His Texas Forever Family
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Amy Woods
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13
Chapter One
“Assistant Principal Graham,” the intercom spat, “please report to Art Room One. Your assistance is needed immediately.”
Paige Graham looked up from the two ten-year-olds she’d just separated from a scuffle and listened as the receptionist called her a second time over the school’s outside intercom.
What now?
“This time it’s just a warning, but if you two keep this up, we’re going to have a talk with your parents,” she told the boys.
“Yes, Ms. Graham,” the boys said obligingly in unison, though they glared at each other from where they stood on either side of her.
Paige ran a hand through the wind-twisted tangles of her hair and checked her watch. Only 9:00 a.m. and the day was shaping up to be an uphill battle. The first day of school was always hectic, which was to be expected with the kids still sun-gilded, full of summer energy and longing to catch up with their friends. Throughout her career as a school administrator, she’d had many chaotic first days, but this one took the cake so far—and the blissful sound of the last bell was still hours away.
Paige stepped out from between the boys and made her way from her post near the bus drop to the front of Peach Leaf Elementary School. Glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the boys’ brawl didn’t rekindle in her absence, she stepped inside the glass double doors.
She tossed hellos and welcome-backs to her colleagues as she passed familiar students on her way down the first-floor hallway to the art classroom.
Why couldn’t a teacher with a planning period look in on the class? Or heaven forbid, a prearranged substitute teacher?
Then again, it was the first day of school, so it was entirely possible that all the teachers’ aides were occupied helping out with their new classes and didn’t have a spare moment to assist with another. She could definitely relate.
It was only morning, but Paige already had a packed schedule—a meeting with her boss, Principal Matthews, in less than an hour, a few special-education plans to look over and sign before then...not to mention the new-teacher luncheon and two afternoon Individual Education Plan conferences. The nature of her job meant a steady stream of unpredictable adjustments and rearranged schedules, but the crammed day ahead left little room for taking over a class at the last minute
Paige cursed herself for wearing her new shoes on the first day of school. She should have worn her trusty low-heeled black pumps with the sensible insoles and not these cute but torturous, toe-pinching, three-inch-high sling-backs before having had a chance to break them in. Why was she trying to follow trends? She was much better off sticking with the black basics and clean lines she usually wore to prove that, despite being only thirty-one, she was indeed serious about her position as assistant principal.
Reaching the art room, Paige opened the door and pulled a deep breath into her lungs.
Although a few students were running around chasing each other, and several others had opened cabinets to pull out crayons and paper, a quick scan of the room indicated that at least nobody was bleeding or seriously injured, and the paints were lined up on a high windowsill in a tidy rainbow. And none of the kids had decided to give each other tattoos—yet.
Paige was surprised at the nervous fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. She’d had several years of teaching experience before she’d landed the coveted Assistant Principal job at Peach Leaf Elementary. She still adored working with kids, but there was no denying that a few years had passed since she’d been on the front line and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be pitched back into it without warning on the first day of school.
Where was he?
Paige tried to recall the new instructor’s name. Something Camden, she thought—no—Campbell. That was it: Liam Campbell. He’d been hired by Principal Matthews at the last minute from a school in Abilene on very high recommendation from his former boss, although Paige wondered now why he’d moved if his last school had loved him so much.
“Hey, give that back!” The shout interrupted her thoughts and, squaring her shoulders, Paige stepped farther into the classroom and cleared her throat.
“All right, guys,” she said sternly, causing the kids to stop what they were doing and scurry to their desks. Maybe these new heels were a good idea after all. They did add a couple of inches to her petite frame, creating what she hoped was an authoritative presence.
The students paused and turned from each other to stare at Paige, their excited grins disappearing behind tightened lips at her warning tone.
“I see some familiar faces, but for those of you who are new, I’m Assistant Principal Graham.”
Paige couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the collective intake of breath. There was something cautionary about the word “Principal” that made kids think twice before acting out in her presence. When working with kids, Paige knew she was fair and gentle, but she could also draw a hard line when necessary. And she liked it that way.
She looked out at the room of fifth graders, most of whom had found desks and straightened their spines reflexively against the backs of their chairs when she introduced herself.
“Mr. Campbell is running a little bit late, so we’re going to have to be patient until he gets here,” she said.
The kids looked around at each other and she caught a few wary glances between friends.
“Does anyone want to talk about what they did this summer?” Paige’s question was met with more than a few eye rolls. She had to admit it was a bit routine, but what else could she do when the lesson plan for the day wasn’t anywhere to be found? Paige could barely draw a stick figure, much less teach art.
“Somebody must’ve done something cool or exciting.” She looked at a familiar student grinning from the front row. “Katie, why don’t you tell us what you did this summer?” As the little girl described her week at the beach and then several other students chimed in with their adventures, the elusive Mr. Campbell finally decided to grace the class with his presence.
Paige released a small sigh of relief, thankful to have escaped the possibility of a boredom-induced mutiny.
“Good morning, class,” he said, surveying the room. “I’m your art teacher, Mr. Campbell.”
Even as he moved quickly, his posture remained somehow both easy and confident. His slacks and button-down shirt, the large camping backpack slung over one shoulder and the healthy ruddiness of his cheeks made him look like a graduate student back from some exotic archaeological dig rather than a new teacher at a Texas elementary school. Paige wondered again what he was doing in Peach Leaf and what prompted him to move to the small town.
She’d have to be blind not to notice how ruggedly gorgeous the new teacher was. He was so tall that his head had almost made contact with the doorway as he entered. His eyes, the color of pine needles, were set underneath longish, tousled ebony hair and eyebrows, which rose in what looked infuriatingly like humor. And when Liam spoke, those eyes grinned at her, the slightest crinkles at the corners revealing that there wasn’t much he took seriously.
Including, it seemed, being on time to the first day of a new position.
Paige was almost grateful for the angry burn rising up in her chest because it made it easier to stop focusing on Liam’s dark good looks.
“Well,” she said, moving to block him from heading straight to his desk. “Good morning, Mr. Campbell. So glad you’re able to finally join us.”
A few snickers broke the quiet that had settled upon his arrival.
She knew she should keep her annoyance to herself, especially in front of the kids, but Paige felt the hot itch of irritation in her chest as she watched the new teacher move casually into his new classroom, as though he hadn’t arrived late on his first day and wreaked havoc on her carefully planned morning.
“So sorry,” Liam said in the West Texas drawl almost everyone in Peach Leaf shared. Somehow, though, his accent was deeper and richer, and it sounded disturbingly warm to Paige.
“Never mind,” she told Liam, straightening her spine and pushing her shoulders back. “You’ve got plenty to do here, as your class is almost over and you’ve yet to even take attendance. We’ll discuss this later.”
“All right,” Liam said, “and again, my apologies. Perhaps if you knew the reason for my...”
“As I said,” Paige interrupted, crossing her arms tighter and glaring at him, “we’ll have to speak later. I’m due for a meeting and, well, you have a class to teach.”
She released one arm and raised a palm in the direction of the fifteen pairs of eyes staring from the desks. It crossed her mind briefly that she was being a bit hard on him. First days were rough on everyone. But she’d learned from being in charge of kids, including her own son, that it was always better to be firm at first and lay out expectations clearly. The warmth would come later, when they’d figured out it was in their best interest to follow the rules.
“Okay, then. Have it your way,” Liam said, one corner of his mouth turned up as though he might laugh at her. She wanted to reach up and knock the grin off his face. How dare he not take her seriously? What could possibly be funny about this situation?
“Good. I’ll expect you in my office after the last bell.”
Paige ignored the kids’ collective “ooh” that followed, but Liam silenced it with a single stern look and a raised hand, and she made a mental note of how he quickly established control in his classroom. He definitely had a strong presence. Maybe he’d make a good teacher yet. He just needed to know what was expected of him.
Especially when her little boy would be in his afternoon class.
Liam nodded and then stared at her for a moment, hands on hips, lips curved up at the corners in what could only be a mocking grin before Paige realized she was blocking the aisle. She took a step aside so he could make his way to his new desk, but Paige couldn’t help herself and reached out an arm.
“And Mr. Campbell?” she said, tapping his forearm as he passed.
“Yes,” Liam said, turning to look at her.
“Do try to be on time to our meeting.”
* * *
“Okay, class, that’s all for today,” Liam told his first graders that afternoon. “Don’t forget to bring an object from home tomorrow. We’re going to be telling stories about them, and then on Wednesday we’ll get to start painting pictures of them. So pick something you really, really like. You’ll be stuck with it for a few days so you don’t want to choose something you can’t stand to look at.”
The musical sound of the kids’ giggles filled the room as Liam scrunched up his face in mock disgust. He finished collecting the students’ drawings and, as they filed out, Liam wiped his face and sunk into his chair, setting his feet on the desktop.
After the unfortunate introduction to the Assistant Principal, he’d been flustered, and it took him a bit before he recalled the lesson he’d planned a few weeks ago. Before today, he’d only met with Principal Matthews, who had hired him. But Assistant Principal Graham was something else—a force to be reckoned with—and he supposed he’d just have to get used to her in time. But he didn’t appreciate the way she’d lit into him in front of his students without allowing him to get a word in edgewise in the way of explanation. He planned on telling her so at their meeting in a few minutes.
With her shoulder-length blond curls and her baby blue eyes, she had looked like the human version of a spring day. He loved that she wore so little makeup and he could see fully the fresh glow of her creamy skin—even underneath the red-hot anger that had covered her face. Liam chuckled to himself as he thought of how mad she’d been—so out of proportion to the circumstance. She’d acted for all the world like a fire-breathing dragon and there’d been something about her seriousness that had made him want to push her buttons even more.
Not that he hadn’t been in the wrong. Liam never made it a practice to be late to work. In fact, he hated that he’d made a bad impression on his first day, which he’d have to work twice as hard to overcome. It was just that his morning art-therapy group at the hospital where he interned part-time could sometimes draw him in and he found it incredibly difficult to pull away from them, even though he knew the drive back to Peach Leaf would take an hour. Unlike the kids he would be teaching at the elementary school, the kids in the group he’d started as part of his dissertation research struggled with burdens that even their parents had trouble understanding—anything from minor speech impediments to serious emotional baggage caused by various types of trauma. It was Liam’s job to teach his patients various methods of expression that would allow them to begin working through their pain.
Helping kids uncover their deepest emotions was the first step to healing. Often art gave them a way to articulate their feelings about whatever distress had brought them to his practice. He could then converse with them about how to feel better. He’d seen all kinds of grief over his years as a certified art therapist and had witnessed the power that making art could have when it came to expression. Many times, his patients didn’t even realize what they were feeling until it revealed itself during the repetitive motions of painting or molding clay. It was an amazing thing to watch, and Liam hoped that someday soon, when he’d completed his doctorate, he could explore even further the potential of art in mending broken lives.
But he’d have to make sure to compartmentalize the two to keep from being late again. At least until he could make his dream of becoming a full-time therapist come true.
He did love teaching, especially the first graders who made up his last class of the day. They were still very young and, for the most part, sweet to their teachers and each other, but their minds were eager and fresh and were opening up to the world in ways that were exciting to watch. In the past hour, Liam had loved watching their creative brains at work as they’d begun their first drawings of the year. Seeing students learn about themselves through art was why he’d chosen to teach—at least before his master’s classes had introduced him to the captivating possibilities of art therapy. It was during those classes that he’d discovered how powerful self-expression through art could be in helping children understand difficult circumstances like death, illness or divorce—things that, without intervention, could cause enough disruption to stall learning during formative years.
As he walked to his meeting with Assistant Principal Graham, he vowed to make her understand that he loved and respected this job and that he wouldn’t be late again. He couldn’t risk losing his position if he wanted to stay in Peach Leaf, and he didn’t want to go back to his teaching job in Abilene.
At least not while Callie was still working at the school. Not after the way things had ended.
The city and his old job held too many memories. He needed a fresh start, a new beginning where no one knew his old family name, and where he didn’t connect moments with Callie to every landmark and street corner. In Peach Leaf, he hoped he could just be Liam Campbell, art teacher—not Liam Campbell, the divorced, black-sheep son of a famous oil tycoon.
When he departed Abilene, he’d left behind his broken heart and had no interest in ever seeing his father or Callie again. He had always wanted kids, but Callie had never taken to the idea. They’d gotten together in college and at that time, Liam hadn’t given it much thought because they’d been young. But as the years of their marriage had gone on and she’d resisted the conversation with more vehemence, Liam had eventually let it drop. And then she left him, and from where he sat now, following a messy divorce, he wasn’t sure that the possibility of children was anywhere in his future.
No, what he needed now was to look ahead and make his home here, away from the pain he’d left behind, and focus on his career. He refused to let any woman get close to him again—they had no place in his life. And after what had happened with his ex-wife, he was pretty sure they had no place for him either.
Which was why it was so frustrating that Assistant Principal Graham had gotten to him the way she had that morning.
As he neared the front office, Liam tried to push the thoughts of his failed relationship and the fiery assistant principal out of his mind. This past summer had been the roughest of his life, and he was ready for a new beginning. But something else was crowding his mind. He needed to talk to her about the interesting student in his last-period class. At first the kid hadn’t stood out to him at all; if anything, he’d blended in a little too well, being much quieter and far more reserved than a typical first grader.
But he did eventually stick out. The kid had been completely silent and hadn’t said a single word the entire class, while the others had been chatty little balls of energy. The students had all readily offered their names, wiggling in their seats as they’d raised their hands for a chance to talk and had interacted with him without any effort.
Except this one.
When Liam had taken attendance, the kids who seemed to be his friends told him the boy’s name—Owen. Liam hadn’t thought much of it—he knew firsthand from his group that some kids just took longer to come out of their shells, and pushing too hard could have a negative effect. But he’d make a point of talking to Owen tomorrow. And in the meantime, Liam would see if Ms. Graham knew anything about the little guy so Liam could give the boy extra resources if necessary. When he finished meeting with her, he’d go back to his classroom and check his student files to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
“Good afternoon,” Liam said as he approached the brunette at the desk in the front office.
The young woman removed her headset and grinned up at him.
“Good afternoon to you,” she said, her voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the low, angry tone—practically a growl—that Assistant Principal Graham had greeted him with that morning. The voice he couldn’t get out of his head.
“And who are you?” He reached his own hand across the receptionist’s desk and shook the one she offered.
“I’m Liam Campbell. I have a meeting with Assistant Principal Graham at four o’clock...” Liam looked at the nameplate on the desk, “...Emma,” he added.
“Of course,” she said, checking her computer. “She’s got you down right here. I’ll just call her and let her know you’ll be in.” Emma smiled up at him as she picked up the phone.
“Go on in,” she said after a moment.
“She can be a little bit bristly, can’t she?” Liam said in a low voice, winking at Emma. Emma giggled and pointed to the short hallway behind her desk. Liam found the door marked “Paige Graham” and tapped softly on the wood.
After a moment, Paige opened the door. Liam cursed himself for the heat that rushed up his spine when he saw her. It must just be my nerves. After all, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to being chastised again like a troublesome kid. He’d already gotten the point.
She was a prickly one, but dang if she wasn’t lovely, too. Her skin glowed in the afternoon light filtering in through the large office windows, and she’d taken off her suit jacket, revealing long, slender arms. As he met the harried expression on her face, Liam found himself thinking that maybe he’d just have to get through a few of her cactus spines before he could find the soft flesh underneath....
Liam stepped past Paige and she closed the door, motioning for him to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk.
“Is something amusing, Mr. Campbell?” she asked.
He cut short his study of her as she spoke. “Of course not,” he said. He hadn’t even known he was smiling until she’d caught him. Where was his usual controlled nonchalance?
“Good,” she said, briefly returning her attention to the papers spread out on the solemn-looking oak desk.
The desk suits her, Liam thought as he sat and folded his hands on his lap, waiting for her to finish sorting the work that was obviously more important than him.
“Now, Mr. Campbell,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t take too much of your time as I’m sure you have plenty to do,” she said, lacing her fingers in front of her. Liam got the strong sensation that he was just another item to check off her To-Deal-With list.
“But,” she continued, “I just wanted to make it absolutely clear that tardiness will not be tolerated at this school.”
Liam winced at the word. Tardy? He wasn’t one of her students and certainly didn’t appreciate being treated with such disdain. He had a master’s degree in art education, thank you very much, and was well on his way to a Ph.D., so who was she to talk to him so condescendingly? Sure, she was in a position of authority, but that didn’t give her the right to berate him for one mistake. He was the one doing the school a favor by filling an open position at the last minute, not the other way around.
Liam set his mouth to keep from saying something he’d regret. Forcing a polite smile, he met her cornflower eyes and addressed her, matching her less than friendly tone with his own.
“As I said this morning, Mrs. Graham, I’m very sorry that I was late. It will not happen again. But there’s a good reason...”
“It’s Ms., not Mrs., Graham,” she interrupted.
He couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t let him talk for one minute... Wait a second—why was he relieved at the correction? And anyway, what was he doing thinking about her like that? Even if he was interested in letting another woman into his life, which he wasn’t, it sure wouldn’t be someone as uptight as Paige Graham.
Liam said nothing, concentrating his effort on stopping the cascade of disconcerting thoughts. She’d have to learn to listen before he’d waste another breath trying to talk to her. He was patient, but a man had only so much courtesy, and she was pushing it.
Paige’s face softened slightly. “Look, Mr. Campbell, there’s something else I want to say.” She raised a hand to rub her temples and closed her eyes for a few seconds. The brief gesture caused an unwelcome softness to swell in his chest. He saw for the first time how stressed she seemed to be and noticed the pale purple half-moons under her otherwise pretty—more than pretty, beautiful, if he was honest—eyes. After all, she looked barely twenty-five, although Liam assumed she had to be older than that to have worked her way up to her position. She certainly behaved like someone older.
What in her life could possibly account for that air of severity hovering around her?
* * *
After a few minutes, Paige opened her eyes and met Liam’s, which, despite everything, weren’t filled with the irritation she’d expected. She hadn’t meant to be so hard on him that morning, and honestly, she owed him an apology. She resisted the urge to explain herself, not wanting to bring up Owen or the challenging time she’d had getting him to school that morning.
It had been her husband’s job to get Owen to school most mornings because Paige had to be there so much earlier than her son. It was hard enough on both of them now, with her working at her own child’s school, but it had been a lot less stressful when Owen’s dad had taken care of getting him there.
A lot of things had been easier when Mark had been around. When he’d been alive.
The past six months had stretched Paige’s nerves as thin as they could go. But no matter how hard things had gotten, and no matter how many days and nights she worried how her son would fare growing up without his father, she knew it was always a thousand times worse for Owen. Her heart ached for her little boy, and as she worried about him for the millionth time that day, she had to fight the tears that crowded behind her eyes and threatened to make her look even more off-kilter than she must have already that morning.
But Liam Campbell didn’t need to know any of that.
She only needed to reestablish her authority as his superior, and then hopefully she could refer him to Principal Matthews if any issues came up in the future.
She met Liam’s eyes, the rich, heady green of them hitting her all over again.
“What I wanted to say is that I’m very sorry for the way things happened this morning.”
Paige looked down at her hands. She felt the entire day sitting heavily on her shoulders, and the startling thought invaded her mind of how great a massage would be. How wonderful Liam’s large hands would feel, kneading the tension from her tight muscles, melting away the weight of all the hats she wore—assistant principal, mother and father. She felt heat rush to her cheeks.
What is wrong with you? Get it together, Paige. You’re the man’s boss, for goodness’ sake.
“Even though it was unprofessional and inconvenient of you to arrive late on your first day, I shouldn’t have reprimanded you in front of the kids, and I do apologize.”
Despite her intention, it didn’t sound like much of an apology, even to her own ears. She hoped he would accept it anyway. What was it about him that set her off so easily, that made her want to keep him at a safe distance from the rush of confusion in her body, yet also draw him nearer?
“That’s fine,” Liam said, offering her a gentle smile that Paige hoped was as sincere as she’d meant her words to sound. The last thing she needed was to be at odds with one of her staff. Their opinions of her meant more than most of them probably knew, especially with the possibility of a promotion coming up.
She’d been a teacher herself after graduating from college until she finished her master’s degree and became a supervisor two years before, so Paige knew exactly what instructors went through each day on the job and how tough it could be sometimes. She made a point to visit her staff in action regularly and talk with them so that she didn’t lose touch with what it felt like to be in the classroom.
“So, then,” she said, feeling relieved. “Can we start fresh? Consider this our first meeting?”
Paige hoped she didn’t sound too desperate. Something about this man just put her on edge. Liam looked at her, his eyes still narrowed a little—trying to read her, she supposed—and then seemed to decide it was safe to agree to a truce. He reached a large hand across her desk. She noticed the colors underneath his fingernails and caught the pleasant, familiar scent of crayon wax from his skin and thought of how much Owen loved art. She resisted the strong compulsion to ask how Liam’s first day of class had gone, and whether or not he’d noticed her son’s disability.
“Done,” he said. Paige shook his hand and started at how wonderful it felt, firm and warm around her own small, cool one. She hoped he didn’t notice her slight jump at his touch and was grateful when he quickly pulled away from her and rose to leave. He made it to the door and turned back around to retrace his steps, and her heart did a small flip.
“I wanted to ask you about one more thing,” he said, sitting back in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees.
“Of course.”
“There’s a young man in my last class, the first graders, who I noticed has a bit of an issue. With all the first-day stuff, the period went by fast, so it could be nothing, but I wanted to make sure. I thought you might know if there’s a history.”
A lump rose quickly in Paige’s throat, and she could feel her neck turning crimson with heat. She knew instantly he was talking about Owen and was thankful Liam hadn’t made the connection. After all, Graham was a fairly common surname, and the new teacher had so many new names to commit to memory that he’d likely overlooked it.
She looked up to see his brows knit with concern—concern for her child.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, leaning forward to place a hand on her desk.
“Yes,” she lied.
Paige willed herself to maintain composure. She was an assistant principal and every kid should be her priority. She couldn’t think of Owen any differently.
But he was different. He was her own. And things were obviously still not okay, even after everything they’d tried over the past six months to get him talking again. She’d known she’d been senselessly optimistic by hoping that Owen’s first day of first grade would miraculously cure his selective mutism, but her heart had jumped ahead anyway and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from hoping he might speak to his friends or his new teachers.
Despite the rocky time they’d had getting to school that morning, Paige had been hoping that they could both start fresh this year.
That the Owen she knew would recover and resume communicating with the rest of the world.
But nothing had changed, and Paige had to admit they were running out of options.
She snapped back to her office. Liam was staring at her, his green eyes full of curiosity.
She would have to find the right way to bring up Owen. As a parent of one of his students, she knew there would come a time soon enough when Liam would find out about Owen’s disability, but Paige didn’t want him to think her incapable of objectivity by focusing all of her attention on her own son at their first one-on-one meeting. As assistant principal, all of the students were her responsibility, not just her own little guy.
“What is it?”
“Well, it could just be that it’s the beginning of the year, and the boy is shy, but...” Liam hesitated.
“But...” Paige prompted.
“But he didn’t speak during the whole period. I mean, he didn’t say a single word. And, like I said, maybe it’s just first-day jitters. We’ve all had that, including me, but...”
Paige ignored the reference to their morning run-in.
“Even with all of that, most first graders I know have plenty to say, and well, this kid didn’t say anything. It seemed like more than just shyness. I think there might be something more serious going on.”
Paige forced herself to swallow the fist-sized lump in her throat before working up the courage to speak, and she sent up a silent wish that her voice would come out sounding as normal as possible.
“I’m just curious, so that I can look into finding extra help for him if it comes to that, but may I ask something?” Paige said.
Liam nodded.
Paige measured her words carefully, wanting desperately to know every single detail about what had gone on during the class, every minute piece of information possible but knowing too that it was her job to give Owen the chance to be a normal kid. To let his actions, rather than her overprotective nature, speak for him. She knew he would hate it if he found out that she’d been talking to Mr. Campbell. And she couldn’t stand feeling that she’d betrayed her son.
“Did the other kids make fun of him or tease him in any way? Did they seem to think there was something...wrong...with him?” If Liam picked up on her hesitation to be frank with him, his face gave nothing away. He seemed to simply weigh her question carefully before answering with equal mindfulness.
“No, nothing like that. And actually, Owen seems to have quite a few buddies in the class. But when I tried to get him to talk to me, even to introduce himself, he wouldn’t interact at all. Some of the others even spoke up for him, which is kind, but, in reality, can sometimes make situations like his even worse.”
“Situations like his?” Paige asked. Had Liam met other children with something like Owen’s condition? In her years of teaching, she’d seen similar conditions a couple of times, but for those kids it had always passed as the school year went on and they made friends. For Owen, it didn’t seem to be improving despite six months of behavioral therapy. Even though Dr. Roberts knew the cause, he hadn’t yet been able to get Owen to talk to anyone besides his mother.
“Well, yes. I’ve seen it a few times actually. Both in my teaching experience and in...”
Liam was interrupted as Paige’s office door opened and a small, sandy-haired boy burst in, stopping just inside as his blue eyes shot back and forth between the two adults who had turned to stare at him.
“Well, hi there,” Liam said, smiling at the child.
“Hi, sweetie,” Paige said, unfreezing her limbs and rising quickly from her chair. “Come on in.”
“Mr. Campbell,” she said, “I think you’ve already met my son, Owen.”
