She waited, trying to decide what to do. In the end she felt she had no choice but to wait for Adam to come to her and explain his behavior. When he did she would listen and try to understand what was going on with him. “See you in the morning, then,” she said, quietly lifting her hand from the door before going down the hall to her own room.
She got ready for bed while listening for the sound of his door opening, disappointed that there would be no chance for them to talk this evening. Yet the normal peacefulness of her bedroom didn’t stop her from turning over the events of the past weeks in her mind, wrestling with her fear that she’d made some irrevocable mistake. She fell into a restless sleep, awaking the next morning feeling exhausted. In the early-morning light, her thoughts were much clearer. Regardless of how she felt about seeking help for Adam, she had to take steps to stop him from getting into further trouble.
Three days later Gayle approached the office of community services with trepidation. Adam had refused to go with her, and had willingly gone to school instead. The receptionist ticked her name off an appointment list before leading her into the office of Ted Marston, the head of community services. Despite her unease, she noted that the man was young, his office neat and orderly. The brightly colored pots filled with strawberry geraniums cascading over the windowsills of the large bay window behind him created the only touch of disorder in the entire space.
“Please have a seat,” he said, his voice instilling confidence. “I’ve got the report from Officer Edwards about your son’s behavior a couple of nights ago.”
“Yes. I wanted Adam to come with me, but he refused,” she said, concerned that Adam’s no-show could jeopardize the whole plan.
“It’s okay. I would have liked to meet your son, but this is strictly an organizational meeting. Adam’s absence tells me he’s not that keen on doing this. How do you feel about it?”
“I’m worried that if Adam doesn’t get help now he’ll get into worse problems. We moved here...” No! She couldn’t mention Anaheim without explaining that this wasn’t the first time she’d been worried about Adam’s choice of friends. She couldn’t betray her son to this stranger. Better to save any discussion of the past for his mentor once he was assigned one.
“How long ago was that?”
“About a year.”
“May I ask why?”
“I inherited the Cooper house. Susan Cooper was my mother’s sister.”
“I’ve often admired that house, especially the gingerbread woodwork, and it’s got a great veranda. Are you the one who replanted the front flower beds?”
She felt her face relax into a smile for the first time since she’d entered the room. “I did. I like to work with my hands, and gardening is such a pleasant pastime.”
“My wife would agree with you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the mass of red blossoms and green foliage dangling from the windowsill. Returning to the paperwork in front of him, he said, “When I got your son’s referral and was told it was urgent, I had no choice but to look for a mentor outside those here in this office. With more people unemployed due to the downturn in the fishing industry, our counselors and mentors are busier than they’ve ever been. But your son is about to have one of the best in Eden Harbor take his case—Nate Garrison.”
Sherri must have convinced her cousin to step in. Despite her worries Gayle was thankful for the help. If it was the best option for Adam, and since Nate had such a good recommendation, maybe she should simply accept the inevitable. “Nate Garrison is my best friend’s cousin, but I don’t know very much about him.”
“You’re very lucky to have him take your son on as a client.”
* * *
NATE GARRISON SHIFTED his weight to ease the ache in his thigh as he sat in a very uncomfortable chair outside Ted Marston’s office. He’d arrived a little early, and had welcomed a few moments to relax. The client he’d just seen was a sixteen-year-old boy whose mother would not take any responsibility for what was going on in her son’s life. She blamed the father, her ex-husband, for her son’s problems, and refused to consider that she might have to change her approach in how she raised her son.
It had been a difficult case for him, but it became intolerable when the woman made it clear she wanted to go out with him. She’d mistaken the interviews about her son over coffee as personal attention from him. He’d let her down as gently as possible. Then he’d spent the past hour getting his notes written up to pass the file to one of the other mentors.
He was here as a favor to his cousin after a teenage boy had been picked up by the police for fighting. The boy’s mother, Sherri’s friend, was a widow raising her son alone. In Nate’s experience single parents, especially widows, had difficulty setting boundaries for their teenagers. This was almost certainly because the mother, who had already suffered a serious loss, didn’t want to lose her daughter or son, as well.
But according to his cousin, Gayle Sawyer’s husband had died years ago. He sighed at the thought of facing another difficult situation after the morning he’d had. Not because he didn’t want to help, but he wasn’t feeling very sympathetic at the moment. This case was too close to the one he’d just signed off on.
Still and all, he couldn’t resist Sherri’s plea on behalf of her friend.
And this was the life he’d chosen, one that had its successes along with difficult moments.
After he’d been shot in Boston, he’d been angry at the world and had gone looking for someone to blame. That was until he’d met the teenager who had shot him. A boy of fifteen who had grown up in one foster home after another, the child of parents who had abdicated their responsibilities long before the shooting.
Eventually he’d come to realize that he would not be going back out on the streets as a cop. He would need to rethink his life and his career. He had always wanted to help teenagers and young adults before entering the police force, and now he had an opportunity to do that. He wasn’t being noble or particularly altruistic, not at all. There was only one thing driving him. If he could keep one kid from picking up a firearm and killing someone, he would feel he had used his time and his abilities for the greater good.
In his experience the parent was often more problematic than the teenager. He sincerely hoped this wasn’t the case here. And after this morning, he didn’t need another woman with her own issues messing up his work life. But Sherri had championed Gayle Sawyer’s cause, saying that she wasn’t a needy woman—in fact, just the opposite.
“The things I do for my cousin,” he muttered to no one in particular as he approached the door to Ted’s office.
* * *
GAYLE TURNED AS a light tap sounded on the office door. Ted Marston got up. “Hello, Nate. So glad you could come on such short notice. And by the way, thank you for helping out here,” he added as they shook hands. Turning to Gayle, he said, “I’d like you to meet Gayle Sawyer. Her son, Adam, will be your client.”
Nate Garrison walked farther into the room. The charcoal-gray shirt under his worn black leather jacket matched the gray of his eyes. Despite the cane he used, his whole demeanor spoke of a natural authority. Black hair streaked with gray sobered his appearance, and there were lines around his eyes and mouth. She could only imagine what he’d been through—physical pain, rehab and the loss of his rating for active duty.
He walked toward her, his eyes assessing. She shook hands with him, noting his gentle touch, the look of concern evident in his clear gaze. Guilt engulfed her. What sort of injuries had the police officer Harry had shot in Anaheim sustained? He’d been hit in the