For All She Knows (Potomac Point #3) - Jamie Beck Page 0,9
whole face to read his hunched shoulders and the flat line of his mouth. Lately, his moods could whip up because of anything from a pimple to something related to Dirk. Right now, I prayed for a pimple-level crisis.
“Hey, give me two seconds and tell me what’s up.”
“Nothing’s up,” he huffed, still not meeting my gaze.
Internal mom alarms kept beeping. “Rowan, I know when something’s wrong. Did you flunk that history quiz?” I held my breath.
“Got a B.”
A jolt of joy made me squeeze his shoulder, although his lackadaisical attitude about it confused me. “That’s great. See what happens when you apply yourself?”
I hammered the carrot approach to parenting much like my own parents had used before that car crash killed them. I could still hear my dad’s advice to others. “Praise the good efforts, talk through the mistakes. Never shame a kid for being less than perfect.” On the other hand, my uncle had applied the stick—laying down punishments and consequences intended to force me to make “better” choices. Those years hadn’t been nearly as happy, and I wanted Rowan to remember childhood fondly.
“It wasn’t me. Carter helped me study.”
“That’s nice of him, but you put in the work. Well done.” I’d have to remember to get Carter a little gift card to thank him. The boys’ friendship had withered by fifth grade, when kids began to form groups based on interests and talents instead of classroom recess and scheduled playdates. I’d worried that their different paths would weaken my friendship with Grace, but we’d weathered it fine, which was why I knew we could handle being on opposite sides of this budget thing. Grace had proven herself to be fair, rational, and kind. Unlike so many in my life who’d taken one look at me and formed all manner of opinions, she never judged me. I daresay she even respected me. That was both rare and priceless. “So, then, what’s with the mood?”
Rowan heaved a sigh. “Dad’s blowing me off again this weekend.”
His bitter tone and narrowed eyes underscored the constant accusation—that somehow Dirk’s leaving was my fault, as was everything Rowan had failed to do since that day. Even though Dirk had walked out on us, my son’s pain coated me with guilt.
Without Dirk, I wouldn’t have my son, so I didn’t regret having loved that man. But boy, did I wish Rowan had a better father. That part was my fault—indirectly, anyway. Dirk hadn’t always been neglectful. He’d loved toting his young son around to sporting events and fishing outings, or to tinker with the car. But the drudgeries of parenting and marriage had never interested him, and so he’d found himself Miranda, a kid-free woman.
I’d been lucky to have started life with two loving parents who’d valued my individuality, but for the rest of his life, my son would suffer for my bad taste in men.
“I’m sorry.” What else could I say? Dirk lived less than an hour away yet had steadily become less reliable with his visits these past two years. “It’s his loss, honey.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Rowan turned his attention back to the phone screen, but his father’s neglect mattered more than anything—maybe even more than school.
Not that I had time to find a solution now. The clock already read six thirty. I grabbed the last slice of pizza and ate it standing up. “Come on, bud. We’ve got to go.”
“What?”
That got his attention.
“You’re coming with me.” I cracked open a ginger ale from the fridge and took a few long gulps before taking another bite of pizza.
“No way. That meeting will be long and boring.” His head fell back with a grunt.
“Boring? We’re talking about the fate of the fields. You should care about that more than most.”
“Mrs. Phillips can’t win.” He scratched behind an ear. “No one cares about science labs.”
That dismissiveness reminded me of Dirk. Few things stank more than seeing someone you loathed in someone you loved. I gave Rowan a lot of free passes, but once in a while I had to put down my foot.
“That’s not true. Plenty of folks care about the budget, so there’s no guarantee. The school board should see you boys there. If you don’t care, why should they? Now go comb your hair and put on a button shirt. Call your friends to show up, too. I bet Carter will be there with his friends.”
“All two of them,” Rowan muttered before he stood, broke down the empty pizza box, and stuffed it in