Nothing happened. Don’t scare Davey.
“Are you Paul Thompson?” the woman asked, approaching them and holding out a hand.
“Yes.” He took her hand in his own sweaty one, shook it.
“And this must be Davey.” She shrugged out of her jacket, knelt to child level and held out her hand to Davey. “I’m Miss Meg.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Davey recited as he’d been taught, shaking her hand. “Are you my teacher?”
“No, but I can take you to see her. Let’s go upstairs.” She stood and looked at Paul. “If that’s okay with Dad. He and I can talk while you meet your teacher and the other kids.”
Sweat trickled down Paul’s back. He didn’t want to get Davey excited about the place if it was hopelessly unprotected, but one look at his son’s eager face and he knew that had already happened. “Sure thing,” he forced out through a tight throat.
They followed Miss Meg up a stairway with a mural of swimming fish on one side and a shiny, red-painted railing on the other. At the top were two big classrooms. A glance told Paul that younger kids were in the left-hand one—about ten of them sat in a circle listening to a teacher talk—while kids closer to Davey’s age were in the right-hand room, set up with small tables and chairs on one end and a large open area on the other.
Miss Meg led them to the classroom on the right, where a slightly bigger group of children, maybe fifteen, seemed to be getting organized for a game. A few words were exchanged between the fresh-faced teacher and Miss Meg, and the younger woman held out her hand to Davey, smiling at him. “I’m Miss Kayla. We’re just about to play Bluebird through My Window. Would you like to join in?”
Davey hung back, pressing into Paul’s leg. “Can I, Daddy?”
“Sure can.” He smiled at Davey and squeezed his shoulder. “It looks like a fun game.”
“Okay.” And Davey followed the teacher into the roomful of kids.
As Miss Kayla told everyone to welcome their new friend, and Davey joined the circle of kids holding hands, Paul drew in big breaths of air and let them out slowly. He was overreacting to the lack of security, or rather, his body was.
“Oh, good,” Miss Meg said as they watched Davey, who was already joining in the simple song. “He seems to be comfortable in new situations.”
I’m not. Paul tried to smile and listen to the woman as she described the half-day program and the option for extended care if he needed Davey to stay during the afternoon.
In the classroom, a girl tapped Davey on the shoulder and he joined the short line of children weaving in and out of the other kids’ upraised arms, led by the teacher. He was smiling, and when a couple of kids got tangled up together—which seemed to be the point of the game—he laughed along with the rest of the group.
Davey needed this. It was important for him to play with other kids. “I’m concerned about security,” he said when Miss Meg took a breath. After one more glance at Davey, he moved to where he could better see the stairs. “We were able to walk right in and past the office. No one stopped us.”
“Didn’t the buzzer work?” she asked.
“Yes, but we were buzzed in right away. No one checked IDs or frisked us.”
“Frisked you?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him.
Okay, so maybe preschools didn’t frisk guests. “I could have been anyone.”
“We can go down and look at the camera system,” she said, frowning. “I’m pretty sure you were admitted because our secretary knew you and Davey had an appointment with me, but we can double-check that.”
Footsteps came up the stairs and Paul tensed, watching. When the woman who’d been at the reception desk in the office appeared, smiled at them and went into the other classroom, his muscles relaxed a little. But his heart rate was still way up, and sweat rolled down his back.
Miss Meg looked at him more closely. “Is everything all right?”
He sucked in another breath. He wanted to grab Davey and leave, but some sane part of him knew he was in the grip of his illness and shouldn’t make decisions. “I’m not feeling well,” he said, and then, recognizing the immediate concern on her face, he added, “Nothing contagious, and Davey’s fine.”
“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down,” she said, her forehead wrinkling. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
Was there? His in-laws had finally gone home. His friends were all back in Baltimore.
Someone else came up the stairs and he practically exploded. Memories washed over him in waves: he’d been joking with a couple of the sixth-grade boys, his back to the door, when there’d been a loud crash. By the time he’d turned—
“Come sit.” Miss Meg took his arm, but he flinched away, and her eyes widened.
“Sorry,” he said. He definitely needed to get going with the counseling here, maybe even try the antianxiety meds his doctor back home had recommended. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
She was watching him steadily. “I’d really like to call someone for you before you take your son home.” Implied in her words was concern for Davey’s well-being. “Davey’s welcome to stay and play until you get some support.”
Who could he call? He didn’t know a soul in this town, didn’t have a phone number. Except...
Amber had been kind the last time he’d freaked out. She’d called her cop brother-in-law, sure, but she hadn’t reported him to the authorities, nor avoided him afterward.
And he had her phone number because she was in charge of the cottage. “I’ll make a call,” he said to Miss Meg.
He didn’t want to get Amber involved in his and Davey’s lives, didn’t want to risk it. He was in no shape for even a friendship with a woman, definitely not a woman he was
