Читать книгу Unlikely Hero - Marta Perry - Страница 12

Brendan hung up the phone after leaving a message for Claire. It would probably qualify as a miracle if she called him back. The two days since their disastrous exchange about Stacy and Ted had been enough time to kick himself a thousand times about the way he’d handled that situation.

He leaned back, his desk chair squeaking in protest. No use telling himself that he’d been too shocked by the revelation to respond tactfully. If he had that conversation to do over again, he wasn’t sure he’d do any better, no matter how much time he had to prepare.

He’d unintentionally burned bridges between them, personal as well as spiritual. She wouldn’t forgive him easily.

“Do you have a minute?”

He nearly toppled over backward at the sound of Claire’s voice. He righted his chair. It would probably help not to act like a total idiot just because she was here.

“Of course. Come in.” He couldn’t help the flood of pleasure at the sight of her, but he could try to contain it so that she wouldn’t know. He gestured toward the phone. “I just left a message for you.”

And apparently miracles did happen.

“I know.” She held up a palm-sized cell phone and then dropped it into the leather bag that was slung from her shoulder. “I’d left the office already, so I thought I’d stop by instead of calling.” Her tone was as cool and remote as if he’d called to sell her insurance. “You have some information for me?”

His mind scrambled for the reason he’d called her, swamped by the sheer surprise that she was actually in his office again. Information. Yes, he had that, as well as a suggestion, and both things were going to require a little tact. Correction, a lot.

“I have the counselor’s name and phone number here somewhere.” He shuffled through the papers that covered his desk, even though he knew exactly where the information was. “Please, have a seat.”

Claire hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking at the visitor’s chair as if she’d never seen it before. Then she swung her bag off her shoulder and sat down, dropping the bag lightly beside her feet.

Today she wore a pale cream jacket over a green shirt. The combination turned her eyes the same mahogany color as her hair, and she looked cool and elegant in spite of the fact that it was the end of the workday and the June sunshine had brought the outside temperature over eighty.

Focus. Figure out how to approach her about this. Don’t let how she looks distract you.

Good advice. Now if he could just manage to take it, he might handle this situation better.

“Here’s the counselor’s card.” He rounded the desk to take it to her. No point in having a piece of furniture between them when he hoped to sway her to his way of looking at things. He sat in the other visitor’s chair, watching as she frowned at the card.

“You’re convinced this woman is the best person for Stacy? I haven’t ever heard of her.”

“Would you expect to have heard of her?” It seemed unlikely that someone like Claire would have had any experience of Suffolk’s counseling community.

She shrugged. “People talk.”

He took a breath, trying to find the right way to phrase what he had to say about the counselor. Please, Father.

“I’ve referred people to her in the past with good results. And the other mental health professionals I’ve worked with speak highly of her, particularly in the area of pregnancy counseling for teens.”

Some emotion flickered in her eyes and was gone. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“There’s something else you should know about her.” He was walking on eggs, trying to gauge her reaction. “Ms. Fielding is a qualified counselor, but she’s also a Christian who counsels according to Christian principles.”

Actually, her reaction wasn’t that tough to figure out. She stiffened, her fingers tightening on the leather bag strap she still held as if she’d like to swing the purse at him.

“What exactly does that mean? That she shares your concern for the abuser?”

They’d ricocheted right back to their earlier argument. “Beth Fielding will be Stacy’s counselor. You don’t have to worry about her having a conflict of interest.” The words she’d used to him echoed in his head. “I’m sorry you feel as if I do.”

Claire’s jaw tightened. “It’s not a question of how I feel. As long as you’re trying to help Ted, you’re risking Stacy’s well-being.”

Was he? He’d struggled with that question since their battle, but he still didn’t have an answer.

“Stacy comes first with me,” he said carefully. “Her situation is urgent. But I can’t ignore Ted’s problems. Whether he knows it or not, he needs help, too.”

And you think you’re the one to help him. The voice jeered at him from the back of his mind. How could you help him? You couldn’t even help your own father.

“Why do you have to be the one to help him?” Claire’s question was like an echo. “Why don’t you send him to someone else?”

At least he knew the answer to that question. “He wouldn’t go to someone else. It’s not easy to get these kids to open up to you. They’re used to being let down. One mistake and they’re gone.”