Kitabı oku: «Instant Father», sayfa 3
Then he saw the library door open and a bedraggled woman emerged, looking like she’d just awoken from a nap. She held Michael’s hand but seemed detached from him.
He saw Michael look over at Tyson and frown. A shot of apprehension went through Paul, but Tyson was engrossed in making silly faces with Max and hadn’t noticed.
He reassured himself that the boy wasn’t in Tyson’s class. The evening at church had gone better than he’d expected, and he didn’t want anything to spoil it.
Charlotte’s peal of laughter bounced across the room. Paul looked over to see that she was giggling at the antics of a toddler. He noticed other eyes were on her, too. Michael’s mother’s frown mimicked her son’s.
Charlotte had said she didn’t know them. So why was the woman looking at Charlotte like she was angry at her about something?
Charlotte came over to Paul and Tyson and said, “I’m really glad you came tonight. I hope you had fun.”
“I sure did,” Tyson said.
“It was great,” Paul said. “I’m sure we’ll be back. Thanks for introducing me to Ralph and Joe. They’re great guys.”
“You’re welcome,” Charlotte said, her eyes shining with pleasure. “See you soon.”
Paul found himself thinking that was something he hoped would happen. He definitely wanted to see Charlotte again soon.
Chapter Four
On her way home from school on Thursday, Charlotte popped into the pharmacy to pick up one of her favorite women’s magazines to read with her evening tea, and also to ask Stephanie how the rest of the night had gone with the literacy volunteer group.
“I felt bad about leaving you guys,” she said. “But it was Paul and Tyson’s first time there, and I wanted to make sure that they felt welcome.”
Stephanie looked over the rim of her glasses at Charlotte. “I’m sure you did,” she teased.
“Oh, stop it,” Charlotte protested in a light tone. Because she was in her mid-twenties and not married, it went with the territory to be teased about every eligible man that came along. But still, she wished others would understand that she had no idea when she would seriously consider marriage. She was still trying to decide her life, let alone trying to incorporate a relationship into the equation, even with someone as undeniably attractive as Paul.
“All joking aside,” Stephanie said, “the group was great. We missed you, of course, but we got a lot done. You know, it’s not just reading that they need help with, it’s a whole bunch of practical things, like how to take public transportation, how to open up a bank account, that kind of thing.”
“I know.” Charlotte nodded. “We really have to make sure that we remember that many of them are starting a whole new life here and the things we take for granted are things that are totally new to them.” She added, “I noticed that boy Michael and his mother were there again, too. Has anyone had a chance to find out more about them?”
Stephanie shook her head. “I think a few people tried, but they don’t make themselves very approachable. I have the feeling that the church isn’t so much a place they want to be as a place they’re using to get away from something, if that makes any sense.”
Or from someone? Charlotte found herself wondering. But before they could explore the subject any further, an older gentleman stepped into the pharmacy and Stephanie excused herself to assist him.
Once she was home, Charlotte sliced up some vegetables into the salad she was making for supper. As she twisted open the cap on a bottle of salad dressing, she thought about the previous evening and the time she had spent with Paul Belvedere to welcome him to the church community. She prayed that it had been a good experience for him. She noticed that Tyson had been more outgoing in class today. Of course, Charlotte thought with amusement, he looked more than happy to let Max Hansen lead the way.
When Charlotte slid the silverware drawer open to get a fork, the drawer stuck as it always did. She frowned as she wiggled it gently to and fro. Finally the drawer opened, but instead of feeling satisfied, she sighed and mentally added it to the seemingly endless list of things in the house that needed fixing. Besides the sticky drawer, she needed more shelf space, the walls needed paint touch-ups, the leg on one of the kitchen chairs was wobbly and the light in the storage room remained out because she was intimidated by the light fixture cover.
She thought of Paul’s offer to come over and help, and as she pictured his large presence in her kitchen, it did funny things to her pulse again. She wondered how she would possibly muster the courage to go overseas if she was thwarted by a few repairs. She didn’t want to need Paul’s help, but maybe if he could give her a few pointers, she could handle the rest. She wanted to be a strong, independent woman who could take care of herself and who had something to give back to the world.
And, Lord, I want to stop feeling terrible about Anna every single day of my life.
Then she did what she always did when guilt and regret threatened to consume her: she brought herself back into the present by being practical. She grabbed a pen and paper and started to make a list of things she would need to do if she was truly going to consider the missionary work. At least that way she could feel one step closer to her goal.
When she began writing her list, her phone rang. When Charlotte saw her parents’ number come up, she briefly considered letting it go to voice mail, but then thought better of it.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
“Actually, it’s Dad.”
“Dad? Is everything all right?” Charlotte asked. Her father rarely called her.
“Yes,” he continued. “I just needed to let you know that I’m worried about your mother. Her health doesn’t appear to be improving and the doctors aren’t able to give us any solid answers. I’m actually afraid she might be getting worse. But you know your mother—you can’t get her to take a break from anything.”
Charlotte was concerned about her mother, too, but the timing of the phone call discouraged her from believing she’d ever get a chance to do the missionary work. But maybe she wasn’t meant to go and her role was to be there for her parents, because what had happened to Anna was her fault. And now, to add to that, she found it hard to shake the uneasy feeling she got knowing that Paul had doubted her good intentions when he’d heard she was thinking of going away.
But she had told God she was sorry. She had told Him so many times she had lost count.
Dear Lord, can’t I please be allowed to have a fulfilling life of my own?
“Charlotte? Are you still there?” She could hear the strain in her father’s voice. He didn’t like talking on the phone, so she knew he must be very worried to have called her.
“I can talk to Mom,” she said. “Try to get her to slow down, and we’ll definitely keep on the doctors to look for what’s causing her severe headaches. But, like you said, you know how she is.”
“Thanks, honey. I appreciate you trying,” her father said. “We’ll see you tomorrow for supper.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow night.”
After they hung up, Charlotte started adding more items to her list. But unspoken questions buzzed around in her head and she put the pen down. She decided that she would go for a walk to try to clear her head instead.
And, Lord, she continued her prayer, am I ever going to feel Your forgiveness?
Because, despite what the Bible said, she didn’t feel forgiven for not protecting Anna, not in the slightest.
* * *
On Friday morning, Paul was in a good mood—mostly because Tyson was in such a fine one. It was remarkable how quickly his life had been become impacted by the little boy—this adorable legacy of his sister.
“Max knows everything,” Tyson said as he shoved cereal into his mouth. “She’s going to show me at recess how to tie knots like they tie them for ships.”
“A good skill for anyone to have,” Paul said. Speaking of skills, he wondered if Charlotte would take him up on his offer to help fix up her house. He had to admit he was curious to see what kind of home she had and how it reflected her personality.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Tyson agreed, with enthusiasm. “Uncle Paul, can you believe that Max and I were in the same class and we didn’t even notice each other and now we’re best friends?”
“That’s something for sure.”
“Maybe you and Ms. Connelly could be best friends or get married or something.” Tyson nodded as if something obvious had been decided and set his spoon down.
“We’ll stick with friends for now, okay, sport? Take your dishes to the sink and go brush your teeth. We’re leaving in five minutes.”
A picture of Charlotte’s laughing face came into his mind. That made him smile.
After Paul had dropped Tyson off at school, he was relieved to get to work and let the busyness of the day take over and not give him time to think about other things. Although he fervently hoped that Mrs. Meissner wouldn’t be one of his customers today.
Constantly hiding his illiteracy was exhausting. It had always made him acutely aware of what people did and didn’t pay attention to. No one ever questioned him, for example, in a restaurant if he just pretended to glance at a menu and said, “That sounds good. I’ll have the same.” These days no one even blinked if you hadn’t read a particular book or news article, since it was so quick and easy to keep up with current events by other means.
But all of that didn’t make him feel any better about it. He was tired of hiding, but every time he thought of doing something about it, he was frozen with fear.
Once again, he wondered how it would feel to share his secret with Charlotte.
Just before noon there was a lull at the garage, and Paul settled himself on a stool in the back to eat the ham and cheese sandwich he’d hastily made that morning.
When Harold came into the back to find him, he braced himself for the worst. But all Harold said was, “It was great to see you at church on Wednesday night. That’s the kind of thing that people here in town really appreciate.”
“Tyson and I enjoyed ourselves,” Paul replied.
“Carry on, then,” Harold said cheerfully. “I’m heading out for a bit. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”
A few minutes after he left, the door chimed again, and Paul went to the front to see who had come in. He was caught off guard at how glad he felt to see that it was Charlotte.
She was back in teacher mode, wearing a gray jacket, white blouse and gray pants, and she had her hair smoothed back into a tidy bun. He thought about how she’d looked on Wednesday night with her jeans, and her soft, loose hair and her ready laugh.
“It’s like there are two different versions of you.”
Had he really just said that out loud?
For a second, Charlotte gave him an odd look.
“I...ah—” he fumbled for the right thing to say. “I mean, your hairstyles...”
“Oh...” Charlotte’s hand reflexively went up to the bun, and she smiled uncertainly.
“You look great both ways,” Paul said. “I mean...”
She also smelled good, the light scent of her soap reaching him, and he cleared his throat, feeling awkward.
Then Charlotte laughed and broke the moment. “It’s okay,” she said. “I think I know what you mean. I have to dress more professionally for work but, between you and me, I’d live in my jeans if I could.”
Changing the subject, Paul asked, “So, what can I do for you?”
“I, ah... I want to take you up on your offer. I mean, could you come over sometime and look at the things that need doing around my place?”
“I’d be happy to,” Paul said, grinning. “How about Saturday morning after breakfast?”
Charlotte nodded, looking like she had accomplished something big just by asking. “That would be great,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’m glad you asked.” He surprised himself with how much he meant it.
It didn’t mean he was getting involved with her, he was quick to remind himself. She was helping him with Tyson, and he was helping her in return. A fair exchange.
“Did Ty have a good morning?” he asked, returning to a subject that was safe for both of them.
“Yes, he had a great morning. We talked about different kinds of pets this morning. What makes a good one and what doesn’t. I apologize in advance, because I think you might be hit with the ‘Can I have a dog?’ question any day now.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
The door chime signaled another arrival to the shop.
“Charlotte? I thought I saw you in here!” Charlotte’s cousin Bridget poked her head into the office. “I’m just on a break and was on my way to grab a sandwich at Seth’s.”
“Bridget is an assistant at the vet clinic,” Charlotte explained.
“Hi, Bridget,” Paul said, trying not to be too obvious in his disappointment that his conversation with Charlotte had been interrupted. “Good to see you again,” he added politely.
“Nice to see you, too,” Bridget answered. She linked her arm through Charlotte’s. “Walk over with me, Char?”
“In a moment,” Charlotte said. Paul noticed that she didn’t seem in a hurry for their conversation to end.
“By the way, have you talked to your parents about mission work?” Bridget asked. “Just think, Char, this time next year you could be halfway across the world!”
“Yes, imagine that,” Paul said coolly. “Well, I won’t keep you ladies any longer, then,” he added. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch break.”
“Will you still be coming over to help out?” Charlotte asked hesitantly.
“Yes, I promise I’ll be there,” Paul said.
He could only hope that she took her own promises as seriously.
Chapter Five
What exactly was the appropriate thing to wear when a handsome bachelor was coming over to teach her about home improvements?
Charlotte’s nervous hands moved her clothes back and forth in her closet. She knew it was just a poor attempt to ignore the real question: Did Paul Belvedere like her or not? One moment he acted like he did, and the next it seemed like he couldn’t wait for her to leave, like when Bridget had come into Harold’s during their conversation at lunch yesterday. She told herself that it wasn’t so much that she wanted him to like her; she just needed him to trust that she was a good teacher for Tyson and had their best interests at heart.
Frustrated, she yanked a purple shirt off a hanger and found an old pair of jeans on the top shelf of her closet. She dressed quickly, put on enough makeup to look presentable but not like she was trying too hard, and checked to see that the coffee was on.
She had just finished putting her hair into a braid when there was a knock at the door. She took a deep breath and opened it to see Paul standing on her doorstep, holding a large toolbox. His masculine good looks made her foolishly wish that she had taken more time with her appearance. She pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t about them making a romantic connection. This was about learning practical skills that would help her to feel more independent. That’s what she wanted, after all—independence, not forming ties that were bound to break.
“Am I too early?” Paul asked, and Charlotte realized that she’d let him just stand there on the doorstep.
“Not at all,” she said hurriedly. “Please come in. Where’s Tyson, by the way?”
“He’s over at Max’s.”
As he stepped into the entryway, she tried to see her house through his eyes. She knew she was a tidy but not immaculate housekeeper, and that the decor reflected her personality rather than the latest trends.
“Come into the kitchen,” Charlotte said. “That’s probably the best place to start.”
Paul set the toolbox on the kitchen table and looked around. “I like your place,” he said. “It’s very you.”
She was inordinately pleased, but then something in Paul’s eyes shut down again. “I don’t mean that I really know you,” he said. “Just that I noticed there’s some variety in how you’ve fixed up the place, like you have different ways that you dress and wear your hair.”
Feeling self-conscious, Charlotte tugged on her braid. “I knew what you meant,” she hurried to say. “I don’t like everything matchy-matchy,” she added, thinking of her mother’s house, where the curtains matched the sofa and the wallpaper.
Silence hovered between them.
Paul cleared his throat. “So...what do you want to show me first?” he asked.
“Maybe we could start by changing the light bulb in the storage room,” Charlotte suggested.
With Paul coaching and encouraging, she climbed up on the step ladder and managed to remove the cover off the light fixture. Paul was good at explaining things without making her feel like she had six extra arms, none of which had any coordination at all. “I did it!” she said, back on the ground and feeling pleased with herself.
“You sure did,” Paul praised her. “Next I’ll show you how to hammer a nail without hitting your thumb.”
They moved on to the next task, and after they’d successfully hung all of Charlotte’s pictures, Paul said, “I’ve got to take you shopping for your own tool kit. There are things that no house should be without.”
“Or you could just make me a list,” Charlotte suggested. “I’d hate to take up more of your time.”
“I don’t mind,” Paul said tersely. “But I should probably leave soon, to pick up Ty.”
“Can you stay just a little while longer?” Charlotte asked. “I made coffee. I’d like to show you some hospitality to thank you for helping me.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Paul said, as he sat down at the kitchen table and accepted a mug of coffee.
“I think I might have some leftover Saskatoon berry muffins from Seth’s, if you like,” Charlotte offered.
Paul shook his head. “I had a big breakfast.”
As he sipped his coffee, Charlotte noticed that his eyes had taken on their weary look again, and once more she felt that Paul had concerns above and beyond being Tyson’s guardian.
She couldn’t resist making another attempt to reach him, even if that meant risking another rejection. “Paul, is there anything else you’d like to talk about? I mean it, anything at all. You know, helping a student involves more than just dealing with the student. I care about what’s happening in the families, too, because that can impact the student.”
Paul’s large hand curved around the cup, and he stared down at the coffee inside.
“It’s good of you to care, Charlotte,” he said with an expression that she couldn’t read.
“I know moving here has been a big adjustment for you,” she continued, “You’re probably not used to kids, and you’re still grieving your sister...”
He raised his eyes and gave her a long, searching look. She almost held her breath, thinking for a moment that he was about to open up. But then his eyes dropped again and he said, “I appreciate your concern, I honestly do. But Ty and I...we’ll muddle along. I just want you to keep making sure he’s doing all right in school, okay?”
“Of course,” Charlotte nodded, trying not to feel disappointed that she hadn’t gotten further with him, but she couldn’t force him to say anything he didn’t want to. Besides, maybe it was only her imagination that there was anything else to discuss.
Still, something needled her...
“I’m glad I got that light bulb changed and hung those pictures,” she said, noticing how Paul relaxed once she’d changed the subject. “Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome,” Paul said. “We’ll find a time to pick out some basic tools that will be handy for you to have around and I can come over again, maybe next Saturday? You’d mentioned painting, too. I expect you’ll want to pick out colors, but let me know when you want to get that done, too.”
Charlotte laughed nervously. “I was thinking of hiring a professional for that.”
Paul shook his head. “You don’t want to spend that kind of money. Trust me, you can do it yourself for half the cost. Besides, you might even enjoy it.”
He smiled at her, a relaxed, open smile, and she had to stand up quickly to take their coffee cups to the sink before he saw the effect he had on her.
Then Paul stood up. “I really have to go. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, we’re bound to run into each other,” she said, smiling at him.
Paul reached forward and gave her braid a gentle tug.
“I like this look on you,” he said. Charlotte blushed profusely as she walked him out.
After he left, Charlotte felt like a daydreaming schoolgirl. Then her phone rang and she grabbed it up, glad of the distraction.
“Hi, Bridge,” she answered.
“You sure had Anna on your mind at supper last night,” Bridget said, not wasting any time getting to the point. “But you know it’s upsetting for everyone when you talk about what happened.”
Daydreams of a handsome handyman bachelor quickly disappeared.
A million answers, none of them adequate, rushed through Charlotte’s mind. Finally she said, “I’m tired of never talking about her, and I think she deserves to be remembered.”
“I’m just concerned that you keep tormenting yourself with it, Char.”
Then the fight went out of Charlotte as suddenly as it had arrived and she felt as deflated as a damaged tire on the side of the road. She didn’t want to upset her family, even if it meant bottling up her own feelings. So she changed the subject to something she knew would interest her cousin.
“I decided you were right about Paul.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?”
“I asked him to come over and help me with some fix-it projects around the house. We got a lot done. So thank you for the suggestion.”
She didn’t tell Bridget about the questions that still troubled her. What good would that have done?
* * *
“Do we have a grocery list?” Tyson asked Paul later on that afternoon. “My mom’s grocery list was always on the fridge with a magnet that was a bumblebee.”
Paul tensed up a little. When Tyson mentioned his parents, he still never knew if it was going to be just a passing remark or a spiral downward into a session of grief and the impossible demand that his parents be returned to him.
But this time, Tyson just looked curious, and Paul breathed a sigh of relief. For the moment, he was free to think about the morning he’d spent helping Charlotte. She was a quick learner and was more adept at things than she gave herself credit for. He’d wanted to tell her so, but he was torn between being drawn to her and keeping up his walls. Especially since she was going to leave town soon. He tried to tell himself that he was only concerned for Tyson’s sake, but it was getting harder and harder to do that.
“Uncle Paul?” Tyson repeated. “Do we have a list?”
“It’s all up here,” Paul tapped the side of his head with one finger and pulled a funny face that made Tyson laugh. He relied on his memory, compensating for not being able to read.
“Saturday we call Grandpa Glen and Grandma Pat, right?” Tyson’s question steered his thoughts away from Charlotte.
“Yes, that’s right.” He believed it was good for Tyson to connect to whatever family he had left, even if he was never sure how much the phone calls meant to his parents.
They had retired to Victoria, British Columbia, and during their Saturday evening phone visits, they chatted enthusiastically about life in their senior living complex, which, as far as Paul could tell, provided plenty of friends, lots of activities and a variety of delicious meals. He knew that both of his parents had worked very hard to provide for their family throughout the years, so he tried not to begrudge them a well-earned early retirement. But it reminded him of the way they had always been such a self-contained unit—working long hours to provide for his and his sister’s physical needs but letting the details of their lives slip through the cracks. Details from the small, like Erica and her best friend having a brief fight, to large ones... Paul closed his eyes briefly.
That was then. This is now. I’m not that boy anymore.
He knew they must have grieved Erica’s loss greatly. But they’d handled the funeral and other details and carried on with their lives in such a pragmatic way it was almost impossible to tell exactly how they felt about losing their only daughter.
Paul vowed again that Tyson would never have to wonder how Paul felt about him.
At the grocery store, Paul was surprised when he spotted Charlotte in the hardware aisle. She held two packages of nails in her hands and frowned at both of them. Her frown made him want to grin from ear to ear. She was wearing blue jeans, a pair that looked newer than the ones she’d worn that morning, and a mint-green sweater. But she had her hair pulled back, teacher style—a hybrid of the two Charlottes.
He suddenly realized that she was trying to pick out nails on her own, even though he’d told her he was willing to help. He wondered what that meant.
Tyson caught sight of her, too, and called out, “Ms. Connelly!” as he careened toward her. “Hey it’s me, Tyson!”
“It is you!” Charlotte said to Tyson, matching his enthusiasm. She ruffled his already unruly hair. “It’s great to see you. I see you’re helping your uncle get the grocery shopping done.” She turned her gaze to Paul. “I guess we’re seeing each other again even sooner than we thought.”
He nodded, trying to decide if she was embarrassed or if he was only imagining it.
“Uncle Paul doesn’t use a list,” Tyson said, with an eye roll that made his feelings clear on the matter.
“His memory must be better than mine,” Charlotte said. “I’d be lost without one.”
Paul didn’t want any more conversation about memory or lists, so he changed the subject. “You look like you could use some help there,” he said, indicating the nails. “Though I thought I’d made it clear that I’d help you with that.” He looked pointedly at her.
“I know,” Charlotte said with an shy smile that tugged as his heart. “But I feel silly asking. I should be able to do these things on my own.”
“We all need help with one thing or another, don’t we?” Paul said. “Here, let’s have a look. No one is born knowing this stuff.”
As soon as he said it, an idea flashed into his head. “You know how you’re helping the newcomers with their reading and communication?” he said, his words tumbling out rapidly. “Well, there could be other skills they could learn that I could teach them, like basic car maintenance and easy home repairs. Things that everyone could make use of. You could come, too, though of course I’m still willing to help you on a personal level if you...”
He stopped talking. He probably sounded like a blathering idiot.
Charlotte laughed.
“I didn’t mean...” Paul said.
“No, I know what you mean. It’s okay.”
“Ms. Connelly, your cheeks are red,” Tyson said.
“Ah, yes... I think it’s a bit warm in here.” She smiled. “I think it sounds like a really good idea,” Charlotte said, trying to recover her composure. “Let’s talk more about it on Wednesday night.”
“Sounds good,” Paul said. “And, by the way, you might as well get both kinds of nails.”
“When in doubt, buy more than you need?” Charlotte asked in a teasing tone.
“Exactly,” he said. “See, you’re learning already.”
They parted ways, and Paul was glad that Tyson occupied himself by dashing ahead in the aisles and grabbing what was needed. At least it provided some respite from the constant chatter about his teacher.
“I like Ms. Connelly,” he said blissfully. “She shops for groceries like we do, right, Uncle Paul? Do you like her, Uncle Paul?”
“She’s a nice woman,” Paul answered carefully. “I’m glad you’re happy she’s your teacher.”
He wondered how involved he should really be getting with Charlotte or with the community in general. The problem with getting too close to people was that they could hurt you or find out things about you that you didn’t want them to know. He had not been part of a church community for years, and he hoped that people wouldn’t think that helping out meant he was interested in letting God in again. Still, for Tyson’s sake, he felt he had to give back to the community he was now living in. And maybe helping others would help him to feel less like an outsider.
But he’d do whatever it took to guard his heart against a certain violet-eyed teacher who was making her way closer him—and to the things he didn’t want anyone to know about.
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