The only male who should be occupying a place in her thoughts right now was David. This was his first day at the local high school, and Emily remembered how rough that could be. She’d brought him in yesterday to register, but today she’d allowed him to ride his motorbike. Although she hadn’t been pleased when Stuart had presented it to him without consulting her, she could understand why David would prefer riding it to being dropped off by his mother or taking the school bus.
She hoped he’d make some new friends, if the local kids didn’t think his hair and clothes were too weird. The boys she’d seen looked pretty conventional, and the woman in the office had certainly seemed startled when she’d first glanced up from her computer and seen David, but she’d been pleasant enough while assisting him with his paperwork.
Now Emily noticed the wall clock above the feed store cash register. The real estate agent who’d sold her the property had promised to send over a contractor to turn the shed into a studio, and the man was coming today. Emily and David had spent all yesterday afternoon emptying an assortment of junk from the small outbuilding and scrubbing down the inside. It already had running water, electricity and a solid floor, but it needed some attention before Emily could set up her equipment and work there in comfort.
She had hoped to visit the local library while she was in Waterloo, but any further exploration would have to wait for another day. She’d buy a newspaper on her way out of town and check the classified ads. Perhaps a dog would ease David’s transition. He’d never been allowed a pet before, and now they had room for a menagerie if they wanted. Meanwhile she had a contractor to consult with, an office to set up and dinner to plan.
“I hate it here.” David threw down his fork and slid his chair back so fast that it crashed against the floor. “I want to go live with Dad.”
“I know the first day at a new school can be tough—” Emily began.
“They’re a bunch of dorks and losers!” David exclaimed. At Emily’s pointed glance, he righted his chair. “The building is old and crummy, and it’s too small.” When he’d gotten home earlier, he’d retreated to his room with the door firmly closed, leaving Emily to put her curiosity on hold until she’d summoned him for dinner.
“Why don’t you sit down and finish eating,” she suggested now. “Give it a few days—”
“I’m not going back there.” His cheeks were flushed and his dark brows were bunched into a frown, but his eyes had a suspicious sheen as he plopped back down. After a moment he stabbed his fork into the spaghetti on his plate.
“What will you do if you don’t go to school?” Emily asked, feeling as though she were walking barefoot through a room full of mouse traps. Her own appetite had disappeared with his first angry exclamation. She’d hoped at least one student would make an effort to welcome him.
“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Hitchhike back to L.A., I guess. I could find a job at one of the studios. Dad would help me.”
Emily clasped her shaking hands together in her lap under the table. “Listen,” she said, leaning forward, “I want your promise right now that you won’t do any such thing.” The idea of him alone on some highway, thumb out, made her stomach turn over.
“You mean get a job?” he asked with a patently innocent expression.
“Don’t play dumb! I don’t want you hitchhiking under any circumstances.” Her voice was sharp, and she had to take a deep breath before she continued. “We’ve talked about the dangers of accepting rides from strangers.”
He rolled his eyes, but at least his frown had faded. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He took a huge bite of garlic bread, his jaw flexing as he chewed. Pretty soon he’d be shaving and Lord knew what else.
“I mean it. I want your promise that you’ll talk to me before you do anything like that,” Emily repeated.
She waited impatiently for his answer while he swallowed. When he took a drink of milk, she nearly screamed with frustration. “David,” she warned.
Finally he bobbed his head. “Okay, I promise.”
Emily released the breath she’d been holding. “What about your classes? Your teachers? Anyone good? Anything interesting?”
He shrugged, twirling spaghetti around his fork. “Geometry’s all right, I guess, and the Spanish teacher’s a babe.” He gestured with his hands. “Really built, you know?”
Emily realized he was fishing for a reaction. “But can she teach?”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and his mouth relaxed ever so slightly. “Who cares?”
“You’re right,” she teased. “If you don’t learn anything, you can always take the class over in summer school.”
He slid down in his chair, and she wondered, as she always did, how he could sit on his tailbone like that and be comfortable.
“Are you behind in your classes?” she asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m way ahead in most of them. There are only a couple hundred kids in the whole school, and that’s for six grades,” he replied. “It’s weird having the younger kids right there.”
“And did you meet anyone interesting, other than your Spanish teacher?” she persisted.
Instantly his frown was back. “Talk about a bunch of hicks,” he grumbled. “You’d think the whole world was into rodeos and cattle ranching. They all dress like Roy Rogers, and they stare at me as though I just beamed down from another planet.”
“I’m sure that to the kids around here California is a different planet,” Emily agreed, “but I’ll bet some of them are curious about you. Maybe they’re shy. Keep smiling and give them a few days to get used to you.”
“You always think everyone is shy, but the truth is that no one likes me here.” David shoved back his chair, but this time it didn’t tip over. “Is there more spaghetti?”
Emily nodded toward the pan on the stove. “Help yourself. Didn’t anyone talk to you?”
“Just one girl,” he said as he piled more pasta on his plate and ladled sauce over it. “She showed me where the library was. It only has five computers.”
“What’s her name?” Emily asked, shaking her head when he pointed first to her plate and then to the stove.
“Her name’s Kim. She’s in two of my classes, and I saw her getting on the bus after school.”
Emily knew better than to express too much curiosity about the girl. “Do you have homework?” she asked instead.
He stuffed the last bite of garlic bread into his mouth. “Yeah.” His voice was muffled, but she ignored the breach in manners that would have sent Stuart into a rage. “I can help you with the dishes first, if you want,” David offered.
Emily beamed at him. Sometimes, when she least expected it, the sweet boy she remembered would make an appearance. Stuart had always worked long hours, leaving her to raise their son alone. Until the incident that had gotten David expelled from his old school, she would have said her relationship with him was extremely
