“I think it’s wonderful Bradford House is being renovated. It’s always been one of my favorite houses in Shady Grove,” Harper continued. “I was by there last week. That wraparound porch you added is gorgeous.”
“I didn’t add it,” Eddie said. He’d been working on a bathroom remodel across town when the exterior work had been done at Bradford House.
Her smile dimmed, going from supernova bright to regular shining-star glowing. “I meant you as in Montesano Construction.”
He lifted his right shoulder.
“Okay,” Harper said, drawing the word out. “Guess that’s enough shop talk. No, no—” she held out her hand as if to stop him from speaking, though his mouth remained tightly closed “—really, I know you could go on and on and on about your work but let’s stick to the subject at hand, shall we?”
Scratching his cheek—he really did need a shave—he narrowed his eyes. She was messing with him. He wouldn’t have thought she had it in her, not when she looked all innocent and sincere.
“Max is a very sweet boy,” Harper said as if she hadn’t been yanking Eddie’s chain. “He excels in art, has a real talent for it. Not that I’m an expert or anything but I know what I like.” She smiled at her own lame joke, didn’t seem to mind that Eddie didn’t.
“I really enjoy having Max in my room. He’s kind and thoughtful but a bit of a loner. If we could get him to open up more, to come out of his shell—”
“Being shy isn’t a character flaw that needs overcoming,” Eddie said quietly.
Max was fine the way he was, and if he wanted to stay in his shell, so be it. As a kid, Eddie had been told to talk more, be more outgoing and friendlier. All he’d ever wanted was to be left in peace with his thoughts.
“No, of course it’s not.” Harper sounded confused, looked flustered and embarrassed. “I only meant it might be good for him to make a few friends.”
Max had friends. Max had a friend, Eddie amended. Joey Malone, a kid he’d met in first grade. They were in different classes this year but still hung out.
“That why you wanted to see me?” Eddie asked. “To discuss Max’s social life?”
She opened her mouth only to snap it shut and shake her head, as if getting rid of whatever she’d been about to say. “Actually, I want to discuss Max’s progress so far this year. The first marking period ends in two weeks.” She slid a yellow paper from the pile on her desk and held it out to him. “Maybe once you see his progress report, you’ll understand why I’m concerned.”
Eddie forced himself to take the paper. The diamonds in her wedding rings caught the afternoon sunlight so that it dappled across the top of her desk.
He rubbed his thumb around the base of his left ring finger. It’d been years since he’d worn his own wedding band, but he could still feel the weight of it. As the foundation of his marriage had become weaker, the gold ring signifying the vows he’d taken—the vows he’d given—had grown tighter. Heavier with the weight of his failure.
But then, Harper hadn’t failed at marriage—she’d probably never failed at anything in her entire life. Her marriage hadn’t ended due to lack of effort or love, but because her husband had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, an innocent bystander killed during a convenience store robbery in Pittsburgh last year. She still wore her ring.
Eddie had taken his off the moment Lena had shut the door when she’d walked out on their marriage. When she’d walked out on their son.
He’d never put one on again.
Bracing himself, he read Max’s progress report. Exhaled heavily. One D. Four Fs.
“As you can see, Max is struggling in all subjects.” Her voice was laced with compassion. She watched him with understanding.
He wished she’d knock it off. He didn’t need her pity. Didn’t want her kindness.
“What do we do?” Eddie asked.
She nodded as if that was the right thing to ask, the correct response. Great. Give him a gold star for being a concerned parent.
“Max has some issues focusing which, I believe, could be one of the factors affecting his schoolwork.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Eddie said. “Tell him to pay more attention in class.”
“That would be helpful, but I’m afraid it might not be enough. What I would like is your permission to have Dr. Crosby—one of the school district’s psychologists—observe Max’s behavior.”
“Observe?” Like an animal in a test lab? Poked and prodded and singled out from his classmates.
“It’s only to see if she agrees with my assessment.”
“Your assessment.” Yeah, he sounded like a parrot, repeating everything she said, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell she was getting at. “You said he’s not paying attention in class.”
“Yes, but I’m concerned that lack of focus—along with other symptoms—could be signs of a bigger issue.”
Eddie stiffened to the point he worried one errant breeze would break him into a million pieces. “What symptoms?”
“I’d rather not get too far ahead of ourselves until after Dr. Crosby—”
“What. Symptoms.”
The only sign she gave that his low, dangerous tone bugged her was a small, resigned sigh. “Max has a hard time sitting still—”
“He’s a boy. He has a lot of energy.”
Her lips thinned but her tone remained calm. “He frequently fails to finish his schoolwork, even when given ample time to do so, and he often works carelessly. He shifts from one unfinished activity to another, has difficulty following through on instructions, working on his own and waiting for his turn in tasks, games and group situations. He’s also easily distracted, often loses or misplaces items necessary to complete tasks—such as his pencil or workbook.”
“He’s seven.” Eddie bit out the words, her list of the ways his son was lacking blowing through him, swirling around his head in endless repetition. “Kids misplace things and aren’t always patient.”
“True. And that may very well be the case here. But as Max’s teacher, I feel it’s in his best interest to have Dr. Crosby come in and give her opinion. If you’ll just sign this—” she slid a paper in front of him “—we can get started.”
Eddie glanced from the permission slip to the pen she held out and then to his son’s grades, the black letters stark on the pale yellow background. He should sign the damn paper and let Harper do what she felt necessary, what she thought best. She was the teacher, the person entrusted with his son’s care and education for the next eight months.
“What bigger issue could it be?” Eddie asked.
“I’d rather not speculate—”
“I’d rather you did.”
She slowly lowered the pen. For the first time, she seemed reluctant to speak—must be a new sensation for her. “Max’s behavior could...possibly...be symptoms of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. But I’m not qualified to make any diagnoses,” she added quickly. “Which is why I’d like Dr. Crosby’s help.”
“ADD,” Eddie said, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact there could be something wrong with his son. “Don’t they put kids on drugs for that?”
“Medication is one option, but there are also modifications that can be made in the classroom. Instructional strategies and practices that can be implemented to help