His school jacket lay across the back of the chair. The right side of his face was swollen, and his right eye was as black and blue as it could be. Meg saw Logan take a deep breath and realized how difficult it was for him to see his son in this condition.
The teenager looked up when he heard footsteps. Meg glimpsed fear in his eyes, relief and, an instant later, defiance.
Logan stood before his son. “How are you?”
“Just fine, Dad. Can’t you tell?”
Logan frowned. “I can tell you’ve gotten yourself into a mess of trouble. Are you ready to come home?”
Travis grunted. “I don’t have any choice.” He looked over at Meg. “Who’s she?”
“This is Meg Dawson.”
Coming closer to Travis, Meg extended her hand. “Hi.”
Travis scowled at his father. “Seems like you’ve been busy while I’ve been gone.”
“Travis…” The anger in Logan’s tone was evident.
Meg dropped her hand. “Have you been busy, Travis?”
The sixteen-year-old looked at her curiously, then dropped his gaze. “Yeah. I sure have. Enough to know I want to be on my own.”
“That’s impossible until you’re eighteen,” Logan snapped. “You don’t even have a job.”
“Maybe I’ll get one. Maybe as soon as I get some money, I’ll leave again.”
Logan looked as if he wanted to shake some sense into his son. “You try it, and I’ll be more of a warden than I’ve ever been.”
“You mean you’ll lock me in my room? You might as well.”
Meg saw the distress Logan was trying to hide. She saw him try to make himself relax, and she knew his next words were a real effort. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
Travis’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t respond. Instead, he said, “You have to sign release forms out at the desk before we can go.”
Logan tried to hide his pain. “All right. I won’t be long.”
Travis watched Logan leave, closed the magazine and stared out the window.
“I only met your dad a short time ago, Travis, but I know he has been worried.”
The teenager looked at her then, as if assessing her. Meg let him study her. Finally he asked, “So how did you meet Dad? Did he stop you for speeding or something?”
She knew he was goading her on purpose. Instead of becoming combative, she asked, “Do you know Ned and Lily Carlson?”
Travis nodded.
“They’re my aunt and uncle. I lived with them on and off when I was growing up. I’m back for a visit.”
Travis grimaced. “Why would you want to visit Willow Valley? There’s nothing there.”
“My aunt and uncle are there, and I love them.”
“It’s a one-horse town.”
“Were you any happier in Richmond?” she asked softly.
His tone turned defensive. “I was on the streets. If I had my own place, it would be a lot better than Willow Valley.”
Her questions for him came from a deep place inside her. She’d never known a real home, and she wondered why he was so anxious to run away from his. “Would it? Or would you get tired of it the same way you got tired of Willow Valley?”
He took his jacket from the back of the chair. “I never liked Willow Valley. It wasn’t my choice to move there.”
“Did you give it a chance?” she asked quietly.
He remained silent and slung his jacket over his arm.
“Sometimes it’s not the place that matters but the people there or the work.”
He studied her curiously. “So what do you do?”
“I’m an interpreter.”
She’d apparently piqued his interest. “Where do you usually live?”
“Washington, D.C.”
Travis’s eyes widened, and he looked impressed.
Logan came back into the room. “Everything’s set. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be,” Travis mumbled.
Logan frowned and waited for Travis to stand. The teenager held his ribs. Logan moved forward, then stopped. The expression on Travis’s face told him to stay clear.
If Meg thought the trip to Richmond was tense, the trip home couldn’t be described. Logan asked his son questions about where he’d been, what he’d been doing, and Travis sullenly mumbled a few monosyllables. The muscle working in his jaw, his hands taking a strangle-hold on the wheel, Logan gave up and drove.
An hour from Willow Valley, they passed a few fast-food restaurants. At a red light, Logan asked his son, “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe.”
“Yes or no, Travis.” Meg could tell Logan was at the end of his patience.
“Go ahead and stop. I don’t care where.”
Logan pulled into the next fast-food restaurant.
The silence at the table was deafening as Travis devoured two deluxe burgers and a large order of fries. After a slurp of his milk shake, he checked out Meg again. “Do you travel much with what you do?”
“Quite a bit. I have albums full of pictures. In fact, I’m going to be giving workshops at your high school on some of the places I’ve seen.”
“Yeah?” There was a gleam of interest in his eyes, the same green as Logan’s.
“Your principal and I have been discussing the best way to do it. Probably through social-studies classes. What do you think I can do so I don’t bore everyone?”
Travis shrugged. “Dunno.”
Logan frowned.
Meg didn’t give up. “What would make it interesting for you?”
The teenager thought for a while. “Not just a PowerPoint presentation. But talking about something neat that happened each place.”
Travis had a point. She didn’t want to do a travelogue or a lecture. Getting the kids involved would work the best. “I’ll have to think about that. If you come up with any ideas, let me know.”
His expression was doubtful.
