Friday's Child

by Kylie Brant

Calvin Rose grunted. “I heard her.” He slanted a look upward at his oldest child. “I ain’t got no check from you this month, young lady. You ain’t startin’ to forget where you come from, are ya?”

  Kate stared at her father silently. Someday it should stop surprising her how he seemed to shrink in the time since her last visit. Her memory of him from childhood was of a man of stature, of power. Yet with the onset of adulthood came a more mature vision. A lifetime of manual labor had stooped shoulders that had surely once been wider, straighter. Inches had miraculously disappeared from his height, pounds added to his girth. Now he was just a man whose only power in life stemmed from the iron control he wielded over his family. She’d long ceased feeling guilty about the tangled feelings of blame and dislike she had for him. It was a measure of her loyalty to her mother and the younger children that these monthly contacts continued.

  “I brought the check with me,” she said tightly, reaching into her purse. “I had a bit left over at the end of the month, so it’s for a little more than usual.” He didn’t spare it a glance before folding it and slipping it into his shirt pocket.

  “Go on out there, then, and help your mother get that meal on. I swear, the woman gets slower every passing day.”

  The meal was like countless ones before. There were fewer members around the table now. The older boys, Lucas, Steven and Paul, were married, living in towns much like this one, not far away. William was twenty, still living at home but working in the coal mine ten miles north. A good job, her father bragged as the family silently went through the routine of Sunday dinner. He never forgot to bring part of his check home, too.

  “Something you could learn from, missy.”

  For one irrational moment, Kate was transported back in time, complete with mingled feelings of panic and remorse. But then she realized that his gaze was leveled at Charlotte, who was regarding her plate with sullen defiance.

  “The few hours I work at the Laundromat don’t make me much,” the girl muttered.

  “Just enough for some fancy lipstick and nail polish, I reckon,” the man said. Shaking his fork at her, he continued sternly, “Time you learned to pull your weight around here. Why, at your age, Katherine was taking care of all you kids and helping your mama with the sewing, too. I reckon you could do a bigger share.”

  Charlotte flicked a look at her older sister then, and it was like looking at a reflection of herself ten years past. Kate recognized the trapped hopelessness and despair, the yearning for something more. She looked away, shaken. She’d like to speak to her sister about it privately but knew from experience it would be futile. Charlotte was too locked in her teenage angst to believe that any before her had experienced the same. Books had been Kate’s way out, earning her scholarships and a chance for higher education. Charlotte lacked the interest in schooling. Her ticket out was likely to be Charlie Wilson, or someone like him, with whom she would start a new life, a carbon copy of the one she was living now.

  “Boy!” Her father’s disapproval thundered across the table as Emmett’s milk glass tipped over.

  Emmett froze, his shy, gentle eyes behind the thick glasses alarmed, but Kate rose smoothly and returned with a rag.

  “I’m sorry, Emmett, I bumped your elbow, didn’t I?” She ignored his confusion at her words and her father’s lowered brows as she mopped up the mess. “I must be getting so used to eating alone that I’m taking up more than my share of space at the table.”

  She patted his shoulder in recognition of the grateful look he sent her. Her father’s displeasure still radiated.

  “I swear, if you ain’t bumpin’ into things, boy, you’re bolting across the room and knockin’ things over. Ain’t never seen a clumsier kid, less’n it was Katherine at your age.”

  “Well, that’s true enough,” agreed Dorothy Rose. “Remember, Katherine? You was forever jumping around like your skirts was on fire. Thought you’d never learn to sit through church service.”

  Ben and Rebecca grinned at her, and Kate made herself smile back. “That’s what gave me the experience to deal with twenty-four first-graders,” she told them.

  “You was always real good help,” Dorothy went on. “The neighbors were forever carrying on about how good you were with the younger children. Course, you spoiled them all, forever picking them up and carrying them around, fetching for them. I like to never get William to bed without you rockin’ him first.”

  The smile was harder to force this time. “You don’t spoil children by letting them know you care about them.”

  “Hope you’re firmer with them kids at school,” her father grunted. “That’s one of the problems at schools nowadays. The teachers don’t make the kids mind. Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with rapping a few heads to get their attention.”

  With a deliberate shift of topic, Kate said, “I was hoping we could set up a time for Charlotte, Emmett, Ben and Rebecca to visit me.” Aware that four pairs of eyes fixed hopefully on her, she continued, “There’s so much to see in D.C. It would be a wonderful educational opportunity for them. And I’d love the chance to spend more time with them.”

  Dorothy sent an uncertain glance at her husband and said, “Well, you can’t have enough room for these four, Katherine. Best to just let them be.”

  “But, Mama,” Rebecca burst out, “I want to go.”

  “Me, too,” Ben put in. Emmett and Charlotte nodded in agreement.

  “I can make room. The kids won’t mind sleeping bags on the floor. It will be like camping indoors.”

  “They ain’t going.” Calvin Rose spoke with finality.

  Kate’s throat tightened, but her voice remained steady as she looked at her father. “It wouldn’t be for very long. I can come get them and bring them home. It wouldn’t be any problem for you at all.”

  He glowered at her. “You forgettin’ who’s in charge ’round here? I said they ain’t going, and that’s that.” His gaze swept the rest of the group seated around the table. “Ya’ll got your chores to do every day. Don’t be thinkin’ you’re gonna run off to the city and forget your work.”

  Despite the anger his attitude sparked in her, Kate tamped down the emotion to smile encouragingly at her siblings. She’d lost this argument with her father before, but determination would have her raising the issue again. She didn’t want her family to take the brunt of his ill temper once she’d left, so she let the subject drop. But his small-minded tyranny merely stiffened her resolve to win this particular battle in the future.

  The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Charlotte disappeared, as was her wont, to the room she shared with her sister. Kate spent some time outside with Rebecca, Ben and Emmett before she reentered the house to say her goodbyes to her parents.

  Her father never took his gaze off the ball game on the television. “Make sure next month’s check is on time. You know we count on it.”

  Kate stared at him silently for a moment, biting back the words that threatened to tumble from her lips. Whatever he might think, the checks didn’t come because he demanded them. She knew the extra money went a long way in providing for the younger children and eased her mother’s load of worry. Life with Calvin Rose wasn’t simple under the best of circumstances. Money problems only worsened the situation.

  Dorothy got up from her sewing. “We’ll expect you next month, same as always.” She stood stiffly in Kate’s embrace, accepting the kiss on her cheek stoically. Breaking away, she returned to her mending. “Go on with you, girl, no more of your fussing. Next time you’re home, William may be here. Might be we’ll have us a nice pot roast for dinner.”

  “We ain’t havin’ no pot roast,” Calvin declared, his brows lowering. “You know it gives me gas.”

  Dorothy sent her husband a weak smile. “Well, of course it does, dear. Don’t know what I was thinking. We’ll have us a ham, just like you like.”

  Her mother’s docile tone echoed in Kate’s head as she made her escape out the door. The air outside seemed fresher and tasted li
ke freedom. The run-down house seemed to grow as she walked away from it, becoming a vacuum that threatened to suck her back inside. With trembling hands she opened the car door and snapped her seat belt. It wasn’t until she was driving away that the pent-up breath lodged in her lungs escaped.

  You ain’t startin’ to forget where you come from, are ya?

  Her fingers clutched the steering wheel in white-knuckled tension. No, Papa, she answered silently. I doubt that will ever be possible.

  The hammering on her door would have splintered a less sturdy structure. Kate wiped her hands on a dish towel and looked at the kitchen clock. Barely nine o’clock. After arriving home from her parents, the silence and solitude of her home had been a soothing balm for her jangled nerves. She felt only curiosity as she hurried to answer the impatient knocking. Although she didn’t know many people in her condo unit, she had several friends from school who would often drop by unexpectedly. Swinging the door open, she was confounded simultaneously by the appearance and proximity of Michael Friday.

  He had one arm braced against the door frame. They were separated by only inches, and once again Kate found herself reacting to his nearness. His eyes tracked her movement, halting her automatic, almost imperceptible retreat.

  “Mr. Friday.” She made no effort to mask the wariness in her voice. She looked past him, saw he was alone. With the help of the lighting out front, she could make out the outline of an expensive sports car parked in front of her condo.

  “Hello, Kate.”

  Her voice was cool when she looked back at him and asked, “How did you know where I lived?”

  That grin was back in place, no less charming, no less lethal than she remembered. “The school directory. Actually, I tried calling you all afternoon. You were out.”

  She felt no compunction to explain where she’d been. It was no business of his what she’d done with her Sunday, and given his attitude the last time they’d spoken, she was more than a little suspicious at his sudden appearance.

  Kate studied him. His only concession to the unseasonably cool breeze was a leather jacket. He wore no gloves or hat, and the jacket was unzipped, revealing a denim shirt. When her eyes trailed back to his, she caught a gleam in his gaze as it wandered over her figure, and she was made self-consciously aware of her casual attire. Pushing her hair back over one shoulder, she wished that she’d restrained it that morning.

  “I rang the bell a few times, but when no one answered, I wasn’t sure it was working.”

  “Oh.” She looked from him to the bell and back again.

  “It isn’t.”

  His lips twitched. “So I assumed.”

  “The landlord has been promising to repair it.”

  His smile faded slowly. “I have something I need to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Muscles knotted as tension returned. “I think anything we have to discuss could be done at school tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “I thought about that. But I was afraid you wouldn’t have anything in your classroom to put these in.” He picked up a long white box he’d had lying on her wooden banister and offered it to her.

  Kate eyed it guardedly. “What’s that?”

  His eyes crinkled at her distrustful tone. “A peace offering.” He stepped forward and thrust the box into her hands. Fingers closing over it, she took an unconscious step back, which he took as an invitation to enter. He shut the door behind him. With the panels of the white steel door as a backdrop, he seemed bigger than she remembered, with a barely restrained masculine strength. He filled the small foyer in which they stood as much by the force of his personality as by his physical presence.

  “Something smells good,” he said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

  “It’s cookies. Every student in my class had a perfect paper in spelling this week, and I promised them a celebration.”

  A slow smile crossed his face. “I heard from Chloe. She can’t wait.”

  Kate didn’t return his smile. This wasn’t the same man she’d met with at school last week. He’d reverted to the charmingly casual manner of their first encounter, and alarm bells were going off inside her head. Michael Friday engaging and teasing was no less dangerous than Michael Friday in a temper. She hadn’t forgotten his parting threat. He might use different methods than her father, but they shared a similar need to control others. She’d do well to remember that.

  He nodded to the box she was holding. “Go ahead and open it.”

  His gaze held hers for a long moment before she did as he requested. Slipping the ribbon off the box, Kate lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper. An involuntary sound of delight escaped her when the twelve long-stemmed yellow roses were revealed. “They’re beautiful.”

  When her gaze met his again, he was watching her with an arrested expression, his face intent, no longer amused. Suddenly breathless, she parted her lips to speak, but no words came out.

  Then he looked past her, a slight frown between his brows. “Is something burning?”

  Kate’s eyes grew wide. “Ohmigosh,” she muttered, before turning and dashing back to the kitchen.

  The view from the rear was at least as tantalizing as the one from the front. Her tightly curved bottom moved enticingly in rhythm with her quick steps. Michael watched appreciatively as she hurried into the kitchen and bent over the oven door. Those shapeless jumpers he’d seen her in had done little to enhance what nature had blessed her with, and nature had, in fact, been more than generous. He’d been dumb-founded by the transformation a pair of snug-fitting jeans and V-necked T-shirt could have on her appearance. But it wasn’t really the clothes that had his hormones kicking into overdrive. It was seeing those riotous curls that had been left free to cascade over her shoulders.

  All in all, his ability to breathe had been impaired at roughly the same moment she’d opened the door. Which shouldn’t have surprised him, given his reaction to her both times they’d met previously. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the sight of Kate Rose in jeans, liked it very much.

  He followed in her steps, unabashedly ignoring the fact that he hadn’t been invited in. She looked at him warily before sliding a spatula under the next fresh cookie and placing it on the brown paper where she had the others cooling.

  “Can I do anything?”

  She shook her head but didn’t pause in her task. “No. I’m just going to get this next batch in the oven.”

  “How about if I put the flowers in water?” he offered. He didn’t wait for an answer before he started pulling cupboard doors open. “Where do you keep your vases?”

  “I don’t think I have any.”

  “Never mind,” he said, his voice muffled. When she turned back to him, he had two large jars in his hands. “These should do.” She was visibly uncomfortable at having him in her kitchen, browsing through her cupboards, he noted. He matter-of-factly went about filling the jars with water and arranging half the roses in each one.

  When the last pan had gone into the oven, she said, “The roses are gorgeous, but they really weren’t necessary.”

  “I thought they were,” he returned easily. “But if you’re feeling indebted, those cookies look pretty tempting.”

  Being pushy had its advantages, he thought a few minutes later as he munched on warm chocolate-chip cookies. Without that quality it was a sure bet that he’d never have gotten in her door and inside her kitchen, and it was certain that he wouldn’t be sitting at her table watching her pour him a glass of milk. He was feeling pretty expansive. The day was turning out much better than he deserved.

  “I’m a sucker for milk and cookies.”

  “You’re easily impressed.”

  “Not easily.” His gaze was direct. “But I am impressed. Very.” With fascination, he noted the delicate color that bloomed in her cheeks. “You’re being much more gracious than I deserve. I wouldn’t blame you for throwing me out after the way I acted at our other meetings.”

  “You didn’
t need to bring the flowers. I certainly understood your being upset.”

  “I wanted to apologize,” he said soberly. If he hadn’t been so engrossed in his own feelings of self-recrimination, he might have wondered at the shock widening her eyes. “When I left you at the school, I had every intention of contacting the superintendent and having you removed from your teaching position.” He had no doubt he could have done so, had he not come to his senses. The academy was a private institution, and like most private schools, it relied heavily on donations to maintain its outstanding educational reputation. “I know what kind of bastard that makes me, and I’m not proud of it. I hope you’ll accept my apology.” He watched her carefully, but her expression had blanked. No doubt she was agreeing with his self-assessment.

  Shame had a bitter flavor. He’d sworn long ago that he wasn’t going to be the kind of man who would use his power to hurt others. It still shook him to realize just how close he had come to doing so.

  She released a long breath. “Well. That’s…honest, at least.”

  Her reaction encouraged him. “So we’ve declared a truce?”

  A small smile crossed her lips. “I don’t think our disagreement could qualify as war. Maybe a minor skirmish.” Her gaze direct, she asked, “Have you had time to read through the information we gave you?”

  He drew in a breath, then expelled it slowly. “You’re tenacious, aren’t you?”

  “I can be.”

  “Well, to answer your question, yes, I’ve read it. And I understand your concern. There are some common points that I can see in Chloe,” he said reluctantly. “But I still think you’d find commonalities with almost any kids. I’m not convinced that Chloe has Attention Deficit Disorder.” He pronounced the name precisely. After a pause, he added grudgingly, “But I’m willing to learn more about it.”

  Her sudden smile sent thought momentarily careening away. Foolishly, he wondered for a brief second what it would take to get Kate to smile that way again, the pleasure reserved for him this time, rather than for his words.