Roseville Romance

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “Well, not the wise insight I was hoping for, but it will do.” The bell rang and I high-fived all the kids as they walked out of my class.

  David approached me and smiled, still pleased with himself. “Mr. D, WH is depressing. How about a not-depressing book next week?”

  I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “We shall see, David. Have a nice weekend.”

  I packed up my small bag and headed straight to the car. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I had to rush to the local My Brother, My Sister Club to tutor. Even though I loved my school and the older kids, I really wanted to teach elementary school. But the pay was crappy at that level and anyway, there were no positions available this year. Or last year, and probably not next.

  At least I had the center.

  Those kids were so hungry for knowledge and to succeed. Not like the older ones who thought they already knew everything. I guessed we all did at that age.

  Inside the center, I changed into a less formal outfit, a T-shirt and jeans, and slipped into my flip-flops. Even when it was cold, I wore my flops.

  Edison ran the center along with George, so I popped into the office to say hello to them. Edison was looking tired, but his babe was only a few months old, so that made sense. I said all the congratulating things, but the truth was, I wanted a babe and a mate and family of my own.

  Patience was never one of my virtues. I sighed and headed back out to the main area where my students gathered around a big table, waiting for me.

  “Mr. D! We just moved on to fractions. Help!”

  I rolled my eyes at the reception. They had no patience, either. “No hello or how was your day?”

  In unison, they murmured, “Hi, Mr. D.”

  “Okay, so fractions. Let’s start from the top.” I grabbed one of the dry-erase markers, the less sad one, and got to work. Some of these teachers were so concerned about their scores and whether or not their scores would keep them in a job that they forgot to actually teach.

  For almost a half hour, I went through the basics and heard oohs and ahhs from behind me. Things were clicking. People underestimated most of these kids because of their socioeconomic or maybe their family status, but I knew each of them had the potential to be great.

  After my mini-lesson on fractions, they all went to work on their homework. I found the load of homework to be almost obscene for elementary school. Doing this much work took away from family time and even free time and sports for the kids.

  It was a damned shame.

  I overheard Edison and George coming out of the back offices, arguing about something.

  “I’m not doing it. You can forget it,” George said. He was a little tubby and was always making someone smile.

  Then they both looked at me.

  “I don’t know, but if you two don’t want to, then I probably don’t want to,” I quipped.

  Edison smiled, something like the Grinch. “I’ll buy you a new dry-erase board and new colored markers.”

  I gasped and pretended to be offended. “Boys, you think you can buy a favor? Scandalous.”

  “Come over here,” George beckoned, and when I reached him, he lowered his voice. “It’s dressing up like Santa Claus for a sort of Dutch Christmas thing.”

  I backed away. “That’s it?” They both nodded, but I thought better. “What else?”

  “Nothing. There may or may not be a hot Dutch man who is coming with his adorable son.”

  I chuckled. “If he has a son, he has a mate.”

  “He’s widowed and fine as hell, but don’t tell Liam I said that.” I would so be telling his mate he said that, and Liam would get a kick out of it.

  I sighed and kind of hated that my friends were constantly trying to set me up with people. I’d been on so many blind dates that I gave up on dating for a full year, hoping they would get the point.

  I knew next to nothing about Dutch Christmas or anything remotely close to Holland or Norway or any of those places, but if Edison thought the guy was hot, I believed him.

  “I’ll do it. But I want all colors of markers and a nice eraser.”

  Edison’s mouth gaped open. “You’re upping the ante?”

  “You wanna wear the beard?” I asked, hands on hips, standing my ground. My attitude might have been little overdone since I was going to be Santa for the regular holiday party already. But it was fun to toy with them a bit.

  “Fine. All of the things for the teacher. By the way, it’s next Saturday.”

  I nodded and went back to the kids, planning to do a little research after I finished tutoring. I needed to learn what made this Dutch Santa thing different from the American version. But work first. We had a little less than fifteen minutes left in the session.

  “Mr. D, why can’t you be our teacher?” Jerome, one of the brighter kids asked.

  “Not sure, buddy. I keep trying.”

  He shook his head and crossed his arms over his worn uniform shirt. “The man keeps putting you down, huh?”

  I tried to hide my laugh. “Something like that. Now, who is still having trouble?”

  A slew of hands rose.

  Chapter Three

  Gustav

  Before taking Dane to the center for his first day, I’d had a long meeting with Edison and George who ran the operation. They asked a lot of questions, mostly about Dane and his needs, what the program could provide for him, but some that seemed a little personal. I answered them, bemused but secretly a little pleased to be talking to guys about social things. Music, movies...what kind of alpha I liked.

  Since being widowed, I had put all my attention into my work and my son. Chatting with Edison and George at the local coffeehouse while Dane colored in his Sinterklaas book, I felt like a person again. Not Peter’s widower, not Dane’s papa...at least not just those things. I saw a glimmer of who I’d been before all of that, who I might yet be again.

  They’d also spent some time chatting with my son who regaled them with his coloring prowess and all the details of the big holiday back home. Of course we’d do a bit at home, but it wouldn’t be the same as when he had all his friends sharing the day dedicated to children.

  We’d gone home both a bit lifted out of the isolation we’d suffered from in our new home, and I called that a win.

  So when I pulled up in front of the utilitarian looking building, I was anxious to head inside with him just to say hello to my new friends. I hoped they felt the same. “C’mon, bud.” He knew how to get out of his booster seat but sat there until I came around to get him. Not his usual thing. “Let’s go have fun.”

  “What if they don’t like me?”

  Oh my gosh.

  I unbuckled the seat belt and took his hand, guiding him out of the car. “Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re always a popular guy.”

  “But my friends always knew me from even before I was borned. These kids might only like their borned friends.” His steps dragged.

  I hated to see him like this. He really did have good friends in the Netherlands, and while I thought the new job and new location had been a good choice for us, if it wasn’t, we were in trouble because I didn’t have the money to move internationally again anytime soon. My new employer had helped “import” me so to speak, but even if my old one wanted me back—and they’d made their unhappiness with my leaving pretty clear—they wouldn’t pay moving expenses. “Edison and George are already your friends, aren’t they?”

  “They’re grown-up friends.”

  “True.” We approached the building with its gated yard. Kids were playing basketball and kicking a soccer ball around, lots of chaos and chatter. Heck, it even intimidated me a little. Noisy strangers… Then I remembered something Edison said. “You know, poepie, a lot of these kids have not known each other all their lives. They might have moved here, like us, or be living with their grandparents or foster parents or someone else for a while.”

  He dug his heels in and stared at me. “Why? Don’t their dads love them?”
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br />   “Yeah, I am sure they do, but sometimes they have things going on and need someone who can take care of them for a while. So we need to remember that everyone has things to deal with, and be kind to each other.”

  He was silent a moment, and I glanced down to see his “processing” face. “We should be extra nice, huh? Because sometimes we don’t know if someone is sad.”

  “Perfect way to put it,” came a deep voice, and I looked up to find a man standing in the doorway of the center, holding a tablet. “You’re very wise, young man.” He changed his focus to me and extended his hand. “Link Dawson. I volunteer here.”

  I shook it. “Gustav Van Dijk, and this is my son, Dane. This is our first day.”

  His smile went all the way to his twinkling eyes. “Welcome!” Link stepped back and waved toward the inside. “I just finished up a tutoring session with some of the after-school gang, so if you’d like, I would be honored to give you both the grand tour.”

  “That would be great,” I replied, glancing around the big open interior. “It’s much larger in here, more like a school gymnasium than an ordinary building.”

  “Yeah, I know. See the stage over there? The kids put on shows and they have a spelling championship every spring...dance recitals, music. I’m a high school teacher who tutors here three days a week. But lots of others help as well. Our kids deserve the best.”

  In one corner, a group of kids held guitars and at a signal from a youngish woman, began a cacophony of what might possibly be a song. I had no idea what one it was, but they all seemed to be having a good time. Others were coloring at a long table or doing homework, and a kid who appeared to be about ten was reading to half a dozen children who looked preschool age.

  “Outside is this way. Once the kids finish their homework or other planned activities, they are free to head out and run off some energy.”

  “Papa, can I play with those boys?” Dane still held my hand, but I let him go and he ran off to where the others were kicking and bonking a ball on their heads. I noted an older boy there, too.

  “Is he coaching?”

  “That’s Jerry. He’s a star player on his high school team and stops by when he can to give tips and help the younger ones.”

  “Nice of him.” I stayed where I’d been when Dane left, watching anxiously. Would the others accept him that easily? Despite my encouragement, I understood children could be cliquish. “Do you think he’ll be okay on his own?”

  Since when did I ask a stranger for advice on my son? But Link’s pleasant, friendly manner and air of competence encouraged that. Also, he was a teacher.

  “Yes, but hang on.” He walked closer to the soccer players and called Jerry over, spoke to him for a moment then returned. “He’s going to introduce Dane to the others and keep an eye on him. Let’s go inside and get a cup of coffee. You do like coffee?”

  “I do. Have you ever tried kopi tobruk? It’s an Indonesian way of preparing coffee, very popular in the Netherlands.” I strolled along at the side of the first man to awaken my body and mind since my mate died, refusing to look back, not wanting to make my son think I was worried.

  “I haven’t, but maybe you can make me some sometime? I love trying new things.”

  “What are you doing later? I have some at home.”

  “I don’t have any particular plans except grading papers.”

  The door closed behind us, but the noise level stayed the same, indoor voices apparently not a thing for these lively children. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.” But I absolutely wanted to do that.

  “I always have papers to grade. Why don’t we pick up some takeout on the way to your place? And you can make me that coffee for dessert.”

  Holy shit. I might have a date.

  Chapter Four

  Link

  Usually I wasn’t so forward, but this guy’s accent and his icy-blue eyes had me hooked in seconds.

  “What’s your favorite place to eat out here? We don’t eat out a lot. We like to cook at home.”

  His English was excellent.

  “I never cook,” I said, laughing but totally serious. “I can’t cook, in fact. But my favorite place is the Thai Chili over on the next block.”

  Gustav nodded. “Well, maybe it would be good for me to cook for you? Instead of the Thai food?”

  A tingling in my torso had me stumbling over the right answer. I mean, of course the right answer for me was yes, but this guy at one time had a mate and was widowed. Plus, he had a son. I had to be careful for me and for him.

  Regular dating rules went out the window when you were trying to court a single parent.

  Not that I knew firsthand. But I’d read enough romances.

  “It’s up to you, Gustav. I’d love to try your cooking, but I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  There, ball in his court.

  He sipped on his coffee and grimaced slightly before smiling at me. His teeth were so white, they reminded me of fresh snow. Everything about him was refreshing.

  “Cooking is better for me. I don’t like to feed Dane too much takeout food.”

  “Great. How about you let me buy the ingredients, then.”

  He shook his head after gently pushing the cup of coffee away from him. “I have everything. We just went shopping yesterday. How about you owe me dinner another time?”

  I liked this guy. We hadn’t even gone out on our first date, and he was planning the second. Maybe he was as into me as I was already into him.

  “That sounds lovely. Let me go gather my stuff.” I walked over to the desk where I’d put my things and packed up, feeling Gustav’s gaze at my back.

  I went back to the table, satchel across my chest. “I’m ready. Do you want a ride?”

  He shook his head. “We have our car, but thank you. You can follow us.”

  I put the coffee cups away while he went through the door to get his son. Who knew a regular day would turn out so well.

  Eight blocks later, we came upon a quaint Victorian two-story house, slim but beautiful, painted in a light gray with white accents.

  I had followed Gustav and Dane through the gate when Dane tugged on his father’s turtleneck sweater and said something in another language. It was beautiful, and I was a tiny bit jealous that at such a young age, he was already bilingual.

  “In English, Dane. It is rude. And he is our guest.”

  Dane cut his eyes in my direction and friendly wasn’t the first word I would’ve used to describe the look.

  “We always eat alone,” the boy complained, and I almost offered to leave. It was apparent these two had a routine, and I was clearly interrupting.

  “Well, tonight we have a guest, and you will be...gracious.” He struggled to find the word.

  Again, the stink eye was pointed in my direction.

  Dane went inside, and Gustav sighed. “I’m so sorry. It’s a lot of change in a short time. He will get used to you.”

  I nodded, liking how Gustav assumed I would be around long enough for Dane to get used to me.

  “What can I do? I’d love to help, but don’t let me actually cook anything.”

  Gustav laughed, a hearty chuckle, and took my hand momentarily as we walked into the house. “Can you handle the salad?”

  “Sure,” I answered, but in my mind the reply was a firm probably.

  I washed the multi-hued lettuce while Gustav hummed a tune and took some kind of fish out of the fridge. Before I could begin cutting the salad greens, he had put on the fish and some sausages, plus he had covered some root vegetables in oil, salt, and pepper before throwing them into the oven.

  This dinner would be interesting.

  “You prefer lemon or chocolate?” he said, refrigerator open, giving me an excellent view of his rear assets. For the record, the man had a fine ass.

  “Lemon. I don’t really like chocolate.”

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Good to know. Lemon tart it is.”

  I cut th
e tomatoes, cucumber, and red onion and tossed it in a bowl with the greens while Gustav whirred around me, cooking what seemed to be three dinners at once. He was amazing and obviously well practiced.

  In thirty minutes max, he was done and had plated an absolute feast.

  “Dane, dinner. Wash your hands, please,” Gustav called to his son. “I hope you like everything,” he said, suddenly very close to me. Not a bad thing at all.

  “It smells divine as do you.” I reached out and played with one of his belt loops, loving the way it made him blush.

  “You smell like gingerbread to me, alpha.”

  Oh, yeah, I liked the sound of that.

  Dane bustled down the stairs and landed with a great thud at the bottom. We both turned to look at him, and his face was red as one of the beets Gustav had roasted. “You get away from my papa! He’s not yours. He has a husband!”

  And with that declaration, he ran back up the stairs, crying.

  “I’m sorry. I should go talk to him,” Gustav said, obviously looking torn.

  “Yes, go. I’ll let myself out.”

  He stopped with a gasp. “Please don’t go.”

  My heart thumped in my chest feeling like it was in my throat instead. “Maybe we should try this another time.”

  And as I walked out the door, my heart broke.

  Chapter Five

  Gustav

  Before I could do another thing, I sat down in the big recliner and counted backward from one hundred. My son, while overall a really pleasant child and easy to deal with, had his moments. And those moments, just as I’d heard was true for many children, generally came at the worst possible times.

  I took long, slow deep breaths, each one redolent with the scents of the very special meal I’d made in record time, seeking calm that wasn’t coming. I hadn’t had a date since my husband’s passing, partly because of our son, and partly because I never thought to meet someone I was as attracted to as I’d been to him.

  I’d actually been fine without another alpha. Not everyone even found their mate, and while our time had been piteously short, it had been amazing. So, if I had to go the rest of my life alone, I’d always have those memories.