He gently, tenderly brushed her tears away. “You ready to talk about it?”
He was wearing jeans and a pale blue dress shirt with a big damp spot on the chest, right beside the green Polo Ralph Lauren logo. Apparently she’d lost more than tears, since the black residue on that spot looked like a good portion of the mascara she’d been wearing had also marred his nice shirt. She assumed the rest of it was smeared across her face.
Chad looked down, saw the spot that held her attention. One corner of his mouth lifted. “I was taking it to the cleaners anyway.”
“I must be a mess,” she whispered, attempting a ladylike dab beneath each eye and then viewing even more black smeared across her fingers. “I didn’t realize I put on that much mascara.”
He laughed, low and easy, reached for the tissue box at the corner of Ms. Smelding’s desk and extracted a tissue, then a few more for good measure. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She made an effort to do a better job cleaning her face, then looked at him. “How’d I do?”
She could tell by the tightness of his jaw that he was working hard to keep from laughing at her attempt. He took one of the tissues from her hand and lightly rubbed the top of each cheek. She wouldn’t have thought the black would have traveled that far.
“That’s better,” he said, tilting his head from one side to the other as he surveyed his handiwork. “So, are you ready to talk about it? You said Nathan’s teacher thinks he has a problem socially?”
Jessica inhaled, nodded, then let it out.
“Did she say what she meant, exactly?” he asked, edging his hip on the desk then indicating the spot beside him for her to sit down, too.
Jess sat on the desk and was comforted again when he draped a supportive arm around her as she spoke. “She said that she noticed Nathan was a little distant last week when the kids would go to the gym to play. She said all of the boys would typically gather together to play basketball or jump rope together or something else that involved, you know, a group effort. But Nathan remained by himself.”
“Last week was his first week at the new school, though, right? You’d mentioned you were worried about moving him in the middle of the year, and it makes sense that a kid would take a little time adjusting to a new school, new home, new friends. Did she mention that or take that into consideration?”
Jessica nodded. “She did, and I brought that up as well, which is why she said she didn’t call me last week. She wanted to give him a little time to adjust to his new surroundings.”
“Okay, so what happened to make her call this week?” he asked.
“This week, since we’ve had prettier weather and all, they’ve moved outside to the playground behind the school. It’s full of things that encourage the kids to play together. Lots of playground equipment, a tall monkey bars set, seesaws, sandboxes, swing sets, kickball courts, tether ball, four-square corners, you name it.”
“Sounds like they’ve added a lot since we went to Claremont Elementary. I remember playing kickball and four-square and the one big swing set, but that’s it,” he said, and she nodded.
“They’ve got everything now.” She recalled taking Nathan to look at the school before he actually started. “That was his favorite thing about his new school, that the playground was so much larger than the one at his old school. He was even talking about all of the things he could do on that playground. I envisioned him playing nonstop, making lots of new friends.” She paused, swallowed. “Everything that normal five-year-olds do on a playground.” She stopped. Everything that normal five-year-olds do. Nathan’s teacher thought he had a problem. She’d insinuated that perhaps Nathan wasn’t “normal.”
“But that’s not what happened this week, when they went outside?” Chad said, and she could tell that he was trying to bring her back to the conversation and away from the thoughts that were apparently showing her concern on her face.
“No,” Jess said. “Nathan went to one of the sandboxes each day and played on his own. The boys in the class gathered on the play equipment the first day, but he stayed in the sandbox. Mrs. Carter, his teacher, still assumed he was trying to adjust, so she thought she’d coordinate a group activity the next day to help him fit in and to kind of force the other boys to include him, I suppose.”
“What kind of activity?”
“She got out there with them and organized a kickball game. Her teacher’s aide had the girls, and she had the boys.” Jessica paused, thinking about the playground filled with children, boys and girls all laughing and playing together…and Nathan off to the side. Alone.
“And Nathan? He didn’t join in?”
She shook her head. “She said he stayed at the sandbox, and when she urged him to join in, he told her he was busy, that he was building a bridge and needed to finish it.”
Chad’s eyes changed, brightening a bit with her comment, and then to Jessica’s shock, the corners of his mouth lifted in a brilliant smile. “He told her he needed to finish his bridge.”
Jess didn’t really understand why this was funny. “Yes.”
“And he didn’t want to be bothered with playing because he had a bridge to build,” Chad said, now laughing amid his words.
Jessica blinked, tried to understand what part of Nathan’s actions made Chad think that this wasn’t serious. Her child was isolating himself from other children his age. That wasn’t normal; his teacher had said so, and Jess believed her. And now that she’d confided in Chad, in Nathan’s father, he was making light of the problem. A prickle of frustration worked its way through her senses, and she wanted to tell him that he was laughing at Nathan. That he was making fun of their son.
But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare.
She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t appreciate his behavior, but before she could say a word, Chad held up a hand.
“I’m sorry, Jess. It’s just that I’ve never heard of another child behaving that way before, and now I realize how my mother must have felt back then.”
“Your mother?”
“When my first grade teacher called her in for the same thing.” He smiled. “I mean, it sounds so similar to what she was told, and your Nathan is acting the same way, well, that I did when I was about his age.” He laughed. “Sounds like your little guy has one of my quirks.”
“One of your quirks?” she asked and didn’t dare say anything else. All it would take was an affirmation that Nathan would naturally have inherited some of Chad’s traits and Chad would know the truth. But telling him now, here, in Ms. Smelding’s classroom, didn’t feel right. Plus, she still didn’t know what quirk Chad was referring to. Thankfully, he explained.
“When I was in first grade, my teacher called Mom in for a parent-teacher conference. That was the year Dad ran out on us, so naturally, when Mrs. O’Ryan explained that I was isolating myself from the remainder of the class, she and my mother determined that I was unable to cope with the loss of my father and that I was losing the ability to connect with anyone socially. She recommended Mom take me to a child psychiatrist for evaluation.”
“You went to a child psychiatrist? As a first grader?”
“Still remember it,” Chad said, and his mouth quirked to the side as he apparently recalled the visit to the doctor’s office. “They called it play therapy, where basically she took me into a room filled with toys, got on the floor beside me and we played.”
“Do you think Nathan needs to go to a psychiatrist?” she asked, unable to disguise in her voice the dread that image portrayed.
“No, I don’t. Because I’m betting you’d be wasting a bunch of money, just like my mother wasted a bunch back then, when my problem wasn’t really a problem with my societal skills.” Chad grinned and pronounced, “If he’s got the same ‘issues’ I had, and it sure sounds like he does, then all that a psychiatrist would tell you is that your little boy is advanced for his age.”
“Advanced?” Jessica’s heart fluttered at the possibility. Then again, Chad had
always been at the top of his class in school, for as long as she could remember. He’d been valedictorian of his class and had only taken three years to obtain his premed degree. And while Jessica’s academic accomplishments weren’t that superb, she had always done well in school and actually had a chance at the top of her class, if she hadn’t left to have Nathan. Even doing that, though, she’d obtained her high school diploma through summer night classes in Tennessee. And she’d always done well—very well—with her grades.
Wouldn’t it make sense that Nathan would be advanced for his age? Odd that she’d never considered it before. But he was a smart boy, a very smart boy, and he did love to learn.
“You’re considering it, aren’t you, that you’re raising a boy genius.” The way Chad said it, and the way he was obviously putting himself in the former boy genius category, made Jessica’s smile easy.
“Okay,” she said. “I can see that he could potentially be advanced for his age, but how does this whole sandbox thing play into that? Obviously, you’re the expert on it.” Her voice was teasing, playful. Now that she believed Nathan was probably okay, and moreover, that he was so like his daddy that way, she actually felt a little giddy. Happy. Excited.
“I didn’t claim to be an expert, but I did see a psychiatrist for basically the same thing,” he said, smiling.
Jess really liked his smile. “So, tell me. What did they say about you?”
“During our play therapy, that psychiatrist had me building things with her. I remember she had this electric K’NEX set, a big crane, in the center of the floor. I was drawn to it, mesmerized by it. I couldn’t wait to figure out how it worked, to control it and to do something that was obviously so much beyond what I ‘should’ be doing at my age. She’d been surprised when I picked that toy, which I now know was meant for kids eight and up.”
Jessica nodded and thought about all of the trips to Toys “R” Us when Nathan begged her for some type of building toy where the recommended age on the outside of the box was well beyond his five years. She’d always managed to lure him away from the object of his desire and thought at the time that she was helping him, keeping him from being frustrated later when the toy was beyond his ability. She silently resolved to change her tactic next time. They could try the more difficult toy together, or if he’d rather, she could give him time to solve the puzzle of the model on his own. Maybe that would build his confidence, increase his self-esteem when he accomplished something so difficult.
“In the process of watching me learn the details of how to put the crane together and eventually how to run the motorized sculpture, the psychiatrist asked me a simple question about what I liked best about playing with the other kids at school.”
“And you said…”
He laughed, apparently recalling the discussion. “I told her that they weren’t nearly as much fun as playing with that crane. They played easy games. I liked the hard ones.”
Jessica smirked. Chad had always liked a challenge and apparently Nathan did, too. But still, she wasn’t sure how that played into her son—their son—abandoning his classmates on the playground in exchange for solitude in the sandbox. “But Nathan isn’t playing harder games,” she said. “Mrs. Carter said he’s playing in the sandbox.”
“What did she say he was doing last week, when they couldn’t go outside and were confined to playing in the gym?” Chad had such an assuredness about his tone that Jessica already suspected he had an answer to her problem. And consequently, she already felt better about the situation.
“She said that he spent his time with the obstacle course materials.”
Chad’s brows knitted, as though this explanation didn’t follow through with what he’d expected. “Running an obstacle course by himself?”
“No,” Jess said. “He took the materials for the course—the cones, barrels, plastic crates,” she started, and Chad held up a hand to stop her.
Grinning broadly, he proclaimed, “And he built something.”
Jess nodded and again felt instantly better that Chad seemed to have an answer for Nathan’s behavior. “Mrs. Carter thought he was working on a rocket, from what she determined, but she said she would ask him more about it tomorrow, when they talked.”
Chad’s smile continued. “He needed more of a challenge than the other activities going on around him, so he made one up.” He lifted one shoulder and lifted a hand, insinuating the problem was now solved. “Your boy is like me, and I turned out okay, didn’t I?”
Jessica felt her throat tighten, her heart rate increase on its own accord. She should tell him, right here, right now.
“Chad,” she started, but he interrupted her.
“I know, I know, I should have been a doctor,” he joked. And then he paused, and his smile faded.
“You’d have been a great doctor,” she said and felt the weight of the conversation shift, where she was now the comforter, Chad the one needing comfort. He’d wanted that so much in high school, and she still wondered what brought him here, to Stockville Community College, to teach. “And you got your premed degree early. That obviously says that your boy genius status has simply become man genius status now.” She frowned. “That doesn’t sound quite right.”
He laughed, and the sadness she’d seen in his eyes a moment ago dissipated. “That’s okay. You can call me man genius anytime you want. I’ll learn to live with it.”
That caused her to laugh, too.
“One more thing though, about Nathan.”
She swallowed. She should have told him because this conversation must have given away too much. But she so thought this wasn’t the right time and that tomorrow, when they shared their first real date, would be the perfect time to tell him about their son. “What about Nathan?” she forced herself to ask.
“He does play with other kids sometimes, doesn’t he? I mean, he enjoys being around kids his age, but he just gets bored with them at times.” Apparently, Chad recognized that a complete lack of social skills wouldn’t be a good thing, no matter whether her child was a “boy genius” like his father, or not.
Jessica found an easy answer for this question, and it hadn’t been long since she’d seen affirmation of the fact. “He does like playing with other kids, but usually the activity has to be something that’s a bit of a test. Like Wednesday night, at the end of his church class, he and several of the other kids worked together to put a Noah’s ark puzzle together.” She remembered the children all gathered together and finding their way through the cut pieces to form the animal-filled boat.
Chad nodded, satisfied. “Wait and see what the teacher says tomorrow, after she’s talked to him, but I’m betting you’re about to get news similar to what my mother got way back then. He’s simply wanting to do harder activities, and when his buddies are conducting one, he makes up his own. It’s okay. And in the long run, it’ll help you out.”
“How’s that?”
“He’ll be the type of kid who can always entertain himself. I know I was. In fact, I’d wager my experiments entertained Becky, too.”
His experiments. Jess recalled something Becky had told her about when they were in middle school. “Didn’t you blow up your kitchen?”
He chuckled. “Becky exaggerates. Blowing it up is a bit strong of a term.” He paused for effect. “Let’s just say after I practiced with my sixth grade science experiment, a real working volcano, Mom had a good reason for renovating the kitchen.”
She laughed. “Great. So now I know I have plenty to look forward to while Nathan is entertaining himself.”
“Pretty much,” Chad agreed, easing off the desk. “So, you feel better now?”
“Much,” she admitted. “Thanks.”
He checked his watch. They’d been talking over an hour. “We can still go get that coffee if you want, but I’m betting you’re probably ready to go home and hug him before he goes to bed.” He picked up her books. “Right?”
“Yes,” she said, also sliding off the desk.
“But we can add coffee to the end of our night tomorrow if that works into your plans.”
“I think that could be arranged.” He walked beside her toward the door, locked the classroom and then continued with her down the now empty hall.
A few late classes were still in session, judging from the low rumble of teacher’s voices echoing off the tiled walls. Still, their walk through the building and then out across the quad to the parking area seemed private, intimate. Jessica sensed a connection between them now, as though they walked as one, thought as one. And she thought she knew why.
Chad had helped her through her first difficult issue with Nathan. He’d been there, right beside her, to analyze the situation and then determine what was happening to their son, and why. It was the first time she’d had anyone truly help her with her parenting skills, and Chad was the only person she’d have wanted filling that void.
She’d needed him.
They approached her car. As they crossed the quad, she’d withdrawn her keys from her pocket. She didn’t even recall the act, but Chad had noticed and took them to unlock the door. Then he opened it and waited for her to slide inside. He then reached across her and placed her books on the passenger seat, and Jessica inhaled the spicy, masculine scent of his cologne.
“Chad,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, reaching across her once more to fasten her seatbelt in place.
“Thank you for everything.”
He paused, his face mere inches from her as he leaned into the car. “I meant it, Jess, when I told you that I want a relationship with you. And having one with you means having one with Nathan.” He grinned. “And it means you having one with Lainey, which you’ve already started. She adored you, you know.”
“She’s a precious little girl.”
“Well, you’re ahead of me there. I’ve still yet to meet your little guy. But I’m looking forward to it, especially now that I know he and I have something in common, geniuses and all.”
Jessica was overwhelmed by the realization that Nathan would meet his father before the week ended, and, like Nathan had said last Sunday in the car, he was “gonna love him.”
Her Valentine Family Page 9
