Crossroads. Irene Hannon

      The expression on her face when he turned back almost did him in. Clearly, his abrupt movement had disconcerted her. She looked vulnerable and uncertain and in desperate need of comforting. It took every ounce of his willpower to calmly walk back to his chair and simply hand her the flyer he’d retrieved.

      “Caring is the most important thing, Ms. Lockwood,” he said, his voice a shade deeper than usual. “But sometimes it does take even more. You might want to attend this meeting next week. Chris Stevens, one of our counselors, is going to talk about the pressures teens face and how parents can help. There’ll also be an opportunity for discussion and questions. I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”

      Tess glanced down at the sheet of paper. It had been a long time since anyone had offered a helping hand, and once more her throat constricted with emotion.

      “Thank you. I’ll do my best to make it.” She folded the paper and put it in her purse, then rose. Mitch was instantly on his feet, and when he extended his hand, she once more found her fingers enveloped in his warm grasp.

      “In the meantime, I’ll keep my eye on Bruce. And don’t hesitate to call if you have any other concerns.”

      Tess gazed up into his kind eyes, and for the briefest moment allowed herself to wonder what life would have been like if Bruce had had a father figure like Mitch Jackson in his life these past few years. Somehow, in her heart, she knew that things would have been a lot different. For him—and for her.

      Suddenly afraid that he would read her thoughts, she withdrew her hand and lowered her gaze. “I appreciate your interest,” she said, her voice quavering slightly as he walked her to the door.

      “It goes with the territory. Goodbye, Ms. Lockwood. And try not to worry. I have a feeling that things are going to improve.”

      She gazed at him directly then, and once more something in her eyes reached to his very soul. “I hope so, Mr. Jackson. And thank you for caring.”

      Mitch watched her speculatively as she walked across the reception area and disappeared out the door. Unlike the parents from his previous conference, Tess Lockwood seemed to have taken his comments to heart. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t easily dismiss their encounter.

      And for reasons that had nothing at all to do with her son, Mitch didn’t think he would, either.

       Chapter Two

       “O kay, let’s talk.”

      At Tess’s no-nonsense tone, Bruce looked up from his desk, his eyes wary. “About what?”

      She moved to the side of his bed and sat down. “Guess.”

      “I suppose Mr. Jackson told you a lot of garbage.”

      “‘Garbage’ is a good word for the behavior he discussed.”

      “I haven’t done anything wrong,” Bruce declared defensively.

      “You know what? I believe you. But from what I heard, you’re heading in the wrong direction.”

      “Mr. Jackson just wants to get me in trouble.”

      “Wrong. He wants to keep you from getting in trouble.”

      Bruce looked at her defiantly. “So now you’re on his side.”

      “That’s right. Because he happens to be on your side.”

      “That’s a bunch of—”

      “Bruce!”

      He clamped his mouth shut and stared at her sullenly.

      “That’s exactly the kind of behavior I’m talking about. Since when did you start using language like that?”

      “Like what?”

      “Come off it, Bruce. You’ve let enough slip these last few weeks for me to realize that you’ve expanded your vocabulary. And I don’t like it.”

      “Words don’t hurt anything.”

      “I disagree. They hurt your character. And they can also give you a juvenile record if you scratch them on the walls in the boys’ rest room.”

      Bruce’s face grew red. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

      “I didn’t say you did. And I don’t believe you vandalized the cars or stole the computer equipment.”

      “I wasn’t smoking, either.”

      “Maybe not. But when it comes to drugs, the cops bust you first and ask questions later.”

      He looked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

      “Mr. Jackson gave me a few more details about the smoking incident.”

      He still looked confused. “What does that have to do with drugs?”

      Tess stared at him, and slowly the light began to dawn. He honestly didn’t know! Relief coursed through her and the tension coiled deep inside eased ever so slightly. “That wasn’t just a cigarette, Bruce,” she said gently. “It was a joint. Marijuana.”

      His face blanched. “Who told you that?”

      “Mr. Jackson.”

      “I don’t believe it! Besides, how does he know? He didn’t see anything.”

      “He was a cop, remember? He could tell from the smell. You’re lucky he contacted me instead of the police.”

      Bruce frowned. “He didn’t have a case, anyway,” he said slowly, some of his cockiness returning. “There wasn’t any evidence. And the smell would have been gone by the time the police got there.”

      Anger flashed in Tess’s eyes. “Maybe the next time you won’t be so lucky.”

      Bruce glared at her defiantly. “I can take care of myself.”

      “Really? So what are you going to do when they pass around the next joint?”

      His gaze skittered away. “I don’t have to smoke. They’ll be my friends even if I don’t.”

      “They’re not your friends now, Bruce. They’re bad news, and they’re going to drag you down with them. Can’t you see that?” she pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into her voice.

      “No! I like them! They’re nice to me! They’re the only ones who are at that dumb school. Do you know what it’s like not to have anyone to sit with at lunch? It su…it stinks! I sat by myself every day until they invited me. I owe them,” he said fiercely.

      An ominous chill went down Tess’s spine. The scenario Bruce had just described was exactly the one Mitch Jackson had used as an example. By drawing him in, by accepting him, the group he’d hooked up with had evoked not only a sense of gratitude, but of obligation. Which could be very dangerous.

      “You don’t owe them a thing,” Tess shot back, but she could see that her words fell on deaf ears. She rose, trying to control her panic. “Okay. Until further notice, you’re to come home right after school.”

      Bruce sent her a venomous look. “You’re grounding me?”

      “You got it.”

      “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong. You said you believed me.”

      “I do. But I think you’re on dangerous ground.”

      “So you’re going to lock me up? I bet that was Mr. Jackson’s idea,” he said angrily.

      “As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. I thought it up all by myself.”

      “I’ll still see the guys at school,” he countered defiantly.

      “That’s true. But I think Mr. Jackson will be keeping his eye out for you there.”

      “I