Page 6 of Somebody like Santa

“This is about Trevor,” he said.

“I already know about your son. His old school and the juvenile court office forwarded his records, and I was given a copy. It sounds as if the boy is going through a rough time.”

“That’s the least of it,” Cooper said. “He’s not a bad kid. But he’s hurting.”

“I can tell.”

“His mother remarried a few months ago, and his new stepfather didn’t want him around. His mother chose her marriage over her son.”

“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.” No wonder the poor kid was having problems.

“He feels that I only took him because I didn’t have a choice, which isn’t true at all, but I can’t convince him of that. Back in Seattle, he got in with a bunch of future gang-bangers. I could see where he was headed, and I knew I needed to get him out of there. I just hope I can get him settled in Branding Iron before he tries to run away and get back to his friends.”

Jess nodded. In spite of her misgivings, she was warming to the man. He seemed so caring, so worried about his son. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. But right now, she needed to make sure he didn’t expect too much of her.

“I feel for the boy and for you,” she said. “I’ll do my best to look out for him, and to call you at the first sign of trouble. But I don’t have the power to work miracles. He’s at an age where a lot of kids, especially boys, have struggles. Mostly they outgrow the problems in time, but you can’t count on that. Have you tried to get him professional help? I can recommend some good people in Cottonwood Springs.”

“I’ve tried to get him into counseling. So far, he’s dug in his heels and refused to go.”

“Then for now, all we can do is try to keep him safe, offer him some choices, and hope he makes the right ones.” She reached into her purse and handed him a card with her home and school phone numbers. “I only do this for friends. Call me if you notice anything disturbing, or if you just need to talk. Anything else?”

His silent pause raised a red flag. Clearly, he had something more on his mind.

“Just one thing. Forgive me if it’s too personal.”

Something tightened in her stomach. She faked a smile. “If it’s too personal, I’ll stop you.”

“Okay, here it is. I’ve got a pretty good memory for faces. As soon as I saw you tonight, that memory kicked in. I could swear that I’ve seen you somewhere before. Do you think that’s possible? Have you ever spent time in Seattle?”

The question slammed doors that had just begun to open. There was always a chance that he’d seen her on TV or in the newspapers three years ago. As a journalist, he might have paid closer attention to the story than most people would.

But when she’d accepted the job in Branding Iron, she’d locked her past away. And she couldn’t risk having this man uncover secrets she’d done her best to bury.

“Jess, are you all right?” His voice jerked her back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to remember where you might have met me, and I came up blank. I’m sure I’ve never seen you before, and I can’t imagine where you could have seen me. I probably remind you of someone else.”

“Fine, if you say so. But you’re a striking woman, Jess. You have the kind of face a man doesn’t forget.”

She feigned a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But I’m afraid your memory struck out this time.” She started the car. “You should be getting back to your family. I’ll do my best to keep an eye on Trevor. My time is divided between schools, but when I’m at the middle school, I’ll be sure to check.”

“Thanks for your time. Keep in touch.” His tone was neutral, in the manner of a man who’s just been shown the door.

After he left the car, she watched his tall, broad-shouldered frame move up the sidewalk, mount the porch, and disappear into the house. He was a lot of man, just not for her. Too bad, she thought as she shifted into drive and headed home.

* * *

Soon after Jess left, Cooper thanked his hosts and took his son home, along with enough lasagna and cake to last them through the weekend.

The hour was too early for bedtime, so Cooper set himself to wiping down the fridge and put Trevor to work stacking the boxed dishes in the kitchen cupboard. He was hoping the boy would open up on his own and talk to him. But Trevor was as sullen as the black clouds that had spilled across the moon outside. If Cooper wanted a conversation, it would be up to him to start it.

“I know you’ve never been around family much,” he said. “What did you think of your aunt and uncle?”

“They’re okay, I guess. The little girl’s kind of a pest.”

“Her name’s Maggie, and she made that chocolate cake you ate so much of.”

“That other woman, though . . .” Trevor paused to set a stack of saucers in an empty space. “She’s a fake. I can tell. I don’t like fakes.”