He’d never even had a chance to say goodbye.
When the hole inside him threatened to gobble him up, he went back to the journal.
Anyway, what do I want from this place? How about pizza and beer for snacks? How about somebody to believe me? How about other kids who don’t look at me like I’m a weirdo?
He felt his eyes well with the dreaded moisture. Damn it, why had he let his aunt convince him to come here?
Because he was afraid she’d turn on him if he didn’t. Because he couldn’t stand how much he hurt inside and couldn’t handle the anger that never seemed to go away. These people might not be able to help, but they couldn’t make his life worse.
It couldn’t get any worse.
MADELYN FINISHED her journal entry about what she wanted to happen in this group. It wasn’t much different from what Nick had proposed, though she would have preferred the kids refer to her by her formal title. And she wouldn’t have thought to meet with them at a coffee shop.
“Time’s up.” Nick’s voice was clear and strong and confident. It even made her feel safe, and she knew better than to buy into his coaxing ways. “Let’s share some of our thoughts. Anybody want to start?”
No takers.
Madelyn jumped in. “I will.” She read from her first page. “I’d like to decorate the journal covers next time with something that reflects our personalities. Who we are. And I think we should do some ice-breakers then, too, to get us warmed up to talking about our feelings. I hope everybody will participate because that’s the only way to help each other. However, my vote is for a pass system, where we don’t have to share if we don’t want to.”
“That’s chunk,” Nato said. Madelyn had recently learned that chunk indicated approval.
Hector added, “Sí, Señora.”
Madelyn smiled at them. “But, guys, I don’t think we should be able to pass all the time.”
“I agree with that.” She looked over to see Nick had gone to the whiteboard again and had written down what she’d suggested.
Madelyn held up her journal. “The rest is for my eyes only.” She’d written about how difficult it was to be here with Nick.
“Did you do that?” Kara asked. “Write private stuff?”
“Yes.” She angled her head at the girl. “Kara, you know, adults don’t have it all together. We have issues.”
Nick stared at Madelyn. “We mess things up. We make bad decisions.”
“I guess I know that,” Kara said.
“Let’s go on.” Nick scanned the kids. “One of you want to start?”
Again, Anne Nguyen raised her hand.
“You can just speak out, Anne,” Nick told her.
“I want this all to be private from our parents.”
Nick wrote privacy on the board, then set down the marker. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he leaned back on his heels. “I think your request is a key here. But I have to tell you some parameters. You can share feelings that you don’t want your parents to know about. But if either Madelyn or I sense you’re going to harm yourself or someone else, we can’t and won’t keep that private.”
“Will you tell Dr. Walsh what we talk about in private sessions?” Tommy asked.
“I’m going to ask for your permission for that,” Madelyn answered before Nick could. “I can help you better in these group sessions if I know what you and Nick talked about.”
Tommy’s expression was challenging. “You promise it won’t go further?”
“I do.” She looked at Nick.
He said, “You have my word.”
Madelyn struggled with that….
Maddie, please, I need to touch you, hold you. You have my word, I won’t hurt you, emotionally or physically….
“Madelyn, Carla asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re head of this place?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Can you keep that promise?”
“I haven’t broken one yet.” She shot a pointed look at Nick.
He cleared his throat. “It’s settled then, if no one else has an opinion on the privacy.”
Most of them nodded.
“Nato? You go next.”
The boy shrugged as if he didn’t care about any of this. “I want pretzels and Dr Pepper.”
The corners of Nick’s mouth turned up. “I’ll go grocery shopping. What else?”
The kid held his gaze unflinchingly. “I pass.”
“Hector?” Nick asked.
“Burritos and fried rice.”
“That might have to wait until a dinner gathering.”
As Maddie listened to everybody else, she wondered how Nick was going to go about reaching the boys who were showing signs of resistance. He was a skilled counselor, but some kids did fall through the cracks.
Like he had. When she began to think about his difficult adolescence, she stopped short. Damn it, she wasn’t going to feel sorry for him.
KARA GLANCED around the room. After they’d introduced themselves, Nick had given them one last assignment. Write about how they were feeling at the end of the session.
On the wall was a poster of common reactions to victimization. He said they could write those feelings down if they applied and go from there.
So she wrote, “Isolated, helpless, powerless.” She bit her lip. “Shy. Don’t like the boys in the group. Glad Dr. Walsh is here. Wonder if I’m ever going to get better.”
Someone touched her arm. “Kara, are you all right?”
She looked up at Dr. Walsh. “Huh?”
“You’re crying.”
Her hands went to her face. “Oh, God.”
Dr. Walsh stood. “Come on, let’s go outside for a minute.”
She couldn’t get her breath.
“It’s okay, Kara. It’s okay.”
She managed to stand. Nick nodded to Dr. Walsh, who led her out and down to the ladies’ room. Inside, she wet some paper towels and gave them to Kara. When Kara just held on to them, Dr. Walsh took them back and pressed them to Kara’s face, which felt like it was burning up. “Better?”
“Uh-huh. I’m sorry. I hate being such a tweaker.”
“Never apologize for your reactions in there, Kara. You’re going to see a lot of the kids breaking down.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet Nato and Hector are real criers.”
Dr. Walsh chuckled, then got serious. “They’ll show it in other ways.”
“By giving Nick a hard time.”
“He can hold his own.”
“I’m glad you’re in the group.”
“Then so am I.”
Kara wished she could meet with Dr. Walsh individually and not Nick, but she was afraid to ask. Instead, she pushed away from the sink. “I’m better now. Do I have to go back in?”
“You don’t have to do anything. But it might help you feel more comfortable next time if you faced everybody now.”
“I guess.” She hesitated. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it here.”
Dr. Walsh squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be so quick to judge. Give us a fair shot.”
“Okay.” She would. Even though she knew neither Nick nor Dr. Walsh could understand what she was going through.
When she’d come home with visible bruises, Kara had told her folks she’d been beaten up in the school parking lot by a bunch of girls she couldn’t identify. It was a lie. She couldn’t tell anybody the truth. Ever. Her parents had made her come to the RCVC, and she didn’t fight it because she was afraid, if she did, somehow they’d find out what really happened, and she couldn’t let anybody know that.
Because what had happened was all her fault.
NICK SMILED and spoke to each teen as they left, even Nato and Hector, who grunted, “Later, bro,” as they headed out. Then he crossed to the door and closed it.
“That went well, don’t you think?”
Count to ten. Twenty. Now, turn around. “No thanks to you.” His voice was deadly calm, which was how it got when he was angry. This was too much to expect of him, and he was going to tell her so. Because he was around her again, he hadn’t been sleeping well, or eating or anything! The idea of working in this group with her was outrageous.
“Excuse me? I thought I contributed pretty well.”
“Tell me the real reason you did something as unprofessional as volunteering to be the second counselor and then springing it on me in front of all these kids? You of all people know how important first impressions are with crime victims.”
“You were great with them.”
“Answer the question.”
“I already told you I couldn’t find anybody else.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
She raised her chin. “I knew you’d object. And try to find a way to keep me out. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“When did you get so underhanded? You used to be an open book.”
“It wasn’t underhanded. It was expedient. I would have won in the end, anyway.”
“Of course, because you run the place.” He threaded a hand through his hair. “Why the hell did we think we could do this? Work together?”
Her faced reddened. “I know where my head’s at. Under no circumstances am I going to let you run my life any longer.”
“Any longer? What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Back off, Nick.”
Maybe he should. “Maddie, this isn’t going to work. We can’t be together for…what—” he glanced at the clock “—a few minutes without arguing.”
Pivoting to face the chair, she picked up her journal. “You’ll have to do something about that then.”
He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “I can’t work so closely with you. How many different ways can I say that?”
He expected retreat. Instead, she stepped toward him. “Get over it, Nick. Rule number one around here is we do what’s best for kids. My being in the group is good, if for no other reason than I was there to take care of Kara while you finished up with the others. And you know very well some kids react better to women than men and vice versa.”
“I can handle them all.”
“No, you can’t. You’re going to have problems with Nato Keyes and Hector Santos.”
“Are you criticizing my counseling skills?”
“No. I’m only pointing out why you need the second counselor. Accept the idea that you’re not playing this alone.”
“Fine, I’ll accept another counselor. Just not you.”
“There’s no other choice! For God’s sake, don’t you think I’d have jumped at it if there was? I tried to get someone else and couldn’t. We’re in this together, no matter how much you dislike it.”
“Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding?” She looked horrified. “I hate it. I hope that’s some consolation.” She circled around him and reached the door before he stopped her with his words.
“It’s not, Maddie. It’s no consolation at all.”
Her back still to him, she said, “You’ll have to find a way to deal with it. So will I.”
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THIS IS SO SWEET of you, Nick.” Lucy Kramer’s brown eyes sparkled in the sun shining down through the glass roof of the entrance to the Blue Cross Arena. “We love to come to the Amerks games, but parking is horrible. John hates to drive down here.”
Smiling, Nick leaned over and kissed Lucy’s cheek, her comment and her lined skin reminding him of her age. And frailty. “No problem. After I dropped you off here and parked, I only had to walk fifteen blocks back.”
“Fifteen blocks!” Her hand went to her heart. “Oh, my.”
“Kid-ding. I got a spot two lots over.”
Looking less weary today, John chuckled. “He could always get you going, Luce.”
Lucy linked arms with Nick. “I don’t care. I love having you back in town. We haven’t seen nearly enough of you in the last three years.” His visits and calls had been regular, but infrequent.
They strolled up to the turnstile. While Nick was parking, John had purchased the admission tickets. Once they were inside, Nick led the way to their seats. As he got a glimpse of the rink and felt the ever-present chill of the ice, Nick remembered the first time he’d come to one of these games with the Kramers. Who would have guessed the gentle couple would favor a fast-paced, aggressive sport like hockey! Then again, Claire had, too. Dan had played the game in high school—his all-star brother had competed in three varsity sports—and Nick managed to catch some matches in between his bouts of rebellion. His mood darkened when he thought about bringing Maddie to one of these games with the Kramers. She’d worn an Amerks cap and jersey and jeans so tight they’d sent his blood pressure skyrocketing. She’d rooted loudly for the home team.
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