Beth Andrews - Caught Up in You

Max nodded so hard, his hair flopped into his eyes. “She’s nice. And funny. And she doesn’t yell even when someone’s being really bad.”

Eddie dropped his hand. “That’s...great.”

Yeah, freaking terrific. It would be so much easier switching Max to another class if he’d disliked Harper or, at the very least, didn’t give a damn about her one way or the other. Not that Eddie was set on that course of action. She’d said herself she needed his permission for Max to be observed by the shrink. As long as she didn’t push him, Eddie wouldn’t have a reason to pull Max from her class.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to stop at Bradford House and see how Heath did with the kitchen cabinets.”

“Can I get a snack before practice?”

Damn. That was right. It was Tuesday. Max had hockey practice. Eddie would never stop being grateful Mark Benton had stepped up and offered to coach before Eddie could get stuck with the job.

He glanced at his watch. Why were there never enough hours in the day? “Sure, but we need to get moving.”

He clasped his son’s small, warm and slightly sticky hand. There would be a time, not too far in the future, when Max would grimace and shrink away when Eddie offered his hand.

But not today.

Today, his son held on instead of running ahead. Today, his son still needed him.

They climbed into the truck.

“Want to know what else I like about Mrs. Kavanagh?” Max asked as he buckled his seat belt.

Not in the least.

“Sure,” Eddie said with a sigh.

“She’s pretty,” Max whispered, a blush coloring his fair skin. “And she smells good.”

Eddie turned on the ignition, slammed his foot onto the clutch and jammed the truck into first gear. He’d noticed both those things, too.

He wished like hell he hadn’t.

* * *

“HE HAD THE NERVE...the utter...utter...”

Harper tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling of Dr. Joan Crosby’s office in hope the word she was searching for would somehow magically appear in the air.

“Gall?” Joan asked from behind her neat desk.

Harper whirled on the older woman. Jabbed a finger in her direction. “Yes! The utter gall to threaten to take Max out of my class.”

She still couldn’t believe it. Pacing to burn off some of her temper before she picked up her daughter from day care, her quick, short strides took her to the far edge of the room and back in seconds. An easy enough task given the size of the office and the fact that there was nothing in there that wasn’t completely necessary. A desk and chair, three other chairs—two facing the desk, the third off to the side—and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books. A small, round table with two kid-sized chairs sat in the far corner along with a plastic bin Harper knew held drawing paper, crayons and colored pencils.

Joan didn’t believe in wasting space, materials, time or words.

Harper grabbed a handful of M&M’s—her third such handful—from a ceramic bowl on the desk and tossed several into her mouth. They didn’t help. She ate some more.

Stick with something long enough, and you were bound to get the results you wanted.

Naive? Perhaps. But it kept her happy and optimistic in the face of adversity. After Beau had been taken from her so suddenly, Harper had wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and die herself. She couldn’t, of course. She had people who counted on her, who needed her to be strong. Her daughter, Cassidy, for one.

Joan, Beau’s mother, for another.

So, yes, she lived a life of clichés. Chin up. Search out the good in life. The sun will come out tomorrow and all that jazz. Looking on the bright side had kept her sane during the past ten months. Believing in some greener pasture, in better days, helped to push her through each hour, every minute without her husband.

Convinced her things would get better.

Each day got a little easier. She no longer cried herself to sleep or felt as if there was a weight on her chest, one making it unbearable to breathe. She was living again, could see real hope for the future, could even imagine herself moving on. Dating. Possibly falling in love again.

Eventually. When the time was right. In another year or so when the idea of being with someone new didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility. When it wouldn’t feel like a betrayal of her husband, of what they’d shared.

Someday she would move on. Fully. Without regrets or guilt. She had to. Even when you lost the man you loved with all your heart, life went on, day after day.

It was funny that way.

She ate a red M&M followed quickly by a blue one. She froze in the act of reaching for another handful, her fingers twitching, and glared at Joan. “What are you, a sadist?”

Her mother-in-law considered that, as if the question deserved real thought. “I don’t believe so.”

“Then why are you letting me eat these? You know I’m trying to lose this extra baby weight.” Baby weight she carried on her hips and thighs despite delivering said baby two and a half years ago.

Guess not everything worked out the way you wanted, no matter how hard or long you stuck with it.

“I was afraid to suggest you slow down,” Joan said. “Or take the bowl lest you chomped my hand off at the wrist.”

“Ha ha.” Harper flopped onto the chair as Joan reached for the candy. “Wait,” Harper cried, leaping back up. She took two more. “Last ones. I swear.”

She’d make up for the extra calories by getting on the treadmill tonight.

Feeling better, if not entirely virtuous about her choice, she sucked on the first M&M to make it last as long as possible.

Joan tucked the bowl into a side drawer then clasped her hands together on top of the desk. “Now that you’ve settled down, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so upset?”

Harper slid the second chocolate into her mouth. Perhaps she’d chosen the wrong person to vent to. Why did she have to have a psychologist for a mother-in-law? And vice versa?

But they’d known each other a few years before Joan had introduced her only child to Harper. Even though Beau no longer tied them together, they were still family. More than that, they were each other’s connection to the man—the husband, the son—they’d both lost. During the worst grief imaginable, they’d stuck together, had been there for each other.

That would never change.

Through it all, their relationship had grown and evolved into friendship, one Harper cherished. It was that friend she needed now.

She’d just have to put up with the therapist butting in with her two cents every once in a while.

“I’m upset because he wouldn’t even listen to reason.” Wouldn’t listen to her. “I explained that Max needed help, that he was dangerously behind in all subject areas, and the first step toward getting to the bottom of Max’s problems was for you to observe him, but Eddie...brushed all my reasons aside.”

Like she was some annoying gnat come to burrow in that mop of hair on his head.

“Uh-huh. Is that all?”

Harper gaped. “Didn’t you hear me? He threatened to take Max from my class.” The more she thought of it, the more upset she got. She started pacing again. “Not once, in all my years of teaching—”

“Sweetie,” Joan said not unkindly, “you don’t get to use in all my years of teaching until you’ve been here at least twenty years.”

“Well, in the ten years I’ve taught I’ve never had any parent ask to remove their child from my class. I’m the most requested teacher in second grade.”

Joan arched a perfect eyebrow. “Bragging, dear?”

Harper’s cheeks heated. Too bad the candy was put away. The best cure for the blues, bad temper and embarrassment was chocolate. It fixed what ailed you.