Principal Matthews smiled at Paige, who thought she saw a hint of sadness in the older woman’s eyes. “I’ll stop by your office, Ms. Matthews,” Paige said, and her boss squeezed her forearm gently before turning to talk with some of the other faculty.
Paige felt her stomach grumble and decided she’d finally been social enough; her appetite had returned with a vengeance. She navigated toward the barbecue spread and put together a plate of what was left at the buffet. Sitting down at an empty table, she suddenly remembered that she’d left her notes and favorite pen at the table she’d shared earlier with Liam. Just as she started to get up to fetch them, she felt someone standing behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Liam’s large frame looming uncomfortably close. He smelled delicious—a unique mix of masculine soap and art supplies. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, reaching down to hand her the pen and folder full of notes she’d just been thinking about, “but it looks like you forgot these.” His hand brushed hers as he passed her belongings, and a confusing mix of desire and caution flowed through her.
“Thanks so much,” she said, hoping he hadn’t caught on to what she’d felt. “My grandmother gave me this pen when I got my first teaching job.” The smile he’d worn so easily before was gone.
“And about Owen...” he said, before pausing, then continuing. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot and I know that there must be some way I can help him. It’s a pretty big deal for a kid to lose the ability to speak to other kids his age. I’m just wondering, as his teacher, if there’s anything more I should know.”
Paige knew she was overreacting the minute she felt her heart begin to throb faster in her chest. Any of the desire she’d felt for Liam a moment ago vanished, to be replaced by maternal defensiveness. She knew he was just trying to help, but she was tired of people trying to tell her how to handle her son. Over the past six months she’d heard her fill of advice. She felt indignant when she thought that someone she’d just met, someone she’d have to interact with regularly, would offer her advice on her son’s life.
She’d lost too many close friends already by being promoted to assistant principal. She’d also drifted apart from some that she and Mark had known as a couple, as well as friends who’d pushed too hard trying to tell her how Owen should be helped. They all had different opinions about what was best for him and seemed to forget that she was his mother and that she—and she alone—should know best. The comments and advice had slowly chipped away at the maternal instinct Paige had always trusted until she’d begun to wonder whether she was acting in Owen’s best interests. And then there were the most hurtful comments, the ones from people who thought that she should just try forcing Owen to speak, as though he were withholding his words on purpose for attention. Attention? She wanted to scream at these people that attention seemed to be the last thing Owen wanted. In fact, he seemed, to her shattered heart, to want to withdraw from the world completely, to retreat from life at the ripe old age of six.
Like the thousands of similar overtures, Liam’s offer to help felt as if it had been a criticism of her ability to parent masked as innocent concern.
“There’s nothing more that you need to know,” Paige snapped. “As I’ve said numerous times now, unless he has problems in class, I really don’t want to talk about it any further.”
Her answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. She could see curiosity, but also kindness, behind his green eyes, neither of which she cared to indulge. She’d seen the same look countless times before.
“It’s just that, the more I think about it, the more I’m certain I can help him,” Liam insisted, taking a seat next to her as the cafeteria cleared.
Paige glanced at the clock. Almost time for her next parent meeting.
Why couldn’t this man just leave her alone? What was it about her son that had him so intrigued? He’d said himself that he’d seen cases like Owen’s before, so if her child wasn’t unique, then why was he pushing so hard? Maybe she needed to be more direct because Liam apparently wasn’t getting the message.
“Owen and I are fine, Mr. Campbell,” she said abruptly, rising and gathering her still-full plate and notes. “Please just leave it alone.”
She gave him no chance to respond and left the table, tossing her food into the trash on her way out the door.
Liam could tell by Paige’s reaction that he’d gone too far when he’d spoken to her at the meeting earlier that afternoon. Normally he wasn’t so pushy, but there was just something about Owen that he couldn’t resist. Although the boy hadn’t spoken, Liam had seen a quiet seriousness, a depth and sweetness about him beyond his six years, an understanding and gentleness that the other kids seemed to pick up on. Rather than respond to Owen’s silence by teasing or ignoring him, his peers seemed to stick by him.
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