Take My Hand

“but I don’t want to put you out. You have your shop to get back to and Cliff to take care of. Why don’t I just—”

“Miss Richmond—” J.D. held the truck door wide and held out a helping hand her way “—we’ll have you home in no time.”

“Oh…um…thank you.” J.D. slipped his hand under her elbow as she stepped up to reach the truck floor. For half an instant, she felt his warm breath on her cheek. Then she was up and seated on the black leather seat next to Cliff. “I do appreciate it,” she said, turning just as his eyes lifted from her legs. His mouth softened as his gaze skittered away. She tugged her skirt back to her knees, feeling her cheeks flush.

She hadn’t blushed in years.

RUTH SCOFIELD

became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then, she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully, her husband applauded her decision.

Ruth’s first book was published in 1993 just a month after her return to her native Missouri after years in the East. She often sets her novels in Missouri, where there are lakes and hills aplenty, and as many stories and history as people. She eagerly expects to write two dozen more novels.

Take My Hand

Ruth Scofield

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

—I Corinthians 13:13

I wish to thank Karen Williamson, my daughter

and teacher of students with Behavior Disorder,

for her help in the understanding

of educational terminology.

Dear Reader,

A society is often judged by how it treats those in its society that are nonstandard. The growing awareness and treatment of students with Behavior Disorder is a case in point. These students sometimes have physical disabilities, sometimes emotional, but all deserve a chance to learn and shine in their knowledge. This story touches that need. God loves each of us with a passion beyond description.

I hope you enjoy Alexis and James’s story. They are typical of all the small-town folks who live around the lakes. Just like you and me.

You may write to me at: P.O. Box 1221, Blue Springs, MO 64015.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Alexis Richmond looked up as a man paused in her open classroom door. He stood tall and knee-locked, his thighs molded inside his denims as though holding his own against a gale wind. His lightning glance showed dark brown eyes full of vexation, framed in tired lines.

She continued to stack papers and waited.

The father of her new student, she assumed. The Lake Trails Elementary School office had called only an hour ago to let her know her class would now number twelve. Twelve was a large group for a special-needs class. Alexis taught students classified as having a behavior disorder—often among other disabilities. Thank God for the help of Kathy, her para-professional.

The stranger’s gaze took her in with a quick skim before his mouth tightened with sheer determination. He glanced behind him. “Come on, Cliff.”

The boy eased around the corner into view. Alexis knew he was nine years old from her brief glance at the sketchy notes sent down from the office. He wore rumpled brown shorts and a T-shirt ripped at the shoulder. His knees and elbows, sporting a couple of scabs, appeared as sharp points on his skinny limbs. He looked clean, at least.

“Get in here” came through the father’s gritted teeth. His large, work-worn hand clamped the boy’s thin shoulder as though preventing a dash for freedom.

Now this was a great start…. Coming to a new school was not a happy event for this pair.

The man’s jaw showed evidence of a sketchy shave, and he didn’t look a whole lot neater than his son. Both could do with a good haircut. However, the boy’s face looked scrubbed to a shine, and she caught the fragrance of a familiar soap.

Casual dress didn’t bother her, as long as a student was clean and modest. She preferred wearing simple things herself, and today had chosen a sleeveless, flowered cotton dress that skimmed her body in loose comfort. She liked the fact that the blue print matched her eyes. She’d felt like celebrating spring this morning.

She was thankful this pair had arrived while her other students were in Music. She had about twenty minutes of quiet time before the kids returned. She usually needed the break; teaching special-needs students demanded patience and one hundred percent teacher focus. But at least now she had a few moments to give this new child her undivided attention. And the dad. They both looked a little lost, she thought.

She let out her breath. Time to take charge, she guessed. She moved out from behind the desk. “Hello. I’m Miss Richmond. And you are…?”

Far back in his dark eyes, a spark of startled awareness flickered a moment before he answered. It elicited a quick, surprised reaction in her middle. As though they had met before, somewhere. Sometime. Yet Alexis knew they hadn’t.

Assuming her professional armor, she ignored the feeling.

“J.D., ma’am. J. D. Sullivan.” He handed her a large brown envelope, fat with what she suspected were the child’s school records. “This is my son, Clifford.”

“Hi, Clifford.” Alexis looked directly at the boy. “I’m glad to meet you.”

The child didn’t answer, but defiance gleamed from his dark brown eyes before his gaze darted to the bank of windows.

J.D. frowned. “Answer the lady, boy.”

Cliff remained silent a moment, then, when his dad squeezed his shoulder, he mumbled, “’Lo.” But the boy didn’t return his gaze to hers.

The child’s behavior was in keeping with why he’d been placed in her class. Complicating the problem, the child had just lost his mother, and Missouri was half a continent away from where he’d lived in California. All this was new to the child.

Helping Cliff, with only a few weeks left in the school year, surely presented a challenge.

Alexis sat against the edge of her desk; it brought her face closer to the child’s. She softened her tone. “I know it’s hard, coming into a new classroom so late in the year. But you’ll make friends here, and we’ll find out how to help each other. Okay?”

At the boy’s continued silence, J.D. glanced at her, a hint of desperation there. Since she knew the pitfalls of getting personally caught up in the parents’ plights, Alexis tried to firm her heart against that soulful gaze. But a trace of compassion seeped through.

“Never mind for the moment. Clifford, why don’t you take this desk here—” she tapped the desk closest to hers “—and then go look at our aquarium back there in the corner until the other students are back from Music.”

“I’m not Clifford.” He thrust his chin out. “I’m Cliff.”

“All right. Cliff. We have a turtle in our tank as well as fish. See if he’s out on the island.”

The boy impatiently shook off his dad’s hand and headed toward the back corner.

“That’s it, then.” Relief seemed to ease some of J.D.’s tension as he half turned toward the door. “I’ll pick him up at the end of the day.”

“Hold on, Mr. Sullivan. We have a few things to discuss.”

“Uh…like what?” A tinge of alarm edged his voice as he swung back.

“Like Cliff’s needs. His school record. His meds.”

“It’s all there, isn’t it? In that file from California?” J.D. flashed a tired, half-belligerent glance at the folder in her hand.

“I hope so, but I haven’t had a chance to read it, have I?”

“I can’t tell you anything more than that file can,” he said, as impatient as his son. He glanced at his watch. “We got in to Doc Hanes’s office this morning, so Cliff’s all set now with those pills he’s taking. What else is there?”

“Well, we have to set up an IEP meeting.”

“A what?”

“Individualized Education Plan.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well…do whatever you have to. I have to go now. I’m late getting my shop open.”

Alexis tried to hide her annoyance. Most of the parents she dealt with were eager to do what was best for their child, but she ran into an occasional careless one. Like now.

From the fish tank came a drumming sound. “Cliff, don’t do that!” his father called. Cliff didn’t acknowledge the command to stop.

“Cliff!”

His back to them, the boy moved on to pull a book from a shelf, then flip it repeatedly with a slap-slap noise.

“Sorry.” J.D. shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. A tired sigh escaped him with his apology.

Alexis nodded, then said, “We should do this within a week or two, Mr. Sullivan.”

“It’s spring, Miss Richmond. My busy time. Haven’t much time for extras.”

Alexis thought J.D. was about ready to bolt. She took a step forward and spoke quickly. “An IEP is a required document for any student with a disability, Mr. Sullivan. The law requires a team meeting among parents, teacher, school nurse and principal. It can’t wait.”

“Me? I have to be there?” Caught in surprise, his glance told her he felt totally helpless. His already dark eyes deepened to melting chocolate. Her heart gave a little kick, swimming against an unwelcome tide. Oh, no…

She’d run afoul of these natural charmers before, to her own sorrow. A man like this one used it without half trying, and she’d been a sucker once too often. Why couldn’t she simply demand the man’s help, and then forget it? He was the parent, after all. She was merely the teacher.

A tumble of books hit the cement floor.

J.D. raised his voice. “Cliff!”

“I didn’t do it,” the boy instantly whined. “They just fell.”

“Stop getting into what you shouldn’t,” his father commanded. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Alexis calmly walked over to help pick up the books. “You may read this one while you wait, Cliff,” she said, handing one to the boy. “Take your seat now. The other boys and girls will be back any moment.”

Sulking, the child slumped into the seat indicated, but immediately began kicking the leg.

Well-practiced, Alexis ignored the continued noise. Time enough to work with Cliff when his emotions had settled down and he became comfortable in the classroom.

Walking back to the front of the room, she noticed J.D. had edged toward the door. “The boy is building for a good walloping before long,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair. “If he doesn’t straighten up soon.”

Maybe J.D. wasn’t so charming after all, Alexis thought. The thought of “walloping” any child put her back up. But he was a father on the edge. A parent who needed help. “I don’t think a spanking would solve anything….”

He rubbed a spot between his eyes with his thumb. “Kept me up and down three nights running since he came. My ex spoiled him rotten….”

That explained some of the irritation.

“Both of you must be worn out,” she said, letting her sympathy show. “It does take time to adjust to a new environment, Mr. Sullivan. I’m sure Cliff’s behavior will improve once we get him settled and he understands where his boundaries are. Now about the IEP…”

“Uh-huh. Um…what is it again?”

“An Individualized Education Plan for Cliff. It sets out the goals for a child for one full calendar year. His meds intake should have a firm routine as a part of that. I’ll call you after I’ve looked over the papers, to set up the meeting.”

“The school year is winding down, isn’t it? Don’t see what good it would do this late.”

“More than you can imagine, Mr. Sullivan. At least we’ll have a handle on Cliff’s problems for next year, as well. We need to be in agreement here, with all parties involved in full understanding of what’s best for Cliff. What we’re trying to accomplish for your son.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, you’re the teacher,” he said with an air of finality. “Anything you say, I’ll do it.”

With that, J. D. Sullivan nearly raced from the room.

“A paddle would do more good, if you ask me,” J.D. muttered all the way out to his truck. “Even just the threat. Brat!”

He turned the ignition key of his ’79 truck, put the shift into gear and barely refrained from roaring out of the school parking lot. Here it was noon, and there was no one minding his shop.

He continued to talk to himself. “Melanie did a good job at spoiling the kid. Only one way to fix that.”

Yet J.D. wasn’t ready to actually carry out his threat. He’d never laid a hand on Cliff in anger—nor on Melanie, in spite of their volatile marriage. But Cliff was only four when Melanie took him from Missouri to California, and now… J.D. simply didn’t know what to do with the son now in his keeping. He’d missed the past five years of fathering.

It was all well and good for smooth-as-silk Miss Richmond to talk. With that fancy education the principal had told him about, Miss Richmond could spout with ease all that stuff that modern teachers knew about how a misbehaving child should be taught. But that wouldn’t help him at home. How was he supposed to cope when Cliff hated him? When they didn’t know each other? When the boy whined constantly?

In the alley off Sunny Creek’s main street, he pulled into his spot behind the shop and sat a moment. He leaned his head against his fist, his elbow supported on the steering wheel. He let his breath whoosh from his lungs. He was already tired, and the day was only half over.

How much trouble was he in? He and his son?

What was he going to do?

Oh, Lord, I need Your help…. I feel like a dunce! I’m in over my head here and I don’t know how to handle my own son. Can You tell me what to do?

It had been years since he’d addressed his creator—since he was a boy. He’d neglected that aspect of his life with little guilt, finding a morning out on the lake fishing or simply sleeping late on Sundays more to his liking. Maybe the Lord wouldn’t hear him anymore.

He suddenly wished he kept a Bible at the shop. Perhaps some scripture might tell him something—give him some hope. The Bible is what his mom had turned to when she felt troubled. He had a Bible at home. Somewhere. But he wouldn’t even know where to look for it. Or what scripture to read.

He no longer was acquainted with any pastor in town, either. He’d feel a fool to go to one for help now, when he was desperate. Yet helping was something ministers did, wasn’t it?

That was something else he’d have to look into, he supposed. A church to attend. The one he’d known as a child, perhaps. Cliff would need friends.

Well, he didn’t have time to think more about it now. He’d turned off his cell phone to concentrate on getting Cliff enrolled in school. No telling how many calls he’d have waiting for him on his answering machine. Though he never ignored them, customers grew impatient when they couldn’t reach him easily.

As he unlocked the rear door and flicked on lights, his mood lightened a tad. This was his refuge, his territory. This was what he did well. Small-engine parts and repair. His customers knew he was the best in Missouri at small-engine repair. His reputation was known all over the lakes. He sold boat parts and limited equipment on the side, as well.

At least Cliff was safely at school with that pretty teacher. He could relax, knowing the kid wasn’t tearing up his house while he wasn’t looking. At least Cliff was out of trouble. And looking at Miss Richmond all day would be no hardship. None at all, with that honey-colored hair and those cool blue-green eyes. Her delicate features positively invited masculine attention, he mused. He’d never been so lucky when he was in school.

He’d almost lost his cool when he first saw her—shucks, he had, J.D. admitted. She’d looked good enough to tuck into his pocket any day.

He wondered where she was from. He hadn’t seen her around town before, and the town wasn’t all that big in the winter off-season. Sunny Creek sat at the northern edge of Truman Lake, an old town now three times the size of what it was when he was a boy. She must be one of the new people.

The phone rang, and he grabbed it on the third ring. “Sullivan’s Repair,” he answered, yanking his thoughts back from a womanly figure whose shapely calves peeking from a flowered hem had intrigued him.

It was just as well. No way would a woman like Miss Richmond look twice at a man like him. She’d go for one of those summertime intellectuals or a smart-mouth from the school board.

But you couldn’t shoot a man for merely looking. At least he’d see her again at the end of the school day.

Chapter Two

Two mornings later, Alexis shook her head, an unspoken regret rattling around her thoughts. She didn’t like having to call Mr. Sullivan so soon, but she had no choice. Cliff had caused a disruption. She’d expected such, but it had come more quickly than she’d anticipated.

“Kathy, can you keep an eye on things for five minutes?” Alexis treasured her para, the assistant teacher assigned to her class. Kathy, an attractive woman of middle years, had the patience of a saint. It also helped that her own child, now grown, had been a special-needs student. “I think I’ll make this call from the office, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, Miss Richmond. Um, I have a better idea. We’ll take a trip to the library.”

“Bless you,” Alexis said, flashing Kathy a smile of gratitude.

Alexis waited until the students filed out, then closed the classroom door and pulled out her cell phone. Running her finger down the list of phone numbers, she found the one she sought and punched in J.D.’s shop number. She waited tentatively. After their first meeting, she wasn’t quite sure of the reception she’d get from the sexy Mr. Sullivan.

Now, why in the world had she thought of him with that tag? Sexy? She didn’t usually pigeonhole people with mere skin-deep descriptions.

Yet she couldn’t deny the label.

“Sullivan’s Repair.”

“Mr. Sullivan?” She jerked her thoughts back to the task at hand, activating her teacher’s voice. “This is Alexis Richmond. We need to see you as soon as possible. Can you come in this afternoon, right after the close of the school day?”

“Middle of the afternoon? Can’t do it.”

“Then, how about now, Mr. Sullivan? Immediately.”

“Why? What’s the rush?”

“Cliff’s behavior.” Calling on years of practice, she kept her tone nonjudgmental. “We need to discuss discipline.”

“What’s he done?”

“He hit another student. Hard. We cannot tolerate improper aggression of any degree, Mr. Sullivan. If you want your child to remain in public school, we must reach an understanding on how he is to be disciplined. There is a possibility that he could be facing an out-of-school suspension.”

A short silence followed, then he said, “Got into a fight, did he?”

“Not exactly.” In her opinion, a fight included participation from more than one person. Tyler, the other boy, hadn’t done much to defend himself. “Cliff over-reacted to a…verbal disagreement.”

“Is that all? Can’t you just shake him or stand him in the corner?”

Is that all the man could think of? To physically punish the boy? Pursing her lips, she mentally counted to ten.

“His behavior management will be much more effective if we work as a team, Mr. Sullivan.” She put an effort into firming her tone. “Cliff needs to know we are in agreement, and I don’t really think he needs…”

Alexis bit her tongue. She wanted to say the child needed love and hugs along with firm limitations. He needed years of parental companionship to teach him emotional balance and self-confidence. Plus a first-hand example of appropriate control of angry emotions. She suspected the child had missed out on all that.

According to the sketchy report she’d read, perhaps the father had, too.

Alexis changed her tactic. “Have you read your son’s paperwork, Mr. Sullivan?”

“Haven’t had time.”

Vexation flooded her thoughts, and she prayed for self-control. She brushed her hair behind her ear and shifted in her chair. How could a father be so uninterested? So what that he hadn’t been a part of his son’s life for years. He was the sole parent now!

But it wouldn’t do to show less command of herself than she expected of her students, and this wasn’t the first time she’d run into a difficult parent. The kind of problems her students exhibited often extended to include a misguided parent, but she was beginning to understand that this set of problems covered J.D. and Cliff in a different way.

So she spoke mildly. “I do hope you’ll take the time within the next day or so, Mr. Sullivan. Before we hold our IEP meeting.”

The next moment of silence seemed full of unspoken sentiments. Had he caught her irritation in spite of her best efforts?

“I’ll get to it,” he replied. “Meanwhile, Cliff can, um, just do without supper.”

“That’s not really the way I’d choose to help Cliff face his offense….”

Another pause. “All right. What do you want to do?”

The door swung wide, and her students trailed in, Kathy in the rear. Kathy raised her brow, a silent question conveyed. Alexis nodded, and signaled her to get the kids seated.

“I’ll give Cliff an after-school detention for now,” Alexis quickly said into the phone. “You can pick him up at four-thirty. Perhaps we can arrange for a meeting then?”

“Guess I can’t avoid it. Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Fine. I’ll expect you.”

Breathing a sigh of thankfulness, Alexis glanced at her watch. There was just enough left of the school day to tackle a short math lesson.

J.D. surprised her by arriving a few minutes early. Almost silently. She glanced up, and he was there, staring at her with a soft gaze.

Cliff and two other students sat in her room. She’d taken after-school duty, trading another teacher for her time. Kathy had offered to stay, too, but she had put in a lot of overtime throughout the winter, so Alexis had declined.

Cliff sat at his desk, refusing to look at her. For the past two hours he hadn’t looked at anyone. He’d sullenly refused to apologize to Tyler, insisting Tyler deserved his wrath. Tyler had laughed and made fun when Cliff missed hitting the ball in the softball game.

J.D. advanced into the room. “Okay, I’m here, Miss Richmond. Now what?”

“Why don’t you be seated, Mr. Sullivan, until I can dismiss the other students.” She briefly wondered what the “J.D.” stood for—she much preferred using complete names rather than initials. “Here, take this chair.”

It didn’t matter. He was “Mr. Sullivan” to her.

She went about closing out the day, knowing he watched everything she did. Grown men were a rarity in her classroom. From the corner of her eye, she noted J.D.’s long legs, clad in well-washed blue jeans, as he thrust them out in front of him and crossed his ankles. Her pulse quickened.