Where the Heart Is by Patricia Keelyn

CHAPTER FOUR

Fortunately, Nick’s office was only a short distance from the Bee-Bop. Nick half ran, half walked the few blocks in silence, and Maddie had to struggle to keep up with him. His thoughts were obviously on his son.

She couldn’t blame him. In fact, almost immediately on leaving the restaurant, she began questioning her resolve to accompany him. And by the time they entered his office building, she knew she should have gone home. She’d just told herself an hour ago that she couldn’t afford even a casual relationship with Nick, and here she was, traipsing after him as he rushed to take care of his son. At the moment, it seemed the height of stupidity. There was absolutely nothing she could do. So why had she insisted on coming with him?

She was still searching for an answer as she followed Nick into the waiting room of his office.

“Room four,” Bette said without preamble. “Dr. Eagen is with him.”

Nick crossed the room in a few quick strides, pushed through the door leading to the examining rooms and stopped short, as if suddenly remembering Maddie was with him. Turning toward her, he said, “Maddie.” The bright sapphire of his eyes softened for just a moment. “Maddie, I—”

“Go on, Nick,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear what he planned on saying or feel the tug of emotion his words might generate within her. “Your son is waiting.”

Nick stood there for a moment longer, his eyes searching her face, while Maddie steeled herself against him. Then he nodded and turned away, closing the door behind him.

Maddie felt as if she’d barely escaped. How could she have allowed herself to get caught up with Nick again? He wasn’t the needy teenager she’d known sixteen years ago, the boy who had little more than dreams in his future. This Nick Ryan was a man who’d fulfilled his ambitions and become a doctor. And he’d done it without her. He could manage now on his own, as well.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” Bette said, pulling Maddie from her thoughts.

Maddie shrugged and crossed to the reception window. “What else could you have done?”

“Not much. Jon’s got a pretty nasty cut above his right eyebrow.” Maddie winced. “It’s going to need stitches,” Bette continued. “But it looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed heavily.” She paused for a moment before adding, “The scary thing is that it happened at all.”

“Yes.” Progress. Not only had Felton moved into the twenty-first century with the Bee-Bop, but now it had teenagers carrying knives. “Who did it?”

“Don’t know. But I suspect Sheriff Banks will be here pretty quick asking that same question.”

“Didn’t Jon say anything?”

“Are you kidding?” Bette snorted. “Obviously, you haven’t been around a teenager lately.”

“But if another boy came at him with a knife …”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s fifteen,” Bette said, as if that explained everything. “Just remember to enjoy that baby of yours while it’s still small. And while you still know a thing or two.”

Maddie slid her hand to her stomach, her thoughts turning to her unborn baby. Would her child one day cause her to pull her hair out, cursing adolescence with its capricious mood swings and hormonal imbalances? Maddie laughed lightly at the question. And the answer. No doubt her child’s behavior would be as baffling as that of any teenager.

Smiling at Bette, she said, “I swear I’ll enjoy every stage of this baby’s life. Fortunately, the best ages come first.”

Bette laughed, but before she could say anything else, the phone rang.

Maddie drifted away from the reception window, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. When she’d been seventeen, she’d been a little unpredictable herself. She’d thought herself alone in the world.

Except for Nick.

He’d always been there for her, holding her up. There it was again. The pull of the bond she and Nick had formed twenty years ago. She remembered the day they’d became friends as if it were yesterday …

She’d taken second place in the school’s annual essay contest. It had been quite an accomplishment for a ninth grader. But on the day of the award ceremony, she’d been depressed. She’d made it through the afternoon of speeches and presentations. But afterward, waiting outside in the icy January wind for her mother to pick her up, Maddie had been overwhelmed by loneliness.

Shivering, she’d pulled her coat closer around her and wished she’d worn pants instead of the new dress she’d gotten for Christmas. She’d reminded herself that she’d picked her clothes for a reason. She’d wanted to look good for the ceremony in case her mother found time to attend. It had been a stupid idea. Her mother hadn’t shown up.

She’ll be here, Maddie told herself. Any minute now.

Other kids and their parents came and went, emptying the school, calling their congratulations to Maddie as they passed. Still, she waited, the cold penetrating her thick winter coat as the minutes ticked by.

Come on, Mother.

If her father were alive, he would be here. Maddie fought the tightening in her throat and the flush of tears filling her eyes. Wrapped in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the lone boy leaving the school until she heard him call, “Hey, Maddie!”

She turned toward the vaguely familiar voice as he bound down the last few steps and headed toward her. She recognized him immediately. Nick Ryan. She didn’t really know him, but she knew of his reputation—actually, every girl in Felton High knew all about him. He was absolutely gorgeous and as dangerous as boys came.

“Hey,” she said, echoing his greeting. “What are you doing here?” He hadn’t entered the essay contest, and she couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be at school on a Sunday afternoon.

“Just hanging around. I hear you did real good today.”

“I did okay.” Maddie shrugged and turned back to check the street. Still no sign of her mother. She isn’t coming.

“You waiting for someone?”

Maddie kept her eyes on the street. “My mother is supposed to pick me up.”

“She’s late, huh?”

“She probably got tied up or something.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Something in his voice made Maddie turn around. She’d never been this close to him before, so it wasn’t surprising that she’d never noticed the perceptiveness in those infamous blue eyes of his. His gaze told her he understood. Her mother wasn’t going to show, and he knew how she felt.

“I’m going your way,” he said, breaking the spell with his voice. “I’ll walk you.”

Heat rushed to Maddie’s cheeks as she realized she’d been staring. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she turned back to look down the nearly empty street. How could someone like Nick Ryan possibly understand about her mother?

“If she comes looking for me …” Maddie shouldn’t even be talking to him, but she was tired of standing in the cold. And he really was the most gorgeous boy in the whole school. What could it hurt to let him walk her home?

“Okay,” she said, and turned to give him a tentative smile. “Let’s go.”

Nick grinned and turned to cut across the empty parking lot.

Maddie took one last look down the street.

“You coming?” he asked.

Turning her back to the empty street, she smiled at Nick and closed the distance between them. “Yeah.”

“Great.” Nick casually draped an arm over her shoulders and grinned. “Who knows? This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

And it had been. For four years, Maddie and Nick had been inseparable. Then she’d gone away to college, and he’d married Diana Eagen. It had shattered Maddie’s heart and destroyed their friendship. At least, that was what she’d always believed. Evidently, it had only been her heart that had been broken.

“I should be going,” she said softly, thinking that distance was her best defense against the connection she felt with Nick. “There’s nothing I can do here.”

“Why not hang around awhile?” Bette said, startling Maddie. She hadn’t realized that Bette had hung up the phone. “Nick may need a friend when he gets done.”

Nick’s needs. Wasn’t that what this was all about? The reason she’d come with him to the office? As much as she wanted to keep her distance, she’d come here to offer him her support. Years ago, Nick had been there for her when she needed him. She couldn’t turn her back on him now. All she could do was try to protect herself in the process.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay awhile.”

She settled on the waiting room couch and picked up one of the magazines from a nearby table. It would keep her from dwelling on the past. And the present.

It seemed like she waited for hours.

Then the door open, and Greg Banks stepped inside. Maddie hadn’t seen him since she’d been back in town, and although she wouldn’t have believed it possible, he was bigger than she remembered. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing him in a uniform. But she didn’t think so. It looked to her like he’d grown another inch or two since the days when he’d relentlessly pursued her best friend.

“Maddie,” he said with a broad smile that pleasantly transformed his plain features. “Tammy told me you were in town, but I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

“Hi, Greg.” Maddie rose to meet him, trying not to be intimidated by his sheer size. “It’s good to see you.”

Greg gave her a hug before setting her away from him. “You look as good as Tammy said. Are you here to see the doc?”

“No.” Maddie retreated a step so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck to look up at him. “I was with Nick when he got the call about Jon. I suppose that’s why you’re here, too.”

Greg removed his hat and ran a hand through his short crop of blond hair. “Bad business when kids start using knives on each other. How is he?”

“I don’t know.” Maddie nodded toward the reception window. “Maybe Bette’s heard something.”

Greg walked over to the window, but Bette had evidently stepped into the back.

“Do you know what happened?” Maddie asked, moving up beside him.

Greg sighed. “From what I can tell, Jon and two other boys got into a fight after school. One of them had a knife.

“The problem,” Greg continued after a moment, “is that I only have one kid who even admits to being there. And he isn’t saying much. Nobody else was anywhere around. At least, that’s what they want me to believe.”

“But you think there were other kids there?”

“I’d bet my badge on it. I also have my suspicions about who pulled the knife. That’s why I need to see Jon.”

Parenthood suddenly seemed like a frightening prospect to Maddie—especially alone. She thought of Roger and wondered if she’d misjudged his reluctance to become a father. Maybe he’d been the more realistic of the two of them. Maybe his reluctance had more to do with fear than anything else.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Greg said. “Fortunately, someone had enough sense to call for help. My deputy found Jon heading home, holding a blood-soaked rag against his forehead.” He shook his head.

“Guess we should be grateful for that much, anyway.”

“Sheriff.” Both Maddie and Greg turned at the sound of Ted Eagen’s voice. “I figured you’d find your way over here sooner or later.”

“Doc,” Greg said, nodding toward the older man, “how’s the boy?”

“Oh, he’ll live. He’s too damn ornery to do otherwise. Come on back. Maybe you can get something out of him.”

Greg gave Maddie’s arm a reassuring squeeze before shoving his hat under his arm and stepping through the doorway. Before following the sheriff into the back, Ted shifted his gaze to Maddie. “Do you need to see me?”

“No. I’m fine, Dr. Eagen.” Maddie felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “I was with Nick when Bette called.”

Ted arched his eyebrows quizzically.

“I just …” She started to explain but changed her mind. How could she explain her relationship with Nick to Diana’s father? Especially when she didn’t understand it herself? “I’m glad Jon’s all right.”

Dr. Eagen shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say he’s all right.” He smiled wryly, suddenly looking old and tired. “He’s just not in any physical danger.”

For the past hour, Nick had held a tight rein on his emotions. When he’d gotten the call from Bette, fear had been his first reaction, with anger coming close on its heels. She’d told him on the phone that Jon wasn’t seriously hurt, but those weren’t the words that registered in his mind. All Nick kept hearing was that Jon had been in a fight—a knife fight, for God’s sake—and that he needed stitches above one eye.

The fear and anger had warred within him as he’d headed for the clinic. He’d almost forgotten that Maddie was with him. Almost, but not quite. Somewhere inside, he knew and was grateful.

Once he saw Jon, his fear and anger took second place to more practical considerations. Ted had prepped the boy for stitches, cleaning the ugly slash and applying a topical anesthetic to deaden the area around the cut. He’d been just about to start the actual stitching when Nick walked in and took over. Nick managed to put ten sutures in his son’s head without thinking about how the wound had gotten there. But as he tied the last stitch, his anger resurfaced. Someone had taken a knife to his son—and had just missed the boy’s eye.

It shouldn’t have happened. Not to Jon.

Nick had made sure his son had all the advantages he’d never known as a boy. Money. Clothes. A nice home in a decent neighborhood. Nick had grown up across the river in an area cluttered with wooden shacks. There, parents lived in dread of seeing their children come home with knife or bullet wounds. But in the foothills that rose behind the north end of town, the place where Nick had brought his family to live, this shouldn’t have happened.

As if sensing his mood, Ted left the room to get Bette to help Nick finish up. Maybe the older man had guessed that Nick couldn’t trust his hands to clean away the last of the dried blood on Jon’s head and apply the dressing. Neither he nor Jon spoke as Bette went about her work. She clucked over Jon like a mother hen while the boy tolerated her ministrations in rigid silence.

After she left, Nick asked the question uppermost in his mind. “Who did it?”

Silence.

It didn’t surprise him. Actually, nothing about Jon surprised him anymore. Not since Diana’s death, anyway. Nick saw the stubborn set of the boy’s jaw and knew his son would refuse to answer. Jon’s expression reminded Nick of Diana. She, too, could be obstinate.

“Jon,” he said sternly, “I want to know what happened.”

“Nothing.” The boy looked him straight in the eye and lied. “I cut myself.” His expression conveyed a defiance that had become all too familiar to Nick. He fought the urge to shake the boy.

“Nick.” Ted’s voice snapped Nick out of his silent turmoil. “Sheriff Banks wants to talk to Jon.”

Ted moved aside, and Greg Banks stepped into the small examining room. He nodded at Nick, an expression of concern in his eyes. One father to another.

Nick appreciated the silent show of support, but it didn’t help. It was his son sitting here with a gash in his head, refusing to shed any light on how it got there.

“How are you doing?” Greg asked, all his attention now focused on the boy.

Jon shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Greg dropped his hat and a small bag onto a nearby chair and sat on the edge of the examining table. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“There’s not much to tell.” Jon’s gaze shifted to Nick and then back to Greg. “I cut myself with a fishing knife.”

Nick let out a snort of disgust.

“Is that so?” Greg’s voice reflected his own disbelief. “Seems a pretty strange place to cut yourself.” He reached up and tilted the boy’s head back, trying to get a better look at the position of the knife wound. “Been doing a lot of fishing lately?”

Nick saw the flicker of indecision in the boy’s eyes before he answered. “Some.”

Greg kept his gaze on Jon, and Nick could see his son squirming under the other man’s scrutiny.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Greg asked again.

Jon hesitated. Evidently, lying to a law officer was a bit harder than lying to his father. Nick held his breath, hoping his son had the sense to tell the truth.

“I’m sure,” Jon said finally. “I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

“Pretty careless of you,” Greg said.

Jon shrugged. “It was stupid.”

Greg nodded in agreement, though Nick figured Greg wasn’t referring to Jon’s “fishing” accident. “Well, these things happen,” Greg continued. “Where’s the knife?”

“I …” Jon hesitated, stumbling over his words. “I guess I must’ve lost it.”

Greg slid off the table and picked up the bag he’d dropped on the chair earlier. From inside the bag, he pulled out a plastic bag containing a switchblade. “Is this it?”

Again, Nick saw the wariness in Jon’s eyes. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Where’d you find it?”

“Around.” Greg raised the bag to the light as if to get a better look at its contents. “Doesn’t look like much of a fishing knife to me.” Using a handkerchief from his pocket, he reached into the bag and pulled out the knife. Then he pressed a hidden button and a four-inch blade sprang into view. “In fact, I do believe this particular model is illegal.”

Jon paled.

“Looks more like something a kid might pick up in the city somewhere,” Greg added. “Say, in Atlanta.”

“No way!” Jon blurted out, then flushed brightly as he realized his mistake.

“No way what?” Greg asked.

“No way you’re going to pin that on me.”

“I thought this was your knife.”

Jon started to speak, but ended up mumbling something incoherent.

“What’s that?” Greg prodded.

“I said,” Jon emphasized the first two words before softening his voice to finish the sentence, “maybe that’s not my knife, after all.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as Jon’s distress hung in the air like a palpable thing. Greg had backed the boy neatly into a corner, and Nick’s paternal instincts urged him to step forward and stop the other man. It took all his willpower to stay out of it.

Jon was no longer a child.

He was a young man. And he was in trouble. The knowledge weighed on Nick. Jon was his son. Nick longed to put his arms around the boy and assure him that everything would be okay. But he couldn’t. Trying to shield Jon would only make matters worse.

Greg finally broke the silence, and his voice took on an edge of steel. “I know you were fighting.” He’d finished humoring Jon and his lies. “Whoever pulled this knife was carrying an illegal weapon. And he could have done a lot worse than tickle your forehead.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. Whose knife is this?”

Jon stared at Greg for a moment, and Nick thought he detected a slight tremble around the boy’s mouth. Then Jon shook his head, his features acquiring a familiar stubborn set. After a few moments Greg sighed and dropped the knife back into the bag.

“Jon …” Nick stepped forward, leveling a warning glare at his son.

Jon pressed his lips together, his gaze darting from one man to the other. For a moment, Nick thought he’d broken through. Then Jon lied once more. “I told you. I cut myself.”

“Well—” Greg picked up his hat and moved to the doorway “—I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth. But believe me, boy, I will find out.” With a silent nod at Nick, he left the room.

Frustrated beyond words, Nick stared at his son. It was like looking at a stranger. This was not the boy he knew, the baby he’d bounced on his shoulders, the child he’d wrestled with on the living room floor.

Sometime since the night Diana had driven her car off that cliff, Nick had lost his son.

Not trusting himself to speak, Nick left the room, seeking the solitude of his office. Then he remembered Maddie and abruptly changed direction, hoping for reasons he couldn’t have defined that she was still in the waiting room. As he opened the door, she came to him, and he saw the question in her eyes.

“Jon’s okay,” he said, and then realized that Bette or Ted had probably already told her. “I guess you knew that.”

“Yes.” She smiled softly and eased the frustration and turmoil he’d been experiencing from the moment of Bette’s call. It would be easy to lose himself in her smile. She’d always been able to make him feel good about himself, believing in him when no one else had. He was tempted to give in to that now, to pull her into his life, to lean on her as he worked his way through the pain of Diana’s death.

“I was going to introduce you to Jon,” he said, “but …”

“Some other time.” She rested a hand on his arm, and the temptation to take the comfort she offered was almost more than he could stand. “He’s been through enough today.” She paused, then asked, “And you? How are you holding up?”

Her concern touched something deep inside him. He wondered how long it had been since someone had worried about him. Then he dismissed the thought as self-pitying. Still, he felt better just looking at her, knowing that beneath her cool exterior she still cared about him.

At the same time, a nagging thought crept into his mind. He had no right to Maddie’s comfort. He’d chosen Diana over Maddie sixteen years ago. How could he ask anything of her now? How could he pull her into the mess he’d made of his life?

“I’m fine,” he finally answered. “Thanks.” Just these few brief minutes with her had eased the tension in him. It was all he could take, all he could ask of her.

“Can I go now?”

Nick turned at the sound of Jon’s voice. The boy stood in the doorway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Sure,” Nick answered. “I’ll take you home in your grandfather’s car.” To Maddie he said, “Maddie, this is my son, Jon.”

She took a step forward, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jon.”

The boy took her outstretched hand and then quickly let it go.

“Maddie is an old friend of your mother’s and mine,” Nick continued, hoping Maddie wouldn’t call him on the outright lie. She and Diana had never been friends.

Maddie didn’t disappoint him. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said to Jon.

The boy shrugged, his attitude bordering on rude, and once again Nick wanted to shake him. Where were the manners he’d drilled into the boy? Evidently, Jon had lost them, along with his common sense.

The awkward silence stretched for a moment or two longer before Maddie said, “Well, I need to get going.” She backed away from them, and Nick resisted the urge to stop her. Let her go, that niggling voice said inside his head.

“Thanks again for waiting,” he said aloud.

“Sure.” She gave them one last tight smile and turned, heading for the door.

“Maddie,” Nick said, almost as an afterthought. “Would you like a ride?”

She didn’t turn around, but raised a hand and waved over her shoulder. “I can use the exercise.”

Then she left, and the room seemed unbearably empty. Suddenly, Nick remembered that he’d promised to help her finish her yard work. He started after her, but Jon’s voice stopped him.

“Can we go home now?”

Nick shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. Let her go. Sighing, he turned to Jon. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

As she made her way home, Maddie tried to put things in perspective.

Jon wasn’t what she’d expected. Although she couldn’t have said exactly what she had expected—maybe a younger version of Nick. Except for his eyes, he did look like his father. He had Nick’s coloring, the coal-black hair and the skin that would turn deep brown in the summer. Like his father, Jon was tall with long legs and a lean physique. But his eyes were Diana’s—dark brown and fringed with midnight lashes. Every woman he’d ever meet would envy him those eyes.

And the attitude?

That, too, must have come from Diana. Because the Nick Ryan Maddie remembered hadn’t been so full of anger. He’d been cocky and arrogant, but he hadn’t looked at the world with eyes brimming with resentment. But then she remembered that Jon had lost his mother a short time ago. She recalled her own grief when her father had died, and her heart softened toward the boy. Who was she to judge Jon? After all, she’d been through the same pain. She wondered if outsiders had looked at her and seen the same defiance in her eyes.

Then Maddie spotted an unfamiliar white car parked in front of her house, and her thoughts skidded away from Jon. She picked up her pace, her heart beating wildly at the sudden surge of hope. Was the car a rental? Was it Roger’s? Surely he would have called if he’d made a decision about her and the baby.