Karen Rock – Under An Adirondack Sky (страница 1)
Can he juggle everything...including her?
After raising his siblings and running the family pub for more than a decade, Aiden Walsh has set his own dreams aside. Until the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen stumbles into his bar, and his arms. Too bad Rebecca Day is the school psychologist in charge of his brother’s future. Who’s he kidding? He doesn’t have room in his full life for romance anyway. But forced to join Rebecca and her group of troubled teens on an Adirondack retreat, he realizes keeping his family afloat isn’t enough for him...not by a long shot.
“I don’t want to like you.”
Rebecca peeked up at Aiden. The air seemed to crackle between them, as if charged by an electric current.
“Me neither,” he said.
“Nothing can come of this,” she told him.
“Probably not.”
“I can’t be last on your priority list.”
“And I don’t have room to add you.” He raked a hand through his hair and released a shaky breath. “Back to reality. The one where we’re wrong for each other. Where none of this—where we don’t work.”
He turned on his heel and trudged away.
If they were so wrong for each other, why did it feel so right?
Before I became a full-time writer, I was fortunate to work as an educator. One of my favorite parts of the job was interacting with at-risk youth. These students tend to be the most resistant, the most likely to act out and disrupt and the least likely to pay attention or participate. I chose to focus on their potential rather than their behavioral problems. I wanted to relate to and connect with them. Many didn’t have the best home lives, weren’t successful in school, didn’t feel in control of their world or themselves. I hoped that if I believed in them and provided a safe place where they felt accepted, they would see that they could change old habits and become the best versions of themselves.
I love hearing from former at-risk students that they’ve graduated high school, are attending college, finishing a trade program or employed. Without the dedication of my colleagues, these children might not have had the bright future they deserved. Programs such as wilderness retreats take kids from their harmful routines and behaviors and help them reconsider themselves and their world. I’ve seen this powerful transformation time and again, and it inspired me to use such a program as the backdrop in Under an Adirondack Sky. I hope you find this story as uplifting to read as it was to write! I’d love to hear from you anytime at karenrock@live.com.
Karen
Under an Adirondack Sky
Karen Rock
KAREN ROCK is an award-winning young adult and adult contemporary author. She holds a master’s degree in English and worked as an ELA instructor before becoming a full-time author. Most recently, her Mills & Boon Heartwarming novels have won the 2015 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award and the 2015 Booksellers’ Best Award. When she’s not writing, Karen loves scouring estate sales, cooking and hiking. She lives in the Adirondack Mountain region with her husband, daughter and Cavalier King Charles spaniels. Visit her at karenrock.com.
To all of the education professionals and parents of at-risk youth—thank you for your dedication, your compassion, your faith, your support and the strength and conviction you have that every person can make a difference in a child’s life, especially you.
Contents
REBECCA DAY SHRUGGED on her raincoat and eyed the rain tapping against The Koffee Kat’s storefront window. It turned SoHo’s block-paved streets into an impressionistic blur, the sidewalks uncharacteristically empty of tourists, the iron-trimmed buildings seeming to slide down like melting wax. A cab lurched along the road, sending up fans of dark spray.
Should she splurge and grab one instead of taking the subway? Given her crazy end-of-spring cold, it’d be justified. Given her overdrawn bank account, however, she knew better. A heavy rush of air escaped her.
“Toots, we need to talk.”
At her boss’s voice, Rebecca’s fingers stilled on her top button. So close to a clean getaway. After her twelve-hour shift, she needed a bowl—no, an IV bag—of chicken soup. Stat. Tomorrow she’d return to her primary job as a school psychologist after the district’s spring break vacation. Ten days off and she could use ten more, though she didn’t dare ask for sick time, not with her overdue tenure still an undecided question by the stalling school board.
Were they planning to let her go?
She swallowed painfully and forced her mind off of possibly losing the dream job she’d sacrificed so much to finally land.
“Sure. What’s up?” She eyed her employer’s hangdog expression and tried to ignore the flutter of nervousness in her stomach. Given the steadily dwindling business this past month, accompanied by her boss’s grumps and his wife’s sighs, she’d been preparing herself for what could be bad news.
“You’ll need a seat for this.” Mr. Roselli’s baritone echoed in the now empty coffee shop. How many customers had she served today? Fifty? Seventy-five? Not even close to their usual draw. Since the Death Star of all cafés—JavaHut—opened across the street, the mom-and-pop SoHo business at which she moonlighted had been hemorrhaging clients.
“Sure.” She reopened her coat, pulled out a chair and glanced up at a Leaning Tower of Pisa wall clock. Midnight. “Is something wrong?” Once she sat, she dabbed at her running nose and clamped a hand on her jittering knee. Counted the black-and-white hexagon floor tiles. Tried not to look scared.
Mr. Roselli let out a long, deep breath. “Rebecca. We’re closing The Koffee Kat.”
Her mouth dropped open. No. Mr. and Mrs. Roselli had owned this establishment for over forty years and his father another fifty before that. She glanced at the framed pictures of their hometown in Italy and generations of family members. This was more than a business. To her and to them.
A faint waft of fresh roasted beans whispered through the air as a painful silence descended. She struggled to speak and, despite the remnants of warmth coming from the bakery ovens, she shivered. Now that she thought about it, she should be tasting the first batch of lemon-almond biscotti Mrs. Roselli baked for the morning rush. But instead of pans clanging, she heard a muffled sob from the kitchen.
Her heart broke. Why would this happen to such kind people? For a fleeting moment she imagined calling her Fortune 500 CEO aunt for help. It wouldn’t be breaking the moral code about taking favors she’d made for herself when she’d left her guardian’s privileged nest. This was aid for someone else. A very good cause. And so deserving.
“Mr. Roselli, I’d like to help.” Rebecca’s words ended in a coughing fit that she muffled with the crook of her arm.
The older man’s weathered face creased in a sad smile. “I know you would, sweets.” His thick eyebrows knitted. “But me and the missus have made up our minds to buy one of those Florida condos. Our daughter lives there in a gated community. Keeps out the riffraff.”
Rebecca imagined living in such a safe, predictable environment and suppressed a shudder. She liked chaos. Choices. Freedom to live by her own rules rather than the constrictive ones she’d grown up with in her aunt’s Upper East Side penthouse and elite world. Despite Aunt Kathryn’s infrequent appearances in Rebecca’s childhood, her caretaker had known of each of Rebecca’s infractions, especially the one that’d nearly landed her in jail and destroyed her life...
“But you’ll be losing your home, your friends, everything...” Her aching throat closed. NyQuil. She should have paid closer attention when she’d grabbed it instead of DayQuil when she’d sprinted to the convenience store earlier to replenish her supply.