The Bachelor's Sweetheart

by Jean C. Gordon

“Come in,” his father said in a voice uncomfortably close to his own.

  Somehow, Dad seemed smaller than he remembered, although at twenty, Josh had been as tall as he was now. His hair was still thick and dark, except for a little white at the temples. He lacked the typical two days’ growth on his square jaw, and the lines on his face were less pronounced.

  “Let me take a look at you,” his father said. “It’s been a long time, since before you went to Afghanistan.” He raised his hand as if expecting criticism from Josh. “My fault. I know. Have a seat.”

  Josh inventoried the room as he weighed whether that was an invitation or a command. Bath and queen-size bed on the door side. Desk, couch—probably a pull-out—and two chairs on the far side near the window.

  “I need to hit the latrine first. Coffee ran right through me.” Josh sniffed the air as he walked in front of his father. He didn’t smell alcohol. In the bath, he quietly and efficiently inspected the cabinet under the counter—paper and cleaning supplies—and the tub behind the closed shower curtain for bottles. He smelled the glass on the sink back.

  “Did I pass inspection?” his father asked when he returned.

  Josh sat in one of the chairs and his father took the other one. “I don’t care what you do.”

  “But you were watching out for Connor. Your mother told me that you used to try to get home from school and run interference for me before Connor got off the school bus. Thanks.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” Josh said, shooting for a rise out of his father.

  “I know. You did it for your brother. Your mother also told me you’ve been doing some house flipping. When we were first married, I used to do some of that.”

  He cracked his knuckles and got only a grimace from his father. Knuckle cracking had always been enough to set him off. Josh knew he was being juvenile, but he didn’t care what the old man used to do or was doing now, for that matter, and he certainly didn’t want to be compared to him. More than that, he couldn’t take the cool, calm conversation. It fanned the small flame deep inside him that wanted his father to be sober, to have a normal relationship with him.

  A sharp rap made them both turn toward the door. His father stood, crossed the room and looked out the peephole. Who would it be besides Jared or Connor? Or had he already hooked up with some of his old drinking buddies?

  His dad opened the door. “Jared, Connor.”

  Jared offered his hand as he stepped in. “Dad.”

  Connor followed with his arms open. “Good to see you.” He hugged him.

  Hugged him. Connor sure was buying the amends, this whole recovering-alcoholic bit, lock, stock and barrel. Or maybe his baby brother had been too young to remember their father as anything but perpetually drunk. Josh and Jared remembered a dad who wasn’t. He didn’t know about Jared, but that made him even more resentful of what their father had become before he’d left them, what he still was as far as he was concerned.

  “Come in, sit down. As you can see, Joshua is already here.”

  Jared raised an eyebrow, the action shouting to Josh, here first? And I wasn’t sure you’d even show up.

  “Yeah. We’ve been talking about old times.” Josh pasted his best facsimile of a smile on his face before his older brother gave him and Dad the critical appraisal Josh expected.

  “You guys want a drink?” his father asked.

  Josh wasn’t the only one who tensed. He hadn’t been bold enough to check the small refrigerator by the bath.

  His father didn’t miss a beat. “Relax,” he said as if he’d made the comment on purpose to get a rise out of them. Or out of him. “I’ve got ice tea and Cokes.”

  “Coke,” Jared and Connor said.

  “What kind of tea?” Josh snapped out.

  “It’s not hard, if that’s what you’re asking,” his father said.

  Josh didn’t have to see his brothers’ disapproval. The air crackled with it.

  “No, I meant sweetened or unsweetened.” Josh pressed his lips tight.

  “Sweetened.”

  “I’ll take tea.”

  His father got the drinks and passed them out.

  “Thanks,” Josh said, taking the frosty can and feeling his father’s gaze on him as he looked at the alarm clock by the bed. He’d thought pulling out his phone to check the time would be too obvious.

  “Sorry I got defensive about the drinks. I’m nervous,” his father said.

  “We all are,” Jared assured him.

  Josh figured challenging his brother’s speaking for all of them wasn’t in his best interest of getting out of there as quickly as possible.

  Their father sat at the opposite end of the couch from Connor and crossed and uncrossed his ankle over his knee while he drummed the arm of the couch. “Like I said to you and Connor on the phone, as part of my program, I’m making amends to people I’ve hurt, wronged in the past. I saw your mother before I came back here and have been to court to have my death certificate rescinded. As a heads-up, your mother and I are going to divorce.”

  “Got someone in the wings?” Josh asked.

  His father sank into the couch.

  Josh couldn’t stop himself. “And as a heads-up to you, you’re a little late to make your amends to Hope’s mother or her grandmother.”

  “I know.” His father studied his hands in his lap.

  “Lay off him, Josh,” Connor said. “Let him talk.”

  Their father lifted his head. “I don’t have anyone waiting in the wings,” he said in a subdued voice. “But apparently your mother does.” His father cleared his throat. “Seems like a good guy. I met him while I was in Pennsylvania. Don’t let on that I told you. They’re planning to share their news in person.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Connor said.

  “Sorry about what?” Josh shot to his feet. “After everything he did to Mom, what do you expect?”

  “You always were her champion,” his father said.

  “Someone had to be.” He glared at his father and Jared. “You all seem to be on a different wavelength than me. I think it’s time I go.”

  “Stay until I finish. Please. Everything you’ve said is right. That’s why I’m here. I was a lousy husband and father.”

  Josh eased back into his seat and took a slug of his tea, sloughing off the fleeting thought that he might be nearly as dependent on caffeine as the old man was on booze.

  “I can’t change the past. I can’t make up for what you missed and I missed when you were boys, although I thank the Lord for giving me another opportunity with Hope. Jared and I are going to work something out.”

  Hope. She’s why Jared had talked with their father before tonight. Josh pressed back into his chair. Jared wasn’t totally abandoning their mutual distrust of their father by jumping on the New Jerry Donnelly bandwagon with two feet the way Connor had.

  “I’d like to get to know you as men. From what I’ve heard around town you’ve grown to be pretty fine ones.”

  “Thanks to Mom,” Josh added, in case his father was going to try to take any credit for the hard work it had taken all three of them to earn the respect they had in the community now as adults. Respect that would erode when their father fell off the wagon if he stuck around.

  “Yes, all the credit goes to your mother and you guys. I’m not making excuses. I’m not expecting you to welcome me back with open arms, or even like me.”

  His father’s gaze traveled around the circle, resting a moment longer on him than on Jared and Connor. Josh shifted in the chair.

  “You may not be able to believe it, but I’ve always loved you boys in my own dysfunctional way. I’m trying to make a new sober life for myself, and I’d like you in it. What I’m asking is if we can try to put the past behind us and get to know each other as we are now. T
hen we can make our personal judgments.”

  Josh reached for his empty tea can on the low table between the chairs and the couch to avoid his father looking him in the eyes again.

  “Would you like to pray on that?” Connor asked.

  “Yes. And for the Lord to be with me tomorrow when I make my amends to Liz Whittan.”

  Dad sure was playing his amends thing up big time. Liz was the local schoolteacher he and his friend had smashed into and crippled while driving drunk when Josh was in middle school.

  “Dad, you know Sheriff Norton came clean about what really happened that night, that Bert Miller was driving, not you,” Jared said.

  “Yeah, he sent your mother a letter. Guess he was making amends, too.”

  “You probably could get reparation for the time you spent in jail for vehicular assault. It might help you make your new start,” Jared said.

  So Jared was buying their father’s new start facade?

  “The only one who deserves reparation is Liz, and all I can give her is my sincere apology.”

  “But you weren’t driving,” Connor said.

  “I didn’t stop Bert from driving. How about that prayer?” He reached across the couch for Connor’s hand and toward the chair for Josh’s.

  He accepted his father’s clammy hand and took Jared’s, completing the prayer circle. Sure, he could pray with him and accept that his father was back in Paradox, maybe to stay. He couldn’t do anything about where his father chose to live. But he didn’t have to believe anything else dear old Dad said. He’d learned too well that believing in his father only set him up for disappointment, or worse.

  * * *

  Tessa looked up from her e-reader to check on the movie. Neither the movie nor her book, a fast-paced romantic suspense that she’d generally be devouring, held her attention. Showing movies was boring work when you didn’t have any company. She checked the time on her phone, wondering if Josh and his brothers were still with their father and whether he’d let her know how it went. She’d been as noncommittal as she could be when he’d texted her this afternoon that he’d decided to go. The situation hit too close to home and weighed heavy on her conscience. Her grandmother wouldn’t say anything to him, but what if he found out about her some other way? She stood and tried to stretch out some of the tension that was knotting her muscles. What she needed was a good run, but it would be too dark after the movie finished and she closed up.

  The projection room door creaked open. “Out of Pepsi already?” she asked. “We must have a full house of thirsty moviegoers.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Josh said.

  Tessa dropped her arms. “Hey. I thought you were Myles enlisting my help to change the CO2 container in the soft drink dispenser. Having a second person around when changing them is a good idea, unless you like a soda bath.”

  “I remember.”

  “So, how did the crowd look?”

  “I didn’t check. I was too starved. I came in the back and right up with the food.” He placed a pizza box on the table, threw open the top releasing the spicy scent of pepperoni and tomatoes and grabbed a piece before sitting down. “I didn’t eat before I went to Ticonderoga.”

  Before I went to Ticonderoga, not before I saw Dad or before we met with Dad. Tessa’s neck muscles reknotted. “How’d it go?” As if he hadn’t already made the answer clear.

  “I’ve accepted that he’s back in Paradox Lake, and there’s nothing I can do about it except make a concerted effort to avoid him.”

  She studied the stony set of his jaw as Josh motioned toward the pizza. “You going to have some?”

  “In a minute.” She clasped her hands to still the chill that ran through her despite the heat of the small, humid room. “What about Jared and Connor?”

  “I can’t read Jared clearly. He seems to be weighing things because of Hope. Connor’s lapping up all of his baloney about making amends, wanting to get to know us as men, ad nauseam.” Josh tossed his half-finished slice on the open box top. “What does Connor need him for anyway? Jared and I are the ones who’ve been there for him.”

  Tessa reached over to pick up a piece of pizza she didn’t want and to buy some time to calm the turmoil inside so he wouldn’t see it on her face. “There’s no way you can give your father the benefit of the doubt, give him time to show he’s changed, before you shut him out?”

  “No, why should I?”

  Tessa jerked straight at his vehemence, almost dropping the pizza in her lap.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” he said.

  She knew more than he’d ever guess.

  “He’s not like us.”

  Tessa choked down the bite of pizza she’d taken. “Have you thought about checking out an Al-Anon meeting to help you deal with your father? People there would understand.”

  He glared at her. “No, I’m not sitting around spouting my personal business with a bunch of strangers.”

  “After you’d gone a few times, they wouldn’t be strangers.”

  “Who made you such an expert?”

  “I...” She checked out the time remaining in the movie, her heart pounding. “I had an experience in college.” She breathed in and out. She should tell him, even if it meant a clean break in their friendship. That might be exactly what Josh needed to heal, and she needed to stop walking on eggshells and regain her serenity.

  Josh grabbed his half-eaten slice of pizza and folded it in half. “Can we talk about something else? It’s not as if I’m going to choose to see him while he hangs around here, which I expect won’t be for long. And once GreenSpaces has an opening for a project manager and I’m out of here, I won’t have to have anything to do with him.” He crammed the slice in his mouth and took a bite.

  “Yeah, sure.” The moment had disappeared, along with her courage. “We can talk about something else.”

  She couldn’t make Josh attend meetings, heal him and dispel his bitterness any more than Josh and his family could have made his father stop drinking. Only Josh and God had the power to heal him. She of all people knew that. Tessa clenched her jaw. She was falling into old patterns. Rather than distancing herself from Josh, as she’d decided to do, she was getting more involved in his life, being helpful so he’d like her.

  He finished his pizza slice. “If you got the building permit today like you thought you would, I’m ready to start work on the renovations Monday night.”

  “I didn’t get the permit.” Tessa focused on the film as if she was checking on how long it had to go. “I ran an errand first, and when I got back to Schroon Lake, the building inspector had gone home sick and the clerk didn’t know anything about the permit.”

  Her errand had been attending an extra meeting she knew her sponsor would be at. “I’ll get the permit Monday and do what prep work I can during the day. I have plans for the evening.”

  A choo choo blasted from Josh’s pocket. “One of the kids,” he said, concentrating his full attention on retrieving his cell phone. “When Brendon turned eleven, Jared and Becca got him a phone, so he could call from sports practice and Boy Scouts for rides home. His sister and Hope think it’s theirs, too.”

  After reading the text, he said, “Looks like I won’t be available to work Monday evening after all. Hope’s volunteered me to coach her soccer team, the one Hill’s Garage sponsors. The person who was lined up to coach has taken a new job out of the area.”

  “I know.”

  He laughed, the sound lightening the atmosphere of the room. “You know what?”

  “About the coach.” Tessa paused and nodded. “And that you’re going to tell Hope you’ll do it.”

  “Ha! You’re so into me that you can read my mind.”

  She slugged his shoulder to ward off the pall that was descending again.

 
“Ouch. What was that for?” He rubbed his arm.

  “I’m into you? In your dreams.”

  He was in her dreams, only not in the way she’d implied to Josh. More like thoughts that kept her mind churning and her tossing and turning half the night.

  “I know about the soccer coach because Suzi Hill called this afternoon and asked if I’d coach. She has a new foster kid on the team and had heard somewhere—had to be from my grandmother—that I’d played in college.” At least she had before she’d messed up and lost her spot on the team. “And you never tell Hope no.”

  “You said yes to coaching, right?”

  “I did. Suzi said the team has nearly as many girls as boys, and the former coach was really a husband-wife team.”

  “All right!” He raised his hand for a fist bump. “We can co-coach. Wait until I show them my moves. Look out, playoffs. The team will be unstoppable.”

  “Earth to Josh. We’re talking second and third graders, not the US men’s team.”

  “And they’ll be playing other second and third graders. We’ll cream them.” He thumbed a message. “I texted Hope and Jack Hill.”

  He hadn’t even asked if she wanted him to co-coach. Coaching the team had been part of her program to distance herself from Josh and spend more time with other people. A program she intended to work as hard as her AA program, and he wasn’t making it any easier for her.

  He got another choo choo, followed by a ding.

  “Done. That was Jack. We’re the new coaches of the Hazardtown Hornets.”

  His grin of pure joy, the first she’d seen since his father had reappeared, shot right to her heart, which didn’t bode well for her distancing plan, either.

  Chapter Six

  “This is cool, isn’t it Josh? Me playing soccer with my best friend, Sophia, and you coaching with your best friend, Tessa?” Hope jogged at Josh’s side as they rounded the corner of the school toward the sports fields. He was twenty minutes late for his meet time with Tessa and ten late for the practice.

  “Tessa is your best friend, right? You hang out with her all the time, and you said she’s not your girlfriend.”