by Donna Fasano
"Oh?"
Derrick's other friend, Reece Newton, raised his brows as he made the query, absently swiping the frothy beer foam from his upper lip.
Reece, too, was a good friend and old college buddy. In fact, it was because of these two men that Derrick had decided to settle in Bayview with Timmy.
When Derrick had contacted his friends and told them about his dilemma concerning Timmy and his decision to quit the Navy, both Jason and Reece had suggested Bayview as a place to set up a home and his business. Both of the men had been quick to share the fact that they too were single fathers, raising their children alone. So the three of them had formed "The Club," a small threesome of single dads who looked to each other for support and encouragement in parental matters.
"Yeah, the meeting went very well," Derrick said, and then he went about explaining the details of his conversation with Miss Anna Maxwell.
When he'd summed up everything, Reece commented warily, "She offered to help you?"
"Well," Derrick said, "she agreed to help." He decided against admitting to his friends that he felt he'd coerced the woman. "She's going to spend some time with Tim and me," he went on. "Since she's with kids so much, I thought she could give me some pointers on dealing with him... you know, talking to him, trying to get to know him."
Reece scowled over the rim of his mug. "So, what you're saying is that the pointers I gave you aren't worth a tinker's damn."
"Hey, man," Derrick said, "I'm not saying that at all. I tried the suggestions you gave me. Every single one of them." He shook his head. "It's just that Timmy isn't athletically inclined the way your Jeffrey is. I know they're nearly the same age and all, but Tim just wasn't interested in the baseball mitt I bought him. Or the basketball. Or the football. Or the—"
"Okay, okay," Reece stopped him. "I get your drift."
"Timmy's just not into sports," Jason said to no one in particular. "He's more into reading... and science. Academic stuff."
"Yeah," Derrick said, helpless against the tiny frown that knit his brow, "and how do you relate to a kid like that?"
The rhetorical question hung in the air as all three of them sipped contemplatively on their frosty mugs of draft.
When next Derrick spoke, his voice was soft, as though he might be speaking to himself. "And if Timmy is into 'academic stuff,' why is he acting like a little hooligan in school?"
"To get the teacher's attention?" Jason suggested. "Man, I'm glad my little princess is only a baby." He grinned at Derrick. "It's not that I don't want to share your pain, my friend. But I'm happy to wait a few years to do it."
"Thanks," Derrick grumbled good-naturedly.
Reece rested his elbows on the table as he leaned toward the other two men. "So, what's in it for this teacher? This Miss... uh... Miss—"
"Maxwell," Derrick said. "Anna Maxwell."
He let her name roll around on his tongue. The feel of it was colorful and lively, hot and silky, all at the same time. He found it startling. And tasty.
"So, what's in it for Miss Anna Maxwell?" Reece repeated his question.
"Darn it, Reece!" Jason said.
Derrick nearly smiled at Jason's expletive. He knew the man had been trying to curb his language since the birth of Gina Marie.
"You don't even know the woman," Jason continued heatedly. "Don't go putting her down and making assumptions before she's even had a chance to offer Derrick some solutions to Timmy's problems."
Reece's eyes narrowed in a silent scowl.
"Just because you chose a bad apple," Jason said, "doesn't mean the whole barrel is rotten."
As nonchalantly as possible, Derrick reached into the wicker basket that sat on the table and plucked out a pretzel, all the while feeling a frantic need to change the topic of conversation. Reece was surly enough this evening without getting into his memories of the "marriage from hell," as he called it.
"I thought I'd take her sailing," Derrick spouted off the top of his head. "That is, if neither of you plans to use the boat Saturday."
Derrick felt a surge of relief when both his friends indicated that he could have use of the sailboat that the three of them had purchased together this past summer. He'd been worried about having Anna over to the house—worried about what she'd think about all the silence. It just wasn't natural with a little boy living under the roof. And Derrick still failed to figure out how Timmy could be so quiet and obedient at home and so disruptive at school. It didn't make sense, and the situation made him feel completely... out of control.
But Derrick would be more confident and self-assured if the three of them were out on the water with the sea air blowing all around them.
Yes, he wanted Anna Maxwell's help, but he was determined that she not view him as inept or incapable of raising Timmy. Derrick knew he was up to the job.
His own father had done it alone, hadn't he? His own father had raised not only him, but Timmy's dad, James, as well. And he'd done it all by himself.
And look at the two men sitting across from you, he silently told himself. They, too, were raising their children alone.
So, Derrick knew it could be done. But for weeks now, he'd been fighting a huge, ugly dragon that he called doubt. If he were to tell Reece and Jason about this battle raging inside him, he was certain they would laugh him into oblivion.
He simply had to keep telling himself he could do it, that was all. If he said the words long enough, maybe he'd come to believe them.
But that didn't seem to stop the bad-ass dragon from spitting fiery questions of uncertainty at him.
The bowling alley manager waved to them from across the lounge. "Your lane is ready."
"Thanks," Derrick called out to the man.
As the three of them rose from the table and made their way to the door, Jason said, "Hey guys, Gina's diaper rash is much better."
Reece pulled open the door of the lounge that led to the bowling alley. "Great," he said. "I know she's been uncomfortable."
"I don't mind saying it," Jason said. "If either one of you had told me back in college that I'd be talking to a pediatrician about the workings of baby private parts, I would have clapped my hands over my ears and called you nuts." He shook his head, chuckling. "But the doc gave me some ointment, and her bottom is getting less red every day."
Derrick grinned along with his friends. It was great to focus on someone else's problem with child rearing—even if the problem was a rashy butt.
* * *
Anna approached the one-level, ranch-style house and pressed her hand to her abdomen. It seemed that the curiosity she was feeling over seeing Derrick interact with Timmy had her stomach fluttering like dozens of butterfly wings. At least she thought the reason for her anxiety was seeing Derrick interact with Timmy—no, she was certain it was. She inhaled deeply of the sea air in an attempt to calm her nerves.
As she used the shiny brass door knocker to announce her presence, she couldn't help but admire the six-panel solid wood door. It had a deep luster finish that was set off by the raw cedar siding. This house was perfect for the natural setting of the bay.
Timmy opened the door. He didn't look surprised to see her, which meant that Derrick must have told him she was coming and for that she was happy. Yet she couldn't read in his expression how he felt about it.
"Gee, Miss Maxwell," he said abruptly, "you're wearin' jeans."
She fought to suppress the smile that wanted to curl her lips, but she lost the war.
"Yes," she said. "Outside of school, I'm a normal person, just like you."
Evidently Timmy sensed she was teasing him, and he gave her a small smile, but it was gone in a flash.
She followed him toward the back of the house, thinking what a lonely child Timmy seemed. He didn't get along with the other children. He kept to himself, playing solitary games during recess or simply reading books.
From what Derrick had told her, Timmy hadn't spent much time with kids his own age. Maybe, she thought, he simply didn
't know how to relate. Maybe he didn't know how to deal with relationships with his peers. Socialization was a learned skill, everyone who worked with children knew that fact. Maybe Timmy just hadn't been taught the art of making friends.
It wasn't the first time these thoughts had passed through her mind since her meeting with Derrick. She vowed yet again to observe Timmy carefully—with his godfather and with his classmates.
Timmy pulled open the sliding glass door, and the two of them stepped out onto the deck.
The view of Pocomoke Sound was utterly breathtaking, and she could see two—no, three—small islands out in the distance in the Chesapeake Bay. The gray-blue water was dotted with boats as people took advantage of the beautiful, sunny October weather.
"Hello, there!"
She whirled around at the sound of Derrick's voice.
"Hi," she said.
Anna had meant to say more, but the sight of him was as breathtaking as the view of the bay had been only a moment before. He was dressed casually, in khaki-colored, cotton shorts, a white knit pullover that hugged his broad chest and dock shoes. His bare legs were tanned and muscular. As he picked up the life jackets, his biceps knotted into tight mounds, the muscle running from his elbow to his wrist was corded and well defined. There wasn't an ounce of fat on the man.
She remembered he'd told her he was starting his own accounting firm in Bayview, but he certainly didn't fit her image of someone who made his living sitting behind a desk. Derrick Richmond was a dyed-in-the-wool outdoorsman. He looked like he belonged on the water, not in some stuffy office.
"You're early," he told her.
She swallowed, a little taken aback at his abruptness.
"Sorry," she said.
Then he smiled, his handsome countenance lightening tremendously.
"Luckily, I'm ahead of schedule myself." He added a third jacket to his load. "Let me take these down to the dinghy and we'll push off."
She watched him walk down the grassy slope toward the water.
"Miss Maxwell," Timmy said quietly, "am I in trouble?"
"In trouble?" She turned her full attention to the boy.
"Yeah." He looked out at the water's edge. "How come you're here? Uncle Derrick said you were coming—" his gaze returned to her face "—but he didn't say why. So... did I do something? Am I gonna get punished?"
"Oh, honey," she said, "you're not in trouble." But then she hesitated. She didn't know how to tell him why she was here. She had no idea what Derrick wanted Timmy to know. What he didn't want the child to know. Suddenly she felt on very shaky ground.
"Really," she said weakly, "you're not in trouble."
Timmy was an intelligent child, Anna knew from experience. He obviously realized she hadn't even begun to answer his questions about her presence here. But before he could inquire further, she asked, "Is there any way we can help your uncle? Anything we can carry down to the water?"
"Uncle Derrick packed up a picnic lunch. I'll go get it."
"No, no. Hold up there, Tim," Derrick said the words in a rush as he trotted the final few steps back to the deck.
Timmy had made the offer with a surprising and sudden burst of gusto. But she watched the eagerness in the boy's face dissolve to meek obedience, and he took a step backward.
"I'll get the cooler," Derrick said to Timmy. "You and Anna... er... a... Miss Maxwell... can go down to the dinghy."
"Yes, sir," Timmy mumbled.
Derrick disappeared into the house, and she stepped off the deck onto the grass. The slope down to the water's edge was gradual, and it offered a fantastic view. Yet she barely noticed the picturesque scene as she pondered what had just taken place between Derrick and Timmy.
Why had Derrick stifled the child's attempt to help? she wondered. And the submissive way in which Timmy had surrendered made her realize that this wasn't the first time he'd felt thwarted. She made a mental note to discuss this with Derrick.
When the two of them arrived at the small dinghy, she reached toward the life jackets.
"Do you think we should go ahead and slip into these?" she asked.
Timmy didn't answer her right away, and when she glanced at him, he was staring up at the house, a look of confusion and indecision on his young face.
"Well," he said slowly, "maybe we should wait."
She, too, looked toward the house and saw Derrick coming out of the sliding glass doors. He was encumbered with a large cooler and not one, but two brown paper bags. He set his load down on the deck and locked the door behind him before picking everything up again and making his way toward them.
The silly man, Anna thought. Why hadn't he allowed Timmy to lug some of that stuff? And for that matter, why hadn't he asked her to help, also? He certainly looked as though he could use it.
She dropped the life jacket at her feet and hurried to him.
"Here," she said. "Let me have some of that."
"I'm fine," he told her.
"Yeah," she muttered. "And you're going to break your back while I stand here watching."
She took the two bags from the top of the cooler.
"I said I was okay."
The tone of his voice made it evident to her that her actions utterly confused him.
Derrick loaded the supplies into the rowboat.
"All right now, everybody into a jacket," he instructed.
He bent and picked up a life preserver, and like a little lemming, Timmy followed suit. As she watched the interaction between Derrick and his godson, Anna slid her arms into an orange jacket and snapped the strap securely.
Even though their day together was just starting, this outing was turning into a very eye-opening experience. She was making some remarkable discoveries concerning Timmy. And Derrick. She couldn't wait to discuss her thoughts with the man.
Without being told, she climbed into the boat and sat down. Derrick was next to step in. He turned to Timmy.
"You coming?" he asked his godson.
The child's chin tipped up. "Sure I am," he said.
But he said the words too boldly, too loudly, and Anna shifted in her seat to look at his face.
There was fear in his eyes. Not a lot. But it was there just the same.
"Timmy, if you don't want to go," she quickly offered, "we can find something to do right here."
"Nonsense," Derrick said. "Didn't you just hear him say he was coming?"
His question was boisterous, almost forced, and it made Anna realize just how hard he was trying to make things go perfectly. Derrick offered Timmy his hand, and the boy wavered only a split second before he took it.
Timmy settled on the seat beside her and Derrick took up the oars. The short trip to the moored sailboat could have been jerky and uncomfortable, but Anna knew it was Derrick's expert handling of the small craft that made the ride smooth.
Derrick was the first to board the bigger boat. He tied off the dinghy securely and then gave both Anna and Timmy a hand into the sailboat.
"It's gorgeous!" Anna smoothed her hand along the wooden rail, its deep, glossy finish glinting in the bright light of the clear morning. The brass fittings were buffed and shined, reflecting the sun's rays like so many mirrors.
As he unloaded the supplies from the dinghy, he said, "Thanks. I went in with a couple of my buddies and we bought it this past spring when Tim and I first moved to Bayview." He stopped long enough to look up at the single, tall mast. "She's small, but she sails like a dream."
He went down the short flight of steps into the cabin where she heard him putting away the food and other things he'd brought aboard with him. She looked over at Timmy who sat quietly, but the whiteness of his knuckles as he clutched the edge of the bench seat made it clear to her that he was scared witless.
Anna moved to sit next to him. "Timmy," she said very softly, "are you afraid of going out into the bay?"
His brow furrowed and he gave a disgusted sound. "No way."
But fear clouded his eyes. She read it as easily
as if it were a page in a book. However, before she could question him further, Derrick reappeared.
"Let's get underway." He cranked a winch that raised the large sail high into the air.
Anna glanced at Timmy and saw him eyeing the loose end of the rigging as though he wanted to tie off the line. But he didn't make a move toward it. Derrick grabbed the rope and fastened it in a figure eight on a brass cleat. He did the same to a small sail in the front of the boat, the bow, she knew it was called. A person couldn't live this close to the Chesapeake Bay and not know a little bit about boating.
As Derrick made his way back toward them and the tiller, the boat gently drifted with the wind at its side. He disconnected the braided line from the mooring and then positioned the boom.
"Let's make way," he called.
Almost as though he'd called the wind itself, the sails filled and began to pull. Anna was struck by the sheer joy expressed in Derrick's face. The wind blew his sandy hair back from his forehead, and the smile on his lips was euphoric. He was most definitely born to be a seafaring man.
But even as she looked at the tall, handsome man steering the boat, she worried about little Timmy. The child was so obviously afraid—either of the sailboat or of the water, she didn't know which. Yet he'd refused to speak up when she'd asked him about it. Also, he had wanted to help, both on shore and here on the boat, but he hadn't been able to for one reason or another. On shore Derrick had kept him from helping to carry some of the supplies. And then as his godfather had been raising the sails, Timmy had wanted to pitch in, Anna's gut told her as much, but he hadn't. All these things made her wonder what was happening between the two of them.
Derrick entertained them with stories of his exploits and experiences in the Navy. And in between the tales—half of which Anna suspected were as tall as the mast on the boat—he steered the boat, tacking first in one direction and then another, as they zigzagged along the bay.
She would have liked to have gotten lost in the stories he told. His face became so animated, his chocolaty eyes glinting in the sunlight. He nearly mesmerized her. But thoughts of Timmy kept nagging at the back of her brain, and she glanced at him often.
