Beneath the Night Tree

by Nicole Baart

  The bench seemed small to me, and I sat as far to one side as I could get without slipping off the hard edge. Parker took his cue from my stiff movements and gave me space, allowing just enough room between us for another. For Daniel.

  “So . . .” Parker cupped his hands as if he was cold and stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. “How have you been?”

  It was a strange question. Too innocuous, too normal. But where else were we supposed to start? “Good,” I said, testing my voice. To my surprise, it worked. I sounded like myself. “I’ve been great, actually. I have a good job. An amazing family. I’m back in school.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. You always were bright.”

  Parker’s faint praise felt patronizing. As if he had any right to assess my intellect. In his first e-mail he had made a point of telling me about his successful career as a chemical engineer at a biomedical corporation. It felt like a little stab, a small way of rubbing my face in the fact that he had achieved his dream while mine was tossed out with the hundreds of diapers I’d changed. I might not have realized my university goals, but surely I had other things he didn’t. Of their own accord, my eyes fastened on his powerful hands, studied the long fingers, the clean, pale palms of a white-collar worker. There was no ring.

  I tried to squelch my petty desire to hurt him, but I found myself blurting out, “And I have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m sure we’ll be married soon.”

  I regretted the words the second they were out of my mouth. “I’m sure we’ll be married soon”? I sounded like a child, a grasping, desperate little girl. I might as well have stuck out my tongue and said, Nah-nah.

  “That’s . . . great,” Parker muttered. He looked me in the eye and smiled weakly, but I thought it was forced and insincere.

  For a moment I believed his obvious disappointment was about me—about the reality that I, his former friend and lover, was off-limits. But then his gaze slid beyond me and he squinted in the direction of the pond, past the small grove of trees that blocked our view. Understanding washed over me. Parker had caught a glimpse of Daniel as he left the car with Simon and Grandma. And he was saddened by the thought that the child he fathered already had a dad—or almost did—not that I would soon have a husband.

  I expected Parker to broach the topic of our son right then and there, but he held himself in check. Abandoning the futile search for his long-lost offspring, he sat back and slapped his hands on jean-clad thighs. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’ve done so well. That you’re happy. And I’m sorry to barge into your life like this. My e-mail must have been a shock.”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

  “I’m grateful you agreed to see me. Really, I am. You didn’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  Parker’s chin tilted as he studied me, throwing his head back just enough to remind me of the arrogant twentysomething he had been so long ago. Much of that conceit seemed muted now. The truth was, there was something subdued and almost quiet about him as he sat beside me. Older, wiser, maybe even gentle in a learned, practiced way. The Parker I had known would not have been so patient and apologetic.

  “Thank you,” he said, surprising me.

  At first I wondered if my thoughts had been voiced aloud, but then I realized that he meant, “Thank you for agreeing to see me.” Grandma had taught me to be polite, and “You’re welcome” slipped out before I could imagine how silly it sounded.

  “I’m sure you’d like to know a bit about me,” Parker offered, shifting in his seat. His tone changed just enough to alert me that what he was about to say was a practiced monologue. I wondered whom else he had given his spiel to. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he continued, “but I won’t bore you with all the gory details. Suffice it to say, I started a company about a year ago that develops purified research proteins for pharmaceutical markets. It’s a fairly small operation right now, but the demand is great and we’re expanding rapidly.”

  I nodded and hoped he wouldn’t realize that I had no idea what he was talking about. Biomedical engineering was once my major, after all. The thought made me cringe. It was hard to grasp that the man before me was the boy who had once been my statics TA. Someone I trusted. Someone who was supposed to have my best interests at heart.

  “It’s really exciting stuff.” Parker smiled, and this time it was sincere. “We’re isolating and purifying animal proteins for use in human pharmaceuticals. The industry is limitless. It’s mind-boggling.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. But I cared little about his professional life. “Where do you live?” I blurted out, startling myself with the mundane question. And yet his answer mattered much to me.

  “In Minnesota. About two hours from here. It’s a little town called New Elm.”

  “Seems like a strange place for a biomedical company.”

  “Not really. We’re in the heart of agricultural America. Since we work primarily with porcine, bovine, and equine hormones, we have easy access to our supply source. Really, I could set up a lab anywhere.”

  Anywhere. It was an ominous thought. Mason was anywhere. What if he wanted to set up a lab here? to be close to Daniel? I shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” I lied because I didn’t want him to know that he was making me quiver.

  Parker’s coat was off before I could raise a finger in protest.

  “No,” I rushed to deter him. “No, keep it. I don’t need a coat.” I almost said, I don’t need your coat, but I stopped myself in time.

  “It’s no problem,” Parker said, settling the expensive jacket over my shoulders. “I have a sweater on and I’m hot anyway.”

  I didn’t see any way I could shrug off the coat without seeming totally petty and ungrateful. So I left it where it was, the smooth collar against the skin of my neck, the scent of his earthy cologne rising from the luxurious leather in a light cloud of masculinity. He had reverted to his earlier, distant position, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Parker was touching me, that his hand was against the arc of my warm collarbone.

  “No significant other?” I asked, praying my voice wouldn’t falter over the three simple words.

  “No.” Parker’s answer was absolute, rimmed by something that smacked of bitterness.

  We sat there for a minute or two in silence, our disjointed conversation lying in ruins at our feet. Our words seemed like the spent arrows of a tired battle, the sort of war that no one cared to wage. We had thrown listless gauntlets down, but it was already over. We had done our part and I could think of nothing else to say to prevent the inevitable. Any moment he would ask to see Daniel, and I felt like I had no choice but to acquiesce. Hadn’t I implied as much in my e-mail? Didn’t Grandma think it was the right thing to do?

  “Daniel doesn’t know who you are.” The confession spilled off my tongue, delivering a final, devastating blow.

  “I didn’t expect him to,” Parker admitted, but he sounded sad anyway. “Who should we tell him I am?”

  “A friend. You’re an old friend.”

  “But I’m not just a friend, Julia.”

  “It’s enough for now,” I said definitively. There was no room for discussion on this matter. “He’s five years old. You can’t just magically appear one day and expect to be his daddy. He’s lived a lot of life without you.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you want?” I demanded, desperate to finally know. “Do you want to see him and leave? Do you think you have a claim to him? a shot at partial custody or something like that?”

  Parker looked taken aback. “No, nothing like that. Like either of those things. I’m not here to satisfy some morbid curiosity. And I don’t have any intention of taking your son away. I’m no father.”

  I wanted to shout, Amen! but I merely stared at him, looking for a reason to believe what he was saying.

  “I just want to meet him.” All at once Parker seemed lonely. Sad. “And if it’s okay wit
h you, I’d like to see him again. And maybe again. And someday, if you’re ready for it and if he’s ready for it . . . I’d like him to know I’m his dad.”

  “I’m not ready for that.”

  “I don’t think I am either. But we can take it a day at a time.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, dialed up my mommy meter to high. “Are you a good man, Patrick Holt? Do I even want you in my son’s life?”

  Parker shook his head, but his gaze never left mine. “What do you want me to say? that I don’t gamble, smoke, or womanize? that the only drinking I do is the occasional beer with the guys? I wash behind my ears, Julia, and I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I even believe there is a God. I don’t know if I’m good. But I try.”

  It was the most honest answer I could have hoped for.

  “I’ll go get him,” I whispered.

  I tingled all over when I pushed myself off the bench, but it was an empowering feeling. A shot of pure adrenaline. I had no idea how Daniel would react or if Parker planned on keeping his word, but I sent an insistent prayer heavenward as my feet swept through the grass, and I believed that my plea was heard. Parker wasn’t the monster I had envisioned he would be, and in many ways I felt as if I had the upper hand. If I could handle this, I could handle anything.

  “Lord willing,” I whispered.

  Grandma spotted me long before I ever made it to the pond and raised her hand in greeting, in blessing. I wasn’t quite ready to talk to her, so I stopped where I was and wrapped my arms around me to watch Daniel come. From the droop of his shoulders I could tell that he was arguing with Grandma, that he was more interested in continuing his search for water bears than abandoning the swampy mess so he could spend time with Mom’s old friend. I didn’t blame him. But for some reason he was more apt to obey his grandmother, and in no time at all, Daniel was scrambling up the hill from the water’s edge.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said, pulling him into a tight hug when he was within arm’s reach. “Did you have fun?”

  Daniel wiggled out of my embrace and gave me a scathing look designed to send me on an extended guilt trip. “I don’t want to meet your boring friend.”

  I should have reprimanded him, but the poor kid had no idea what he was getting into. “How do you know he’s boring?”

  A one-armed shrug was Daniel’s only reply.

  I should have told my son to be nice to Parker, to be polite, but a part of me wanted my son’s absentee father to see him exactly as he was. No special manners, no affected niceties that would fade the moment we got in the car and pulled away from the park. Daniel was a kindergartner, a little boy who belched at the table, thought farts were hysterically funny, and more often than not forgot to say please and thank you. Parker was about to get a dose of reality—life with children was never easy or neat.

  Daniel sulked all the way back to the bench where Parker and I had fumbled our way through introductions and casual revelations. I was both relieved and disappointed to find that Parker still perched on the uncomfortable seat, his back ramrod straight and his head held high. Even from a distance, I could see that anxiety emanated from his every pore—there was a fine mist of tension around him that was almost palpable.

  “That’s him,” I said when we were still far enough away to speak without being heard.

  “Why are you wearing his coat?” Daniel asked.

  I had forgotten that the suede jacket still covered my shoulders. Slipping out from underneath the lightweight proximity of him, I caught the coat in the crook of my arm. “I was cold. I’m not anymore.”

  Parker either heard us or sensed our approach because he rose from the bench and turned to face us. We were mere feet away, and I could see something rush across his features, a mutiny of emotions, a tangle of hopes and dreams and fears and regrets. It looked for a moment like he might cry; the corner of his mouth shook for a split second, but then he composed himself and stepped forward with a smile.

  “You’re tall,” Daniel said.

  It was two words, but by the way Parker reacted, you’d think Daniel had shouted, “I love you.” Parker’s eyes lit up and he laughed out loud. A resonant, genuine laugh that was like nothing I had ever heard from his lips. He stared at Daniel, taking him in with long, hungry gulps of concentration as if he were memorizing every hair follicle, every nuance of movement and personality. “I am tall,” he eventually agreed. “And so are you. You must be, what, seven or eight?”

  Daniel grinned. “I’m five.”

  “Five? I can hardly believe that. You look much older than five.”

  As I watched my son swell with pride, I tried to reconcile my preconceived notions about Parker and his qualifications for fatherhood with reality. He was good with kids. I knew it in less than a minute. Innate child appeal is one of those things you either have or you don’t, and Parker had it in spades. Already I could see that Daniel was forgetting about the pond and his quest for water bears.

  “I’m pretty smart, too,” Daniel told his new friend. “My teacher says I have a big imagination.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Parker closed the chasm between us and extended his hand to Daniel like a true gentleman. “My name is Patrick Holt,” he told his son with all the formality of a stranger, “but you may call me Parker.”

  “Hi, Parker. I’m Daniel Peter DeSmit, but you can call me Daniel. Simon calls me Danny sometimes, but I don’t like it.”

  “Daniel it is, then,” Parker said amiably, but his brow furrowed in confusion at the mention of Simon. “And Simon is . . . ?”

  “Simon is my younger brother,” I cut in. “He’s ten. He lives with us.” It was enough of an introduction for now. I wasn’t willing to let Parker in any farther than need be.

  “Yeah, Simon is my uncle, but really he’s like my brother.”

  “You’re a lucky boy,” Parker declared. “I’d like to meet your brother sometime.”

  “You can right now,” Daniel said, taking Parker by the hand. “He’s down by the pond with Grandma.”

  The pure shock on Parker’s face was altogether authentic. I didn’t know if he was moved by the feeling of Daniel’s hand in his, by the innocent trust of a little boy who had nothing to doubt or fear, or if he was afraid of offending me, of wading in too deep on his very first meeting. In all honesty, I was just as stunned as he was. I hadn’t expected Daniel to be so friendly, nor had I planned on introducing Parker to the entire family on our very first awkward meeting. I floundered for something to say, some way to discourage Daniel’s ingenuous idea.

  “Honey,” I called, jogging a little to catch up, for they were already several paces away. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Parker has to leave pretty soon and we don’t want him to get his nice clothes dirty.”

  “We’re hunting for water bears,” Daniel informed Parker as if he hadn’t heard me. “I’ve never seen one before, but I brought my magnifying glass just in case.”

  “Tardigrades?” Parker asked. “Oh, you can’t see those with a magnifying glass, I’m afraid. They’re microscopic.”

  Daniel whirled to face the man whose hand he still held. “What?” he screeched. “I’ve been hunting water bears for nothing?”

  I tried to get Parker’s attention so I could put an end to this runaway train of scheming and bonding. But he was wholly fixed on Daniel; I wasn’t entirely sure he knew I was even there.

  “You can see some phytoplankton in pond water, like clumps of algae,” Parker explained, “and there are a few platyzoa that are easy to find. Have you ever seen a flatworm?”

  “Yes, lots of them,” Daniel sang, obviously happy that at least he could claim some knowledge of his adored pond life.

  “Did you know that if you cut a flatworm in half, each half will grow into a new worm?”

  Daniel looked awestruck. He dropped Parker’s hand and gaped at him with the sort of wonderment that he usually reserved for superheroes and Grover. It was unsettling. I went to stand behind him and placed m
y hands on his shoulders protectively.

  “Mom,” he gushed, “did you know that you can cut flatworms in half?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, I did know that. But I don’t think that now is the time to—”

  “Mom.” Daniel spun in my hands and wrapped his fingers around my wrists. He gave me his best puppy-dog eyes and said, “Please, can Parker help me find some flatworms? He knows all sorts of stuff about . . .” He searched for the complicated vocabulary that Parker had used and came up blank. “About water stuff.”

  I shifted my gaze to Parker and saw the hope in his eyes, the raw longing to connect with his unknown son in this particular way. It had never occurred to me before that Daniel was a scientist in the making. The constant parade of worms and frogs and snakes and pond life . . . He took after his father in more ways than his appearance.

  “Okay,” I murmured, the word falling from my lips like a sour pit. I said it quickly—spat it out, really—before I could change my mind.

  Parker looked as if he could kiss me, but he tore himself from my troubled stare and bent to address Daniel. “I have a microscope in my trunk.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m a scientist,” Parker said, clearly savoring the word and loving the effect it had on his son.

  “A scientist?”

  “Yeah, I study this stuff. And you’ll never believe this, but I have slides and dyes and all sorts of stains in a box, and we can use them on the critters we find.”

  “Critters?”

  “Critters, creatures, pond flora and fauna . . . you know, like water bears.”