Father to Be

by Marilyn Pappano

  Chapter Eleven

  Kelsey closed the bedroom door, then went looking for J.D. She found him in the kitchen, staring out the window over the sink with a can of soda clutched in one hand.

  She’d been both looking forward to and dreading seeing him since Saturday night’s kiss. It had been so inappropriate … and so sweet. On Sunday she’d run a route where she’d never caught even a glimpse of him, had avoided any thought of attending church, and turned down an invitation from Miss Agatha for dinner. When restlessness had driven her to her car that afternoon, she’d deliberately headed in the opposite direction from his house.

  Now she was here. On business. That was all that should be between them, all that she could allow between them.

  But knowing that didn’t stop her from wanting more. “What happens now?” he asked without turning.

  “Nothing,” she replied, but he continued talking as if he didn’t hear.

  “You want to put him in a home where he can be more closely supervised? Because you won’t get any argu—” He turned. “Nothing?”

  “Well, actually, I thought I would recommend to Reverend and Mrs. Howard that they seek counseling for their son.”

  His expression was blank. “Counseling? For Kenny?”

  “Apparently he’s quite a problem.”

  “And you made that determination after fifteen minutes with Caleb?”

  “No, actually I got it from you.” At his puzzled look, she explained. “In my office, my first day on the job. I was looking for a placement for the kids and the Howards were on my list. You said you wouldn’t recommend them because their son was ‘the bad seed.’ ”

  “So you believe this was all Kenny’s fault.”

  “No, but I believe Kenny was the instigator. Frankly I think Caleb showed great restraint in stopping with a bloody nose and a black eye.”

  “He didn’t stop. He was stopped. There’s a difference.”

  “The point is Caleb had a problem, and he dealt with it. I wish you would do the same.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  She pushed her hands into the deep pockets of her dress, then curled her fingers tightly as she approached him. “Did you ask him even once if he was all right?”

  J.D.’s face flushed crimson. “I tried to examine him. He wouldn’t let me.”

  “When? At the church, in front of the others? Or in the truck or here at the house, where no one would see?”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  “Did you show any concern at all for him when you got to the church? Or did you walk in and go straight to the other boy to examine his injuries?”

  His voice was stiff, his tone icy, when he answered. “All Caleb had was a split lip.”

  “And all Kenny had was a bloody nose and a black eye. A bit more dramatic, perhaps, but no more serious and no more painful than a split lip.” She sighed softly. “Did you even speak to him there? Did you ask, ‘Caleb, are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened?’ Or did you ignore him until you were sure the other kid was fine, then snap your fingers as if he were a servant and command him to leave with you?”

  The color along J.D.’s cheeks heightened. He set the soda in the sink, then leaned against the counter, gripping the rounded edge with both hands. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I handled it all wrong. I’m a lousy parent. So place him with someone else.”

  “I’m not going to remove him from your care. I just think—” Breaking off, she studied him. So place him with someone else. That hadn’t been offered as a flippant challenge, not with that uncharacteristically grim look in his eyes. It had been a request. A demand.

  She took a breath to steady her voice, but it didn’t work. “You want me to remove him from your care.”

  He shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at her. He didn’t like what he was saying—she knew him well enough to realize that—but he was saying it anyway. “I think it would be best. He’s not doing well here with me.”

  “Have you really given it a chance, given him a chance?”

  “We’ve had more than two weeks. He wants nothing to do with me. He’s angry with the world and he takes it out on me. He’s difficult, obnoxious, and obstructive. I just think …” His voice faltered, softened, as if the words shamed him. “I think he’d be better off elsewhere.”

  Her stomach was queasy, and her hands were knotted so tightly in her pockets that her nails bit into her palms. “So that’s it.” Her own voice was heavy with disillusionment and dismay. “He gets into trouble one time, and because you can’t forgive him for reminding you of your worst mistake, that’s the only chance he gets from you. You’re washing your hands of him.”

  J.D. said nothing in his defense.

  For a time there was only silence between them, cold, angry, bitter silence. Then Kelsey drew a breath, straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. “All right. I’ll begin looking for a new home for all four children. I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I find one.” She walked to the door, then came back. “You know, J.D., you might have been a hotshot psychiatrist in Chicago, but from what I see, you’re not much more than a coward here.”

  He didn’t have anything to say to that either. He just stood where he was and watched her go.

  She returned to her office but was too frustrated to concentrate. She made one home visit but caught herself making overly critical judgments about the care an eight-year-old was receiving from his obviously devoted grandmother. Deciding she was better off back in the office, she returned to start the paperwork that would remove the Brown kids from J.D.’s care, but the files she needed were in the cabinet and the drawer was stuck. Muttering curses, she gave it a great yank and succeeded far too well. The drawer glided free of the cabinet, and she tumbled to the floor. An instant later the drawer landed with a crash, scattering its contents across the room.

  “Good heavens, what was that?”

  “Are you all right?”

  Though she’d never felt less like a smile, she pasted one on her face before she turned toward the door. Three curious faces peered in—the secretary from next door, the accountant from down the hall, and a vaguely familiar woman, probably someone she’d passed in the halls or shared an elevator with.

  “I’m fine,” she said, sweeping papers from her lap and rising to her knees. One hip throbbed with the movement, but other than that, everything appeared to be working. “My drawer got stuck, but I unstuck it.”

  The accountant’s forehead wrinkled. “You really ought to get a file cabinet with stops on the drawers to keep that from happening.”

  Kelsey looked at the drawer with its releases on each side. “It has stops. I guess I somehow managed to unstop them. But everything’s okay. Thanks for the concern.”

  The secretary and the accountant left. The other woman remained in the doorway. “You’ve got quite a mess here. I’d help you sort everything out, but I imagine your records are confidential.”

  “Yes, they are. Thanks anyway.” She began gathering folders and papers into haphazard stacks. It would take hours to undo the damage, but, hey, she had hours. She had no place to go after work, nothing to do, no one to see. Her job was her life and was destined to remain so for a long time.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” the woman asked. “We met at church Sunday before last. You were in a hurry to leave, and I was waiting outside.”

  “Oh, yes.” The woman who thought J. D. Grayson was exactly what the Brown children needed, who’d sworn that Kelsey couldn’t ask for a better father for them. A fat lot she knew, Kelsey thought before reminding herself to at least give an appearance of friendliness. “Do you work in the building?”

  The woman’s smile was lovely. It transformed a rather ordinary face into something extraordinary. “My work takes me everywhere, though Bethlehem’s more or less my home base. How are the children?”

  She gestured, and Kelsey looked down at the papers in her hands. Photographs of Gracie
and Noah Brown were on top. “They’re fine.”

  “I heard about the little problem at the church. I’m afraid some parents indulge their children entirely too much. Is Caleb all right?”

  “He’s fine. I saw him at Dr. Grayson’s later.”

  “I hope J.D. understands that the boy did only what he thought was necessary.”

  “J.D. doesn’t understand anything he doesn’t want.” Kelsey shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t be discussing this with you at all.”

  “You look as if you shouldn’t be doing anything right now except perhaps rejuvenating somewhere. Tough day?”

  Kelsey smiled wryly as she surveyed the disorder surrounding her. “Yes, and it doesn’t look as if it’s going to get better soon.”

  “Oh, it will. Tomorrow will be much better. Of course, you’ve got to get through the rest of today first. But your biggest problem will be resolved tomorrow. Trust me.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d best be going. Take your time with this, and take a few deep breaths. Oh, and you might want to put some ice on that hip, or it’s going to bruise.” With a quick smile and a wave, she disappeared into the outer office.

  Kelsey rubbed her right hip. How had the woman known? And how had she gotten away yet again without giving Kelsey a chance to ask her name? And what made her so sure that tomorrow would be so much better?

  Logic, coincidence, and optimism. Simple explanations. Nothing more.

  Getting to her feet, she tiptoed over stacks of papers to the file cabinet, inserted the empty drawer, then gave it a tug. It opened smoothly, and the stops caught it two thirds of the way out. Second and third tests yielded the same results. Apparently, whatever had caused it to stick, then fly free of the tracks, had been fixed. She wouldn’t face this problem again.

  Now she just had to deal with the consequences, and then she would turn to the important job.

  She would find a new home for the kids.

  It was the middle of the night. The kids were asleep, hell, the whole town was probably asleep. Only J.D. remained awake. Considering how edgy he felt, he might never sleep again.

  He’d let Kelsey down and would soon let the kids down. Damn it, he wished people wouldn’t depend on him, wished they wouldn’t expect anything at all fern him. He couldn’t help disappointing them. It was just the way he was. He always let the important ones down.

  But Kelsey would get over it. She would never look at him again the same way, would never let him kiss her again, but it wasn’t going to break her heart or ruin her life.

  Too bad he couldn’t say the same about the kids—or himself.

  He’d spent a good portion of the night trying to imagine giving them back. He’d tried to envision himself packing their clothes, books, and toys and carrying the bags to her car. Saying good-bye to Gracie, Noah, and Jacob. Looking Caleb in the eye and saying good-bye to him. Turning their room back into an office, with his desk instead of bunk beds, his things on the shelves instead of theirs, his pictures on the wall. Going to bed without the hall light on. Going for a run without getting Mrs. Larrabee to stay with them. Coming home from work to an empty house and dinner for one, followed by an evening alone.

  No matter how he tried, he couldn’t bring the images into focus.

  When Noelle had asked him to take the kids, he’d agreed to more than simply housing and feeding them. He’d accepted obligations, responsibilities. He’d known there would be difficulties, Caleb being the chief one, and he’d said yes anyway. He couldn’t back out now because the difficulties were more difficult than he’d wanted. He couldn’t live with himself if he did.

  After pacing the length of the apartment for the hundredth time, he stopped to pick up the cordless phone, punched the auto-dial number that would ring his father, then resumed pacing. It was late for a talk-some-sense-into-me call, but his dad wouldn’t mind. He’d always been there for J.D., night or day.

  The way no one was there for Caleb.

  The hello came on the third ring, the voice strong and vital.

  “Dad, it’s me, J.D.”

  His father chuckled. “I may be old, but I’m not forgetful, not even in the middle of the night. I remember my only child’s name. How are you, son?”

  Parents asked their children that simple question all the time, and it was nothing more than that. A simple question with a simple answer. How are you? I’m fine. Or Not too bad. Or I’ve been better.

  But when Bud Grayson asked, it wasn’t so simple. Neither was the answer.

  “I’m …” Relatively healthy. Slowly healing. Sometimes finding life worth living. All those answers were true. So was the one he gave. “I’m having some problems.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “I’ve got temporary custody of four kids whose parents abandoned them.”

  After a long silence, Bud’s question came hesitantly. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “No.”

  “Then, why …?”

  “I don’t know. I felt … I don’t know.” It was the only explanation he offered. Pitiful as it was, it was enough for his dad. “They’re good kids, Dad. They’re smart and innocent and scared as hell. They’d break your heart.”

  “But have you forgotten, J.D.? Your heart’s already been broken.”

  And that was the problem. The repairs he’d managed in the last two years and four months were still fragile. It wouldn’t take much at all to undo all his hard work, to put him right back where he was when he’d come here. It wouldn’t take any more than Caleb, keeping him or giving him up. Helping him or letting him down.

  “Tell me about these kids, son.”

  He settled in the darkened living room by the window. “Gracie’s the youngest. She’s five. She’s a pretty little girl, brown hair, brown eyes. Noah’s six. He thinks leaving and being left are the most natural things in the world. He doesn’t expect anyone to stick around.”

  And what would he think when Kelsey came to take them to a new home? Would he believe that just like their mother and their father, J.D. had abandoned them too?

  The hell of it was, he’d be right.

  “Jacob is eight. He’s a big baseball fan. He’s never played, though, because the kids at school wouldn’t let him. He watches it on TV every chance he gets, and with cable, he gets lots of chances.”

  J.D. fell silent again, but this time it stretched on. Finally Bud cleared his throat. “That’s only three. What about the oldest one?”

  Tension knotted the muscles in his jaw, his neck, his fingers. “His name is Caleb. He’s twelve years old, and he hates me.” And sometimes I hate him too. I hate him for reminding me of Trey. For being wounded like Trey. For not being Trey. And yet, for the same reasons, he felt obligated to him. He owed Caleb.

  “Kids that age can be difficult,” Bud said quietly.

  Oh, yeah. And relating to them could be damn near impossible. And not trying could be even more impossible. And failing …

  Neither he nor Caleb might ever recover.

  “How long have you had these children?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “And it took you this long to tell me. Were you afraid of what I might say?”

  J.D. smiled in the dark. “I’ve made bigger mistakes and survived what you had to say. I’m not afraid this time.”

  “And that’s what these kids are? A mistake?”

  “No. They’re the third hardest thing I’ve ever done.” His father knew what the first and second hardest things were, so there was no need to explain.

  “Nobody ever said being a parent was easy.” Unexpectedly Bud chuckled. “The once-foremost psychiatric expert on kids should know that.”

  “I do know in theory. But in practice …”

  “It’s harder, isn’t it? All that advice that seems so reasonable in your safe, secure doctor’s office isn’t reasonable at all when applied to living, breathing kids, especially kids who’ve been hurt.” There was a creaking of bedspr
ings, then a barely hidden yawn. “I’ll tell you what, son. Why don’t I mosey on up to New York and give you a hand with these temporary grandchildren of mine?”

  “You would do that?”

  “I think the Tuesday-night bingo gang can get along just fine without me for a while.”

  “Quarters are a little cramped here,” J.D. warned. “The only place left to sleep is the sofa.”

  “I’ve slept on sofas before.” Another yawn. “I’ll let you know when my plans are set. In the meantime, don’t worry too much. Just treat those kids like the people they are. Like the gift they are.”

  Appreciating Caleb as a gift. That was even harder to imagine than giving him up. But he wanted to try—for his own sake, for Caleb’s, for Trey’s. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

  After a brief silence Bud said, “I love you too, son.”

  J.D. disconnected, tilted the phone so the light outside shone on the keypad, then punched in another number. It rang a few miles away, until the sixth ring was followed by a bang, a thud, then a sleepy voice murmuring “H’lo.”

  “You can forget about finding another placement for the kids.”

  “Wha—Who—J.D.?”

  “I’m keeping the kids, all of them. So don’t even think about trying to put them someplace else. Understand?”

  In the silence that followed, it was all too easy to imagine Kelsey waking up, pushing her hair back from her face, stretching her arms high over her head. She cleared her throat, then said in a more normal, less sleepy-soft voice, “Okay, I’m awake. Now, what did you—”

  “I’m keeping the kids.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “They were placed in my care, Kelsey. They need to stay there.”

  “At this point that’s not your decision to make. I’m no longer convinced that living with you is in their best interest.”

  That hurt, though he had only himself to blame. He pushed the ache away, though, and concentrated on his argument, his plea. “Don’t do this, Kelsey. Don’t fight me on this. You accused me this afternoon of giving Caleb only one chance before washing my hands of him. Don’t do the same to me.”