sure Sierra stays away from your father.”
“Nick,” he insisted.
She gathered up her purse.
“I realize I’m not Sierra’s teacher. But we’re here. Would you like to talk it out?”
She held her purse in her lap. What was there to talk about?
He leaned across the table. “April, I teach the kids everyone else has given up on. The ones who sleep through class and fail the state test. The ones who are going to drop out as soon as it’s legal, maybe before.”
“What you do for a living is admirable, but I’m not sure what it has to do with Sierra.”
“I know Sierra is in a different category altogether. She’s smart. She’s got an involved mother. But in a way, she’s right there with them.”
She knew what he was saying. Sierra wasn’t living up to her potential. But April didn’t want to hear her child grouped in with failing kids. Sierra wasn’t like them.
She reached to take a sip of her tea but only knocked the glass nearly over. He had the glass upright and still full in less than a second. He began tapping his fork again, looking right at her, making her agitated.
“Don’t do that,” she snapped. And then in a softer voice, “Just say what you’re thinking. Please.”
He laid the fork down, and regret unveiled itself on his face. “I’m saying I deal with at-risk kids all the time. And I think your daughter is at risk. Dangerously so.”
April looked away.
“Have you considered therapy?”
April stifled a sigh. It must seem downright negligent to anyone who knew Sierra that April didn’t have her in counseling. How could she explain the years of counseling, psychiatrists, and hospitals, and Gary growing steadily worse with each treatment? How could she explain that counseling had driven Sierra deeper into depression until the counselor recommended checking Sierra into a psych hospital? She wasn’t having that conversation with a man she barely knew.
“Sierra saw a couple of therapists when we first moved here. It didn’t work out well.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, I have to get back to work. I appreciate your coming here on your day off. But I think this is something Sierra and I are going to have to deal with on our own.”
He wrote his number on a paper napkin. “If you want to talk about it.”
She shoved the napkin in her purse. The last thing she needed was someone else telling her Sierra was in danger. She could tell he knew she wouldn’t call. Just as well.
“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Mr. Foster. Nick.”
April walked across the street and back to work. Fifteen minutes later, as she looked over receipts in the back office of the gallery, Ellen popped her head in, holding out a takeout box. She winked. “You’ve got an admirer.”
April shrugged and took the box. An admirer? Hardly. Inside were rosemary chicken, wild rice, and a chocolate chip cookie. Square cursive spilled across the napkin: Couldn’t let you go back to work hungry. Nick.
What kind of teacher came all the way across town for a parent conference and then delivered lunch? He made her think of Sierra’s words about the old man—deep and real.
She’d take Nick’s word that his father wasn’t safe for Sierra to be around but wondered precisely why. She peeled a strip off the chicken and put it in her mouth. Of course she wasn’t about to let Sierra spend time alone with a man she knew nothing about. But “words like a jackhammer”? That was a rather vague threat.
Chapter Nine
Mom called for dinner. Sierra stayed by her bedroom window, mesmerized by the outdoors. When she came into the room, Sierra pretended she didn’t notice.
Mom didn’t leave, but Sierra kept her attention on the window. “I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, Sierra.”
She didn’t answer. Mom put her hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”
Sierra breathed a sigh of relief when Mom finally went back to the kitchen. October had come, and the stifling
“Nick,” he insisted.
She gathered up her purse.
“I realize I’m not Sierra’s teacher. But we’re here. Would you like to talk it out?”
She held her purse in her lap. What was there to talk about?
He leaned across the table. “April, I teach the kids everyone else has given up on. The ones who sleep through class and fail the state test. The ones who are going to drop out as soon as it’s legal, maybe before.”
“What you do for a living is admirable, but I’m not sure what it has to do with Sierra.”
“I know Sierra is in a different category altogether. She’s smart. She’s got an involved mother. But in a way, she’s right there with them.”
She knew what he was saying. Sierra wasn’t living up to her potential. But April didn’t want to hear her child grouped in with failing kids. Sierra wasn’t like them.
She reached to take a sip of her tea but only knocked the glass nearly over. He had the glass upright and still full in less than a second. He began tapping his fork again, looking right at her, making her agitated.
“Don’t do that,” she snapped. And then in a softer voice, “Just say what you’re thinking. Please.”
He laid the fork down, and regret unveiled itself on his face. “I’m saying I deal with at-risk kids all the time. And I think your daughter is at risk. Dangerously so.”
April looked away.
“Have you considered therapy?”
April stifled a sigh. It must seem downright negligent to anyone who knew Sierra that April didn’t have her in counseling. How could she explain the years of counseling, psychiatrists, and hospitals, and Gary growing steadily worse with each treatment? How could she explain that counseling had driven Sierra deeper into depression until the counselor recommended checking Sierra into a psych hospital? She wasn’t having that conversation with a man she barely knew.
“Sierra saw a couple of therapists when we first moved here. It didn’t work out well.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, I have to get back to work. I appreciate your coming here on your day off. But I think this is something Sierra and I are going to have to deal with on our own.”
He wrote his number on a paper napkin. “If you want to talk about it.”
She shoved the napkin in her purse. The last thing she needed was someone else telling her Sierra was in danger. She could tell he knew she wouldn’t call. Just as well.
“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Mr. Foster. Nick.”
April walked across the street and back to work. Fifteen minutes later, as she looked over receipts in the back office of the gallery, Ellen popped her head in, holding out a takeout box. She winked. “You’ve got an admirer.”
April shrugged and took the box. An admirer? Hardly. Inside were rosemary chicken, wild rice, and a chocolate chip cookie. Square cursive spilled across the napkin: Couldn’t let you go back to work hungry. Nick.
What kind of teacher came all the way across town for a parent conference and then delivered lunch? He made her think of Sierra’s words about the old man—deep and real.
She’d take Nick’s word that his father wasn’t safe for Sierra to be around but wondered precisely why. She peeled a strip off the chicken and put it in her mouth. Of course she wasn’t about to let Sierra spend time alone with a man she knew nothing about. But “words like a jackhammer”? That was a rather vague threat.
Chapter Nine
Mom called for dinner. Sierra stayed by her bedroom window, mesmerized by the outdoors. When she came into the room, Sierra pretended she didn’t notice.
Mom didn’t leave, but Sierra kept her attention on the window. “I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, Sierra.”
She didn’t answer. Mom put her hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”
Sierra breathed a sigh of relief when Mom finally went back to the kitchen. October had come, and the stifling
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