Babysitter Bear

by Zoe Chant

  Then the gathering at the bonfire began to break up. Kids and teens, even some of the college-age adults, ran cheering into the snow, or spun around to catch snowflakes in their mouths.

  Paula looked up at Dan. Her hat had slipped to one side at some point when they were skating, and now the flakes were settling in her curly, sweat-damp hair. They landed on her lashes. One settled on the full swell of her bottom lip and crumbled slowly to a bead of water.

  Dan followed that snowflake down, mouth opening, and she stood on tiptoe to meet him halfway.

  At the mini golf place, he'd had only the barest taste of her, enough to whet his appetite for more. Now he found that she tasted as wonderful as she smelled, a hint of cherry lip gloss and the cold sharp flavor of the snow—and the taste of her, spicy and warm and female, calling to something deep inside him.

  Their lips parted, but they stood with their foreheads together, his hand behind her head and her gloves clasped on either side of his face.

  "I am officially considering this our first kiss," Paula said breathlessly. "Sir Putts-A-Lot is a terribly unromantic place for a first kiss."

  This, on the other hand, was almost ridiculously picturesque. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie, with the gently falling snow and the crackling of the bonfire, the smells of woodsmoke and cinnamon. Christmas was almost a month behind them, but it appeared that Autumn Grove hadn't gotten the memo.

  And the taste of his mate was on his lips. He wanted to savor it forever. He wanted more.

  He sampled her full, warm lips again, and she pressed closer to him. The dusk provided a kind of privacy, the falling snow even more so.

  And then a voice yelled, "I knew it!"

  Paula and Dan broke apart, startled.

  Austin came stomping out of the falling snow. "Get away from my mom!"

  "Austin, no!" Paula exclaimed. "He's fine—I'm fine—"

  But Austin was worked up into a fury that had tears standing in his eyes. "I don't want you here," he yelled at Dan. "We were fine without you. My mom doesn't need a boyfriend and we don't need you!"

  Paula reached for Austin's arm, but he shook her off.

  "Stop it," she told him.

  Dan had no idea how to handle this. His bear's protective instincts were torn between defending Paula and defending her cubs, and he was caught in the middle. He moved casually forward, between Paula and her furious, raging son.

  "I don't mean any harm to your mother," he told Austin. "Or to you or your sister. Trust me, I—"

  "You're not my dad!" Austin yelled. He planted his hands on Dan's chest and shoved him. "I already have a dad, and he's a jerk! I don't want another one!"

  "Austin!" Paula snapped. She pushed past Dan and seized Austin's jacket in a firm grip. She gave him an abrupt shake. "You're completely out of line. Go to the car now. We're going home."

  There was a moment when Austin stood there, feet planted, visibly defiant. He was taller than Paula now; he wasn't a small child anymore, and the bond of parent-child authority between them wavered.

  And then his defiance crumbled. He really was just a kid, and he seemed to become abruptly aware of it. Not looking at either of them, he ducked his head and turned around, storming off toward the parking lot.

  Paula drew a shuddering breath and wiped her gloved hand across her eyes.

  "Are you okay?" Dan asked quietly. He hesitantly touched her arm, and when she didn't pull away, he put his arm around her shoulders.

  "I'm fine," Paula said, and then raised her head and abruptly became aware—as Dan did, in that same instant—that they had attracted an audience. "I'm fine!" she snapped at everyone around them, while Dan moved wordlessly to block her from view.

  Gaby came out of the crowd, carrying Mina. "What's wrong? We heard shouting."

  "Austin got upset, that's all." Paula nudged Dan. "It's okay," she muttered. "I really am fine."

  She didn't sound fine, or smell fine. But he had to take her word for it.

  "Are you good to drive?" he asked her quietly. "Because I can—"

  "No. I'm fine. I just need to find Lissy—is she with you?" she asked Gaby.

  Gaby nodded. "Derek has both her and Sandy—oh, here they come."

  Paula leaned in to Dan, and there was a moment when they were on the verge of another kiss, but instead, she gave him a tight one-armed hug.

  "I had a very nice time," she said quietly. "It was great. I want to do this again."

  "Me too," Dan said softly, and giving in to temptation, he kissed her forehead.

  He felt as if he should say more, as if he should do more to stop her from walking away. Now she was going, walking into the dark and falling snow. And some desolate part of him hoped that she wasn't walking away forever.

  But she turned back. There was just enough light left in the sky that he could see her face clearly, and her smile. That wasn't the smile of a woman who was walking out of his life. It was warm and inviting. It promised much more to come.

  "Say goodbye to Dan, Lissy," Paula called, and Lissy waved vigorously, her little mitten flashing in the dark.

  "Goodbye, Dan!" Lissy yelled.

  "Goodbye," Dan called, and then, directed mostly at Paula, "See you later?"

  Paula beamed. It was a smile that could melt solid ice, a smile that closed the distance between them and made him feel, for a moment, as if she was in his arms again.

  "See you soon," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but he heard it with more than just his ears: it went straight to his heart.

  Paula

  Austin was quiet and sullen for the entire drive home. Paula had no idea what to say, and she didn't want to have that conversation in front of Lissy, even a Lissy who was half asleep in the backseat.

  "You were very rude to Dan," she said at last, quietly, when she was pretty sure Lissy had drifted off. "You don't have to like everyone I like, Austin, but I have to draw the line at hitting people and shouting at adults."

  Austin mumbled something under his breath.

  "If you have something to say, please say it where I can hear it."

  "You don't ever ask me what I want," Austin muttered. "Or Lissy either. I'm thinking of her too, even if you aren't."

  There was a stabbing feeling under her ribs, as if a steel wire had constricted around her heart. "I'm thinking of both of you."

  "Yeah? After everything with Dad, now you're just going to—"

  "Just because things didn't work out with your father, Austin, doesn't mean I plan to be single forever." Her voice came out louder than she meant it to. Mindful of Lissy in the backseat, she moderated her tone. "I always put you two first. I hope you know that."

  Austin muttered something that sounded like, "Can't prove it lately."

  Paula blew out a breath through her teeth. Don't have this conversation if you can't keep your temper, she told herself sternly.

  "We need to have a serious conversation about this," she said quietly. "And about your behavior lately in general."

  There was a jerk; Austin stiffened all over in his seat, like she'd caught him doing something illegal. "What do you mean?" His voice cracked a little. He had always been an honest kid, and he was a terrible liar.

  Her heart sank. What was he into?

  "Are you doing drugs?" she asked, point blank. Might as well just get it out in the open.

  Austin made a tiny weird sound. He relaxed a little and looked out the window. "No."

  That sounded sincere.

  "You've been cutting class and missing your shifts at the diner. I don't know what to think."

  "I just want to have fun, Mom. Stop giving me the third degree."

  Paula didn't know what else to say. She pulled through the alley and into the garage.

  "You know you can come to me about anything, right?" she said a little bit desperately, as the garage door rolled down behind them.

  "Yeah right," Austin said. He undid his seatbelt and opened the car door. Paula reached for him and found her
self grasping at air.

  "Austin, we have to talk. Don't you walk away from—"

  The door slammed. In the backseat, Lissy made a startled squeak.

  "Are we home, Mom?" she asked sleepily.

  "Yeah, baby. Just a minute."

  Paula clasped her hands on the steering wheel and rested her forehead on them for a minute.

  She desperately missed the days when Austin was just a little boy Lissy's age, who would crawl into her lap and put his arms around her neck. She had read about divorced parents who ended up taking it out on their kids, especially once the kid got older and started to resemble their other parent, and she had sworn she would never be like that. It was true that she saw a little of Terry in Austin, but it was all the best parts of Terry, and none of the worst. She loved Austin desperately. He was a smart, kind kid with an interest in science, and she was so proud of him. Up until this year, he had never been in trouble, never even missed class except when he was sick.

  She had wanted so badly, if and when she started to date again, for her kids to get along with her new boyfriend. It meant so much to her.

  Now it seemed like the opposite was happening.

  But she couldn't push aside everything that she felt in Dan's arms. There had to be some way to reconcile Austin's dislike of Dan with her need to have both of them in her life.

  She felt like she was having to walk a tightrope between her budding relationship with Dan and her urge to protect and care for her kids, between her responsibility to Austin as his mother—to listen to him and support him—and the need to stop him from getting away with his recent behavior. She didn't know what to do.

  "Mom?" Lissy said, with a yawn.

  "Yeah, honey." Paula took a deep breath and opened the car door. "Why don't you go change into your pajamas, and I'll be up in a minute to say goodnight."

  At least Lissy's problems were still easy to fix. Whatever was going wrong with Austin, though, wasn't simple.

  In the morning she woke tired and restless and conflicted. She and Austin had walked on eggshells around each other for the rest of the evening, with Austin spending most of the time holed up in his room. Selfishly, she hadn't wanted to blow it up into another fight by pushing to have the conversation they really needed to have. Now she wished she'd just gotten it over with. But she didn't even know how to open a talk like that when she still hadn't figured out where things were with Dan. She had thought of texting him fifty times last night, but stopped herself every time.

  The first thing she did, by habit, was check her phone. There was a text from Dan.

  Just checking you got home okay last night. Hope you have a good day at the diner!

  Paula had to blink back tears, and for a minute she just sat and held the phone. She hadn't actually thought Dan would walk away from her just because of Austin being rude to him, but ... well ... sometimes boyfriends left for smaller things that that.

  Is he my boyfriend? Is it that serious?

  It was, she knew. It was rapidly growing far more serious than that. She had felt a fire last night, driving out the winter night's chill, that could all too easily build from a small flame to a raging inferno that would put the Garber Park bonfire to shame.

  But she had to take it slow for the sake of the kids. She couldn't let this turn into another Terry situation, for their sake and for her own.

  Before she could weaken, she texted, Got home great, thanks! Hope you did too.

  She forced herself to send it before she could add more. Like, I had a really wonderful time yesterday. Like, your kisses are amazing. Like, I can't stop thinking about you.

  Already there was a silly smile creeping onto her lips, just at the thought of him.

  She forced herself out of bed and into the shower. Wrapped in a bathrobe, with her wet hair piled on her head, she moved quietly through the house, making sure that Lissy's lunch was in the fridge and her homework was in her frog backpack. The door to Austin's room was shut, and Paula stood outside it for a long minute and then went into her room to get dressed for work.

  One of her increasingly serious problems with Austin's unreliability was that she could no longer trust him to get his sister ready for school in the morning. For the last couple of years, with the house right across the alley, she had felt comfortable enough leaving Austin to take care of getting himself and his sister off to school. Now she began to realize that this was a tremendous amount of unfair responsibility to put on a kid who was only in the 10th grade. No wonder he was starting to show the strain.

  Maybe she could start having someone—a sitter, a neighbor, maybe even Dan—come in for a couple of hours in the morning while she opened the diner.

  For today, I'll just duck back to the house for an hour or so after we get through the early rush, she thought as she let herself out into the predawn chill. The stars were sharp and clear overhead, making her think of long-distance star-watching with Dan the other night. Her partly dried hair instantly started to freeze. I know it's busy around that time, but I'll call a couple of the part-time waitresses and see if any of them can start doing earlier shifts. I can't keep treating Austin like a miniature adult. He's only a kid. It's not fair.

  Wrapped up in these thoughts, she crossed the alley to the door leading into the kitchen. Mitch usually got there about the same time she did, and today was no exception; the door was already unlocked, and she let herself in, expecting the usual heat of the brightly lit kitchen with Mitch firing up the griddle and starting the coffee.

  Instead, she stopped in her tracks, shocked to her core.

  One thing Mitch always, always did was leave the kitchen immaculate before he clocked out. He gave the general impression that his personal life was a mess, possibly involving jail at some point in the past, but he was absolutely reliable about making sure that the pots were all scrubbed, the counters wiped down, every sack of trash taken out.

  But even at its worst, after they had been slammed for hours with the entire high school basketball team or the aftermath of the Autumn Grove Garden Society Flower Show, it had never looked anything like this.

  At first she couldn't even tell what she was looking at. The neat world of the kitchen—her parents' kitchen and now hers—was unrecognizable chaos. Slowly she began to pick out specific items: overturned mixing bowls, smashed eggs, bags of flour torn open, the top of the burger grill ripped off, torn-open packages of salad and buns littered everywhere ...

  Mitch was in the middle of it with a broom. "Miz DeWitt," he said, and his face was a study in tragedy. "I was hoping to get some of this cleaned up before you came in."

  "No, you shouldn't have to deal with it on your own," she said, dazed.

  She couldn't seem to feel anything properly. It was too much to take in. Everything was going to need to be thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, most of the food thrown out. She couldn't even walk through the kitchen to see if the dining area was like this too.

  "Have you," she began shakily, and waved a hand toward the rest of the business. "Have you been out there?"

  "It's not too bad," Mitch hurried to reassure her. "Some chairs tipped over, that's all. Nothing broken, not like in here."

  Paula nodded and drew in a shuddering breath that hitched in the middle. "Who did this? Who would do this?"

  Mitch swallowed and reached for a folded piece of paper on the bare range top. "This was taped to the door. I, uh, took it off before I knew what it was. I don't know if you want to save it for the police."

  It was a piece of yellow lined paper. Paula took it with shaking hands and opened it.

  Just a reminder, Mrs. Raines. We don't care about you, but we want your ex. Stop hiding him, or next time will be worse.

  Very carefully, she refolded it. "Do you see any bags, or ..."

  Mitch produced a clean Ziploc bag. She put it in, feeling a little stupid, like someone playing CSI. It wasn't like she didn't know who had left it. She just had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

  "Y
ou live right across the way, don't you?" Mitch said. "Did you have any trouble?"

  Her heart clutched. She had a sudden horrifying vision of her porch lights broken, her house vandalized. Her children—but no, she had gone through her normal morning routine without any disruptions. And the house was locked up.

  "I don't think they came over to the house at all," she said. "I would have heard it. In fact, I don't know how I didn't hear them over here last night. The town is so quiet."

  But even as she said it, she knew what must have happened. Of course they hadn't done it late at night. They must have come earlier in the evening, when everyone was at the carnival, and no one was around to hear or see.

  She hadn't even thought to check that everything was okay at the diner when she got home. Why would she? There was no reason to think it wasn't.

  In a way it was a relief, because it meant the vandals hadn't been anywhere near the place while she and the kids were there. But at the same time, she was reeling from the horrifying invasiveness of it. How could she ever feel safe here again? Let alone safe to have her kids here?

  She didn't want to deal with this on her own. She couldn't.

  And then she realized she didn't have to.

  She had her phone out before she knew what she was doing, and was already texting Dan. It was like she had gone on pure autopilot.

  There's a situation at the diner. Please come. I need you.

  She regretted it as soon as she had pressed send. It sounded so desperate. So needy.

  But it was true.

  To her surprise, the reply came back immediately. The content of it was even more surprising.

  I already know. I'm on my way.

  How? she texted. Did someone call you?

  There was a pause this time before he answered. I just knew, came the reply at last. Gaby's headed in to work. I'm getting a ride with her.

  What did that mean, he just knew?

  Paula pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Then she got herself together and took charge.