Once and for All. Jeannie Watt

impression that something wasn’t quite right between him and Sam.

      “I didn’t realize you had a son,” she said as the door swung shut. A son usually indicated the presence of a wife, yet Sam wore no ring.

      “He’s my nephew.”

      Ah. “He resembles you.”

      “I know.” The words came out in a way that made Jodie feel vaguely foolish for having made the observation.

      “I’ll go get the checkbook.” She’d had enough of this conversation.

      “Make it a hundred even, for now.”

      WHEN SAM GOT INTO THE RIG, Beau was already slumped down in the seat, staring sullenly at the dashboard. Sam ignored him and started the engine, pulling up close to the steps so Jodie didn’t have far to go when she came back out to hand him the payment through the open window. Again he was struck by how exhausted she looked. And how vulnerable. He was certain she had no idea or the lawyer mask would have slipped back into place.

      “Thank you for coming.” Her words were spoken in a clipped, formal tone.

      “See you tomorrow,” Sam replied automatically. Beau continued to stare straight ahead and Sam could only imagine what Jodie thought of his giant pouting nephew.

      She went back in the house, and as Sam folded the check to tuck it away in his shirt pocket, he noticed that she’d added some on account. Jodie De Vanti was either grateful or trying to buy herself a vet—a vet who’d better damned well be able to successfully treat the bull or he’d be dealing with Joe when he got home. Sam had no illusions there, but that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment.

      No brilliant solutions for the cheating problem had popped into his brain while he was working, other than grounding his nephew’s ass forever. He’d hoped that he and Beau could talk on the drive home, but it was obvious there would be no conversation tonight. The kid needed time to cool off, to realize that the world wasn’t against him and maybe he had something to do with the jam he was in.

      Dave? Sam sent out another plea for help. Ideas?

      Nothing.

      He missed his brother.

      Sam drove through the dark countryside, wondering how this was going to play out, trying to convince himself that it would be okay, that this wasn’t the beginning of Beau embarking on a life of crime. Logically, Sam knew it wasn’t, but the parenting game brought a whole lot of “what ifs” with it.

      He loved his nephews more than life, but sometimes he couldn’t help but reminisce about how simple his life had been prior to his brother’s death.

      SAM WAS INVITED TO A meeting at Beau’s school the Friday following the cheating incident. At home Beau was grounded for at least two weeks, and Sam planned on working the kid’s butt off around the clinic. Now they would be informed of the academic and sports-related consequences.

      The meeting was a quick one, since it took place just before class started, and the group—Mr. Domingo, the principal; Mr. Gerard, the basketball coach; and Miss Simms, the math teacher—agreed to a two-game suspension. After that, Beau could play if his grades were passing. Since he’d received a zero for the math test, that was going to be difficult, and he knew it.

      He stared glumly at the floor for much of the meeting, making Sam want to reiterate once again that the only reason his nephew was there was because he’d made a stupid choice. But Sam had already said that at least five or six times that morning and the message did not seem to be sinking in.

      “I want you home immediately after practice,” Sam said when Beau got up to leave. “No hanging with the guys.”

      Beau nodded, his expression blank, and then disappeared out the door. Sam could almost feel his nephew’s relief at finally escaping. The principal muttered something about having to patrol the halls, and followed Beau out of the room. Gerard disappeared after him.

      “Beau’s a good kid,” Miss Simms said, directing her attention back to Sam.

      “I know. I want to make sure he stays that way.”

      “You’d be surprised how many kids cheat. Even the good ones.”

      Frustration welled up inside Sam. “It’s not acceptable.”

      “No,” she agreed mildly. “It’s not. But it’s not the end of the world. He got caught. I’m certain he’ll have consequences at home.” No doubt. “Right now we need to see that he understands math.”

      Okay, was she politely telling him to get a grip? Quite possibly. But she wasn’t in charge of seeing that her dead brother’s children got off on the right foot in life.

      “Any clues how to do that?”

      “Small steps. Beau has trouble focusing, and when he gets frustrated he shuts down.” Miss Simms craned her neck to see if the hall outside the office was clear, then continued speaking in a tone just above a whisper. “Coach Gerard has tried to help him, since he’s also a math teacher, but frankly, he assumes too much understanding. Beau needs to be taken slowly from step one when he encounters a new concept. To be reminded of what he’s learned before and told how to apply it. Some kids make an instant leap. Others need review.”

      “Does Beau have a learning disability?”

      “He has a different learning pattern. What works for the majority of kids doesn’t work so well for him. He can come in during the mornings and I’ll help him.”

      “He hasn’t been doing that?” Sam asked. Beau was supposed to be.

      The math teacher gave Sam a weary smile. “He usually comes by on the morning of the test, panicked.”

      Another topic Sam needed to address with his nephew. He felt stupid for not already being aware.

      “I ordered a book online,” he said. “I’ll try to help him more.”

      “Feel free to call on me.”

      Sam forced a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” It would have been great if Miss Simms had known of a tutor, but all she could recommend were peer tutors. Sam didn’t believe another kid was up to the job of hammering math into Beau’s head when adults couldn’t get the job done.

      He left the office and stepped into the milling swarms of kids in the hall. He caught sight of Beau standing next to a locker, talking to Marisa Brown, the perkiest of perky cheerleaders, and resisted the urge to push his way through the crowd and tell him he needed to focus on school, not women.

      Instead Sam continued to follow a stream of kids until he got to the exit. He’d fight that battle, along with several others, tonight. Right now he wanted to get his first call—the Barton ranch—over and done with.

      JODIE GOT UP EARLY and checked the bull—thankfully he wasn’t belly up—then sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and staring out the picture window at the snowy fields with the pastel-blue mountains behind them.

      She was grateful Sam had come the night before, grateful that he was doing what he could … but this was her father’s prize bull. She had to do everything she could, so she’d put in another call to Eriksson’s office, hoping to leave a message on voice mail for a call back. Instead she got the same recording as the time she’d called for advice about Bronson. Dr. Eriksson was out of the office for yet another week.

      What kind of vet took two-week vacations? Didn’t he realize that people needed him? Now?

      “Lucas said Sam is coming back this morning,” Margarite said as she sat down on the other side of the table with a crossword puzzle book and a cup of tea.

      “Yes.”

      “Thank goodness. I don’t want your dad to blame Lucas if the bull dies.” She spoke offhandedly, opening the book and finding where she’d left off, but her words made Jodie’s temples throb.