What Makes A Father (HQR Special Edition)

by Teresa Southwick

  “You’ll mock me.”

  “Probably. Suck it up, Doc. You’re a grown man. A soldier. I can’t believe you haven’t developed a thicker skin.”

  Maybe a diversionary tactic would distract her. “Have you?”

  “I had to.” She laughed but there was no humor in the sound. “For survival. So let me help you exercise those muscles. What were you thinking to put that dopey expression on your face?”

  “Well, I should start by saying that I’m sorry you broke your leg.” But not for helping you shower. It was on his highlight reel of awesome memories, but he didn’t think she’d want to know that.

  “Not as sorry as I am. But how is that silly?”

  “Because I’m not sorry about being under the same roof with you. And my children,” he added. “So I can get to know them better. Like now.”

  “You’re rocking Sarah to sleep,” she pointed out. “How is that getting to know her?”

  “I’m doing it in the rocking chair that my father bought for my mother when she was pregnant with me.” It had been out in the garage and brought in because sometimes both babies needed rocking.

  “So it’s an antique,” she teased.

  “I’m not going to let you spoil this for me.” He smiled at her. “I’m learning about her sleep patterns. And Charlie’s. Figuring out what it takes to soothe them when they’re upset. Their personalities. I get to just be around. Before it was like visiting hours at the hospital and now—It’s not.”

  “You’d probably rather have them on their own. Without me.”

  “No,” he assured her. “You’re their mom. The engine that drives everything. The center of their world.”

  “And you really don’t mind that your world is turned upside down because I broke my leg and the three of us had to move in?”

  “Just the opposite. I love what I do for a living. I love being a doctor and helping people, but it doesn’t compare to being a father and spending as much time as possible with my children. Like I said, I’m glad you’re here. In fact, I’d have to say, for maybe the first time in my life, I’m content.”

  He wasn’t pulling all-nighters for grades to get him into med school or stressing about the money to go. It wasn’t about looking at the calendar to gauge his wife’s ovulation date or trying to get pregnant. There was no agenda except to just be. And while he was just being, he could feel Annie’s gaze on him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re right. What you were thinking about was dopey. And sweet,” she added.

  “Haven’t you ever experienced contentment?”

  “It’s hard to feel something you don’t believe in. If contentment exists, it’s just the bubble of calm between crises.”

  His mother had mentioned to him that she’d talked with Annie about her absentee parents and Dwayne the Douche. It explained her tendency toward cynicism, but he had the feeling there was more. He saw a lot of people in the emergency room and often they withheld information, reluctant to admit some aspect of their lifestyle might be contributing to whatever condition needed medical intervention. He couldn’t help without all the facts and had learned to spot the signs. Annie was holding out, but maybe he could change that.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened to you, besides a self-centered boyfriend who left you in the lurch?”

  “Life happened,” she said. “Dwayne was just the cherry on top of a bad-luck sundae.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sarah was deadweight in his arms, sound asleep. But if he put her in the crib, this moment of quiet reflection would disappear and he didn’t want it to.

  “My mother got pregnant in her senior year of high school and was pressured to marry the boy she slept with. They were on their own and hardly more than kids themselves. Barely two years later, I was on the way. He couldn’t handle the responsibility of two kids and took off.”

  That explained why Dwayne’s desertion had hit a supersensitive nerve. “You mentioned a stepfather.”

  “Right.” Bitterness was thick in her voice. “He’s the man my mother married, but calling him a father is really stretching the definition of the word.”

  “What happened?” It surprised him a little when she answered because she was quiet for so long.

  “You should probably know that I have dyslexia. There could be a hereditary component.”

  “Okay.”

  “If either of the twins has trouble reading, we need to look into getting them help as soon as possible.”

  “That’s good to know.” The tension and snap in her tone told him diagnosis and help had been a problem for her. “What happened to you, Annie?”

  She wrapped Charlie a little more securely in her arms and softly kissed his forehead. “In elementary school, they didn’t pick it up with me for a couple of years. Most of the kids were reading and comprehending in first and second grade. They were off and running.”

  “But not you.”

  “No. They tested us and arranged everyone accordingly, giving each group a color. It was supposed to be discreet, but everyone knew who was high, middle and low. I got help through the school district’s resource program but needed more than they could give. My teacher suggested private reading and speech therapy, but my mother’s husband said it was a waste of money. That I was just stupid.”

  “Oh, Annie—” A fierce, protective feeling welled up inside him followed closely by an even fiercer anger. And he didn’t know how to vent it. It wasn’t like he could fly to Florida and punch the guy’s lights out for being an insensitive moron. But he was afraid to say anything, partly because he was so ticked off at the jerk. Partly because he sensed she wasn’t finished yet.

  “He used to put me down every chance he got. Called me dumb. Idiot. Retarded. Whatever insult popped into his tiny little mind.”

  “Where was your mom?”

  “Right there when he did it. Too timid to say anything that would make him walk out and leave her alone with my sister and me.”

  “So you were all alone.” It took a lot of effort to keep his voice neutral, to not let her see how outraged he was on her behalf.

  “No. I had Jessica.”

  “She was just a kid herself,” he said.

  “Which makes her actions even more special.” She looked at him over Charlie’s head. “When he’d start in on me for no reason, she would run interference. And sometimes it would distract him and she’d take the brunt of whatever verbal abuse he was handing out.”

  “Good for her.” He remembered a tough self-awareness about the woman he’d spent one night with. And this was where it had come from.

  “He liked to ground us for any small thing, but never together because we had fun.”

  “Piece of work—” Mason said under his breath.

  “And at school. There were bullies who used to make fun of me. But not when my sister was around and she made it a point to be around as much as she could. She was my hero.” Annie sighed and it was an achingly sad and profoundly lonely sound. “I miss her so much. She would have been a good mom.”

  “Her protective instincts were extraordinarily strong even then,” he agreed. “Oh, Annie, I wish you hadn’t had to go through that. No child should.”

  “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? And I was convinced reading would kill me. For sure it was a challenge and I hated it. But art—” The dislike in her voice turned to reverence. “There’s no right or wrong way to do it. It’s about the artist’s interpretation. I had fantastic teachers who took me under their wings and gave me the best advice I ever got.”

  “Which was?”

  “Study what you love. I did that and found a career.”

  “And you’re good at it,” he said.

  “I’m not looking for pity. I just thought you should know because we’ll be co-parenting. And—” S
he caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “What? You can tell me anything.” And he hoped she would.

  “You might have noticed that sometimes I have a chip on my shoulder. It’s my hard outer shell, my bulletproof vest against humiliation.”

  “In the army I saw men and women ripped apart even with body armor. It can’t protect against everything. Children can be cruel, but most grow out of it to become better human beings. You might want to cut people slack sometimes. No one is perfect.”

  “Says the guy with the perfect childhood. Raised by the perfect parents, with a father who bought his wife a rocking chair when she was pregnant.”

  “It was good,” he admitted. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s the way I want Charlie and Sarah to grow up. But there’s no such thing as perfect. You have to learn to roll with the punches.”

  She lifted Charlie from her shoulder and settled him on his back in her lap. He was getting so big he barely fit. Then she rotated her arm to ease the stiffness. “I’m not looking for perfect. I just learned to take things one mess at a time and always have a plan B.”

  Mason had studied anatomy, physiology; he knew how to heal bodies. But wounded souls were not his specialty. He wanted to take away her pain, and all the bad stuff in her past, and had no clue how to do that. For a man whose whole life was about fixing people, that was a tough reality.

  All he could do was show up so she would know he wasn’t going anywhere. They shared the same goal: loving these children. That would never change and it was safe for him.

  Romantic love was different—mercurial—even when you thought you had all the bases covered. It was humbling and painful and something he was determined to never do again.

  He wanted Annie. No question about that, but that was just anatomy and physiology. He wouldn’t let it become more. Because of the children. And speaking of the twins...

  “Tomorrow you and I are going to go house hunting,” he said.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning when Annie walked into the kitchen Mason was there, leaning against the counter by the sink with a cup of coffee in his hand. Every time she saw him it was like being starstruck all over again, making her breath catch and her heart pound. Today was no exception. Most women would be excited about the reaction, but Annie wasn’t most women.

  Last night she hadn’t challenged him about the house hunting remark because they were trying to settle the twins. Now she had questions. “About a house...” she said.

  “I’m going out with a Realtor today and I’d like you to come along. If you don’t have anything pressing at work,” he added.

  “No, I’m caught up. My boss has all my ideas and sketches related to the account we’re going after, but...” She leaned on her crutches and stared at him. She had another question. “What about the twins?”

  “My mom is working half a day and will be home soon to watch them.”

  Annie’s first reaction was no way. She hadn’t been alone with him since the drive to the emergency room when she broke her leg. Although, technically, they had been alone that first night in this house when he’d helped her shower. She’d felt the burn ever since and not from hot water. It was all about the hotness of this man. So pretty to look at, which distracted her from the fact that he could not possibly be as good as he seemed. No man was.

  “Annie, please say something.” He set his mug on the counter.

  “You can’t want me to go. With these crutches, I’ll just slow you down.”

  “Not that much. You’re getting around pretty well now. Are you having any pain?”

  “You sound like a doctor.”

  “Because I am.” He smiled. “So, are you? In any pain, I mean.”

  “No. But my leg is itching like crazy.”

  “I know it’s uncomfortable. Believe it or not, that’s a good sign,” he said. “On the bright side, getting out and doing something will distract you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll be focused on something else and not thinking about how much you want to find something that will fit down that cast and scratch the itch.”

  She couldn’t help smiling because he was right about wanting desperately to do just that. But that wasn’t what she’d asked. “I meant why do you want me to go along?”

  “Since the twins will be with me half the time, I’d really like your input. A mother’s perspective on their potential environment. I’ve been working with a real-estate agent and he’s lined up some houses based on the criteria I gave him.” Mason folded his arms over his chest. “I could really use another point of view, especially about safety concerns, kid-friendly floor plans. Another pair of eyes to pick up something I might not see or think about.”

  “You had a house before you deployed. Why did you sell it?” She wouldn’t have blurted that out except he’d backed her into a corner. But when the happy look on his face faded to dark and his eyes turned intense, she felt guilty enough to let it go. “If you really want me there, I’ll go. But you need to let me know if I’m holding you back. You don’t have a lot of time, what with work, and I don’t want to slow you down.”

  “Promise.” With his index finger he made an X over his heart. “I’d really like to get this done. Find a place of my own. You know what they say about a guy in his thirties who lives with his mother.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. People are starting to talk. ‘There’s something odd about Dr. Blackburne. He still lives at home.’”

  “I know, right?” One corner of his mouth curved up and just like that the darkness was gone. “And I think the twins need their own space. Sometimes we just need to let them cry and it’s hard to do that here because we don’t want them disturbing anyone else.”

  “Good point. Okay. I need to change.” She glanced down at her old sweatpants, legs cut off to accommodate the cast. “If potential neighbors see a bag lady trailing you, no one will sell you an outhouse.”

  “Yeah.” But something shifted in his expression when his gaze skimmed her legs, and humor was replaced by what looked a lot like hunger. He turned away and reached into the sink. “While you do that, I’ll wash bottles and get them ready so Mom won’t have to deal with it when she comes home.”

  Annie hobbled out of the room and prayed she wasn’t making a big mistake going with him. However, she’d given her word and wouldn’t back out. Besides, she had bigger problems. Like what to wear. Fortunately the October weather was still warm, at least during the day. Bermuda shorts would work. She chose white ones and a T-shirt with lime-green horizontal stripes and three-quarter-length sleeves.

  Before going in the bathroom, she peeked at the babies in the crib and was glad they were still sleeping soundly. She was getting pretty good at balancing on one leg and braced her midsection against the sink while pulling her hair back into a ponytail. After taking more care with her makeup than normal, she told herself that it had everything to do with making a good impression on a potential neighborhood and nothing to do with impressing Mason. And she almost believed the lie.

  Flo came home just as Annie was ready, so it appeared the universe was aligning for her to go with him.

  A short time later they’d met the agent, George Watters, and were now pulling up in front of a house. “Note the beautifully maintained landscape,” he said. “Brick walkway. Covered front porch. Four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths. I’m sorry, Annie, but this is a two-story home.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Mason said before she could comment. “We’ll check out the first floor and see if it’s even necessary to look upstairs.”

  After everyone exited the SUV and went up the walkway, George extracted a key from the lockbox and let them inside. Using the crutches, Annie swung herself over the threshold and looked around. It was an older home with low ceilings and needed a fresh coat of paint. There was an eat-in kitchen, but n
ot a lot of counter space. Still, the family room was adjacent, so being able to keep an eye on the twins while fixing dinner was a plus.

  Annie couldn’t tell what Mason thought. She wasn’t blown away, but he was the one buying it. “What do you think?”

  He was staring out the sliding-glass door into the backyard. Turning, he said, “I was hoping for a little more space for the twins to play.”

  “No problem,” George said. “This is just the first one. I’ve got more for you and your wife to look at.”

  “We’re not married,” Annie said.

  “I should know better than to assume.” George was silver-haired, in his mid to late fifties, and looked apologetic.

  “No problem. It was an honest mistake.” Mason didn’t elaborate.

  That was for the best, Annie thought. The phrase “it’s complicated” was tossed around a lot, but with her and Mason and the twins, it really was complicated. The situation would be a challenge to clarify in twenty-five words or less.

  “So let’s go look at option number two,” the agent suggested.

  They piled back in the SUV and George drove them to another property that wasn’t far from the hospital. The front yard was basic but well cared for and there was a front porch. For some reason Annie was drawn to covered front porches, picturing it with a couple of chairs for sitting outside in the evening. Chatting with neighbors. Watching kids play until it was time to go inside to get ready for bed. The vivid fantasy made her wistful.

  George unlocked the door and let them in. The walls were painted a neutral shade of beige with contrasting white doors and trim. Mason checked out the rear yard and nodded approvingly. The kitchen had granite countertops, an island and lots of cupboards.

  “Thoughts?” Mason said.

  “It’s nice. Let me take another look.” She walked, or rather, hobbled, the complete bottom floor again and stopped by the stairs. “It has possibilities.”

  “Okay. Let’s look upstairs.”

  “I can’t get up there, but you go ahead,” she urged Mason. “I’ll wait here.”