Next Door Daddy

by Debra Clopton

  He was heading out the door when the phone rang again. Thinking his mother had forgotten to tell him something, which she usually did when she called him, he snatched up the headset. “Did you forget something?” he teased.

  “You could say that.”

  Pollyanna’s chuckle through the line was an unexpected surprise. “You’re not my mother.” Real sharp, Talbert.

  “No. Sorry.”

  “I just hung up,” he explained, and moved on quickly. “Did you need something?”

  “Yes, actually. I need you.”

  Chapter Five

  That evening, with dread knotting in his stomach, Nate strode up the five steps flanked by two large pots of what looked like tulips that hadn’t bloomed yet. He quickly knocked on the screen door before he lost his nerve and fled. After letting Gil tag along for the past couple of days, Pollyanna had called and insisted that he let her cook him supper. Nate had finally agreed to the invitation, however reluctantly. When Gil had come by after school, the boy had been over-the-top excited, and that had done away with any thoughts Nate had toyed with about reneging.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he willed his insides to settle down. The very idea of sitting at another woman’s table had him feeling as nauseated as he’d been the first time he’d been kicked in the gut by a disgruntled heifer. He told himself it had nothing to do with the silky way Pollyanna’s voice had pleaded with him over the phone. Or the way he kept remembering how her eyes practically talked out loud, they were so expressive.

  Nate knocked again. No one came but he knew by the soft laughter drifting from somewhere inside the house that they were home and just hadn’t heard him.

  Swiping his hat from his head, he tried another route. “Hello,” he called, pulling open the screen. Unanswered, he stepped just inside. An impressive staircase wound upward in front of him. His gaze followed it up. One side of the railing detoured at the second floor, but the other railing never broke as it wound in a wide smooth arch up to the third story…man, would that be one good ride. Curious about the rest of the house, he moved into the large living room. Second thoughts about intruding converged on him. He started to turn around and go back to the porch when Pollyanna’s laughter rang out. The sheer delight of her laughter hooked him.

  Eyes on the doorway at the end of the living room, he took a few more steps and almost tripped on a puppy leg.

  The lazy dog was sleeping beneath an end table, sprawled on his back, his relaxed face a scrunched-up mass of wrinkles inside the “lamp shade” collar.

  “—they’re gonna like it here, Mama. Bo’s smiling. See? And look at Sylvie go,” Gil called out excitedly.

  “Pepper, too. Pepper, too!”

  “Yes, Pepper, you can watch, too.” Pollyanna laughed. “I think Bo’s letting Sylvie win because he loves her desperately.”

  Pollyanna’s voice was husky with laughter as Nate stuck his head into the room. Mother and son were sitting on the floor of the kitchen side by side turned slightly away from him. They were watching two turtles striding—well, at least they were striding as fast as two turtles could stride—across the floor toward what looked like a red string of candy licorice. A Twizzler. The bright green cockatiel was perched on Gil’s shoulder, doing a wild dance as he watched the race. It had to be one of the oddest things Nate’d ever seen. Before Nate could speak up, the bird cocked its orange-spotted head and pinned its beady little eyes on him. Instantly the feathers on its head fanned forward as the bird lifted one foot and pointed it at him.

  “Stranger! Stranger!” it screeched, then flew straight at Nate.

  Caught off guard, Nate whipped back to avoid the dive-bombing bird. Too late he realized that a disoriented Bogie had sprung into action, rushing in behind him—very effectively cutting his feet right out from under him.

  ’Bout summed up his day, Nate thought as his feet sailed out from under him and he hit the floor like a pile of rocks.

  And there he lay. A green bird circling overhead, a fat, wrinkled pooch bumping into him with its odd plastic helmet, and a laughing boy and his emerald-eyed mother standing over him.

  “Are you okay?” Pollyanna blinked big eyes at him.

  Nate wasn’t sure if it was because he’d smacked his head on the hardwood floor, but he just stared up at her like an idiot. She really did have the most dazzling eyes.

  And a cute, tiny dimple beside her lips.

  “Pepper gotcha! Pepper gotcha good.” Gil giggled, doubling over.

  Nate sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

  “Gil, be nice,” Pollyanna scolded, but Nate saw the corners of her lips twitch.

  “It’s all right.” He grinned at Gil, then up at Pollyanna. “It’s my due for coming into your house uninvited. Besides, boys are born with an odd sense of humor.”

  That made her smile. Not just smile, the woman’s eyes lit up and twinkled like a thousand stars. “Yes. They are,” she said, her gaze settling on Gil like a caress.

  That look shot longing through Nate as sharp as a hunter’s arrow.

  “He is truly a carbon copy of his daddy,” she said, her gaze returning to Nate. “Never knew what Marc was going to come out with next. Here, let me help you up.”

  She reached for Nate’s arm. Her touch was soft and sent a shock wave through him that knocked the breath out of him. This woman had loved well. Pollyanna McDonald was the kind of woman who loved with everything in her. Death, and space and time couldn’t diminish it. At least, that was the impression he got of her.

  They had that in common. In a way the idea made him sad for her.

  The less you loved, the less you hurt.

  “Gil, go find Pepper and put him in his cage. He’s too excited to be zooming around the house right now,” she said, still tugging on Nate’s arm.

  Bogie bumped into him with his lamp shade, trying unsuccessfully to lick Nate’s face. The whiff of awful doggie breath shook the cobwebs out of Nate’s head and made him thankful the dog couldn’t get any closer. Pollyanna was tugging on him pretty hard, so he helped her out by standing up. He didn’t want her pulling a back muscle.

  “Come, sit here,” she demanded, sweeping him into the kitchen and pushing him onto a bar stool. “Are you sure you’re okay? I invite you to dinner and my circus tries to do you in.” Her face was now a work of anxiety.

  His pride was injured, but it would only hurt it more to mention it. “I’m fine. Were you racing turtles?” He glanced at the two turtles eating a strip of candy.

  “We sure were. Sylvie and Bo love to race for candy. And as you saw, Pepper is their cheerleader. Those two will really turn on the juice for a cherry Twizzler.” She grimaced comically.

  And Nate laughed.

  It happened so unexpectedly, that he froze.

  The look that washed over Nate after he laughed was so stricken, so lost, that Polly knew instinctively what had happened. Her first impression of Nate had been that of a man still floundering from the loss of his wife. She understood this all too well.

  “Is that the first time?” she asked, knowing the answer before he spoke it.

  His brows dipped. “The first time?”

  “That you’ve laughed since your wife died?” She knew it had been three years since his wife died.

  “Pretty much.”

  His expression said for her to drop it, that she’d stepped where she shouldn’t. Then suddenly the emotion was gone. The clouds she’d glimpsed in his eyes vanished, as if the sun had come out. She wasn’t fooled. She’d been there…she knew behind the dark, impersonal eyes she was looking into now that emotions were raging. She recognized a protective device when she saw it. She’d used it herself many times over the past two years.

  For a moment she couldn’t say anything, the recognition so acute that she felt her heart clutch inside her chest.

  Gil’s anxious voice calling out to Pepper broke the moment, followed by the sound of scraping and shuffling. Nate heard it, too, his head whipping aro
und. The call had come from above them, drifting in from outside through the open screen door.

  Gil was on the roof!

  They reacted together. Bounding through the house and onto the porch, they raced down the steps and jogged clear of the roof line. Polly’s heart thundered. Surely the sound of Gil’s voice had just drifted out to them from an open window. But she knew she was wrong before she spotted her son. And Pepper.

  The bird was perched on top of one of the three dormers on the tiny second-story ledge, though it wasn’t Pepper Polly’s gaze locked on. It was Gil.

  Her son was creeping toward Pepper on the steep roof, talking soothingly to the terrified bird. Polly’s first thought was at least they weren’t on the third story—but the second story was scary enough for her. It was nothing more than a thin lip.

  “Gilly,” she called before regaining her faculties and registering that startling him wasn’t the best option. It wasn’t Gil who reacted badly to her shout, but Pepper. The scared bird flew straight up as if shot from a cannon, then frantically swooped downward a foot before flying over Gil’s head and out into the open, aiming straight for the woods at least two hundred yards behind the house.

  “Mom, whad’ya go and do that for?” Gil shouted, spinning around to watch his beloved bird disappearing. Polly’s heart dropped when he teetered momentarily.

  “Gilbert Marcus McDonald!” she shouted. “What do you think you’re doing? Sit down right this minute before you fall off that roof and break your neck!”

  Gil stared down at her, his little face bright as the orange spots on Pepper’s cheeks. “Mom, it’s only a roof. Pepper’s gone and it’s all my fault. I left the window open.”

  Polly worried for Pepper. The bird was terrified of the outdoors and with good reason—he had no idea how to survive. But her priority was getting her little daredevil out of his latest escapade. Without freaking out!

  Nate touched her arm, then took a step forward, his eyes locked on Gil. “We’ll get Pepper back, Gil.” His voice was calm, but with enough firmness it drew Gil’s attention. And Polly’s.

  One look at his eyes locked on her son and the rising swell of panic eased inside of Polly. Like the lull in a storm, it gave her a moment to get a grip. She thanked the Lord that he was here.

  “But first, Gil,” he continued, “you have to turn and walk back to that window. Can you do that?”

  “Sure I can.”

  Polly would have laughed at Gil’s insulted tone if she hadn’t been so scared. Instead, she held her breath, watching and moving along with him as he walked the roof without wobbling. She should have grown used to his “adventures.” There had been enough of them, but she hadn’t. Every time she found him doing something like this she worried. Just like she’d done with Marc. He’d loved living life full throttle, out on the edge. Dirt bikes, speed boats, drag racing…skydiving. Anything that went fast held Marc in thrall.

  She pushed the thoughts away, her gaze riveted to Nate as he took every step Gil took, his eyes glued to her son, ready to catch him if he should slip. When Gil climbed safely into his bedroom window, Nate actually heaved a sigh of relief and met her gaze.

  “He made it. Just like he said he would.”

  If she hadn’t been so distraught, Polly might have sighed herself from the sweet way Nate had handled the situation, but as it was, she frowned. “My son is going to give me gray hair before I reach thirty!”

  “Are you okay?” Nate turned his full attention on Polly, his eyes full of concern.

  She gave him a weak smile. “I should be used to stunts like this. He takes after his father, a born daredevil. I almost didn’t buy this house because of the multiple levels.” She bit her lip. “But it was so perfect for a bed-and-breakfast. Now I think maybe I should have passed—”

  “He’s a boy.”

  Like that said it all, Polly thought. Of course, he was right. Marc had said the same thing, she’d just overreacted. Like any mother would do, she added on in her defense. But then again, he was on the roof! At least, she would have made Marc proud, because she hadn’t totally lost it. She sucked in a lungful of fresh air. “I’m doing my best not to coddle him, but it goes against my nature,” she admitted. “Since Marc died, I’ve really had to fight not to overprotect him. Marc always balanced my worries with comments like the one you just made. ‘Rite of passage,’ he would have said.” She met Nate’s eyes, her lip curving up on one side. “You helped.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’d have done fine on your own.” His dark brows knitted together above serious eyes.

  “Right. And I guess you missed my near hysterics. Gil would have been totally mortified for his new hero to see his mother lose it. You being here made me dig deep. I’ve been working on handling things more like a man would—like his father would have. I have to learn to do that. I have to.” Polly shut her eyes. Gil was a little boy who was going to need her to be strong, not to coddle him. She couldn’t make him afraid of life. Once more, as it had at least twice an hour for the past two years, Polly felt the enormous weight on her shoulders of being a single parent.

  Her admiration had tripled for single parents when she’d suddenly found herself one.

  Nate patted her shoulder. “You did fine.”

  Gil’s footsteps pounded to the floor, after yet another trip down the banister. Now he came running through the doorway and skidded to a stop in front of them with Bogie pouncing along behind him.

  “C’mon on, y’all,” Gil said, dashing down the steps.

  “Let’s take my truck,” Nate offered, turning away.

  Polly watched him, Gil and Bogie charge across the yard to the truck. Nate yanked the back door of the cab open and helped Gil and Bogie scramble in. “You coming?” he called to Polly as he closed the door and reached for his own.

  Only then did Polly realize she hadn’t moved, absorbed watching him with Gil. A wave of loss washed over her for Marc, seeing him pick up a much smaller Gil and place him in his car seat. “Y-yes, sure.” Unsettled, she hurried to the passenger’s side and within moments they were speeding across the pasture toward the stand of trees. Fighting hard, she regained a semblance of her composure. Even though it had been two years, moments of grief hit like that, swift and sharp, triggered by the smallest of things. But she had other things to worry about right now. If Gil lost Pepper it would devastate him in more ways than she wanted to think about. Loss was not an easy thing. Maybe she’d surrounded her son with all these animals in the hopes that if one died the others would ease his pain. But it was a lie and she knew it….

  She pushed the thought away. They would find Pepper. She wouldn’t have to face her son’s anguish again. Not today.

  She glanced over at Nate. His strong jaw was set just as it had been when he’d focused on Gil balanced on the edge of that roof. She let his presence comfort her.

  If someone had told Nate yesterday that today he’d be in the pasture cockatiel hunting, he’d have told them they’d been in one too many rodeos. But here he was doing exactly that.

  As he guided the truck along the trail through the trees he marveled at the turn his life had taken in the short few days since his neighbors had arrived.

  Gil and his mother, with their faces upturned, were anxiously scanning the trees in search of their lost bird. He hoped they found it for Gil’s sake. The poor kid was growing more and more agitated with every moment that the bird didn’t show up.

  When Gil glanced his way, Nate’s heartstrings tugged at the desperation he saw there. “I think we need to walk,” Nate said abruptly, settling his boot firmly on the brake.

  “Yeah,” Gil said, nodding hard and blinking back what Nate knew were tears. “I might hear him talking to himself because he’s scared. You know how he gets, Mama.”

  “You’re right. When he’s scared, Pepper talks to anything that’s around.”

  Nate could hear desperation cloaked in Pollyanna’s soft words.

  Gil grinned at her
words and looked at Nate with too bright eyes. “That bird can talk. Nate, have you ever wanted to stuff a sock in a bird’s beak?”

  His earnest question took Nate by surprise and he laughed for the second time that day. It came out sounding more like a cough from sucking in too much dust.

  Gil’s eyebrows crinkled and his eyes sobered. “I’m serious. If you’re ever around Pepper long enough, you’ll know what I mean. My dad, he taught him how to talk, and, boy, was he a good teacher.” His voice faltered and his gaze skittered back toward the trees. “We gotta find him.” His voice cracked. “H-he hates being outside.”

  Nate met Pollyanna’s worried gaze. This little bird had a deeper connection with the boy than he’d first realized. He had already stopped the truck and now he opened the door. “Come on, kiddo, let’s find your bird.”

  “Come on, Mama,” Gil boomed, sliding off the seat. Pollyanna and Bogie got out on the other side and they all met at the rear of the truck. With the loud sound of the diesel engine not blotting everything else out, the woods now seemed to echo with silence. Of course they weren’t, there was the rush of wind through the leaves and, among other mellow sounds, the soft warble of a songbird. Not the right bird.

  “I think we should walk and listen first,” Pollyanna said. Gil nodded, already plodding forward. Bogie followed along behind him, holding his head up so his collar didn’t hang on the tall grass.

  “Just be careful to watch your step and stay on the track first,” Nate warned, feeling a wave of protection pass over him.

  “Thank you,” Pollyanna said, falling into step beside him, watching Gil race forward. “I seem to be saying that to you on a regular basis. But he loves that bird. Pepper was Marc’s and if we’ve lost him, it will be terribly hard on Gil. I don’t think I could bear it.”

  Again Nate felt an overwhelming wave of protection for mother and son. It swept over him so strongly he was stunned.

  But then, he understood attachment very well.