chapter 15
RYAN PACED ACROSS the vaulted lobby of the Edenwood junior girls’ dorm, practically as nervous as the day he cooled his heels waiting to be called into the delivery room for his daughter’s birth. He’d driven all night and half the day to get from Tampa to the little hamlet in Westchester County where Edenwood School had been preparing young ladies for college and life since 1890. Devon’s dorm wasn’t quite that old, though he figured it had to have been around since at least the Great Depression, with its ancient gray stone walls and pointed turrets at the front corners.
Back in the day, parents probably could have walked straight up the broad staircase and found their daughters’ rooms. Today, though, the place was like a government building—you practically needed a biometric scan to even get through the front door, much less upstairs. After showing his photo ID, Ryan had asked the front desk clerk, or whatever she was called—warden, maybe, given what Devon had told him about the place—to ring Devon and let her know he was here. Though the middle-aged woman appeared to do it immediately, Ryan was still waiting ten minutes later. Devon was probably just yanking his chain by keeping him waiting. She hadn’t exactly been over the moon with excitement when he’d called before leaving Florida to say he’d stop at Edenwood before heading to Philadelphia. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with Devon, but he had to get to his hotel in time to get a solid sleep before tomorrow’s game. Resting up after the grueling drive north was mission critical for him, especially since Jack Ault had announced on Friday that he’d be the Patriots’ starting first baseman for the Monday home opener.
Though he’d only played a handful of innings at first base in Florida, he hadn’t disgraced himself by any means. The bad throw on Friday, where he’d been charged with an error, and his earlier questionable decision not to go after the lead runner had been his only screw-ups. His arm was by far the weakest part of his game, but the Patriots knew when they traded for him that he’d make more throwing errors than average. Taylor had told him that on Friday when she sought him out after the game to give him a few slightly uncomfortable words of encouragement about the error.
That was the only time he’d seen Taylor since their gut-wrenching meeting in Sand Key Park, and it was a tense, uncomfortable three or four minutes, especially for her. While he could barely stop himself from taking her into his arms—in full view of players outside the clubhouse—she’d rocked back and forth on her feet, jumpier than a jar full of grasshoppers. When he’d asked her if she was okay, he swore she started to get a little misty-eyed before she mumbled something and turned away.
God, he missed her, more than made sense given how brief their acquaintance was.
Across the room, a heavy, blue door swung open and Dev meandered through in that sullen, brooding posture and gait so prevalent among teens of seemingly every age, sex and socioeconomic group. Dressed in slashed-up jeans and a black tank top, she looked in his general direction but her gaze seemed to be lost in space. But that was fairly typical—avoidance of eye contact when she was unhappy had been her thing for as long as Ryan could remember.
She’d changed her hair since he saw her a few weeks ago, at least the color if not the cut. Where the front left side used to be electric blue, now it was a dark, angry-looking shade of reddish-purple. She had her collection of piercings in, multiple loops on both ears and one small ring on each eyebrow. One of the bargains she’d driven with Ryan was that he wouldn’t make her go to any school that outlawed piercings or tattoos. She didn’t have any of the latter—none that he could see, anyway—but he figured it was only a matter of time before she got into body art, too. He hated the metal, hated the whole look, but he figured she was a lot more likely to grow out of it if he kept his mouth shut rather than riding her about it.
Ryan met her halfway across the room, sweeping her into his arms and hugging her tight. She was like a flower in his grasp, so thin and delicate—delicate compared to him, anyway. But despite her stick-like five-six frame, Devon was toned and tough. She’d always worked out hard in their home gym, and she’d obviously kept her training up at Edenwood. Lately, when he saw her—and she seemed to grow an inch every time—he couldn’t help thinking about Rooney Mara in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.
“I’ve really missed you these past few weeks,” he murmured, still holding on tight. “More than ever.”
Devon wedged an arm between their bodies and pushed a little until he broke the clench. “You look terrible,” she said, taking a step back. “Your eyes are red and your hair…”
Ryan hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror for a while. He snorted and ran a hand back through his hair, as if that would do much good. “Give me break, honey. I just drove twenty hours straight to see you.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t drive like that,” she said sharply. “And you didn’t need to come at all. I told you that on the phone.”
Yes, but he hadn’t really believed her. Now he did.
“How about Starbucks?” he said, trying to ignore her stinging words. “It’s only ten minutes to that one we went to last time in White Plains.” Devon could never resist a caramel frappucino. “Or we could go straight to dinner.” He felt a shower of guilt wash over him. “I’m sorry I can’t stay very long. I need to get to Philly in time to rest up for the game tomorrow. It’s a big day for me.”
“Coffee is fine.” She slung her lightweight camouflage jacket over her shoulders and led the way out of the dorm.
The conversation on the short drive into White Plains was even more strained than usual, with Ryan not wanting to dive in with a bunch of unwelcome questions and Devon not offering any information about what was troubling her. When they reached the Starbucks outlet and got their drinks from the barista, Devon headed straight outside to a small patio. Ryan followed, though given the chilly end of March weather he thought she might freeze in her thin, worn jacket. He wasn’t exactly dressed warmly enough either, since it had been in the eighties when he left Florida. The breeze today was crisp, and the temperature was falling from what his car had said was sixty degrees.
Ryan blew on his steaming cup of medium roast. “I’m going to look for an apartment in Philly as soon as I can.”
Devon raised a brow. “You’re not going to get a house?”
He shook his head. “It makes more sense to just rent an apartment for this season since I don’t know what’s going to happen after that. If the Patriots give me a new contract, we’ll go house-hunting together then.”
“Whatever.” She sipped her calorie-laden concoction, focusing her eyes on the nearly-empty street as if she expected a parade to pass by anytime.
“It would be great if you could get away and help me look for an apartment. It’s got to be someplace you’ll be happy with because you’ll be there all summer and some weekends, too.”
Devon inhaled deeply then blew out a sigh that seemed far too large for her thin body. “Listen, Dad, I know you’re really trying, but there’s only one thing you can do that would make me happy.”
Every muscle in Ryan’s body seemed to tense simultaneously. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming, but chose not to say anything.
“Get me out of that stinking goddamn school,” she spat. “Like today. One more hour there is one too many.”
Ryan grimaced. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him to let her leave Edenwood, but her tone had definitely changed. Hardened.
He wanted to chastise her for using such coarse language, but he figured now wasn’t the time for a fatherly scolding on the small stuff. From the look in her eyes, when Dev actually turned her head enough for him to really see them, he could tell she was a lot more serious now than she’d been the previous times she’d thrown out that bitter request.
“Dev, you’ve got barely more than a couple of months left until the end of the school year. Besides, what other school would take you at this point in the year?” He was working hard to keep his voice even, not betraying the deep frustration he felt. In fact, Ryan wanted to ask her how she could even think about doing that to her father when he’d just been completely uprooted from his team and his life. But this wasn’t about him, was it?
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “What does it matter? I can start over in the fall.”
“And lose your whole year?” he asked, incredulous.
“Like I said, I don’t care,” she said to the empty street. “I just want out of here, and to go back to public school where I don’t have to listen to these stupid packs of bitches, much less live with them. I was crazy to listen to you and Dr. Rose. I should never have let you deliver me to this asylum for spoiled little princesses.”
Ryan had worried that Devon wouldn’t fit with the type of silver spoon crowd that mostly populated Edenwood, but the staff at the school had been so impressed by her marks and test scores—and maybe even her father’s celebrity—that they’d accepted her with enthusiasm. And he was sure that the strong recommendation from Dr. Juliet Rose, class of 1998, had played a major role, too.
“You’re tough, Dev. You can’t let a few morons pull you down.” As much as Ryan’s heart ached for her, what he said was true. Running away from adversity invariably led to a loss of self-esteem.
“You’re right, I’m tough,” she said in a thickening voice. “That’s why I’d rather leave than deal with them.” She blinked three or four times, punctuated by a sniffle. “Do you really want me to deal with them, Dad?”
He knew what she meant, and it wasn’t about giving her enemies a stern talking-to. “No, I want you to go to the school authorities. We’ll go together. They’ll put a stop to whatever crap they’re pulling on you.”
“No!” she snapped. “That would just make it a hundred times worse. Those girls think they can get away with anything, and they’re right. Mommy and Daddy will always make sure they do. I’d just end up looking stupid and weak and whiny.”
Ryan closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to rein in his anger and growing sense of despair. He wanted nothing more than to drag Devon in front of the Head of School and demand that action be taken to stop the bullies. But how could he do that with a daughter who would refuse to cooperate and would hate him for doing it?
A helpless feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He opened his eyes and took a long drink of coffee to give himself more time to think, but it tasted sour now.
He could think of a dozen obvious reasons why it would be a terrible move to yank her out of school now. Plus, the timing couldn’t have been worse for him. He needed the kid to cut him a break.
“Okay, Dev, then listen up. Either we go to the school authorities or you tough it out and take the crap from those girls for another two months. As for taking matters into your own hands, believe me, I know what you’re capable of. So, for God’s sake, don’t do it or those people will rain holy hell down on your head.” Ryan wanted her to stand up for herself, but Devon had gotten herself in trouble before at previous schools for physical retaliation to taunting.
A tear trickled down her cheek, splitting his heart in two. “Then get me out of here,” she said in a choked voice. “It’s not working, and I’m freaking miserable.”
Talk about a f*cking rock and a hard place.
When he could break it down coldly and analytically, Ryan thought he’d been a decent parent, especially given the hand he’d been dealt. But parenting Devon rarely lent itself to such dispassionate thinking. Most of the time, he felt like he was a failure to her, barely able to deal with the demands of his career while trying to somehow cope with raising a daughter on his own. The only thing he gave himself a measure of credit for was that he’d never once been tempted to give up on her, or himself. And he never would.
But at the end of the day, she was a fourteen-year-old kid and it was his responsibility to make the right choices and decisions to guide her through to adulthood. Giving in to what she was begging him to do was tempting. Hell, he never wanted to deny Devon anything she asked for, especially because she didn’t ask for much. But both his head and his gut said that running away from Edenwood now would ultimately end up as another damaging setback for her. She might be happy now, but she’d look back on the decision in a few years with anger and regret at the opportunity the two of them had let slip away. Getting through Edenwood would not only be a character builder, it was virtually a guaranteed ticket to an Ivy League college for smart girls like his daughter.
He reached across the table and, with as much gentleness as he could muster, turned her chin so she faced him. “Two months, Dev. Then we’ll see how you feel in June. I figure you’ll be glad by then that you won’t have to repeat your year.”
Devon’s lower lip trembled and tears started to flow in earnest. “I can’t do it, Dad. Don’t try to make me.”
“Yes, you can. You’ve got to, honey.” Ryan got up and tried to pull Devon up into his arms.
“No!” She twisted out of his light grasp easily, grabbed her bag and headed for the street.
A block down Main Street, Ryan caught up with her as Devon slowed her pace, possibly realizing that he’d never catch her with his bad knees. He grasped her by her thin shoulders. “Devon, come on. Be reasonable, honey.”
She shook her head so hard her hair flew in all directions. “I’m done here, one way or the other.”
His stomach coiled into a knot. “What does that mean?”
Her tears had vanished, replaced by a hard look that came from someplace Ryan didn’t even recognize. “It means I won’t be here for long, Dad, so if you want to do something, you’d better do it quick.”
What the hell did that mean?
Fourteen years old and she’s giving me ultimatums. How did all this go so wrong?
He didn’t answer right away, instead simply staring into her eyes as she implacably held his gaze. “I’m going to need some time to think,” he said, scrambling to find the right words. “Figure out a good solution.”
Yeah, he’d need some time to think, all right, because right now Ryan felt like his tired and battered brain cells were about to go into full meltdown.