that come from? He didn’t want to write a story like that. It hit far too close to home. And considering how his face shuttered, Jarrod felt the same way.
Okay. Time to regroup. He didn’t want to lose the boy.
On the other hand, researching that topic might help Jarrod work through his grief. But he’d have to feel comfortable with it—and with his mentor. Know he was in sympathetic company. And as far as Nate could see, there was only one way to accomplish that—even if it took him out of his comfort zone.
After a fortifying swig of coffee, he set the cup on the table. “I think it will be an important story, Jarrod. And I know what it’s like to go through that. I lost both my parents when I was a kid.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Both?”
“Yeah. My mother died when I was eleven, and my dad didn’t…couldn’t take care of me after that. So I had to go live with a foster family. A year later my dad died.”
“Wow. That must have been hard.”
“It was. Sometimes it still is.” Nate’s voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat.
The boy bowed his head and played with the edge of the book. “My dad died last winter. Right after Christmas.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But your mom’s there for you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. She’s cool. She tries to smile, and she takes me out for pizza every Friday. But I hear her crying at night sometimes, so I know she misses Dad a bunch, too. When he was alive, we always laughed a lot at our house. Now it’s real quiet. And sad.” The last few words were choked, and he swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
Nate wished he could promise Jarrod things would get better. But they never had for him.
Then again, he hadn’t had a mother to help him through the trauma.
As Nate searched for words of consolation, he glanced up to find Lindsey watching them from a few feet away. Her expression was enigmatic, but he had no trouble reading the surge of color that flooded her cheeks. She was embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping.
“So how are you doing with the story?” Breaking eye contact with him, she retook her seat across from her pupil.
Jarrod shot her a guilty look. “I didn’t get very far. I was talking to him.” He gestured toward Nate.
“It was my fault.” Nate rested an elbow beside his computer on the small table. “We were discussing a business proposition.” He directed his next comment to Jarrod. “Let me know if you’re interested, okay?”
“Okay.”
He and Lindsey went back to their book.
After fifteen more excruciating minutes of arduous reading, the bell over the front door jingled and a blonde woman, who looked to be in her late thirties, dashed in and headed straight for the coffee nook.
“Sorry.” Her apology came out in a rush of breath as she pushed her windblown hair back from her face, the tremor in her fingers slight but noticeable. “There was an accident north of Eureka. Traffic was stopped both ways for twenty minutes. Hi, sweetie.” She leaned down and kissed Jarrod on the top of his head.
“No problem, Cindy.” Lindsey closed the book and passed it over to her student. “We needed a little extra time, anyway. I’ll see you Wednesday, Jarrod.”
“Okay.” When he didn’t say anything else, Cindy rested her hand on his thin shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. He sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Collier.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Lindsey and his mother chatted for a moment, the youngster eased closer to Nate. “Maybe I could help you with your story. But I don’t read real good yet. Or very fast.”
Nate lowered his voice to match the boy’s muted tone. “That’s okay. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll talk to Lindsey about it.”
“Ready, Jarrod?” Cindy gave Nate a narrow-eyed look and tugged Jarrod closer.
“Yeah.”
At the woman’s protective behavior, Nate rose and held out his hand. If he wanted to have a chance to help the boy, he needed to make a positive impression on
Okay. Time to regroup. He didn’t want to lose the boy.
On the other hand, researching that topic might help Jarrod work through his grief. But he’d have to feel comfortable with it—and with his mentor. Know he was in sympathetic company. And as far as Nate could see, there was only one way to accomplish that—even if it took him out of his comfort zone.
After a fortifying swig of coffee, he set the cup on the table. “I think it will be an important story, Jarrod. And I know what it’s like to go through that. I lost both my parents when I was a kid.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Both?”
“Yeah. My mother died when I was eleven, and my dad didn’t…couldn’t take care of me after that. So I had to go live with a foster family. A year later my dad died.”
“Wow. That must have been hard.”
“It was. Sometimes it still is.” Nate’s voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat.
The boy bowed his head and played with the edge of the book. “My dad died last winter. Right after Christmas.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But your mom’s there for you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. She’s cool. She tries to smile, and she takes me out for pizza every Friday. But I hear her crying at night sometimes, so I know she misses Dad a bunch, too. When he was alive, we always laughed a lot at our house. Now it’s real quiet. And sad.” The last few words were choked, and he swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
Nate wished he could promise Jarrod things would get better. But they never had for him.
Then again, he hadn’t had a mother to help him through the trauma.
As Nate searched for words of consolation, he glanced up to find Lindsey watching them from a few feet away. Her expression was enigmatic, but he had no trouble reading the surge of color that flooded her cheeks. She was embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping.
“So how are you doing with the story?” Breaking eye contact with him, she retook her seat across from her pupil.
Jarrod shot her a guilty look. “I didn’t get very far. I was talking to him.” He gestured toward Nate.
“It was my fault.” Nate rested an elbow beside his computer on the small table. “We were discussing a business proposition.” He directed his next comment to Jarrod. “Let me know if you’re interested, okay?”
“Okay.”
He and Lindsey went back to their book.
After fifteen more excruciating minutes of arduous reading, the bell over the front door jingled and a blonde woman, who looked to be in her late thirties, dashed in and headed straight for the coffee nook.
“Sorry.” Her apology came out in a rush of breath as she pushed her windblown hair back from her face, the tremor in her fingers slight but noticeable. “There was an accident north of Eureka. Traffic was stopped both ways for twenty minutes. Hi, sweetie.” She leaned down and kissed Jarrod on the top of his head.
“No problem, Cindy.” Lindsey closed the book and passed it over to her student. “We needed a little extra time, anyway. I’ll see you Wednesday, Jarrod.”
“Okay.” When he didn’t say anything else, Cindy rested her hand on his thin shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. He sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Collier.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Lindsey and his mother chatted for a moment, the youngster eased closer to Nate. “Maybe I could help you with your story. But I don’t read real good yet. Or very fast.”
Nate lowered his voice to match the boy’s muted tone. “That’s okay. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll talk to Lindsey about it.”
“Ready, Jarrod?” Cindy gave Nate a narrow-eyed look and tugged Jarrod closer.
“Yeah.”
At the woman’s protective behavior, Nate rose and held out his hand. If he wanted to have a chance to help the boy, he needed to make a positive impression on
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