“It’s time to say goodbye. I’ve learned the hard way already that here at Camp Hope, dragging it out isn’t good for anyone.”
No kidding. She’d end up crying and Cody would end up looking for an escape. Not like he needed any more prompting to run away. It wouldn’t be the first time. She slowly stood with the others, fighting the rising panic welling in her throat as they filed outside to the porch. He would be fine. And so would she.
But what if he found out? What if Max found out?
She smiled at her son, who bobbed his head in a nod but didn’t return the smile. He was nervous. She could tell by the pinched brow and the way his bottom lip curved on the side. Suddenly, all she could see was her baby boy, the one who used to follow her around the house, zooming a fire truck under her feet and burning his fingers on the cookie sheet because he was too impatient to wait. He needed her. Needed his mom.
But the only way for her to be there for him now was to leave.
Unwanted tears welled, and she blinked rapidly, forcing her voice to stay strong. She held out her arms, praying he would pacify her request for a hug. He fell quickly into her embrace, then hid a sniff behind a cough. She clutched him tightly, despite his stiffening against her touch, and tuned out the sounds of the parents around her performing similar rituals with their own kids.
Far too soon, she pulled away until she could see Cody’s eyes. “I’ll be back when it’s time. You just obey Mr. Ringgold.” The name tasted foreign on her lips, but her heart knew it well.
“He said to call him Max.” Cody kept his eyes focused somewhere past her shoulder, and she could only assume it was for the same reason she kept darting her gaze to his nose. Easier not to cry that way. Maybe he wasn’t so tough after all.
She pulled him in for one more hug, despite his grumbled protest. Don’t overdo it, Emma. But the self-coaching wasn’t working. Her desperate mommy heart kept taking charge. “Just obey. Let’s do this right and get you home, okay?” She still couldn’t believe she was telling anyone to do what Max Ringgold told them. Once upon a time that would have been a prison sentence—or worse.
“I know.” Impatience crowded Cody’s tone as he pulled away, and she bit back any more natural but unwanted advice. He was about to get plenty of that. Maybe he’d listen to someone else. But Max? It went against every instinct she had.
Still, he’d proved himself at the dinner table with the kids. He was capable and in charge. Max wasn’t a punk teenager anymore, and she wasn’t a needy girl attempting to fill herself with the temporal.
Mostly.
She grazed Cody’s arm. “You know I love you, right?” She couldn’t help it—her voice cracked.
“I know.” Cody shuffled his feet, nodding with a jerk. “Relax, Mom. I’m not a murderer or anything.”
At least there was that. She figured she wasn’t getting a return “I love you,” but then again, he hadn’t said that in a long time. Probably not since she got him his iPod at his last birthday.
She forced the negative thought away. They were here. They’d get through this, and she’d figure out what—if anything—to do about Max later.
Her eyes darted to where he stood a respectful distance away from the group, giving the parents space to say their goodbyes, and then flicked to the ground as his gaze met hers. Right now, her secret was safe, and Cody was in a good position to do what he needed to do. That was what mattered the most. The rest would just have to wait.
Max would just have to wait.
Chapter Three
Emma poured herself what had to be her fourth cup of tea in the past two hours—and still, her headache had yet to abandon ship. She settled back against the throw pillows on her mother’s couch, then adjusted positions as a knotted tassel dug into her spine. She’d hated those pillows growing up. Still did.
Her mom sat across the coffee table from her in a straight-back chair, one sandal-clad foot bouncing an easy rhythm over her crossed leg. Her softly curled brown hair was cut the same, maybe a little shorter. The wrinkles under her eyes were new. Then again, the bags under Emma’s eyes were relatively new as well, thanks to Cody.
“Camp Hope is a quality facility, Emma. Cody will be fine.” Her mother paused as she took a sip from her teacup. “It will be good for him to get out of Dallas for a while.”
“I know. You’re right.” But she heard what her mom wasn’t saying. You should have brought him here more often. And maybe she should have. But she’d made her choices, and they worked for them. Or at least, they had worked until Cody cannonballed off the deep end.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she kept Cody from his grandmother. Her mom came and stayed with them in the city multiple times during the year, shopping, dining out and enjoying spa days at Emma’s expense. She didn’t mind pampering her mother—her father never did growing up, and her mom definitely deserved it.
Mom just never understood why Emma kept her secrets to herself.
“Will you still be in town for Thanksgiving?” Her mother’s tone was even, controlled, so much so that Emma couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the words. Did she want them to stay? Was that hope hidden? Or resignation of the inevitable inconvenience?
“I guess it depends on the program and Cody’s graduation.” She rolled in her lip. Thanksgiving. Seemed aeons away, though it was only about a month. “If Cody graduates then we should be able to join you. Or you could follow us to Dallas and we could get together there.” If he didn’t graduate...then Cody would go to juvie? Would the judge give him another chance? Would Cody stay out of trouble long enough to make it through the holidays?
She’d heard the tone of voice the judge had used when he’d pulled her aside privately after the hearing. “I know this is hard on you,” he’d said. “Especially as a counselor. So I’m playing this straight with you—Camp Hope is Cody’s last chance before serious repercussions. He’s on a bad road, Ms. Shaver, and the people he’s keeping company with are on a worse one.”
Like she didn’t already know.
But hearing it from an official’s mouth, from someone who had the authority to put her son in some form of teen confinement, made the slap of reality sting all the more.
Cody had to get through this program.
Emma set her teacup on the coffee table, emotion clogging her throat, and stood as her mother wisely remained silent. Adrenaline raced against exhaustion in a never-ending marathon. This was so messed up. She should be planning what to get her son for Christmas, not wondering if he’d even be home on December 25.
She moved to the lace-covered front window, admiring the sunset and soaking in the peace it offered as she ran her fingers over the worn edges of the curtains. They hadn’t changed, either. But then again, her mom didn’t have any more money now than she did when Daddy was alive.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the musty, familiar smell of the house of her childhood. She hadn’t been home since the funeral a few years ago. Even then, she’d kept to herself, rigid in the corner with a sandwich tray, feigning a smile and hoping Broken Bend didn’t stain her any further than it already had. She’d left after convincing her mom to come stay
