To Protect Her Son. Stella MacLean

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       CHAPTER ONE

      IF GAYLE SAWYER could have foreseen the day ahead she would never have gotten out of bed. She and Adam, her thirteen-year-old son, had argued last night and again this morning, leaving her drained and frightened.

      Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, she stared across the raised counter at her friend Sherri Lawson, nurse in charge of today’s clinic at Eagle Mountain Medical Center. Neill Brandon would be there any minute, and Gayle had pulled the clinic charts for his patients, who sat with their families in the waiting area just a few feet from the desk.

      Everything was ready. Gayle glanced one more time at her watch as worry gnawed at her mind. She should have handled the argument with Adam differently last night. After all, she was the adult and should be able to reason with her son.

      “Just one more.” Sherri passed Gayle another chart, a square-cut diamond gleaming on her finger.

      Gayle couldn’t take her eyes off the ring. “Some people are born lucky,” she teased her best friend.

      Sherri touched her diamond. “Can you believe it? After everything that has happened, Neill and I have our dream back. We’ve waited a long time for our happiness.” A smile lit her face; her eyes shone as she leaned on the counter.

      Gayle had stopped dreaming about being happy fourteen years ago in Anaheim, California, when the judge had sentenced her husband, Harry Young, for armed robbery and shooting a police officer.

      Pregnant and alone, she’d vowed never to let her dreams mask reality. She’d worked so hard to make her son’s childhood a happy one, and to find a respectable life for herself. Nothing could be allowed to take all that she’d earned by dint of hard work and determination away from her.

      “Dreams can be wonderful,” she offered, unwilling to share the details of her past with anyone here in Eden Harbor. Her aunt Susan had died a year ago and left her a quaint Victorian house on a tree-lined street in this quiet, stately town. Gayle had moved, partly for the chance at a new life, and partly to get her son away from a group of teenagers that were having far too much influence in his life. She was happy to leave Anaheim. She never intended to return to the place that had caused her so much sorrow.

      “I’ve never been this happy,” Sherri said, a look of wonderment on her face.

      Gayle had never seen anyone as much in love as her best friend. “Your wedding plans are coming together so well. I still can’t believe we found those bridesmaid dresses in the first wedding boutique we went into in Boston.”

      The doors connecting the clinics to the rest of the hospital banged open. Her son, Adam, his dark hair smudging his forehead, his eyes angry, approached the desk where Gayle sat. The scent of shampoo and of the boy he still was swirled around her as he leaned over the desk. “Mom. You left this morning without giving me any money. I need money.”

      Embarrassed that Adam’s loud voice had attracted the glances of the people in the waiting room, she came around the desk, her eyes pleading with him to quiet down.

      “What do you need it for?” she asked, even though she knew. Adam had started playing video games, and he was always after her to pay for yet another game. They’d argued about it this morning, and now he had come into her workplace.

      “I promised to buy a game from a friend. He’s waiting for me to pay up. You know all this, Mom.”

      She’d encouraged him to play video games, but not because she approved of them. In her mind they were the lesser of two evils—video games or surfing the internet. She had a very powerful reason for not wanting him online—his father. “We talked about this last night. I don’t have the money. And besides, you just got a new one...”

      “Where’s your purse?” Adam glanced behind the desk. “There, right there.” He pointed to Gayle’s purse, which was still sitting under her desk. She hadn’t put it in her locker yet because she needed to pay her share for a staff shower gift for Sherri. One of the patients had knit a beautiful pale green throw for Sherri and Neill. “I don’t have any money...”

      “Yes, you do. I saw it last night.”

      “Adam! What were you doing going through my purse? You know СКАЧАТЬ