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THE BUS GROUND to a stop on the dirt-and-pebble drive before a stately white farmhouse with red shutters and a wraparound porch. Rebecca angled her neck from side to side, working out the kinks that’d formed as she’d nodded and listened to the chattering school psychologist beside her. It’d been hard to focus on the guy with the Walsh brothers just a seat behind and diagonal to her. She’d wanted to observe their interactions and begin planning therapy activities guaranteed to help Connor and her other three students to make the gains they’d need to demonstrate at the showcase.
Instead, she’d heard all about her seatmate’s IRONMAN training, something called the paleo diet, gruesome details of his various knee surgeries, his five cats (okay, that’d perked her up) and why, after spending his teenage years training to be a hypnotist-mentalist, he’d decided to use his “powers” for good as a school psychologist.
Oo-kay...
And no, she did not want to be hypnotized at this time, thank you very much, though she’d get back to him. Yes, she’d had to promise, she wouldn’t forget.
Sheesh.
After eight hours of his chain saw voice buzzing in her ear, she needed a break. Maybe even earplugs. Definitely some aspirin and a scroll through her photo library of Freud. She already missed the pup so much. Luckily, her neighbor Marcy had agreed to let him stay for the next two weeks.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw Aiden stand to his impressive height, his dark hair nearly brushing the bus’s ceiling.
When he turned to his brother, she gave in to temptation and studied his strong profile. His short, straight nose stopped above a full mouth and strong chin, the jut of which underscored his stubborn side. Yet the tired smudges beneath his eyes, the furrow of his brow, suggested conflict and struggle, too. Something about his face, about him, appealed to the therapist in her and made her want to help him...though it wasn’t her place or her job. She was here for Connor, no matter how much his older brother snared her attention.
“So the bone was just sticking right out of my...” crowed Jeff Cringle, the man beside her.
“Let’s save that one for the campfire, okay?” Rebecca shot to her feet and shouldered her backpack. Enough was enough. Maybe Jeff could turn his “war stories” into a sing-along.
Knowing the teenagers, they’d like the gore factor, too. A win-win.
She waited for the jostling kids and weary adults from the rear of the bus to shuffle by, then looked up when an empty space appeared.
Aiden’s thick eyebrows rose over his startling hazel eyes and he nodded for her to move ahead into the aisle.
“Thanks,” she murmured. Warmth crept up her neck when her shoulder brushed his chest as she slid in front of him.
“You’re welcome.” The deep baritone of his voice rumbled by her ear.
She released a breath once she stepped into the sunshine, then gasped. Turning in a circle, she soaked in the wild beauty around her.
Living with her wealthy aunt, Rebecca had grown up surrounded by beautiful things: one-of-a-kind art pieces, music played by world-famous orchestras, elaborately plated food she’d stared at before devouring. But this untamed riot of nature robbed her lungs of air.
Tree-covered mountains surrounded the farmstead’s large clearing. Their pinnacles rose above the cloud puffs dotting the azure sky, their sides alternating between rocky cliffs and lushly forested angles. It looked as if someone had adjusted the whole world’s tint to green. Who knew there were so many shades of it? Mint, emerald, hunter, olive, kelly, teal and that fancy one that was always the last in her old crayon boxes—what was it? Chartreuse! She couldn’t come close to naming all of them, she thought, studying the sweeping tree lines and thick brush. The effect instantly released the tension in her shoulders and relaxed her tight neck.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“Do we have cell service up here?” asked Aiden. He had his head down, scowling at his screen, oblivious to the miracle he’d stepped into.
“It’s sketchy, I’m told, but there’s a phone in the farmstead. We’ll use walkie-talkies when we hike and camp.”
“I’m more concerned about checking my business.”
She dragged her eyes off the swooping falcons overhead, their cries sharp and joyous, and took in Aiden’s grim face. His naturally pale skin looked even whiter around his pressed lips. Her gaze swerved to Connor, who stood awkwardly on the edge of the group of students sorting through the luggage heap.
“You should be more concerned about your brother,” she muttered quietly.
“I’ve got to make sure he still has a home to return to when we get back.” Aiden stalked off and reached ahead of his brother to grab one of the large duffel bags the driver tossed off the back of the bus.
Rebecca held in a sigh. This was definitely going to be one of her toughest cases and she wasn’t sure which Walsh brother would be the hardest to crack. If she didn’t get through to them, they’d probably put on a boxing match at the showcase. It’d take more than one student’s failure to demonstrate progress for her superintendent to give her and the program a bad evaluation. Still, she really wanted to succeed with Connor.
“What? No bars?” screeched a nearby boy, who turned in a circle, his phone held high as if checking for radiation.
Several other students pawed at their phones and a frantic groan rose from the group.
“Do they even have internet here?” cried one of the chaperones, a parent from another district. She looked as upset as the kids.
“How will we survive?” moaned a girl as she tightened the band around the bottom of her side braid.
“Or call our friends and families?” A boy frowned at the cell phone he cradled. A screen door squealed and an older man and woman appeared on the porch. With his worn overalls stretched over a potbelly and her rooster-patterned apron belted around a small waist, they looked like they’d stepped from another era.
“Welcome,” boomed the ruddy man, whose thick, white beard curled beneath his chin and jaw. As for his head, not a wisp broke up the smooth dome of flesh. “I’m Marty Sikes and this is my wife, Judith.”
The dainty woman’s wide smile revealed a little too much gum, the color only a shade lighter than her short auburn perm. “Hello, everyone,” she called.
Several of the adults called back, as well as a few kids. Rebecca shot the four students she’d brought from her school a significant look and was gratified when Connor stopped bending a stick back and forth and flipped a hand in Mrs. Sikes’s direction.
Baby steps, Rebecca reminded herself. For all her kids. Would they add up to enough progress to impress the superintendent?
The group pressed closer to the base of the stairs. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Sikes,” Rebecca began. “Some of the kids are worried. Do you have internet? Wi-Fi?”
Mr. Sikes scratched his head. “Can’t see why.”
A gasp rippled through the crowd and one of her students, Tameya, gripped Rebecca’s arm hard. “Can’t see why we don’t get on the bus and leave,” she whispered.
Rebecca held in a laugh and patted the girl’s hand before prying it off her numb arm and turning to the group. “We’d been waiting to announce this, but cell phone use will be restricted to one hour before bedtime and designated free time. Our focus is on each other and ourselves. We can’t do that if we’re on our phones all the time, so let’s look at this as a positive.”
“But what’ll we do for fun?” said a boy from the back of the group. He pulled off his Yankees’ cap, then replaced it backward. A murmur of agreement pulsed through the crowd.
Judith Sikes shrugged narrow shoulders. “Well. I’m going to teach you how to make jar candles for starters.”
“No!”
“What?”
“I’m allergic to wax.”
Tameya closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting her perfect, long black plaits sweep across her shoulders. “Wake me when this is over.”
“Needlepoint,” continued Judith, undeterred.
“I’m not allowed to touch needles,” called a girl, her hands on her hips.
“These are a different kind, dear,” the woman said kindly.
“Then there’s bird watching,” suggested her husband, setting off another round of groans.
Rebecca glanced around and noted Aiden’s continued efforts to get a signal. Connor propped a foot on the lower rail of a fence, his expression closed off. They couldn’t look less together. Didn’t even seem like they were a part of this group...not that that was a good thing right now.
“Of course, I can show you some of the ones I’ve stuffed,” Marty Sikes added, offhand.
“Eww!” chorused some of the kids.
“I will seriously pass out if I see one of those,” gasped Tameya.
“Cool,” blurted the boy in the baseball cap as he shoved to the front of the throng. “Like taxidermy? I saw that in a movie, except the killer sewed up people he lured to his farm and...”
His voice trailed off and an appalled silence fell as the kids looked at each other, then at the Sikeses.
“And we can’t even call for help,” whispered Tameya between clenched teeth.
Rebecca stepped forward. Enough was enough. “Mr. and Mrs. Sikes are the caretakers for the property and will be supplementing some of our planned activities with other, er, unique tasks that you’ll get to choose.”
The unsettled group hushed and Jeff joined her as they climbed the porch and stood beside the Sikeses. Aiden peered up from his phone and met her gaze, his expression challenging.
“We’ll be leading you on hikes from here nearly every day,” said Jeff.
“Take you canoeing on the Ausable River,” added Rebecca.
“And don’t forget rock climbing. Marty here’s a pro.” Judith patted her husband’s arm and the kids’ eyes widened. “He goes ice climbing, too.”
“Whoa,” someone muttered.
“And those mountains.” Rebecca pointed at two of the tallest. “We’ll be climbing them.”
“No way,” cried another boy, sounding impressed.
“Can we get cell service from up there?”
“Guess we’ll have to find out,” said Rebecca, smiling.
“And camping,” continued Jeff. “We’ve got overnight trips planned. Campfires. S’mores.”
“Mountain biking,” piped another psychologist, looking down at the trip’s itinerary. Journey. Rebecca studied her, remembering her unusual name from their earlier meetings.
“What about TV?”
“Happy to report we’ve got all three channels,” said Marty proudly.
Tameya flipped up her hoodie and pulled the strings. “This is going to suck so bad,” she mumbled, her voice just loud enough for Rebecca to make out.
“We’ll even be catching the fish we eat,” contributed another therapist. Tony. No. Tommy. That was it.
“Lots of trout for you to clean.” Marty rubbed his hands together.
“Eww,” squealed the kids again.
“All right, everyone,” announced Rebecca. Time to move on. “Grab your gear and head inside. Put your stuff next to a bunk. The girls’ rooms have an orange ribbon on the doorknob. The boys have purple. Rooms with only two bunks are for adults. But don’t get too cozy. Our first overnight trip starts tomorrow.”
As they streamed around her, she called, “And no taking off the ribbons.”
Within minutes, the porch cleared, leaving her standing alone at the rail. Or so she thought.
Aiden leaned against a newel post, studying her. “You should have told me about the cell phone situation.”
“Why is that so important?”
He paced along the porch, the wood squeaking beneath his boots. When he stopped, he spoke without looking at her. “It’s everything to me right now.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.” Rebecca drew close and stood beside him. The sun bobbed above the tree line, looking reluctant to be put away for the night. “Work isn’t everything.”
“It’s not a problem—it’s how life is. My life.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Plus you’re working, here.”
“With the kids...”
“But it’s for your tenure, right?”
Her cheeks warmed. “That’s part of it, but helping the children is my focus.” A couple of blue jays battled for turf in a tall pine, squawking as they chased each other among the boughs.
“One of the teachers said something about you not having it...but you’re still a teacher, I mean psychologist. I guess I don’t understand.” Aiden swished his hand, shooing away the voracious blackflies.
She wanted Aiden to open up on the trip. Maybe if she confided in him, he’d let down his guard. “I’m in what’s called a probationary period, which means I can be fired without the school having to provide a reason. It begins the day you get hired and, after about two and a half years, the school board votes if they intend to grant you tenure at the end of your third year. Once you have that, you’re a permanent employee.”
Aiden gave up shooing the bugs and pulled his collar tighter around his neck. “And that means you can’t be fired?”
“No. It means they have to have a valid reason that goes beyond school politics or personal differences.” She wanted that security so badly she could taste it. Would it be hers?
He tilted his head back and studied her. “And how long have you worked at the school?”
She shifted on her feet, fighting the impulse to keep this private. It was all public knowledge to taxpayers, anyway. “This is the end of my third year.”
Aiden turned and seemed to be watching something in the distance. The faint chill in the air turned the tips of his ears pink. “So why don’t you have it?”
“It’s unusual for me not to know yet.” She jumped at a loud zap and noticed a bug light glowing at the porch’s corner. “I suppose they want to see a little more of my work before they’re convinced.”
His eyes flicked sideways at her. “So this showcase the superintendent is coming to see...”
“Is pretty important to me.”
Aiden nodded slowly. “And Connor.”
“Yes.” They stared at each other for a long moment.
“When’s the last time you took time off?” Rebecca asked, ready to get this conversation back on Aiden and off her.
“Until now? Not more than a day or two since my father died. I’m needed there.”
