Daddy for Keeps

by Pamela Tracy

  “Girl!” she called. “I can’t keep up with you. You about knocked me down when you called. First the rodeo, now church. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “No, I’m not sure.” And she wasn’t, but Sunni thought church more a neutral ground than Bernice’s house. Grandma Welch would have to curb her enthusiasm in front of a crowd of virtual strangers. Natalie would be the only stranger, really, at Bernice’s house on Saturday.

  After getting the go-ahead from Sunni, Natalie phoned Patty to make sure she would be at church that evening. No way did Natalie want to go without a friend by her side during the evening service.

  Since her father’s death, she’d felt so alone. Surprisingly, just being in the church parking lot diminished some of those feelings. The place felt alive as friends shouted back and forth, parents hurried bundled children toward the doors and her best friend from childhood opened her arms for a hug.

  Robby hit the ground and headed toward Patty. He knew a good hug when he saw one. He hopped the whole way. “We go church!” he announced, not only to Patty but also to the couple parking their car next to hers, and to the elderly man who wisely stopped walking to let the three-year-old careen by.

  Natalie shook her head. “How about I pack Robby up tomorrow and we come out to the farm for a whole day?”

  “Perfect,” Patty said, bending down and lifting Robby up. “We’ll come up with a battle plan just in case you need warriors, I mean, friends.”

  Daniel let go of Patty’s husband’s hand and ran around to take Robby’s. Without so much as a by-your-leave, they disappeared up the steps and into the church. Patty rescued her nine-month-old from the car seat before turning to Natalie.

  “And, as concerned as I am about what’s going on between you and the Welches, it’s still good to see you here at church.”

  Natalie looked at the white clapboard building and suddenly realized it hadn’t been all that long since she’d passed through the front door.

  Her father’s funeral.

  Before her feet could slow or her mouth protest, the minister opened the door and stepped out. The sound of singing spilled out of the auditorium. Still, as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, his greeting was as enthusiastic as Patty’s.

  “Natalie Crosby! An answer to my prayers…well, one of them at least. Good to have you here. Patty, are you responsible for her attendance today?”

  “Only if you count my prayers as responsible.”

  “Nat-tal-lee.” The third greeting came from Betsy Welch. She’d followed the minister and now stood at the top of the steps looking down. Her hair was the same color as Robby’s. And tall…this woman and her hair were tall. Nevertheless, Betsy had on cowboy boots with a more-than-decent heel. On a good day, Natalie might have headed up the steps and tried for an even match. On a good day, she’d reach Betsy Welch’s shoulder.

  But it wasn’t a good day.

  “Where’s Robby?” Betsy asked.

  “He already went inside with my son,” Patty said. She gave Natalie a side look and went up the stairs. “I’m Patty Dunbar. You must be Mrs. Welch?”

  Betsy nodded.

  “We all love Natalie,” Patty said, emphasizing every word. “She’s a great mother.”

  “That she is.” Lucky stepped up beside his mother. “Robby looks happy and healthy and—”

  “I understand he looks like a Welch.” Betsy murmured the words, but to Natalie, they might as well have shouted.

  If Natalie read the minister’s facial expression correctly, then the minister was quickly realizing that the group on the steps were not strangers, and that his job as a preacher just might be needed.

  “Ma’am.” He turned to Betsy, no doubt figuring she was the catalyst, along with Natalie. “Is there—”

  “Mommy—” Robby appeared in the doorway “—you coming?”

  “Oh, my.” Betsy’s hands fluttered to her chest.

  Robby suddenly realized he was the center of attention and grinned. He took two steps toward Natalie and halted. Looking back up, he studied Betsy Welch. Then, before Natalie could move or say a thing, he bounded back up the stairs and held out his arms.

  Betsy Welch was more than willing to bend down, pick him up and hold him like she’d never let go.

  Lucky felt sorry for the preacher. The man didn’t know who to go to first. Lucky took one step, heading down the stairs, thinking Natalie might need someone to lean on.

  Looks were deceiving. Natalie, with only the barest trace of a limp, advanced up the stairs.

  “Mom,” Lucky said, standing still, somewhat of a block between Natalie and his mother. “This is Robby Crosby, the boy I was telling you about. He came to the rodeo Saturday. He’s quite the little cowboy.”

  “Yes, I can see he is.” Betsy stroked Robby’s hair and jiggled him up and down, causing giggles and making the little boy hold her even tighter.

  “I not little,” Robby protested. “I big.”

  “I can see that, too,” Betsy cooed.

  The door to the church opened again, and the preacher’s wife poked her head out. “Tate, we’ve gone through three songs, and the congregation is wondering where you are.”

  Tate obediently looked at his watch, then looked at the group on the steps and said, “We’d better go in.”

  Natalie had already reached the top of the stairs. Lucky’s mother didn’t even notice. Natalie held out her arms, and Robby obediently turned toward her but didn’t acknowledge her arms. He shook his head. “No.”

  This time Lucky managed to be in the right place. He put one hand on Natalie’s back and the other nudged his mother forward.

  “Mom,” he said gently. “It’s time to go in.”

  His mother blinked, noticed Natalie and held on to Robby.

  “Mommy.” Robby was blissfully unaware of the tension. “There’s choo-choo in the classroom. Can I have a gink?”

  “Of course you can have a drink,” Natalie said. “And remember, when we go in the doors you need to talk in your quiet, inside voice.”

  Lucky held open the door, glad the preacher was in a hurry and glad that his mother had been in the preacher’s way so that she had to enter before everyone else.

  “Sorry,” he whispered in Natalie’s ear. “She called you while I was outside showing Howie Junior what to do with his free hand when he’s riding. I about fell over when she told me what she’d done.”

  “I about fell over when she called,” Natalie admitted.

  “I really appreciate your coming tonight. It’s the first time since Marcus’s death that she’s been this happy. She practically danced as we were heading to the car for church.”

  Natalie didn’t respond. She clutched her purse and hurried after his mother. It was almost comical. His mother practically floated, she was so happy. What Natalie, a good foot shorter, was doing could only be described as a march, a very determined march.

  Gumption, she had gumption. If she were Marcus’s rebound from Tisha, then Marcus was blind. This woman shouldn’t be anybody’s rebound.

  That thought led to another. Maybe it hadn’t been rebound. Maybe there’d actually been a courtship. The people in town knew nothing about it, but Natalie had spent two years in college, away from the prying eyes of the community.

  Had she loved Marcus?

  Oh, he hoped so. His brother deserved at least that. Of course, if she loved Marcus, why didn’t she contact the family after Marcus died? Let them know then that Robby existed and needed family.

  Did she need comfort? Of course she did. Especially now. She’d just lost her own father and so soon after Marcus’s death. No wonder she was tense.

  Since Marcus’s death, Lucky had more than once sermonized how the Father’s comfort had been his only comfort.

  He had always wondered how the nonchurched had the strength to put one step in front of the other when sorrow struck. God was Lucky’s strength.

  “Praise be the God and Fa
ther of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”

  “What?” Natalie turned to face him. She’d caught up to his mother, and now Robby was more than ready to return to Natalie. Her hand was solidly against Robby’s back, and the boy had placed his cheek right next to Natalie’s and was grinning ear to ear.

  “I didn’t mean to say the verse out loud,” Lucky said. Still, he admitted to himself, it was probably good that he had.

  According to Bernice, Natalie didn’t attend church and neither had her father. Robby was not being raised to know God. Lucky’d mentioned church as a long-term goal, and Natalie hadn’t objected, but now he could see Natalie needed a church home, too.

  “That was a verse from the Bible?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  Her words softened, and he was gladdened by the look in her eyes.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You’re a preacher, too. No wonder you’re glad Robby’s here.”

  He could have corrected her, but he didn’t.

  He wasn’t glad Robby was there. He was glad Robby and Natalie were there.

  Wednesday-night services were a whole lot different from the Sunday mornings Natalie dimly remembered. Instead of going to an exciting Bible class and then sitting in the auditorium for a whole hour, they sat in the auditorium—Robby nestled between Natalie and Mrs. Welch—while songs were led, announcements read and a prayer offered. Five minutes in, Robby wriggled from his seat, got permission from Natalie and went to sit by Daniel.

  Natalie forced herself to relax. Robby was mesmerized by a new place full of potential playmates and, in his opinion, full of noise. If all these people could sing at the top of their lungs, why couldn’t he shout? He said “MOM” in a loud voice during lulls at least four times—each time with a bit more volume. She and Mrs. Welch both leaned forward and said “Shh!” When the congregation looked, most nudged each other and Natalie could just imagine their whispers. “Is that the Crosby girl? Who’s she with?”

  About the time she was ready to head for the foyer, Robby’s hand firmly tucked in hers and the “inside voice” lecture at the ready, a voice from the podium boomed, “You are dismissed,” and almost everyone stood. Robby, no dummy, used the opportunity to edge away.

  Fifteen minutes had passed in a blink. “What are we doing?” Natalie whispered to Patty as they followed the masses into the foyer and down the hall, keeping the kids in sight.

  “It’s time for class. Robby’s already found his.”

  Ah, yes, the choo-choo classroom.

  Patty stayed by Natalie’s side as they headed down a hallway and followed Robby into a room decorated with a pint-size table, a puppet box and lots of toy boxes. Five small children were already there. Two sat at a table putting together puzzles. One ran around the room, holding a paper plate and chanting, “The wheels on da bus. The wheels on da bus.” Robby and another child had their heads buried in one of the toy chests. Five little trains were soon scattered across the floor.

  “Good, we have a visitor tonight.” The teacher—surprise, surprise—a man, boomed as he entered the room. Immediately, all save Robby headed for him, bashed right into his knees, and they all tumbled to the ground in laughter.

  Robby put down a train, and after just a moment’s contemplation, joined right in.

  Nope, this was not the church service Natalie remembered.

  Patty tugged at Natalie’s arm, dragging her from the classroom and out into the hall again. “He’ll be fine. Mr. Chris is an excellent teacher. I almost wish Daniel was still in his class.”

  “Where are we going?” Natalie asked as they moved down the hall again.

  “Right now there are three adult classes offered. One is called ‘Discipleship.’ Um, probably not for you, yet. One is for young parents. I’m going to that one. The last is about Paul.”

  “Paul who?”

  “Wow,” Patty said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question. Let’s go to the young parents’ class. I’ll tell you later about Paul, but I’m going to need a lot more time.”

  “And what she can’t tell you, I can,” Lucky Welch whispered in her ear.

  Only he wasn’t whispering in her ear, he was simply standing behind her. For some reason, he felt so close, she could feel the words against her cheek like a caress; each word was warm, heated and deep, like the man who spoke them. One look over her shoulder and Natalie knew Lucky had no idea of his effect on her.

  Better to keep it that way.

  Against her will, she shivered as they entered a classroom already filled with about thirty people who were all chattering comfortably. They weren’t all young, either. Natalie recognized the Pruitts, who were now raising grandchildren. Allison sat in the back of the room, a notebook in hand, looking exhausted. Natalie probably should join her and complete the single-mother corner. For the first time in a long time, she considered Allison her friend. If things had been different, if Tisha hadn’t been in the picture, then Allison and Natalie would still be the best of friends, sharing Mommy stories, and swapping babysitting. But Natalie was too afraid of what Allison knew.

  The rest of the classroom was occupied by young couples, mothers and fathers.

  “My mother went to the class on Discipleship,” Lucky whispered as they all sat down.

  “Good,” Natalie whispered back.

  Patty’s husband welcomed everyone and then started a video. Natalie relaxed. She wouldn’t need to talk, share or even act interested. She was a master at zoning out when the television was on. Two full years of cartoons had perfected the art.

  The segment on raising children, this night, focused on birth order. Natalie didn’t close her eyes all the way. Maybe this would be interesting. She’d been an only child. The doctors didn’t know why her parents couldn’t have more, but she hadn’t heard them complain.

  During her adolescence, she’d complained, loud and clear. Onlys, especially those who lived a distance from town, didn’t often have playmates. Onlys never won an argument because the only people around to argue with were parents. According to the program, onlys needed to be exposed to other children, playgroups and such. Natalie agreed. A few years ago, her dad finally admitted that keeping her from being a lonely “only” was why they’d had her cousin Tisha out so often.

  Natalie figured Tisha’s parents were partly responsible, too. With eight children to feed, having one out of the way might be a relief. Dad’s younger brother was dirt-poor and when money came their way, it left just as quickly. The words gambling problem were bantered around. What Natalie remembered most about Tisha’s visits was how Tisha thought Natalie’s closet was her closet, and how Tisha seemed to know just where and what Natalie was doing and managed to get there first.

  If this birth-order film was to be believed, Tisha did indeed have “oldest child syndrome.” She believed she was superior and knew everything.

  “I’m the baby,” Lucky whispered.

  Instead of responding, Natalie closed her eyes and tried to clear her head. Lately, Tisha’d been on her mind way too much, thanks to Natalie’s own misstep inviting the Welches into their lives.

  Lucky was supposed to give her money and then disappear, like Marcus had done with Tisha, not stick around and offer support, support and more support.

  “Are you really a baby?” she finally whispered back.

  “I think if I believe this guy, I’m more of a middle. I’m certainly not a prankster, but I am a salesman and an entrepreneur.”

  “Salesman?” Natalie questioned.

  “I think all preachers are salesmen with a winning product.”

  “That’s a funny way to think of it,” Patty said doubtfully.

  Someone coughed about then, and Natalie became uncomfortably aware that quite a few people were watching them instead of the television scene.
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  So, birth order wasn’t a given. Now in Dad’s family, he had been the oldest and fit the stereotype. He’d been responsible and a leader. His much-younger brother, Allen, Tisha’s dad, had been a prankster. He’d been kicked out of high school, didn’t try college and settled for working for his wife’s family at their dairy. They were dirt-poor, but that’s not why Tisha didn’t try to leave Robby with them. Even Tisha, as jaded as she was, knew that it didn’t just take money to raise a happy and healthy child. Tisha’s parents were also the most unhappy people in the state. Bad luck, bad choices and hard work had taken a toll on Allen and his wife.

  He’d been left half of what was now Natalie’s ranch, but sold it to Natalie’s dad before she, or any of his children, were born. Her dad always felt somewhat guilty about it because while Allen had been paid good money, the value had skyrocketed a decade later, and he could have had so much more.

  They’d come to hear the reading of the will. Robby had thought it great fun to have five second cousins, once removed, in the house. It didn’t phase him that they spent their time either in front of the television or playing video games.

  What Natalie remembered most was how Tisha’s parents weren’t surprised to find that the money was gone.

  Allen no longer had a gambling problem; he now had an I’ve-given-up-on-life problem.

  Natalie’s dad had left them money. Since, at the time, there appeared to be no money, they’d left without it. Now, Natalie considered, she could make good on her dad’s intention. She could send them the money. She’d address the envelope and check to Allen’s wife.

  “It’s time to pray.” Patty’s husband was standing up again, and the video no longer provided insights into birth order. Looking over at Lucky, Natalie watched as he finished penciling a note into the margin of his already well-scribbled-in Bible and bowed his head. He looked peaceful. In the back of the room, Allison closed her notebook. She no longer looked exhausted. She looked serene, even happy.

  On Natalie’s other side, Patty was smiling, but Patty smiled most of the time. Before bowing her head, Patty reached over and took Natalie’s hand. Up in front of the room, Patty’s husband prayed about the coming Thanksgiving holiday, about the sick and about the lost. Everyone else looked content.