One of a Kind Dad

by Daly Thompson

  Daniel came to a stop so suddenly that Mike and Ian rear-ended him. It was Lilah who had screamed, and now she seemed to be breathing hard and trying to pull herself together. Jonathan clung to her. The boys simply stared at Daniel.

  “Well,” he said to Lilah, reluctant to look her in the eye, “we were coming in from the car, and I saw you, um, rush forward, looking…”

  He sent another glance toward the sofa, where the boys were lined up, all perfectly fine and still staring at him. Bowls of popcorn sat on either end of the coffee table, and in the middle was a low, spreading bouquet of heavy white blossoms picked from the snowball bushes that hedged his property.

  He didn’t think he had any vases. He took a closer look. The container was Jesse’s sacred bean pot.

  Then he took a look around the rest of the room. Jesse had relaxed back into the rocker, his cane resting against the wall, and Aengus was lying on the round rag rug, standing guard. The room was neater than he’d ever seen it. The wide planks of the maple floor, original to the house, looked funny. They gleamed. Had someone scrubbed them?

  “We were playing charades,” Jonathan said, “and Mom was acting out the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “From The Wizard of Oz,” Will said, as if Daniel might have missed out on it.

  Behind him, Daniel heard a snicker. He’d remind his brothers later that they were the ones who’d gotten him stirred up.

  “I thought it might make a nice change from television and computer games,” Lilah said. Her face was pale, but she’d recovered enough to glare at him.

  “When we did Pirates of the Caribbean,” Nick added, “Jason was trying to show us the ocean making waves and…” he began laughing “he fell over.”

  “The waters were rough,” Jason said.

  “Want to play?” Will asked.

  “Sure!” Mike said.

  “I guess so,” Ian growled. “What do I have to do?”

  “It’s nine o’clock,” Lilah said. “I believe that’s bedtime.”

  Daniel exchanged a look with her. He tried to tell her with his eyes how stupid he felt, how sorry he was. “I think we can bend the rules once in a while,” he said. “It’s summertime, and there’s nothing I like better than seeing Ian and Mike make fools of themselves.”

  Her slight smile was almost like forgiveness. When Mike and Ian launched into the game, he did, too. He had a feeling they’d changed their minds about Lilah.

  TALK ABOUT BENDING THE rules, it was almost eleven when Daniel sent the boys up to bed and walked Mike and Ian to their cars. The fun hadn’t ended when the game was finished. Jesse had brought out wedges of the pies Mike had brought, lemon and chocolate meringue, coconut cream and something absolutely delicious called key lime pie. It was a first for Lilah, and it embarrassed her to realize she’d eaten two pieces of it.

  While they ate until nothing was left but crumbs of crust, which Will picked off the serving plate with a finger he’d licked, Daniel, his brothers and the kids engaged in lively conversation about everything under the sun, politics and soccer, recycling and movie ratings, the culinary arts and baseball. Lilah saw how Jonathan entered into the discussion and had clearly been accepted, even celebrated, and it made her feel warm inside.

  But the boys were in bed now, even Jonathan, who was having a ball being with other boys, knowing she was a shout away. She and Daniel were alone, and for the first time she didn’t feel like running away.

  “I’m sorry I freaked out,” he said as soon as the house was quiet. “I have this overprotective streak.”

  “Your entrance was a little overdramatic, I have to admit.”

  “I should go into show business?”

  “I said overdramatic.” She couldn’t understand why she felt comfortable enough to tease him. “Daniel…”

  He’d been headed toward the door, but he turned back.

  “I know you’re exhausted,” she said, “but sometime I wish you’d tell me about each of the boys. It would help me know what they need from me.”

  “What about right now?” Daniel said, although she could see that he was drained to the core by the tensions of the evening. “We should have a glass of Jesse’s cooking wine and unwind.”

  She feigned horror. “You’d veer from the Saturday-night beer and have a glass of wine? Off schedule?”

  “I have to save that beer for Saturday night. And besides, my whole household is off schedule.”

  “You have a point. I’d love a glass of wine.”

  He came back with wine and gestured toward the empty bowl of popcorn. “Wine and snacks,” he said. “How good are your teeth? We seem to have a few unpopped corns left.”

  “My teeth are excellent, but I’ve had so much pie I could care less about any more snacks.”

  He joined her on the sofa. “Before we talk about the boys, I have something for you.” He handed her a cell phone.

  Lilah shook her head and tried to return it. “Thanks, but no.”

  Daniel wouldn’t take it back. “You might need it. I put you on the family plan, so it won’t be expensive. But you should be reachable in an emergency.”

  She looked at him, then at the phone. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Now, about the boys.” He settled back on the sofa. “Starting with the oldest, Jason’s family lived in an abandoned school bus out in the woods, where his father was growing marijuana. His idea,” and Daniel’s jaw tightened as he explained this, “was that Jason could deliver the pot. Who’s going to be suspicious of a twelve-year-old kid on a bike?”

  Lilah moaned. “Horrible,” she murmured. “How could a parent do something like that?”

  “Well, the parent could, but the son couldn’t. When Jason refused to make the deliveries, his father kicked him out of the house. He lived on the street for a year before a social worker caught up with him and put him into foster care. Two other families gave up on him before he came to me. He was mad at the whole world.”

  “I wouldn’t have believed it,” she said. “He’s kind and helpful, and he has a wonderful, dry sense of humor…”

  “And he’s a big brother to the younger kids. So’s Maury,” Daniel went on, “whose past is even more tragic. His parents moved, and moved and moved again, trying to escape their debts. To his mother’s credit, she kept him in school—he was in fourteen schools in eight years, never knew where he’d be the next day. One day his dad just fell apart and shot Maury’s mom and then himself.”

  Lilah wondered how she’d ever thought her life had been hard. Her family had been poor, but that was all. Her heart bled for these boys.

  “Mike’s the one who turned Maury around,” Daniel said. “Maury’s a born foodie, just like Mike. He spends every minute he can at Mike’s restaurant, and as soon as he can drive himself, Mike will give him a regular part-time job. We’re bringing up a chef here.”

  “Do these boys have any idea how lucky they are to be with you?” Her face felt hot. She shouldn’t have said something so personal. “I mean,” she stammered, “they have you, and Jesse’s just like a grandfather, and your brothers are great with them—” She halted suddenly. Her only hope was to change the subject immediately. “Tell me about the other two boys.”

  “Quick sketches,” Daniel said and swallowed a yawn. “Will’s parents want him back as soon as they’ve recovered from really bad injuries in a car accident. And Nick…” His brow furrowed. “Nick’s the most complicated case I have.”

  He rested his forehead in his hand. “Apparently he was abandoned—or maybe he ran away. All he’ll say is that he can’t remember where he comes from. I can’t stand thinking what those nightmares must have been about.”

  He got to his feet and looked down at her. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You’ve done more for him with that dreamcatcher you made than I’ve been able to do in the last three months. I’m very grateful.”

  Lilah stood up, too. “I’m so glad it helped.”

  When she turn
ed toward him, he suddenly seemed too close. She could see his fatigue, the shadow of a blond beard on his cheeks and a vulnerability in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before.

  Why should he feel vulnerable to anything? He and his brothers had obviously had happy childhoods, Daniel was well-off, and she suspected Mike and Ian were, too. What did Daniel have to be sad about?

  And what was it about him that made her feel drawn to him instinctively, just as Jonathan was?

  “One more thing,” she said. “The kids are calling Jonathan J.J. It’s okay, but I just wondered…”

  “We’re big on nicknames around here,” he said, smile lines crinkling around his eyes. “It sort of says we’re all buddies, so everybody has a nickname. Except Jason,” he added, as if he were realizing it for the first time.

  “And you.”

  Their gazes locked. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a voice shouted, “Daniel!”

  It was Jonathan’s voice, and he’d called for Daniel, not for her. Daniel was already moving, Lilah on his heels, when Jonathan spoke again. “Nick’s got a splinter in his hand. A big one.”

  Daniel turned at the door and gave her a crooked grin. “Can you get home okay? I have to make one of those late-night house calls.”

  “DANIEL, DO YOU HAVE a minute?”

  Daniel was attending to a Jack Russell terrier, the beloved pet of Reverend and Mrs. Galloway. He slid a needle into the little dog’s plump haunch and allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation—this was the goosiest dog in the world and he didn’t even flinch—then looked up to see Dana Holstead standing in his doorway. “Dana!” he said. “Come on in. I always have time for you.”

  Dana, the head of Child Services in the valley, had been his first real friend in Churchill and also the woman who’d examined every nook and cranny of his character before changing his life by allowing him to become a foster parent. In her fifties and childless, she took each child who came into the Child Services system as a personal responsibility.

  “I can’t find anything negative about Lilah Jamison,” Dana said. “How’s she working out?”

  It was Dana’s job to be interested. Daniel probed the dog’s body for cysts and otherwise painful areas and said, “Great so far. Come to dinner next weekend and check her out.”

  “How is Banjo?” asked Virginia Galloway, sailing through the door like a ship’s figurehead, her substantial bosom leading the way. Apparently, she’d milked Mildred of all her gossip at last.

  “In perfect health,” Daniel said, thinking to himself that the dog was pampered, overfed and yet, somehow, as overactive as any other Jack Russell.

  “Of course he is,” Virginia replied, then turned to direct a critical gaze toward Dana and an accusing one toward Daniel. “Dana,” she said without much warmth.

  “Virginia,” Dana said with considerable warmth. “How nice to run into you. Banjo is such a darling.”

  Dana wasn’t a gushy person. If she was pandering to Virginia Galloway, she must have an agenda. “How old is he now?” she went on.

  “Fourteen,” Virginia said.

  “I would have guessed he was just a puppy!”

  Had Virginia thawed at all? Daniel couldn’t tell. She swept regally from the room, almost certainly on her way to protest the amount of her bill.

  “Lovely person,” Dana said.

  “Salt of the earth,” Daniel replied.

  “You think she could stall the foster center?”

  “Absolutely. She has enormous power in the community. I can’t imagine why.”

  “What can we do about her, short of rat poison?”

  “I don’t know. You did your best to soften her up, and it didn’t work.”

  “We have to find her weak spot.”

  “Good luck.” Daniel felt gloomy about the prospect.

  “Okay, now the good news. I got a letter today—three former foster children who’ve grown up and done well want to launch a fund-raising effort for your center.”

  He suddenly felt great. “That makes my day. Looks like our financial prospects are pretty good.”

  “Hailed from without, condemned from within,” Dana said dramatically.

  “A prophet without honor in his own country,” Daniel intoned.

  Dana snickered, then began to fill Daniel in on the details of the offer. Suddenly, she seemed to hear the barking and yowling coming from the waiting room, and the raucous squawk of the poetry-quoting parrot, Robert Frost, Bob for short, named for the famous Vermont poet. The bird had an impressive repertoire of his poems. Even now Bob was screeching, “And miles to go before I sleep.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I forgot you had a job. Gotta run before Bob Frost launches into ‘Birches.’”

  “THIS LOOKS GREAT, JESSE.”

  “Tell Lilah. She cooked it.” But Jesse was beaming like a proud father. “I gave her some tips, of course.”

  “If he hadn’t, it wouldn’t look—or taste—half this good,” Lilah said. It was true. She glanced with pride at the huge dutch oven filled with big chunks of pork in barbecue sauce, the giant bowls of rice and pinto beans and the basket containing three dozen corn muffins, which might or might not be enough. Without Jesse’s advice, that the pork didn’t have to be browned for a dish like this, she’d still be browning it.

  “Mexican food night,” Daniel said. “Perfect time for a serious family council.”

  Lilah felt uneasy, but the boys leaned forward, chewing happily. They were not at all dreading a “serious family council” but anticipating something interesting. Will dashed to the line of dishes on the kitchen counter to grab another corn muffin, and Daniel waited patiently for him to return.

  “It has come to my attention,” he said, forking up a bite of pork and rice, “that Jason’s sixteenth birthday is next week and Maury’s is just two weeks later. That means they’ll be eligible for junior driver’s licenses.”

  The younger boys stared at them with awe bordering on worship.

  “A license piles a lot of responsibility on the driver’s shoulders,” Daniel continued.

  Lilah listened. In her world, a driver’s license had just piled more responsibility on her. It had meant she had to do the grocery shopping, had to pick up her mother and then her father at work, because they only had one rattletrap car, and if she was going to take it to school in the morning, she had to pay the price in the afternoon. Homework had to wait until she’d fulfilled her family duties.

  “Not to drink,” Jason said.

  “Not to pile a bunch of kids into the car and take them places they’re not supposed to be,” Maury said.

  “And to help with some of the errands,” Daniel added.

  “No problem.”

  Lilah could tell both boys were trying to hide their excitement. “Buy groceries when we’re out of something important. Like popcorn,” Jason said, twisting his mouth into a smile that was so like Daniel’s it made Lilah smile. Daniel was Jason’s superhero, and as far as she could tell, he’d chosen a darned good one.

  “Let’s see. What else?” Daniel frowned.

  “Getting to their jobs on time?”

  That came from Jonathan. Lilah stared at him, amazed that he knew more about the dynamic of this family than she did.

  Daniel explained, “When they can drive themselves, Jason will be doing odd jobs on Ian’s farm every afternoon, and Maury can go to Mike’s Diner afternoons and weekends.” He paused, and the pause was dramatic. “Which means we have to add two cars. Used cars, naturally, so we’re going shopping for trendy junkers on Saturday. All of us,” he said, glancing at Lilah and Jesse. “Forget the cleaning. Hamburgers on the grill for dinner. This is a big event. We need everybody’s imput.”

  Lilah could think of worse ways to spend a Saturday than that. She attacked her own dinner at last, allowed herself a second corn muffin slathered with butter and thought about Jonathan. One day, in Daniel’s world, he could have a car, too. The rules for being a responsib
le licensed driver would have been drilled into him from the experiences of Jason and Maury, and she’d be able to relax, knowing everything that could have been done or said had been done or said.

  But surely it wasn’t possible for life to be that predictable. There had to be a catch somewhere.

  Chapter Six

  They stood awestruck in a semicircle around two distinctively different vehicles. Jason gazed, starry-eyed, at a miniscule sports car, its once bright yellow paint dimmed to lemon and scratched in spots, a noticeable dent in its right front fender. The black leather upholstery was cracked with age, and the hood, also black, creaked ominously as the boy tenderly raised it. The car was old, but it would never be a vintage classic.

  Maury stood at the rear of a station wagon just like Mike’s, but ten years older. Those extra years hadn’t been easy, either. He opened the rear hatch, examined the interior and closed it again. He’d done that five or six times while everyone waited for the salesman on the used car lot to finish the paperwork.

  “He’s figuring the volume and how to pack the food containers,” Daniel murmured. “When he’s eighteen, he can help Mike haul food to his catering jobs.”

  He sighed, a sigh of satisfaction. “Well, we did it. Yes,” he said to the salesman who’d just joined them, “where do I sign?”

  A few minutes later he said, “Jesse, you can ride shotgun with Maury. Lilah,” he turned toward her with an imploring look on his face, “would you mind taking Will and Nick and Jonathan home? Because I,” he said grandly, “get to ride in the sports car.”

  “It’ll be a treat for me. I’ve been wanting to spend some time alone with these guys.”

  The boys raced for her car without a protest and settled themselves into the backseat. Pulling out of the lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Daniel gazing at her, and the expression on his face startled her. There was warmth in that gaze, but Daniel was always warm. This was something else. Longing? When their eyes connected, she felt a stab of electricity that sizzled through her from head to toe. For a moment she held the contact, looking into the depths of his mysterious milk-chocolate eyes, unable to break the connection. Nor could he. She saw a flash of surprise cross his face, as if the brief spell had startled him as much as it had her.