“I would, actually—yes—but I don’t want you to treat Owen any differently from any other child just because he’s my son.”
Paige hesitated, alternating between feeling a desire to unburden herself and wanting Liam to take his sympathy and leave. “Mr. Campbell...”
“Liam,” he corrected.
“...Liam. It takes time for most teachers—and most people, for that matter—to even notice that Owen doesn’t speak to anyone but me. He tends to keep to himself and blend in. I admire that you were able to pick up on it so quickly. No doubt I judged you, and your teaching abilities, too quickly, but I’d appreciate if you’d think of Owen no more or less than any other child in your classes.”
“I get it,” he said, moving toward the door. “It’s the first day of school and it’s understandable.”
The kind concern left his eyes and for some reason he seemed to bristle at her words. His body visibly tensed, as though he felt insulted.
“I can assure you that Owen will receive no special treatment from me on account of who his mother is.”
Paige nodded. Each time she’d interacted with Liam, awkward tension seemed to arise, and she wished she could erase it. “But,” he said, the words lilting softly with his gentle West Texas drawl, “it’s mighty important to me that you know that my tardiness this morning will not be a regular thing, and I apologize. I’m very much looking forward to working with the kids and I want you to know that I take this job seriously.”
He hesitated as he watched her face closely, his green eyes searching hers. He took a step closer to her, and though he remained at a respectable distance, a strange shiver ran up Paige’s spine.
“And you can trust me,” he added
Despite his kindness toward Owen, Paige didn’t want to trust Liam Campbell. Even trustworthy men, like Mark, could be taken from you at the drop of a hat. She stepped forward and opened the door for him.
As he walked out, Liam met her eyes. Paige wondered if she would ever be able to look at him without her silly heart skipping over his incredible handsomeness. It would be pretty inconvenient if not.
“Listen,” he said. “About Owen...if you ever need to talk about what’s going on with him—strictly teacher to assistant principal, of course—I’d be glad to discuss it further with you. I have some experience in childhood therapy, and I’d be happy to share it with you.”
Paige shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but unless Owen has a problem in class or he’s not getting work done that he needs to, I think I’ve got it under control. He has a therapist who we’re both working with and, well, the man’s supposedly the best there is.”
But the best hadn’t been good enough to help her son so far. At what point was she going to admit that Owen might never speak to anyone besides her again? What if her nightmare came true and he caved further into himself and stopped speaking altogether, even to her? When would she be able to admit, to herself and to everyone else, that he just wasn’t getting better?
Paige didn’t want to think about that now.
“Okay, then,” said Liam. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to smile reassuringly. Most of the time there seemed enough of her to go around, but only just. Paige’s mother had raised Paige and her sister alone when their father had left. So Paige could manage, too. She’d have to, after the loss of Mark.
She had to admit, though, that she was curious about what experience Liam might have with Owen’s disorder. On any other day, she would have allowed Liam to speak more about it. But right now, Paige wanted nothing more than to simply rest her muscles in a boiling hot bath, then curl up on the couch with Owen—and maybe a glass of red wine, which was an indulgence she rarely allowed herself, but one she could sure use today.
Paige collected Owen, agreeing to let him take home one of the coloring books that Emma kept for family conferences. Owen grabbed the book and his backpack, and they made their way out to Paige’s old blue pickup.
“Hey, Owen, want to stop at Barb’s for dinner?” she asked, as they stepped out of the air-conditioned school and the warm summer afternoon wrapped itself around them.
Owen’s blue eyes widened and he nodded his head vigorously at the name of their favorite diner. Once settled in the car, they headed toward Main Street, the August heat dancing in shimmery waves across the asphalt. They both averted their eyes when they passed their old house, which Paige and Owen had shared with Mark as a family. She tried to ignore the urge to pull into the driveway and settle back into her old life. As much as she might wish it, Mark would not be in the backyard, grilling burgers on his day off, or waiting in the kitchen for her with a glass of wine, ready to listen to her talk about her day at work. That life was gone now.
She and Owen had done their best to remain in the house for as long as possible after Mark’s death. Paige had been concerned that if they moved, any remaining stability that Owen had in his tumultuous life at that time would have vanished just like his father, so she’d kept the house and had kept Owen from knowing how tight the walls felt around her. She’d kept to herself how hard it was for her to live there. But eventually, to her relief, Owen had asked Paige if they could leave the house and she’d agreed.
The house was large and beautiful, almost as old as the town of Peach Leaf itself, and had been in Mark’s family for years. It had been a gift from his grandmother when she and Mark had married, and they’d accepted it with the starry, hopeful eyes of newlyweds before they’d realized what went into maintaining such a place. Paige had grown tired of cleaning it, refusing to hire a housekeeper for something she was perfectly capable of doing on her own, but it had been home, and they’d loved it like the family member it was.
At least until Mark’s death.
Paige could still recall the way her heart had dropped straight to the bottom of her chest that night. The doorbell had chimed as she’d finished clearing the dinner dishes and she’d opened it to find Fire Chief Garcia and one of Mark’s colleagues standing on her front porch. She’d barely been able to focus on the chief’s words as he’d gone over the details of the incident and Mark’s success at retrieving an infant, before he died of smoke inhalation.
She shuddered at the memory.
When she and Owen decided to move away from the house, she’d walked through each room, lingering for long moments to store the place in her memory. And now each time they passed, she wondered if they’d ever be free of their loss. If they would ever be able to rebuild as a family.
After dinner, which consisted of Barb’s incredible fried chicken and a dessert of homemade vanilla ice cream, made even sweeter by the red vinyl bar stools and black-and-white checkered tiles that Owen loved so much, they headed home, or at least what had passed for home for the past six months.
As Paige drove, Owen chatted about his first day, and her heart did an unwelcome little flip when he mentioned his new art teacher. It seemed Liam Campbell had occupied both their minds all day, whether she liked it or not.
They arrived home to their condo, which was just outside of town and close enough to work that when the weather was nice, they could bike to school together. Paige did the best she could to spend as much time as possible with her son. Though she often wondered if her career was too stressful at this time in her life, she enjoyed her position and especially loved being around the kids. It was a good job and it allowed Owen to have what he needed. She just wasn’t sure anymore what exactly it was that he did need, and, the longer he went without speaking to others, she was losing hope in her ability to provide it.
Her thoughts wandered again to Liam as she got ready for bed, and she tried not to dwell on