Beautiful Stranger. Ruth Wind
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some questions?”
“I guess.”
“Have you made some friends here yet?”
A shrug, a dull glance outside the window. “Yeah.”
It was a lie and Marissa knew it, but she wouldn’t push. With a flash of inspiration, she dropped her usual spiel about the missing homework assignments and asked instead, “Tell me, is there anything you’re crazy about? I mean totally nuts. Like cats or horses or a book you’ve read?”
A small alteration in body language. Crystal’s gaze slid toward her uncle. “No,” she said.
Robert grinned. “You can tell her.”
Long lashes swept down. “No.”
Marissa glanced at Robert. He met her eyes, then reached out and put a hand on Crystal’s shoulder. “She’s not gonna use it against you, babe.”
Crystal shifted away. “Everyone makes fun of me. Like I have a sickness or something.”
“I won’t laugh. I promise,” Marissa said, crossing her heart and lifting a hand.
With a dark glare at her uncle, one that dared him to say a word, Crystal said distinctly, “No.”
“It’s all right,” Marissa said. “You don’t trust me, and you don’t really have any reason to.” She shrugged. “If you ever feel like telling me, I’ll be glad to listen—and maybe I can figure out ways to connect school, which you seem to hate, to whatever it is that you love.”
Crystal raised her eyes, and Marissa glimpsed something like surprise.
“Of course, that means we have to talk about the other things now.” Marissa folded her hands. It was always hard to know how a parent would respond to the kind of news she was about to deliver. Some reacted defensively. Some turned their embarrassment into anger at the child.
“The reason I wanted to talk to both of you together,” she said, “is because Crystal is doing very well on tests, but she’s not turning in homework. In math, since she’s obviously getting the concepts, I’d be willing to overlook the lack of homework, but I’m hearing about the same problem from other teachers, and they aren’t going to be as willing to overlook that work.”
Robert frowned, an expression of bewilderment more than anger. “She does her homework. I check it every night.” He turned to her. “Aren’t you turning it in?”
“I forget.”
Marissa carefully did not smile. Crystal wasn’t forgetting. Or if she was, it was a passive-aggressive kind of forgetting, a way to get what she thought she wanted. She’d discuss some ideas with Robert once Crystal left the room, but for now she let it go. “Crystal, I’d really like to help you get some good patterns going, so school is more fun for you. It would be criminal for you to waste that great mind.” She paused. “Do you have any suggestions?”
A sudden wash of tears filled the dark eyes, and she looked away sullenly. One hostile shoulder lifted and fell.
“How about if you come here for an hour after school, and I can help you with your work—not just math, but whatever you’re having trouble with?”
“I’m not having any trouble.”
“Well, maybe it would just be a case of you turning the homework in to me, then, so I can see that it gets to the right places.” She looked at the uncle, resisting that little zing of awareness he gave her. “Would that be okay with you?”
“What d’you say, Crystal? Maybe try it for a week or two, see how it goes, eh? It’s only an hour. What the heck?”
Heartfelt shrug, both shoulders. “I guess.”
Marissa smiled. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, here, then. And since you’ve been tortured long enough, how about giving me a few minutes with your uncle? You can get a soda or something, maybe?”
“Somebody here won’t let me drink pop.”
Robert chuckled, and reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I saw the Sno-Kone man out there. Get some ice cream. It’s good for you.”
“How come it’s good and pop is bad?”
“Because ice cream is made from milk, silly girl.” He winked at her. “Get me a couple of ice-cream sandwiches, will ya? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Crystal took the money and gravely shook her head. “Someday, Uncle, you’re going to be as fat as a house. Or my uncle Gary.”
He laughed. “Probably.” He patted her shoulder and inclined his head. “Go on.”
Crystal shuffled out, and Robert turned back to Marissa, his face wiped free of amusement. “She’s not doing real well here, is she?”
“No.” Marissa, acting on a hunch, stood up and closed the door, then returned to her seat. “She’s been here…what? Four or five weeks? And I’ve never seen her even talk to another student. Other kids try, you know, to include her, and she’s not having it.”
He sighed, and then, as if he couldn’t think while sitting, stood up and paced to the window. “I’m not too good at this father thing,” he said, turning. His arms were crossed. “I’ve never had a kid—but I gotta try. Her mom is useless, and there’s nobody else. I’ve been trying to make her stick to regular hours and eat normal food—just, you know, normal.” He gestured, shook his head. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Maybe because it’s hard to go it alone,” Marissa said. “It sounds like you’re doing all the right things, and it’s obviously a rough time for her.” She frowned. “Is she doing any kind of parenting class, Lamaze, anything with other kids who are also pregnant?”
“She starts the end of the week. You think that’ll help, maybe? Maybe she feels kind of isolated.”
“Yeah.” Marissa thought, fleetingly, of herself at fourteen—feeling like a hippopotamus in her flowing dress while all the other girls wore their skinny jeans.
“Trust me when I say this is a rough age for all the kids, but if there’s anything to set you the tiniest bit apart, it’s that much harder. She’s pregnant, she’s new and she’s Native American, which sort of makes her exotic around here.” She smiled. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s not exactly a wildly integrated community.”
Humor flickered over his eyes—eyes that crinkled upward at the corners just as she remembered. In detail. With a little ripple of despair, she decided he was just sinfully delectable.
“I noticed,” he said. “I don’t want to live in a city. Red Creek might have some flaws, but at least I don’t have to worry about her getting on the wrong side of some gang.”
“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”
“No—please. I’m open to anything.”
“I’ll have her come in every afternoon and see if I can get her on track with school, maybe let her know there’s someone else in her corner. We can start a check-off system to help her get her homework in. And it’s probably going to help a lot to get her into her pregnancy class.” She straightened. “But it also occurs to me that there’s someone in town who would be more than delighted to help you mother this lost child.”
He looked puzzled. “Mother?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. Louise Forrest—er, Chacon, I guess it is now. Jake’s mother.”
“You know Jake and his mother?”
He didn’t recognize her at all. With a grin she said, “We have met, Robert. I’m good friends with Lance.”
His body went soft with surprise, and she saw the knowledge and recognition dawn on his face. “Oh my God! I know who you are now. Marissa.” His gaze moved