Her Holiday Hero. Margaret DaleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
each pace closer to the house, his legs became heavier. By the time he mounted the stairs, he could barely lift them. He paused several feet from the front door and glanced at the white wicker furniture, a swing hanging from the ceiling at the far end. Thoughts of his mother’s parents’ farmhouse where he’d spent time every summer came to mind. For a moment peace descended. He tried to hold on to that feeling, but it evaporated in seconds at the sound of an engine revving and then a car speeding down the street.
The sudden loudness of the noise made him start to duck behind a wicker chair a couple of feet away. He stopped himself, but not before anger and frustration swamped him. His heartbeat revved like the vehicle, and the shakes accosted him. He clasped his hands on the knob of his cane and pressed it down into the wooden slat of the porch.
What was he thinking? He should never have accepted her invitation.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have stuff to do at home.” He pivoted so fast he nearly lost his balance and had to bring his cane down quickly to prevent it.
“Thank you for your help today with my son,” Emma quickly got out.
Sweat popped out on his forehead and ran down his face, into his eyes. He concentrated on the stinging sensation to take his mind off everything rushing toward him. As fast as his injured leg would let him, he hurried toward his house and the familiar surroundings where he knew what to expect. The trembling in his hands had spread throughout his body by the time he arrived in his yard.
Once inside his home, he fell back against the door and closed his eyes, trying to slow his stampeding heartbeat. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he gulped air. He slid down the length of the door and sat on the tiled foyer floor, blocking the deep ache that emanated from his recent injury.
Rage at himself, at his situation swamped him, and he slammed his fist into his palm. Pain shot up his arm. He didn’t care. It wasn’t anything compared to how he hated what was happening to him.
What are You doing, God? I want a normal life. Not be a slave to these panic attacks. Why aren’t You answering my prayers?
Chapter Two
From the front porch, Emma watched Jake Tanner limp down the sidewalk toward the corner at Park Avenue. Mr. Tanner had saved her son from getting hurt worse than he already was. Had the situation with Josh brought back bad memories of the man’s childhood? Was that why he’d left so quickly? Why there was a poignant look in his dark brown eyes? She guessed she shouldn’t have asked him about what happened to him when he was bullied. That couldn’t be easy for anyone to remember.
Mr. Tanner rounded the corner and disappeared from her view. From what she’d seen of the man, it certainly appeared he could take care of himself, even with his injured leg. She was five feet ten inches, and he had to be a good half a foot taller. He might be limping but clearly that didn’t stop him from doing some kind of physical exercise. Dressed in tight jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked well built with a hard, muscular body—a little leaner than he was probably accustomed to.
“Jake Tanner” rolled off her tongue as if she’d said it before. Why did it sound familiar to her? Where had she heard his name? Had she run into him somewhere in town? She wasn’t from Cimarron City but had lived here for years. But then he would be a hard man to forget with his striking good looks.
Had he hurt himself recently? Was the injury to his left leg permanent? Questions began to flood her mind until she shook her head.
No. He made it clear he’d helped Josh, but that was all. Besides, she had her hands full with a child who was angry all the time. And there were her two jobs—one as a veterinary assistant at Harris Animal Hospital and the other as a trainer for service dogs with the Caring Canines Foundation with Abbey Winters, her best friend. Abbey had founded the organization that placed service and therapy dogs with people who needed them. Emma didn’t want any more complications in her life, and she certainly wasn’t interested in dating, even though it had been three years since her husband died, leaving her widowed at twenty-nine with a son.
Who is my top priority—Josh.
Emma threw one last glance at the corner of Sooner and Park, then headed inside and toward Josh’s bedroom. They needed to have a conversation about what had happened today whether her son wanted to talk or not. Her child would not be used as a punching bag. The very thought tightened her chest and made breathing difficult.
She halted outside his closed door, drew air into her lungs until her nerves settled and then knocked. She half expected Josh to ignore her, but thirty seconds later, he swung open the door. A scowl puckered his face, and he clenched his jaw so tightly, a muscle in his cheek twitched, underscoring his anger. He left her standing in the entrance, trudged to his bed and flung himself on his back onto his navy blue coverlet.
“I’m not telling you who those guys are.”
“Why not?” She moved into his room and sat at the end of the bed, facing him.
“You’ll say something to them or their parents.”
“Are you being bothered at school? Is that why you haven’t wanted to go these past six weeks since school started?”
He clamped his lips together until his mouth was a thin, tight line.
“I’m going to talk to your teacher whether you say anything or not. I can’t sit by and let someone, or in this case, several boys bully you.”
“Don’t, Mom. I’ll take care of this. It’s my problem.”
The sheen in Josh’s eyes, the plea in his voice tore at her composure. She wanted to pull him into her arms and never let go—to keep him safe with her. Sam, I need you. This is what a dad handles with a son. What do I do?
She’d never felt so alone as at this moment, staring at Josh fighting the tears welling in his eyes. “I know Mrs. Alexander would want to know. Every child should be safe at school. This is not negotiable. I can’t force you to tell me, but I need to know who is doing this to you.”
“I’m not a snitch. That’s what they’ll call me. I’ll never live it down.”
“So what’s your plan? Let them keep beating you up? What if Mr. Tanner hadn’t seen them and stopped them? What do you think would have happened?”
Josh shrugged, turned away from her and lay on his bed.
Emma remembered Jake Tanner’s words about how talking with the bullies’ parents sometimes only made the situation worse. Then what should she do? What could Josh do? “At least make sure you have friends around you. Don’t go anywhere alone. It’s obvious now you can’t go to Craig’s house through the park. I’ll have to drive you to and from your friends’ houses. I’ll pick you up from school and take you in the morning. I’ll talk to Dr. Harris and figure out a way to do that with my work schedule. If I can’t, I’ll see if Abbey will. She takes Madi to and from school.” As she listed what she would do, she realized all those precautions weren’t really a solution.
Then in the meantime, she’d talk to the school about the bullying. She had to do something to end this. The thought of her son hurting, physically and emotionally, stiffened her resolve to help him somehow whether he liked it or not. She hated that bullies were almost holding her son hostage.
“Don’t say anything to Mrs. Alexander, Mom.”
Emma rose and hovered over Josh. “I have to. It’s my job as your parent. I can’t ignore what happened.”
He glared at her. “I hate you. You’re going to make my life miserable.”
The words hurt, but she understood where they came from—fear and anger at his situation. She knew those feelings well, having experienced them after Sam passed away. “I love you, Josh, and your life right now with these bullies isn’t what you want or deserve.”
Her son buried his head under his pillow.
“I need to check your cuts and