Dancing With Dalton (Fatherhood)

by Laura Marie Altom

“HI, MR. DALTON!” Anna said, jumping on Rose’s bed.

  Dalton groaned, rubbing his right hand over his eyes. He’d meant to be up and out of the loft before the little girl woke, but clearly that plan had fallen through. Time for plan B—whatever that was.

  “Mommy, I didn’t know you were having a sleepover. Let’s have pancakes!”

  Sunlight streamed through the loft’s soaring windows. Rose looked soft, beautiful and tousled and Anna had scampered off to the kitchen, where she was now banging pots and pans. Completeness swelled Dalton’s chest. The feeling that here, with these two girls, maybe he’d finally found home.

  “You’re still here.” Rose cast him a luminous smile.

  “Where else would I be?” he answered with a wink.

  “Mommy? Where’s the pancake stuff?”

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, brushing strands of hair from her eyes.

  “I slept all night, if that tells you anything.”

  “Mmm…” he said with a manly swell of pride. “Looks like these arms of mine are good for something.”

  “Mom!”

  Rose grinned. “Duty calls.”

  “Let me,” he said. “You stay here and lounge.”

  “Sure?”

  Kissing the tip of her nose, he said, “Absolutely.”

  Rose chose to take a shower instead of lingering in bed. Then she helped Anna get ready for school while Dalton prepared their breakfast feast.

  At first, she’d been terrified of what Anna might think or say about Dalton having accidentally spent the night. She’d been ashamed, worried what the neighbors might imagine. Moreover, what John might have thought. But neither she nor Dalton had planned on falling into such a deep sleep. It just happened. Sort of like the way, without either of them knowing it, they’d started to take on the feel of a family whenever the three of them were together.

  As much as she still feared the idea, she’d also begun liking it, trying it on for size.

  Soon, the scents of coffee brewing, bacon frying and pancakes browning in a cast-iron skillet filled the loft. Dalton had set the table, cleaned a few dozen strawberries he’d unearthed in the fridge, then called the girls to the table.

  “Dese are woot,” Anna said, mouth loaded with pancakes.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie.”

  “I know,” the girl said after swallowing. “But, Mom, they’re really good.”

  “What can I say?” Dalton preened. “When you’ve got it, you’ve got it. I’m a natural when it comes to the kitchen.”

  “A natural-born disaster,” Rose teased, eyeing the splattered mess.

  “I’ll clean up after myself.”

  “You’d better,” she said with a wink. “My biweekly manicure is this morning. No way am I canceling because a cooking diva like you trashed my kitchen.”

  “I’ll stay home and clean, Mommy.”

  “I’ll bet you would,” Dalton said, ruffling the girl’s silky hair, which felt even softer than her mom’s.

  “Hey, I’m a good dish washer.”

  “Yes, you are,” Rose said, “but you’re even better at spelling, and I don’t want you to miss your new word list.”

  Carrying her plate to the sink, Anna made a face.

  Rose whispered, “Sure you want to have kids?”

  “More so than ever,” he said, giving the child a wistful glance as she shoved crayons, a Barbie and a Matchbox car into her My Little Pony backpack. “Anna, what grade are you in?”

  “First. But I’m smart enough to be in fifth.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute,” he said, snatching his and Rose’s plates. “Do you drive Anna to school?”

  “We’re in a car pool. This is her friend Abbey’s week, but I should get her downstairs to wait.”

  “Hurry back,” he said, craving a kiss but not wanting to be overly affectionate in front of Anna.

  “Baby, you ready to go?”

  “Uh-huh. Bye, Mr. Dalton! Have a happy day!”

  “You, too,” he said, answering her wave.

  With the little dynamo out of the loft, the space suddenly felt enormous. By the time Dalton finished the dishes, Rose was back, gifting him with a bright smile and proper good-morning kiss.

  “That’s more like it,” he said, settling his hands low on her hips. “Some men need coffee in the morning, but I’m thinking all I need is you.”

  “Likewise,” she said with another kiss.

  “Hey, I’m sorry I was still here when Anna got up. I’d planned on setting my cell’s alarm to wake me in an hour, but we fell asleep before I got the chance.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, adding soap to the dishwasher, then starting the load. “At least I think it is. I have to admit, when she first bounded in, I was worried about how she’d take finding you here, but she really didn’t seem all that surprised. Guess that’s because she likes you.”

  “I suppose. Still, I wonder if she’ll have questions for you this afternoon when she gets home.”

  “That would be understandable, seeing how I have questions myself.”

  He took her hand, eased his fingers between hers. “Got anything I can help figure out?”

  His cell rang.

  “Damn. I’m found.” On his way to fish the phone from his jacket pocket, he said, “Whatever you were about to say, hold that thought. Hello?”

  “Son,” his father bellowed into his ear. “I don’t know where you are, but you’d better get your rear down to the bank ASAP.”

  Click.

  Grimacing, Rose said, “The man’s loud.”

  “You think?” Flipping the cell shut, Dalton sighed. “You can’t imagine how tired I am of this. His need for control.”

  When he lowered onto a bar stool, she slipped her arm around his shoulders. “Do you think his testiness has to do with his heart condition? His fear that he’s got to get everything done in a hurry, just in case he doesn’t live to see another day?”

  Dalton laughed. “With any other man, I’d agree with you and cut him some slack. Trouble is, William Macy Montgomery popped out of his mother’s womb barking instead of crying, and he’s been doing it ever since.”

  “I guess that means you’re leaving?”

  “Eventually. First, I thought I might have a second cup of coffee, then read the paper. After that, how about we take a leisurely stroll through the park? It’s supposed to be another gorgeous day.”

  “All of that sounds amazing, but, Dalton, don’t you think you’d better do as he asked? I mean, there’s no sense in getting him any more worked up. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him.”

  “Relax,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss. “The man will outlast us all. He’s too damn stubborn to do anything but.”

  “HEY, MISS ROSE. Good to see you,” Frank said when she helped herself to her favorite booth at the deli. “I don’t know where you learned to perform miracles, but you must’ve gotten an A+.”

  “Oh?” she answered, sipping the raspberry tea he’d been kind enough to remember she always ordered. “What did I do that’s so miraculous?” Other than have the best night’s sleep she’d had since before her husband’s death.

  “Mona and Alice. They’re back together. Alice called me last night to say she’s already planning the costumes for your little tykes’ dance routine.”

  “That’s great,” she said. “Any idea what look she’s going with?”

  The waitress brought a bowl of homemade chips.

  Frank slid into the booth’s empty seat, helping himself to a handful of the yummy treats. “According to my wife—she works down at Hobby Mart—Alice has cooked up some kind of Carmen Miranda theme with loud orange dresses and fruit bowls on the girls’ heads.”

  “S-sounds nice,” Rose said, barely avoiding choking on her latest chip. Fruit bowls? Wow. Oh well, at least she wasn’t having to make them.

  Famous last words.

  That night, after she and Dalton h
ad tucked in Anna, they sat at the kitchen counter, assembling elaborate hats.

  “Tell me again how we managed to get roped into this?” Dalton asked.

  “Making an amazingly long story short, Mona got stung by a bee and Alice had to take her to the emergency room. If we don’t get the hats done, Alice won’t have time to sew the dresses, seeing how the pageant’s only a week away.”

  “Right,” he said, scratching his head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  After hot-gluing a plastic banana to a plastic pineapple, she gave him an elbow nudge.

  “Ouch,” he complained. “You made me get hot glue on my thumb.”

  “Poor baby,” she said, drawing the wounded appendage to her mouth for a medicinal suckle.

  “You keep that up,” he said, “and this hat assembly line is being tossed out the window.”

  “Oh?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “And what, pray tell, might we be doing instead?”

  He whispered all sorts of naughty suggestions into her ear, but then straightened. “Sorry. I forgot that we weren’t going to do any of that anymore until after you give the all clear.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. And oddly enough, for the moment, it was. Maybe Dalton had been right, and time really was all she needed to thoroughly heal.

  “Sure?” He stopped her in the middle of gluing grapes to what she guessed was a pomegranate.

  “Positive.” He looked relieved, but not as relieved as she felt that the two of them were able to have such an open and frank discussion without Dalton getting upset or her bursting into tears. “How did things go with your father this morning?”

  “Got an hour?”

  “Sweetie…” She eyed the mound of plastic fruit lining the counter. “From the looks of this mess, I’ve got no less than five. Tell me every detail.”

  “HI, MR. DALTON!” Anna said, jumping on the foot of the bed. Rose was missing, but the scent of frying sausage, coffee and something cheesy gave him a clue as to what she’d been doing. “Sleepovers are fun, huh?”

  Dalton shot the girl a tight grin. He’d only meant to shut his eyes for a second. He was still in his suit pants and now-funky instead of crisply starched white shirt. As he was starting to do more and more often, he’d drifted off on top of the covers, but was now toasty beneath a colorful quilt. He for sure hadn’t meant to indulge in another heavenly night with Rose. It wasn’t good for any of them—especially Anna, who was no doubt confused.

  Albeit, she was still jumping. “I don’t have school today because of parent-teacher conferences. That means we’ll have all morning to play.”

  “That’s cool,” he said. “Wish I got days off of work for stuff like that.”

  “Maybe you should start going to school with me,” Anna said, showing no signs of stopping her jumping anytime soon. It was making him dizzy just watching all that early-morning action. But she also made him happy.

  What must it be like to wake each day with joy instead of dread? He had to make it a priority to find out.

  “Anna!” Rose admonished, emerging from the bathroom with hair wet and red velour jogging suit clinging to her curves. “How many times have I told you to stop jumping on the beds?”

  “Lots,” Anna said, snatching a few more quick leaps before scrambling to the floor. “But it’s just so fun. Mr. Dalton thinks so, too.”

  “Hey,” he said with a wide smile, arms behind his head, “don’t bring me into this. Your mom looks pretty mad.”

  “She’ll be okay. Back before Daddy died, we all used to jump on the beds.”

  “Anna!”

  “What? It’s the truth.”

  Ignoring her child in much the same way Dalton ignored the underlying tension, Rose hustled off to check whatever smelled so great in the oven.

  Anna hightailed it to her room.

  Dalton shut himself in the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, frowning when his watch told him it was already past nine. Damn, he’d had no business sleeping so late.

  In the kitchen, the coast clear from snooping-kid eyes, he snagged Rose around her waist and stole a quick kiss. “Good morning. I’m starting to like waking up beside you. Only trouble is, this morning, you weren’t there.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Now that I’ve slept through the night again, thanks to you, I feel energized. Like I’m ready to take on the world. Only instead of doing quite that much, I figured I’d make you a nice breakfast. You know, something to jump-start your day.”

  He groaned. “My day was supposed to start about three hours ago, so it looks like Anna’s the only one who’ll be jumping around here.”

  “I should’ve woken you. But you looked so at peace.”

  “Yes, you should have gotten my lazy butt out of bed, but thanks for not doing it. I’ve gotta say, the extra shut-eye felt great. Oh—thanks for covering me, too.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “FRANKLY, ALICE, I’m not sure whether to turn him over my knee or ground him. He just doesn’t seem to have the passion he should, considering the responsibility he’s about to be handed.”

  “Gee, Dad,” Dalton said, strolling into his father and Alice’s impromptu break-room meeting, “correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that I already do pretty much everything around here except occupy your fancy corner office.”

  “Dalton,” Alice admonished, “don’t you dare speak to your father like that.”

  “Alice,” Dalton said, standing his ground, “would you mind giving Dad and me a little privacy?”

  “William?” She looked to his dad for permission. As did everyone else in the building whenever the great man was around.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Ha!

  “All right, then. Stop by my office when you’re done, and I’ll get you that printout you wanted to go over.”

  “Will do. Thanks.” Alice shut the door behind her.

  While his father brewed, Dalton calmly fixed himself a cup of coffee.

  “Son, I don’t have all day,” he finally barked while Dalton took his time adding one sugar packet, then two. “Kindly get on with your explanation of what’s gotten into you. You haven’t been acting at all yourself.”

  Maybe that was because ever since meeting Rose, he hadn’t been feeling himself. “Trust me, Dad, I’m better than I’ve been in years.”

  “You’d sure never know it by your performance around here. Alice said you’ve been coming in late and leaving early. She suspects it’s because of that tango instructor. What do you have to say on the matter?”

  “I know it’s because of the tango instructor, and you were the one who insisted I grab a few more lessons—remember? So I’d be sure not to shame the family with my lack of dancing prowess? I hardly think you’re in a position to complain.”

  “Are you and this woman serious?” his father asked, snagging a cookie from the center of the break room’s table.

  “Put that down. You know you’re not allowed to eat it. And what if Rose and I are serious? Would you object?”

  Ever defiant, ever master of his domain, his dad didn’t just take a bite of the cookie, but ate the whole damn thing, then proceeded to down another. “You know your mother has her heart set on you marrying Miranda Browning. Now, she’s a nice girl. She belongs to our club. Our world. Yours.”

  “I know Mom means well, but she wouldn’t be the one spending the rest of her life with some nice girl from the club.”

  “So you’re saying it is serious? This fling you’re having with a dance teacher? For heaven’s sake, Dalton, did your divorce teach you nothing? Plus, she has a daughter. Did you know that?”

  Clenching and unclenching his fists, Dalton said, “It’s taking everything in me not to slug you.”

  “Slug me? What did I do? Other than shower you with love and everything money could buy? Then top all of that off by giving you your own bank?”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Dalton left the room before he did s
omething they would both regret.

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, he arrived at the dance academy. The parking lot was full, save for a spot at the very back.

  In the lobby a group of leotard-clad, white-haired women clamored around the reception desk.

  He politely hovered behind them until he and Rose and the throbbing Latin bass from studio three were all that remained in the room.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping out from behind the desk to smooth his forehead. “You look awful—not that you aren’t still handsome as ever, just that—”

  “I know,” he said, taking her wrists, drawing her hands down. “I have an odd favor to ask.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, could I use your loft for the rest of the afternoon? I want to work on my sculpture. It somehow…” He shrugged. “It just seems like the right thing to do.”

  “Of course you can, mi novio. Stay as long as you like or need.”

  “Thank you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then leaving her to take the stairs two at a time.

  Slanted shafts of sunlight lent the loft a churchlike feel.

  He opened the fridge, planning to grab a bottled water, but spotting an open wine bottle, he chose that instead. If he was going down, might as well do it right.

  Taking the protective sheet from his sculpture, he surveyed his work. He drank deeply, and for a long time just stared at his creation, at the infinite nuances left to be explored.

  Rose’s face, gentle with sleep. Her throat, arched in passion. Breasts, swollen with desire. Her hands…When she held him, he was capable of conquering the world on his own terms—not his father’s.

  Eyes open, he set the wine on a side table and breathed. Drawing the room’s warm air slowly in through his nose, and out through his mouth, willing his pulse to slow.

  Everything would be okay.

  He wasn’t sure how, but everything would be okay.

  Approaching the sculpture stand, he glanced down, surprised to find his hands trembling. Funny, how different the piece looked with Rose in the room, urging him forward. Alone, he was lost, confused. He hadn’t realized how much Rose had come to mean.