“Dr. Adams,” a resident called out to her, “you’re needed immediately in the ER. Probable head injury. Mom is at twenty-seven weeks and unresponsive. Fetus may be in distress.”

“Tell them to get an electronic fetal monitor on her stat. I’m heading down right now.”

She rushed to the elevator and hit the down button. As she waited impatiently, her beeper went off. She glanced at the number. Cody’s school.

In the ER, she took the chart from the triage nurse and studied it. “Get me an update on her vitals and the readout from the fetal monitor.”

“Right away, Dr. Adams.”

Anna picked up the phone and dialed Cody’s school. Worry spread through her. His school had never found it necessary to beep her before.

The secretary put her through to the principal.

While she was on hold, Anna turned, the phone held to her ear as the attending trauma physician handed her the updated information she’d requested.

“Thank you.” She scanned the readout. “Keep monitoring the mother, and I’ll be there momentarily.”

The principal came on the phone. “Hello, Dr. Adams. This is Mr. Strickner. I’m calling regarding Cody.”

A flutter of panic hit her. “Is he okay? Did he get hurt?”

“He’s fine. Physically. I’m sorry to have to call you at work, but we’ve been trying to reach you at home, and our messages and notes have gone unanswered.”

“I wasn’t aware you were trying to get in touch with me.”

“I thought that might be the case.”

A door slammed down the hall, and the hushed sound of crying could be heard. Anna’s shoulders stiffened. There could be only one reason she hadn’t received the calls or letters. Cody had been hiding them from her. Her panic turned to anger.

“I’ve been approached by several of Cody’s teachers,” the principal continued. “They are concerned. There’s been a distinct change in Cody’s performance and attitude over the last few months. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.” The principal paused, then continued. “Is there anything at home we should be aware of?”

A nurse rushed by Anna as the paging system went off. She looked down at the chart in her hand and felt her agitation grow. “No. Everything is fine.”

“As you know, the school year is almost over. At this point, Cody is missing nearly half of his assignments in three classes. I’ve spoken with his teachers, and we are all in agreement that if he can complete the list of missing schoolwork that was sent home with him today, he will get credit and pass those classes. If not . . .” The principal let his voice trail off.

“Rest assured, Cody will have the assignments completed and turned in well before the end of the school year.” Anna saw the ER resident hurrying toward her. “Thank you for the call. I’ll make sure to take care of this.”

She hung up the phone and rushed to ER Room Number Five.

Six hours later, Anna arrived home feeling every bit as frustrated and angry as she had earlier. “Cody,” she called out the minute she entered the house.

Marie wiped her hands on her apron. “He’s in his room.”

“Thank you, Marie. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s no problem.” Marie untied her apron, folded it, and placed it in a kitchen drawer. “Your dinner is in the oven,” she said. “Cody hasn’t eaten. He said he wasn’t hungry.” Her face creased with concern.

“Thank you,” Anna said again. “I’m sure he was just waiting until I got home.” She wondered if Marie saw through the lie.

After Marie left, Anna made her way up the stairs. She didn’t bother knocking on Cody’s door. As usual, he was lying on his bed, tennis shoes and all, a sketch book in his hands and a bad attitude in his expression.

She came directly to the point. “I received a call from your principal today.”

“Prickner.”

“What did you say?”

“Mr. Strickner.”

“This isn’t a joking matter, Cody. You are on the verge of failing several of your classes.” Anna didn’t sugarcoat the seriousness of the situation, but Cody continued to look unconcerned. “Get me the list of missing assignments. I know you were sent home with it.” When he didn’t move, the irritation she’d felt since receiving the call boiled over.

“Now. And consider yourself on restriction until this is resolved. No iPod. No TV. And no baseball.”

That got his attention. “You are so unfair.”

“I heard everything I needed to.” She held out her hand for his iPod. She waited until he finally withdrew it from his pocket and tossed it on the end of the bed.

“You don’t even want to hear my side of the story.”

“Believe me, I heard your side. Actions speak louder than words.” She picked up the iPod. “Also, you’ll be staying home this weekend. While I was supposed to be doing my job, I was on the phone hiring you a tutor. Ms. Thorton will be here each afternoon after school and on the weekends until all of your assignments are in.”

She opened the door and stood with her hand on the knob. “Also, I know about the phone messages you erased and the notes from your teachers you never gave me.”

“Yeah? So what? You’re not home long enough to call anyone. Not even Dad.”

“Cody.”

“Forget it.”

“Come downstairs and let’s have dinner. We can talk—”

“I’m not hungry.”

Anna stared at her son, at a loss as to what to do. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Suit yourself.” She shut the door and went downstairs to eat another meal alone. As she picked at the shrimp pasta Marie had made, she once more felt a stab of resentment toward her husband. How could Phillip have left her to deal with all of this?

“Hi, Cody. I’ll get your aunt.”

“N-no. I called to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Cody sat down on the edge of his mom’s bed. He could hear the TV in the background. “Don’t bother coming to my game tomorrow.”

“Canceled?”

Cody kicked at the leg of his mom’s nightstand. “No. I can’t play ’cuz Mom is a hard-ass, and school sucks.”

“That bad?”

Cody squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to cry like a big baby. At least Jared didn’t tell him not to say ass. “Yeah. Just because of some stupid assignments.”

“Sorry, kid.”

“Hey, Jared?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever screwed up so badly everyone was mad at you?”

“Too many times to count.”

Cody stared at the silver-framed picture of his mom and dad on their wedding day. “I wish my dad was here.”

“I wish he was there, too.”

“If my dad was here,” Cody started, feeling a lump form in his throat, “I wonder what he’d say . . .”

Jared didn’t say anything for a moment. “I wish I knew.”

“Did your dad ever leave you?”

“Your dad hasn’t left you, Cody.”

A tear ran down Cody’s cheek. “That’s what my mom says, but he’s been gone a long time. Maybe he’s not coming back.” Cody wiped his face. “Tell Aunt Jenny for me, okay?” The tears were coming harder, and he had to get off the phone. “And tell her I won’t be there this weekend either. I’m stuck here with a tutor.”

“Hang in there, slugger.”

Cody could only nod.

If he’d known the reason for Cody’s call, he would have ignored Jenny’s call from upstairs for him to pick up and let the answering machine get it.

Jared leaned back in the chair. God damn it. Why did the kid have to call him? Couldn’t he see that Jared wasn’t qualified to give advice, especially to a thirteen-year-old boy who needed his father?

“Was that Anna?” Jenny said, coming into the family room. Lately, she’d taken to bundling herself from head to toe in her pink robe with only the bottom cuffs of her pj’s peeking out from the hem. Wet hair hung down her back and over her shoulders. A few strands were beginning to dry and curl around her face. It didn’t matter what she wore. Just being around her was enough to drive him crazy.

“No. It was Cody.”

“Cody? What did he want?”

Jared forced himself to stop trying to find her breasts buried under the thick robe. “To tell us he can’t play in his game tomorrow, and he won’t be able to come this weekend.” The telephone call should have made him feel relieved. The kid would be out of his hair.

Jenny walked into the kitchen and put the teakettle on. “How come?”

Jared wanted to blow off her question, tell her he didn’t want to be dragged into her family drama. “Because he’s missing some schoolwork, so your sister has him on lock-down.”

“I doubt it’s as bad as that.”

Jared ran a hand through his hair. “Not according to Cody.”

“He’s been a bit of a handful lately. I’m sure Anna is doing the right thing.”

Jared stood and walked to the fireplace. He picked up the poker and jabbed at the cold ashes. “It’s only a couple of assignments. Cody seems like a good kid.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Jared turned from the fireplace and faced her. He knew it was none of his business, and he should keep quiet, but he couldn’t. “It sounds like your sister is making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Believe me, Anna has never taken a wrong step in her life, especially where Cody is concerned. I’m sure she’s doing the right thing. Besides, neither of us is a parent. What do we know?”

Jared stabbed once more at the half-burned log. “You’re right.” She smelled like fresh powder and tropical flowers. He grew hard and felt his gut tightening. He wanted to lay her out on the couch and strip off that damn robe and lick her from the bottom of her feet all the way up to that soft spot on the side of her neck, making sure to pause in all the right places. She was driving him insane, and she didn’t even know it. It was supposed to be the other way around. He was supposed to be making her burn up and melt inside. “You’re right,” he said again. “I don’t know a damn thing about being a parent. But I know something about businesses. And all those calls you’re making are a waste of time. Tell me, have you ever got past a secretary?”

The teakettle whistled, but she didn’t make a move to turn off the burner. Instead, she stared at him through baby blues, wide with confused anger. “Why are you turning mean?”

She didn’t know what mean was. He’d been waiting around for what seemed like forever for her to cave and go running to Mom and Dad. But she hadn’t. She wasn’t. Instead, she was working her ass off to save this business. If he’d been anyone else, he’d be damned impressed. But the more time he was around her, the less he thought about Mexico.

Anger at her—anger at himself—turned his tone icy cold. “Business is about the bottom line. Period. I’ve been through the office. I saw the files you worked up. If you’re the businesswoman you say you are, you’ll figure it out.”