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“I’ll come and visit him here then.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stood and brushed the straw off her shorts and shirt. “We’d better get back to the inn before your dad gets worried.”
The scowl returned. “He won’t be worried. He hates me.”
Paige could only stare as Zach placed the kitten down beside its siblings. “Why would you say your dad hates you?” She closed the barn door behind them and made sure the latch had caught.
Zach shrugged, his eyes trained on the ground as he walked. “He yells at me all the time. He’s always mad.”
Nathan Porter didn’t exactly exude a sunny disposition, but what could you expect from a man who’d just lost his wife? “Your dad’s not himself right now. Sometimes when adults seem angry, they’re really hiding how sad they are.” Her heart ached for Nathan and his son. She remembered all too well the feeling of being mired so deep in grief she thought she’d suffocate.
“My dad’s not sad. He’s glad my mom’s dead. Except now he’s stuck with me.”
Paige fought to keep her jaw from dropping. For a second time, Zach had stunned her into silence. She decided against saying anything else until she’d had a chance to talk to Nathan Porter. Something a lot deeper than grief was going on between father and son.
Something she needed to figure out before she went any further.
* * *
By two o’clock, Paige had tidied her office in anticipation of her appointment with Nathan. She’d made arrangements with George’s wife, Catherine, to look after Zach while they talked. After the last piece of paper had been filed, Paige stood back to survey the small room with a twinge of dismay. The surplus metal desk, file cabinet, ancient laptop and scarred wooden credenza didn’t exactly portray the professional impression she’d like. But then she’d never imagined entertaining patients here.
Still she’d done her best to cheer the place up with a couple of soft lamps, a few pieces of artwork and some pictures of her favorite moments at Wyndermere.
A sharp knock brought her back to the present. She wiped her damp palms on her shorts and exhaled. “Come in.”
Nathan Porter stepped inside, his larger-than-life presence making the room seem to shrink in size. He’d changed into a casual polo shirt, navy shorts and sneakers, which made him a little less intimidating than wearing a suit and tie. Still the air crackled with a subtle tension. Too bad his attitude hadn’t relaxed, as well.
“Mr. Porter. Thank you for coming. Please sit down.” She indicated the chair across from her desk. As he folded his tall frame onto the chair, she prayed for the right words to reach him.
“Look, Miss McFarlane,” he said curtly before she could begin, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to help my son. I’m sure George coerced you into doing this.”
A band of heat crept up her neck, but she lifted her chin, determined to keep a professional image. “George asked me to see what I could do for Zach, and I agreed to try.”
He let out a defeated breath that matched the tired lines around his eyes. “Are you aware that professional therapists have failed to get anywhere with him?”
Was that a subtle jab that she wasn’t a professional yet? She pushed back the doubts creeping in and forced a calm expression. “George mentioned it. Which is why I’d like to keep this very casual. I’ll incorporate Zach’s sessions with the everyday activities, so it’s more natural.”
Nathan nodded. “That might help.” He paused. “What about...compensation for your services?”
She cringed. Money was an uncomfortable topic for her. Especially when she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get through to the boy. “Why don’t we leave that until I see if I can make any headway with Zach.” She gripped her hands together. “Which brings me to the reason I asked to see you. In order to help your son, I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”
She swore she could see the walls go up around Nathan, brick by brick. He shifted on the metal chair that groaned under his weight.
“Was Zach’s behavior out of line?”
“No. In fact, we got along pretty well, all things considered. But something he said made me wonder if I’m missing part of the picture.”
Nathan’s piercing eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
She took a deep breath before continuing, hoping to untangle the knots in her stomach. “I’m sorry if this sounds cruel, but I’m only repeating what Zach told me. He said you hate him, you’re glad his mother died and you’re mad because you’re ‘stuck’ with him.” She ticked the list off on her fingers.
His mouth tightened into an even grimmer line as the color drained from his face. “You must know none of that is true.”
“Of course.” She kept an even tone. “What I need to know is why Zach believes it’s true.”
He threw out his hands. “How should I know what goes on in the mind of a seven-year-old?”
Paige fought to keep her manner sympathetic. “Mr. Porter, I understand you’re in a terrible position—trying to cope with your own loss, while helping your child deal with his overwhelming emotions.”
When there was no response, she picked up her pen and battled the urge to tap out her nerves and frustration on the legal pad. “Zach is most likely acting out quite a bit right now—creating scenes, having tantrums. Am I close?”
Nathan looked at her with unconcealed surprise. “Very.”
“This type of behavior would be difficult enough to deal with in an ordinary situation. But dealing with your own issues as well must make it almost impossible.”
“Yes.” The relief in his voice accentuated the release of tension in his broad shoulders.
She sensed he hadn’t shared this burden with anyone—that he’d been keeping his own grief bottled up. “May I ask how your wife died?” she asked gently.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, pain leaped from their blue depths. “A brain aneurysm—five months ago. Zach found her when he got home from school.”
“Oh, no. How awful.” The thought brought the sting of tears to her eyes. “No wonder he’s having such a hard time. Did he call you right away?”
Nathan looked away again. “He called his grandmother and she phoned for an ambulance. But it was too late. Cynthia had been dead for hours.”
“I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one...unexpectedly.” She struggled with a lump in her throat as painful memories surfaced. The flashing lights of the police car spearing the rain-soaked night. The wail of the siren that matched her own wail of grief. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed the images away. She couldn’t afford to relive her own sorrow every time she treated a patient.
Nathan still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Once again, Paige sensed there was far more to the situation than he was telling her. She forged ahead to cover the awkward silence. “Right now, Zach is suffering from the classic anger associated with the grieving process. He’s also experiencing severe abandonment issues. Subconsciously, Zach is testing your limits to see if you, too, will abandon him.”
Nathan’s focus riveted back to her, as though she held the secrets of the universe. When she shifted under his intense stare, the wheel on her rickety chair creaked. “It’s important to keep reassuring him of your unconditional love and support. Make him understand that no matter what he does, you love him and will never leave him.”
A flush moved up his neck, while his gaze slid down to his clenched hands.
Suspicion flickered. “You have told Zach you love him, haven’t you, Mr. Porter?”
“I’m his father. He knows how I feel.”
She leaned forward over the desk to emphasize her point. “Everyone needs to hear the words—no matter how much you think it’s understood. Especially children.”
Visibly agitated, Nathan stood to pace the small enclosure. “It’s not easy to profess love to a child who constantly screams ‘I hate you.’”
Compassion welled within her, and inexplicably Paige found herself wanting to comfort this man, to ease his pain in some small way.
“Of course it isn’t easy,” she said. “But you, as the adult, have to rise above his outbursts. Sometimes a simple hug during a tantrum will defuse the situation. And right now Zach needs all the hugs he can get.”
Nathan stopped pacing, his back to her. His rigid stance and lack of response told Paige there was something much deeper blocking his relationship with his son.
She jotted down a few notes on her pad of paper before posing another difficult question. “I have to ask, Mr. Porter...were there problems in your marriage?”
His back muscles visibly stiffened before he turned to pin her with an icy glare. “That is a very personal question, Miss McFarlane. And quite presumptuous, I might add.”
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t allow her gaze to falter. “If you want to help Zach, you need to be honest about the state of your relationship, both before and after your wife’s death.”
Paige could almost feel the war of emotions surging underneath the surface as Nathan contemplated her words. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and his whole body seemed to deflate. “I will do whatever it takes to help my son.”
She offered him a smile of encouragement as he resumed his seat, and waited for him to speak.
He stared at the floor for several moments, then at last raised his head to look at her. “Cynthia and I separated six months before she died.”
Paige’s stomach dipped. Poor Zach. How much upheaval had he endured in his young life? “I see.” She schooled her expression, hoping her dismay didn’t show. “Was Zach living with his mother during this time?”
“Yes. She moved out and got an apartment.”
Odd. Usually the mother and child stayed in the family home. “How often did you get to see Zach during the separation?”
Again Nathan’s gaze slid away. “About once a month.”
Paige blinked. “Why so little?”
She thought she might be the recipient of another glare, but he only sighed. “Sometimes Cynthia would cancel our weekend plans at the last minute. Sometimes an emergency would come up at work, and I’d have to cancel. It was hard to keep our schedules straight.”
Paige’s heart went out to the poor child caught up in that type of ping-pong match. “I imagine Zach’s behavior was less than ideal during your allotted visits.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “That’s an understatement.”
“Which made you dread the time you spent with him instead of looking forward to it.”
“Pretty much.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “I’d like you to look at your separation from Zach’s point of view for a minute. His mother takes him away from his home, from everything familiar. Then every time his dad is supposed to come and see him, the plans fall apart. And when they do spend time together, his father seems like he can’t wait to leave. Zach comes to the conclusion that his father doesn’t want to see him and doesn’t care about him. A lot of anger and resentment builds up. Compound that with his mother’s sudden death, and quite frankly I’m surprised Zach’s not a lot worse off than he is.”
Nathan’s silence spoke volumes. She decided not to push for anything further at this point. “Thank you, Mr. Porter. I have a much better understanding of Zach’s emotional state now. I should be able to help him work through some issues. May I ask how long you’re planning to stay at Wyndermere?”
“I haven’t decided. A month—maybe more. But Zach will attend camp the whole summer.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ease a headache. “There’s something else you should probably know. Zach’s behavior at school got him suspended twice. And Zach’s maternal grandparents have threatened to sue for custody if his behavior hasn’t improved by September. I don’t think they’ll do anything over the summer, but just in case, I wanted you to be aware.”
Paige paused to digest this information. “Good to know. I’ll do my best to help Zach and will keep you informed on his progress.” She rose and offered her hand, praying he couldn’t tell that she felt as off-kilter as a new colt.
In one fluid motion, he stood and engulfed her palm in his. A tremor raced up her arm as his intense gaze held hers. The stark sorrow in their depths stalled the air in her lungs.
“I’ll be grateful for any improvement you can bring about, Miss McFarlane.”
With a slight nod, he released her hand and quietly left the room.
Paige slumped into her chair and let the air whoosh out of her lungs as she lifted a silent plea Heavenward. Without divine assistance, she feared she would never be able to heal the broken spirits of either Zach or his father.
* * *
The fresh air came as a relief after the confinement of Paige McFarlane’s office. Nathan’s long strides ate up the path as he headed toward the lake, consumed with the need for physical activity to release his pent-up emotions.
As he followed the lakeside, his brisk walk changed to a jog. He focused on the air rushing in and out of his lungs, and the sting of his leg muscles, allowing the sensations to block out all the negative emotions that had started to surface during his talk with that woman. He needed the exertion to push them firmly back where they belonged.
Winded, he stopped to lean against a tree and stared out over the water. The serenity of the scene did nothing to ease his anxiety. His mind was in chaos, his emotions churning. Talking about his marital difficulties had brought all the guilt and anger rushing back to the surface—a toxic mixture that had all but crippled his life in New York and rendered him incapable of continuing his ministry. His parishioners deserved someone who demonstrated a shining example of faith and courage, not a man paralyzed with hatred and bitterness.
Nathan continued on the path by the water, this time walking. Deep-breathing exercises allowed him to corral his unwanted feelings back into the appropriate compartment. It was ironic, really. His friends and family had all tried to get him to see a counselor, but he’d refused. The thought of baring his soul to a stranger, even another clergy member, made him physically ill.
Now, while trying to help his son, Paige McFarlane had started poking into the most private areas of his life. Areas he wanted to keep buried. Somehow he had a feeling she would not allow that to happen.
He sighed, and reluctantly headed down the beach in the direction of George and Catherine’s house to pick up his son, his mind still consumed by one unavoidable question.
How was he ever going to help Zach when he was powerless to help himself?
* * *
Paige entered the employee cafeteria on the lower level of the inn, grateful for a distraction from her thoughts of Nathan and Zach’s problems. She found Jerry already seated at their usual table, two trays in front of him. With his sandy brown hair and freckles, Jerry Walton appeared a lot younger than his twenty-five years. He hadn’t changed a bit since they’d started running the children’s camp at Wyndermere four years earlier.
“You’re late. I got you a burger. Hope that’s okay.”
“Perfect. I’m starving.” She threw her files on the table and plopped onto a chair.
Jerry wiped a drip of mustard from his mouth. “Any word from Sandy? I thought she’d be here by now.”
Paige scanned the bustling room as if Sandy Bennett, the third member of their team, would materialize. “Not yet. I know she expected to arrive late, but I thought she’d be here by now.”
Jerry shrugged. “No use wasting time. Let’s go over the schedule again.”
Paige chewed a large bite of her burger and opened her folder. Everything was falling into place for the camp, at least on paper. Dealing with the reality of the children would be a whole different dynamic.
“How’d your meeting go with Zach’s father?”
Paige shrugged. “Not bad. I learned some background information that will be helpful.” She set her burger down with a sigh. “I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing, Jer. I might be in way over my head.”
He raised a brow. “What’s the worst that could happen? If you get nowhere with the kid, his father will have to take him somewhere else. In the meantime, he’s going to have a great time here.”
Despite her uneasiness, Paige couldn’t help but smile. “I guess you’re right. Being at Wyndermere always made me feel better, no matter what was going on in my life.” Even when her own grief had weighed her down.
“Okay, it’s settled. Now, can we get to work here? We’ve got a ton to do before the kids arrive tomorrow.”
“Got the plan of attack all worked out?”
Paige looked up at the familiar voice and broke into a wide smile. “Sandy. You made it.” She jumped up to embrace the petite brunette. “When did you get in?”
“About an hour ago.” Sandy gave Jerry a quick hug and dropped into a chair at their table. “Sorry it’s so last-minute. Being maid of honor for my sister was exhausting.” Her easy grin and cheerful demeanor brightened the room. “It’s good to see you guys.”
“Same here.” Paige resumed her seat, already feeling steadier now that her friend had arrived. “You look great. I like the new do.”
Sandy swung her head so that her layered brown hair moved with the breeze. The shorter feathered cut suited her big blue eyes and pixie face.
