The Good Mom Read online

  She looked at Brandon, and Aidan saw hurt in her eyes. “We need to talk about our discussion earlier this morning, but not now. We’ll do it when you get home this afternoon,” she said to her son.

  “But, Mom, I—”

  “I said we’ll talk later.”

  Brandon didn’t argue. Looking pained, he shrugged and gazed at the headmaster, who led him away.

  He and Ashley were alone. “What are you doing here, Aidan?” she asked.

  “Ashley, I honestly did not plan this.” But then he paused, because in a sense, hadn’t he?

  He gave her a guilty look and a shrug because he didn’t know what else to do, but she stared at him, not buying the insouciant look on his face any more than she had with her son.

  From his peripheral vision, Aidan was well aware that not only was her son watching them but so was the table of boys he’d been sitting with.

  “Let’s talk out in the hall,” he said, smiling broadly for the audience across the room.

  “Yes. Good idea.” She nodded and then turned on her heel.

  He didn’t follow her, though. He was damned if he’d let himself be given the questioning schoolmarm treatment. He could have easily outpaced her—his legs being longer—but he kept his strides even with hers.

  Once in the hallway, she didn’t stop. She marched straight into the closest office.

  He followed her, raising a brow as he caught up to her. “Should we be doing this?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m not risking being overheard.”

  Ouch. She was tougher than she’d seemed.

  She shut the door behind him and crossed her arms.

  The room wasn’t all that big. It was a very tight, very enclosed space.

  “What are you doing with my child?” she asked.

  He sobered. “I swear I didn’t set out this morning intending to meet your son.”

  “Are you following me?”

  “My grandmother follows you.”

  She gave him a look of horror. “Vivian Sharpe follows me? What are you saying?”

  What was he saying? He’d just insinuated that his grandmother was a stalker.

  “No, sorry, I just...” He shook his head and leaned against the edge of the desk. He was losing it. His pulse was elevated. His breathing shallow.

  Aidan closed his eyes. Practiced slow, deep breathing to regain his equilibrium.

  What had made him think he could do this—help another person? He’d just come back from a war zone. His nerves were shot as it was. He’d been neglecting dealing with that part of himself.

  And his grandmother had been worried about Ashley being an alcoholic? What a laugh.

  “Aidan?”

  He opened his eyes and focused on her. She was the only one who’d been able to calm him lately. It really was great not to be called Dr. Lowe. Not to have to be so professional all the time.

  “You’ll be okay,” he said lightly to Ashley. “Don’t worry about my grandmother. She loves your son and sits in the background, doing what she can for him. You’ll never really be in trouble with her watching over you like she does.”

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “It sounds like she’s a spider!”

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud.

  But Ashley was horrified. By him, by his grandmother. And maybe she was right to be horrified—maybe he should be more so himself. His whole life, he’d been surrounded by people who ran the show for him. Spiders, creating a web around him. This wasn’t what he wanted. In fact, right now he just wanted his freedom. Wanted to be outdoors, with a wide blue sky overhead and an endless possibility of paths before him.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I made a mistake in offering to tutor your son. I only did it because my grandmother sits on the board of directors here, and she mentioned him. But I won’t be getting swept up in helping anyone again. And I won’t be having anything to do with the Captains, with baseball, with charities, with hip replacement surgeries. And I won’t be going overseas and doing good with war-torn children. I’m done, Ashley. Although, honestly, anytime you want to give me a haircut, I am so there. Just call me, and that I’ll be there for.”

  “Oh, my God...” She put her hands to her cheeks. She seemed to be in as much shock as he was.

  He was surely going crazy. The pressure had all caught up to him and he was coming apart in the most inappropriate way.

  * * *

  “VIVIAN SHARPE,” ASHLEY WHISPERED, dying at the realization. “Vivian Sharpe is keeping tabs on my son.” That’s what Brandon had been referring to earlier. How could she have missed it? “And she sits on the board at St. Bartholomew’s School?” She’d probably even gotten Brandon his scholarship.

  While she stood in stunned silence, taking it all in, Aidan gave her a tired look. It was that same tired, dazed look he’d had in the salon yesterday. And she understood. He’d been through a clinic bombing. His girlfriend—or maybe fiancée—had died in his arms. That was what he was dealing with.

  She rubbed her brow. It was so hot in this tiny, tight space. And Aidan, with that dazed look in his brown eyes, he was gazing at her like...like he was mesmerized by her. Like no man looked at her anymore, not since she’d become Brandon’s mom.

  Brandon. He’d failed his math pre-test and he needed a tutor. He needed her help. And she needed to focus—not on her worries and suspicions about Vivian Sharpe and certainly not on her physical attraction to this complicated man, Vivian’s grandson.

  She backed up. “Aidan...Dr. Lowe...please. Please, you need to tell Dr. Pingree that the school should find another tutor, someone appropriately qualified to work with middle school children on their mathematics studies. I’m not comfortable with your grandmother being involved in my son’s schooling. It’s hard enough that he’s so involved with the Captains. I didn’t realize that she was on the board of directors here, too. Will you do that, please? That way I can tell Brandon that we’ll find someone else.”

  “Aidan,” he said.

  “What?” she asked. He kept confusing her. He was looking at her straight in her eyes.

  “Aidan. Call me Aidan.”

  “Fine. Aidan. But did you even hear what I said?”

  “Don’t worry—I’m not going to interfere with your kid again. I promise.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Then...why did you talk with him this morning?” she couldn’t help asking.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Curiosity? I’m sorry. It was a mistake.” He shook his head again. “I need to clear my things out of Boston and get on with my life.”

  She digested what he said. He was still new to being home. Still reentering his old life again, but that old life was gone.

  Just like hers.

  “Good luck to you,” she murmured. She wished that she could say she thought he would be okay, too, but she wasn’t sure of that.

  He glanced away, very briefly.

  “Aidan, I really am sorry about what happened to your girlfriend,” she said softly.

  He said nothing.

  “Well, we should go...”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. She squirmed. It was so hot in this tiny school office that smelled of books and wood and leather from the big tan-colored chair behind the desk she was leaning against.

  “Ashley...”

  “Hmm?”

  “Elizabeth would be a good person to help him,” Aidan said.

  “Elizabeth?” she asked, confused again. Aidan was still staring at her lips with that dazed look in his eyes.

  “Yes, Dr. LaValley. She’s tough. She can help Brandon settle down and study.”

  Oh, Aidan was speaking of Lisbeth. And Brandon. Of course, her son was the whole point of their conversation.

  She
licked her lips. But that made it worse, because Aidan sighed as she did so.

  She fanned her face with her hand. It was so hot inside, and she was just off balance, and she shouldn’t be looking at his body, so close to hers...

  “Um, what did Brandon say when you talked with him just now?” she asked. She knew she shouldn’t ask—she’d just told him off, after all. But...he’d mentioned Lisbeth, her sister, as if he knew her, and that made it seem okay.

  Aidan’s warm brown eyes rose to hers. A slight flicker of concern crossed his face. Then she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. But he was shaking his head again, this time vigorously.

  “No. No, I can’t get involved,” he said in a loud voice.

  She blinked, surprised.

  “There’s too many kids with too many problems, and I can’t save them all. I couldn’t even save...well, it doesn’t matter.” Aidan tore his hand through his hair. “But just know that I’m the wrong one. I’m not the one that saves people.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, trying to smile, trying to soothe him. What he must have seen in that clinic in Afghanistan...

  “Let’s...well, I’ll call Lisbeth.” She decided. “I’ll explain the situation to her. And Brandon will certainly understand that you can’t help him.”

  “He wants to board here with the other boys,” Aidan said.

  “Well, he can’t do that.” She pushed it all away, set her chin and went to find the headmaster.

  * * *

  TEN MINUTES LATER, Ashley stared at Dr. Pingree. She didn’t know what to say to the news, other than the brutal truth.

  “I can’t afford to pay for a tutor,” she explained. “Isn’t there another option?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have an alternative to give you,” he repeated. “Other than Brandon can come here at night and take the extra tutoring study sessions with the boarding students before lights out. That’s the best I can offer.”

  Ashley didn’t like Brandon being out that late on weeknights. That option was impossible.

  “Isn’t there another volunteer tutor available?” she pressed.

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Dr. Pingree sighed. “As I said, most of our tutoring is done in these extra study sessions. Dr. Lowe is an excellent choice to tutor Brandon in math. He actually failed his pretesting in his first year, as Brandon did, but Aidan came a long way from those preliminary scores and went on to be one of our best math students. I’m certain he has a wonderful perspective to offer a newer, struggling student. As a mentor, he would know how difficult it can be to catch up academically to St. Bartholomew’s standards.”

  “That’s a wonderful recommendation,” Ashley murmured. “Thank you.”

  She wasn’t going to say so, but it was apparent that now that she’d chased him away, Aidan no longer wanted to help.

  Her biggest problem with the entire situation was that she’d been blindsided. She hadn’t appreciated being caught off balance. By Brandon’s mischaracterization of the note sent home, by Vivian’s behind-the-scenes monitoring of Ashley’s family, by Aidan’s involvement. Even so, she was doing her utmost to be a good mom here. To keep her attention focused on Brandon and what was best for him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Pingree. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  Dr. Pingree just sat at his large desk looking at her, tapping his fingers together. “I’m sorry, Ms. LaValley. As you recall, Brandon’s entry examinations last spring showed him to be behind in math. He was to have studied for the autumn pretests over the summer. I thought we made that clear.”

  Yes, he had worked with Lisbeth. She was highly skilled and capable—even Aidan had said so.

  “Maybe Brandon was simply nervous,” she said. “Could he take the math portion of the test again, please?”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t change the rules for one student. I’m sure you understand.”

  “It’s not a change,” she said. “It’s more of a bend...”

  Dr. Pingree shook his head.

  At that moment, Vivian Sharpe’s distinctive voice could be heard in the outer office.

  “Thank you, but could you excuse me for a moment?” Ashley asked.

  Dr. Pingree stood. “You’re quite welcome, Ms. LaValley. Feel free to call me and make an appointment to talk anytime you need to.”

  She nodded, impatient to see Vivian before she left. “Yes, Dr. Pingree. Thank you for your time.”

  She finished the niceties and then hurried outside. A secretarial worker was on the phone, her back to Ashley, but Vivian Sharpe wasn’t there.

  She wasn’t outside in the hallway, either. How did an elderly woman with a cane move so quickly?

  Ashley sighed. She was still absorbing the fact that Vivian Sharpe had turned out to be a hidden puppet-master mentor for her son’s education. She wondered if Lisbeth knew. She was the one who had helped select the schools for Ashley to apply to for Brandon. And other than feeling threatened and worried, Ashley wasn’t sure what she thought about it.

  The worry was for herself. It was scary to think she could lose Brandon—her influence over him, his love for her—to someone wealthier and more powerful. Vivian Sharpe controlled all the things that Ashley’s son cared about. His work with the Sunshine Club charity. His weekend job as a Captains Club ball boy. And now even his entrance into his new school.

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. She was grateful, at least, that Aidan had told her. At least now she knew.

  If she had met Aidan at any other time—before she’d had a son, or after her son had grown—then maybe things could be different. She was drawn to him, attracted to this gruff, sweet, complicated man who was dealing with even worse issues than she was.

  Crazy as it sounded, the fact that he seemed to have a touch of a stress disorder from his stint overseas, even the fact that he was clearly still grieving, made him feel safer to her, because he was more like her than she’d first realized. Another woman might run away from the problems, but Ashley was flawed herself. Her alcohol issues. Her excessive worry. Her problems with being a single mom...

  Brandon, she thought. When she’d left him, he’d been talking with Aidan, no doubt assuming that Aidan would be his mentor. Now that it wasn’t happening, he would naturally blame her for shutting him down.

  Brandon also wouldn’t like it when she discussed curtailing his weekend ball boy activities. At least twice a month during weekend home games, Brandon suited up and did what every kid in Boston wished they could do, too. And now she would have to force him to make some tough choices.

  He’s twelve. He’s old enough to make these basic choices. To understand consequences.

  She at least needed to talk with him now. Pave the way for a more difficult conversation this evening. She didn’t like that when she’d left him, she’d snapped at him. That wasn’t like her, and she didn’t want it to bother him.

  She went back to the desk where Dr. Pingree’s secretary sat. Ashley prepared to ask her to please allow Brandon to leave his class for ten minutes, in order to talk to her.

  The secretary behind the desk brightened and then hung up the phone when she saw her. “I’m glad you haven’t left yet, Ms. LaValley.” She held out a slip of paper to Ashley.

  “What’s this?”

  “Before she left, Mrs. Sharpe asked me to give it to you.”

  Her heart pounding, Ashley unfolded the slip of thick, cream-colored stationery.

  Inside, there was no printed name or heading. Just a bold, cursive scrawl written firmly in black ink.

  Three lines: Aidan’s name. A Boston street address. A phone number.

  Her hand shook. Mrs. Sharpe, the spider. She probably thought she was being helpful.

  Ashley shoved the contact information into her purse. She had no intention of using it—o
r Vivian’s implied approval that Aidan should tutor Ashley’s son—but it reinforced to her that Vivian didn’t want to have any direct, face-to-face interaction with her.

  Fine. She was too tired to take offense right now. Too concerned about Brandon’s future.

  The most important thing this message showed was that the all-powerful woman didn’t have the power to keep her son from flunking out of the elite St. Bartholomew’s School. She thought that only Aidan could do that.

  Poor Brandon, she thought.

  * * *

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, Ashley met Brandon at the bench beside Headmaster Pingree’s office.

  He looked at her hopefully. “Will Dr. Lowe be tutoring me now?”

  Pushing away the guilt she felt for disappointing him, she shook her head and chose her words carefully. “Brandon, I want to make sure you’re okay. You got some big news today.”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t want to see you worried.”

  “When you told me not to worry this morning, did you know that you’d failed the pretest?”

  He shook his head. “I found out for sure after you did.”

  “But you suspected it?”

  He stared at his hands. “I try not to think bad things, Mom. I always try to think positive thoughts. You know that.”

  Yes, she did. That was important to him—she knew her son. And at least she could feel better that he hadn’t outright lied to her. “Could you help me understand something, Brandon? What happened with your studies this summer? You seemed to be working so hard.”

  He shrugged and didn’t meet her eyes. “There was so much to do. I guess I just didn’t get it.” He looked bewildered.

  “School has always been pretty easy for you.”

  “It’s different here,” he mumbled.

  “I know. And Aunt Lisbeth used to spend hours locked in the library when we were kids. Maybe she studies differently than you do.”

  “I have a life, Mom,” he said indignantly.

  This was where it got sticky. She nodded. “I know you want to keep up with your friends and your social media. I know you want to suit up and be a ball boy this weekend, Brandon. But life is about choices. You need to decide which is most important to you.”