Heartfire (5 page)

"And you don't make teaching a priority?" she demanded.  Max's attitude over the years, his non-approval, had been a thorn in her side.  It was about time she removed it.  She no longer had to worry about hurting Leslie's feelings.  She could go one-on-one with him, no holds barred.

"I'll bet you that apple pie that you go in to school early and you certainly don't leave before you're finished.  Just because I seem to control my own hours and I can choose assignments, you think I have a schedule I can adjust at will.  I have personal deadlines.  I have editorial deadlines.  When I have a taping schedule, I usually can't control that.  If I don't turn assignments in on time, if I'm not where I'm supposed to be when I'm supposed to be there, I won't get more work.  I'm not taking a joy ride, Max.  I work, just like you."

The silence in the kitchen was magnified by her stillness, his probing regard.  He canvassed her face, her defensive stance.  "Maybe I do tend to look at your job as...erratic and even sometimes reckless.  We've never really talked about it.  One of the best interviews I saw of yours was over a year ago," he said.  "The one you did with that woman who's sister disappeared."

"Emma Henderson.  A friend of mine who's a producer arranged that since I had a short layover in L.A before I taped the cable special about Afghanistan."

"That was an informative special."

"You watched?"

"I did."

She and Max hadn't talked much at all in the past nine years.  Not about anything that mattered.  Even when Leslie was sick, they'd stuck to Leslie's condition and subjects that hadn't caused controversy.

Thinking about everything Mrs. Bartlett had told them, Tessa asked,  "Max, would you like me to stay longer than a week?  There's no reason I can't stay a few weeks if it will help Ryan.  There's an Economic Summit in Oslo the week before Thanksgiving I have to attend.  I've hired out to a cable network.  But until then, if it will help, I'll stay."

"You'd do that?"

"Yes.  I can find a room somewhere—"

He raised a hand to interrupt her.  "No.  You can stay here."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"How can I mind?  You're helping my son.  Did you see that grin when you said you'd go camping?  I haven't seen him this excited in a long while."

Max was happy for Ryan's sake.  That didn't make her feel especially welcome, as if Max wanted her, too.  The question was—why did she care?  She went to the counter and picked up the dish of potatoes.  "We'd better eat before this gets cold."

Max didn't lift the knife to carve the meat.  Instead, he tilted his head, his dark brown hair reflecting gleams from the overhead light, and gazed at Tessa speculatively.  "It was nice of you to help Flo."

"I wasn't being nice."

A trace of a smile curved his lips.  "What were you being?"

He was trying to see into her heart, maybe into her soul.  She felt vulnerable and didn't like it.  "Flo needed help.  I helped.  Period."

Max leaned forward and gently brushed a curl away from her cheek.  The pad of his thumb across her skin created a squall of emotion inside her as he said, "One tough lady."  He didn't say it as if he believed it.

His touch was mesmerizing and although Tessa knew she should back away, at least move, she couldn't.

"I
am
sorry, Tessa.  I'm sorry I misjudged you.  I'm sorry I brought up...the past."  He motioned across the kitchen.  "And I promise for all your effort and agreeing to camp out for the weekend, we'll go to a nice restaurant some time next week."

She wanted to rest her cheek against his shoulder, wanted to feel his arms around her.  The wanting was wrong, though.  Getting too close to Max was wrong.  Somehow the differences that had always been between them felt more comfortable than this tentative understanding.

She leaned away from his touch and his understanding.  "You don't think I'm going to cook every night, do you?"

"Aren't you?" he teased.

"No way.  I'll cook when I can, but don't expect it to become a habit."

"I wouldn't expect that."  His grin was as boyish and appealing as she'd ever seen it.

But Tessa had a sobering thought.  He had expected it from Leslie.  Every time he looked at Tessa, she wondered if he was comparing her to her best friend.  She didn't like the idea.  She didn't like it at all.

Chapter Three

"Look, Dad.  Tessa has her tent ready," Ryan called to Max as they set up camp Friday evening.

Max had to smile because his son was thoroughly enjoying his birthday trip and it had hardly started.

Tessa had agreed with Max that they should drive to the state park tonight so they'd have a full day tomorrow.  They'd left right after school.  The evening air had turned cool as the sun had dipped behind the tree line.

"Ryan, why don't you and I go gather wood for the campfire while your dad finishes with your tent," Tessa suggested as she watched Max hammer in the next to the last stake.

"I'll go.  You don't know what might be roaming around," he protested, feeling protective of Tessa though he was sure she wouldn't want his protection.

He was right because she pulled her sweatshirt sleeves down to her wrists and gave him one of her defiant looks.  "Nothing very big, Max.  This isn't grizzly territory."

"It's still better if I go.  Maybe you and Ryan can finish the tent?  If you get a chance, you can bring the air mattresses from the van."  There were two.  Max knew she'd probably argue with him about who should use those, too.

"Any more orders?"  She gave him a sassy grin.

He shook his head.  "Just don't collapse the tent while I'm gone."

She wrinkled her nose at him.

Ryan sidled up beside Max.  "You won't get lost, will you?"

"No, pal.  I have a good sense of direction.  By the time you and Tessa get the tents ready for sleeping, I'll be back."

As Max collected wood, he thought about the past few days.  For the most part, Tessa had avoided him.  He wasn't sure why.  He also wasn't sure why that bothered him or why he was noticing the red highlights in her hair or the vulnerability in her green eyes that she tried so hard to hide.  There was something he needed to talk to her about since she was staying, and he didn't know how she'd take it.  But Ryan's safety came first and that's what he had to address.

When Max returned to the campsite, his arms full of dry tree branches and kindling, he laid the makings of a fire in the stone circle and lit it.  Tessa and Ryan stood nearby and watched until he said to Ryan, "The forks for the hot dogs are in the back of the van next to the fishing rods.  Can you get them?"

As Ryan took off, Max poked at a log, then straightened.  "Tessa, since you're staying, I wish you'd think before you make suggestions concerning Ryan.  With darkness falling, I didn't want him in the woods."

"But he would have been with me."

"That doesn't matter." He had to set up ground rules, didn't he?  That's what a good parent did.  Maybe Tessa
was
responsible.  But she was used to just thinking about herself, not about a child who needed to be watched over and protected.

"It should matter.  I've set up camp in the desert.  Have you?"

"No.  And it's not on my agenda for this year."  He'd meant to give the discussion a little levity, but it didn't work.

Instead, she took a few steps away from him.  "You don't trust me with him, do you?"

He tried to be as gentle as he could.  "I'm not suggesting you don't love him or care about his welfare.  But you might not be as cautious as a parent would be."

"Maybe he senses your caution and feels smothered."

He studied her.  "Are you giving me advice on how to raise my son?"

She stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets.  "I'm suggesting you give him some room to breathe.  Holding on too tight is almost as bad as not holding on at all."

"Is this it?" Ryan shouted as he held up a long fork, shining a flashlight on it.

"There are two of them," Max called back.

When he turned back to Tessa, she was on her way to the van, saying, "I'll get our jackets.  It's getting chilly."

Max swore as she walked away.  No matter how he tried to handle her, he botched it.  He didn't know what bothered him most about Tessa.  That she didn't need his help, or that he wished she did.  She was more than capable at whatever she tried.  Leslie had looked to him for advice, for support—physical and emotional.  Even when he'd dated Tessa, she hadn't looked to him for...anything. He tossed a few branches into the fire, not knowing why he was even making the comparison, not knowing why Tessa's reactions should be a concern.  She wouldn't be staying that long.

Tessa helped Ryan with his jacket, zipping it up to his chin.  She was never anything but nurturing with Ryan.  And that was the side of her Max didn't understand.  She related so well to Ryan, as if some part of her was still that little child.  Was she the independent career woman who needed no one?  Or was she pretending she never needed anyone as some kind of defense mechanism?  That was definitely food for thought.

After supper, Max sat back in his lawn chair, his feet propped along the stone ring on the side of the fire that burned low.  Tessa and Ryan laughed as golden brown marshmallows, toasted for dessert, collapsed in their mouths.  The white gooey insides lined Tessa's upper lip.

Max suddenly had the urge to lean forward and wipe it away.  Like he'd done impulsively with the pizza cheese.  But something told him that tonight, touching her wasn't a good idea.

He did hand her a napkin.  "Need this?"

"Not as much as I need a bath."  She waved her sticky fingers and, with a mischievous smile, tapped his right cheek with one of them.

"Looks great, Dad," Ryan said of the white blob on his cheek.

Max grabbed Tessa's wrist as she went for his other cheek.  "Are you asking for trouble?"

Her grin was impish.  "I thought you'd want a matched set."

When her wrist felt fragile under his fingers, so opposed to the tough facade she projected, he released her.  "I want you to act like an adult."

"Does that mean we can't have fun?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye but a serious note in her voice.

"Maybe I've forgotten how to have fun," he murmured to himself.

"You have another marshmallow on your fork, Ryan.  Bring it here," she directed.

"Tessa..." Max warned, though something inside him came alive with her daring.

Ryan gleefully brought her the fork, careful not to let the marshmallow fall off, while Tessa eyed Max.  "You think this is so easy.  We want to see you pop that whole marshmallow into your mouth without getting messy."

Max noticed the grin on Ryan's face, the challenge in Tessa's gaze, and he decided making a fool of himself might have a little merit.