A Maverick and a Half

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A Maverick and a Half Page 2

by Marie Ferrarella


  There was a six-foot-one dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger in her classroom. A stranger who looked far from happy.

  Neither was she, caught like this, Marina thought, flustered as she quickly tossed the bagged diaper into the wastepaper basket. She didn’t like being caught unprepared like this. She was still trying to get her bearings as a working mother and absolutely hated looking as if she was at loose ends.

  “Just give me a moment,” she requested, struggling to measure out her words.

  She was trying to sound as if she was in control of the situation even though she was very aware of the fact that she wasn’t.

  Not waiting for the stranger to respond, Marina quickly hurried over to the sink where her fifth graders washed their hands whenever they got too into recess and enjoying the great outdoors.

  Still flustered, Marina turned the faucet handle too quickly. The next second, she found herself on the receiving end of a water spray that promptly soaked her, if not to the skin, enough to look as if she’d been caught in an unexpected fall shower.

  Even the floor beneath her feet was wet.

  With a dismayed cry that sounded suspiciously like a yelp, Marina managed to turn off the water, but not before she was completely embarrassed.

  She was fairly certain that the tall, dark and handsome cowboy who had just walked in, wrapped in scowling mystery, undoubtedly felt she was the veritable Queen of Klutzes.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, grabbing two paper towels and drying herself off as best she could. She found she needed two more just to do a passable job. Wadding up the paper towels, she tossed them into the same wastebasket that contained Sydney’s diaper. “You caught me off guard.”

  “Apparently.”

  Had the word sounded any drier, it would have crackled and broken apart as it left the stranger’s rather full lips.

  Marina walked back to her daughter, moving the car seat closer to her on the desk before she turned fully and addressed the stranger.

  In her best “teacher voice” she said to the man in her classroom, “Now then, you didn’t mention your name.” She spoke as pleasantly as she could, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

  Anderson drew himself up to his full height, aware of just how intimidating that appeared to the casual observer.

  “I’m Anderson Dalton,” he informed her in a no-nonsense voice. “You left a message on my phone, saying you wanted to see me about Jake.”

  The name instantly rang a bell. It wasn’t that big a classroom, nor that big a town, so Marina didn’t have to struggle to pair up the name to a student. But she was a little mystified as to why he felt the need to come in so quickly.

  “Well, I didn’t mean immediately,” she told him, sounding half apologetic if she’d conveyed the wrong impression. “I wanted you to call me back so that we could set up an appointment for a time that was convenient to both of us.”

  His wide shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. Okay, maybe he’d gone off half-cocked and misunderstood. But all that was water under the bridge in Anderson’s opinion.

  “Well, I’m here now,” he pointed out needlessly. “We might as well get to it—unless you want to take some time to dry off some more or maybe change your clothes,” he suggested.

  She didn’t have a change of clothes here. It never occurred to her that she might wind up taking an unexpected bath.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  That was Anderson’s cue. He immediately launched into a defense on his son’s behalf.

  Taking a step closer to the teacher, he all but loomed over her as he began his rapid-fire monologue. “Look, Jake’s a good kid, but you’ve got to remember, he’s dealing with a lot right now. It’s not easy for a kid his age to go from a big inner city to the sticks. Even so, I think he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of it, all things considered. A lot of other kids in his place might have acted out. You just have to cut him some slack, that’s all,” he told her with feeling.

  Marina opened her mouth but again, she didn’t get a chance to utter a single word. Jake’s father just kept on talking.

  “If anything’s wrong, then it’s my fault. Jake and I hardly had time to exchange two words since I found out about him and bang, suddenly I’m the one in charge of him, making all these big decisions. And hell—heck,” he censored himself, casting a side glance toward her infant daughter, “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. This parenting thing is really tough.”

  Well, that’s putting it mildly, Marina couldn’t help thinking. But being a private person, she kept that sentiment to herself. While she was generally friendly and outgoing, there were parts of her life that she considered to be private. Her unexpected entry into motherhood was one of them.

  Anderson didn’t notice the silence. He kept his monologue going.

  “Don’t punish the kid because of my mistakes,” he implored, growing more emotional. “Whatever Jake did that got you angry, he didn’t know any better. Let me talk to him—”

  This could go on for hours, Marina realized, dismayed.

  “Mr. Dalton, stop!” she cried, raising her voice so that he would finally cease talking and take a breath. “I don’t know what gave you the impression that Jake’s done something wrong, but he hasn’t. You’ve really got a great kid there, Mr. Dalton.”

  Anderson stopped dead and stared at her, clearly bewildered. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “You said we had to talk.”

  “And we do,” Marina agreed. One hand on the car seat, she glanced at her daughter. Despite the man’s verbose monologue, Sydney appeared to be dozing. Thank heavens for small favors, Marina thought. “But not because he’s done something bad.”

  The temporary relief Anderson felt quickly gave way to annoyance. “If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then why am I here?” he wanted to know. “I’ve got a ranch to run.”

  She saw that if she wanted to make any headway with Anderson Dalton, she was going to have to speak up and speak with conviction. Otherwise, the man gave every impression that he would steamroll right over her and keep on going.

  “I asked to see you because I am a little concerned about Jake,” she told him.

  In the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney beginning to stir.

  Please go on sleeping, pumpkin.

  “Concerned?” Anderson echoed. Was she doing a one-eighty on what she’d said a minute ago? Just what was this Ms. Laramie’s game? Didn’t the woman know how to speak plainly? “What’s there to be concerned about?”

  The man was beginning to irritate her. Marina started to wonder if this so-called meeting was ultimately an exercise in futility. But as he’d already said, he was here and since he was, she might as well press on and hope she could get through what appeared to be that thick head of his.

  Sounding as friendly as possible, Marina asked, “Have you noticed how quiet Jake is?”

  Anderson’s eyebrows drew together in what amounted to a perplexed scowl. “Well, yeah, sure. I noticed. Why?”

  Obviously the man needed to have a picture drawn for him. She did what she could to make that happen. “I’m worried that your son might be holding back something that’s really bothering him.”

  Anderson shrugged again. Just like a woman, he thought. Seeing problems where there weren’t any. Couldn’t she just appreciate the fact that Jake wasn’t some loudmouth class comedian?

  “Jake’s been quiet for as long as I’ve known him.” Which was technically the truth. It was also a roundabout way of avoiding stating outright that the length of time he’d been acquainted with his son could only be deemed long in the eyes of a fruit fly. “Like I said, it’s been a major adjustment for him—for any kid,” he stressed, “to move from the city to the country. Did you ever think that maybe Jake’s so quiet because he hasn’t had any time to get to know a
ll that many people here yet?”

  Sydney began to fuss in earnest and Marina automatically rocked the car seat to and fro, mentally crossing her fingers as she tried to lull her daughter back to sleep. She would much rather have turned her full attention to Sydney instead of talking to a thickheaded rancher who didn’t seem to know the first thing about the son living under his roof, but that wasn’t her call. She was Jake’s teacher and she owed it to the boy to help him if he did indeed need any help.

  She tried again, tiptoeing diplomatically into the heart of the subject. “Mr. Dalton, I apologize if I sound as if I’m getting too personal here.” She saw him raise an eyebrow as if he was bracing himself. “But do you and Jake ever really...talk?” she asked, emphasizing the last word.

  “Sure we talk,” Anderson retorted quickly, even as he thought that this wasn’t any of this teacher’s business. “We talk all the time.”

  Marina was highly skeptical about his reply, even though she had a feeling that as far as this man was concerned, he and his son actually did communicate.

  She paused for a moment, taking a breath. She knew that she needed to tread lightly here. She didn’t really know the man, not like she knew the parents of a great many of her other students, and she got the feeling that he wasn’t happy about the question she was putting to him. Even so, this needed to be asked and she wasn’t one who backed away, not when there was a child’s well-being at stake.

  “No, Mr. Dalton, I mean talk about things that really matter,” she stressed.

  Judging by the expression on his face, Marina felt she had her answer before the man opened his mouth to say a single word. But she waited for him to say something in his own defense anyway.

  “Maybe not so much,” Anderson finally conceded rather grudgingly. He didn’t like having his shortcomings placed on display like this. “But I don’t want Jake to feel as if I’m pressuring him about anything,” he added quickly—and truthfully. He remembered what it was like, being hauled out on the proverbial carpet by one or both of his parents and taken to task for something he’d done—or hadn’t done when he should have. He didn’t want to make that sort of a mistake with Jake. He wanted Jake to feel like his own person.

  He watched as Jake’s teacher pressed her lips together and murmured, “I see.”

  With his back up, he felt his shoulders stiffen. What a condescending woman, he thought. How the hell could she possibly “see” when she knew nothing about him, about Jake or about the dynamics of their still freshly minted relationship?

  “No,” Anderson informed her angrily, struggling to hold on to his temper, “you don’t.”

  The man clearly had a chip on his shoulder now, Marina thought. He hadn’t behaved as if he had one when he’d first walked in. Was she somehow responsible for the change in attitude?

  “All right,” she conceded, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Then why don’t you tell me?”

  That was not the response he’d expected. Caught off guard and unprepared, Anderson started talking before he had a chance to fully weigh his words.

  “For the first ten years of Jake’s life, I didn’t even have a clue that the kid existed—so I wasn’t able to be part of that life,” he added, which was, to him, the whole point of his frustration. He should have been there for the boy. To guide him, to support him and to get to know him. “Now that I’ve gotten temporary custody, I think that Jake’s confused and conflicted—not that I blame him,” he added quickly. “His whole world has changed and he’s discovered that everything that he thought he knew, he really didn’t.”

  He blew out a breath and for a moment, Marina had the impression that he wasn’t really talking to her anymore, but to himself—and perhaps to the boy who wasn’t there.

  “I really regret all those years that I lost because a kid really needs his father.”

  Marina felt as if she’d taken a direct blow to her abdomen. For just a second, she remembered the disinterested look on Gary’s face when he told her that if she wanted to have this baby, she was on her own—as if he’d had no part in it.

  The sentiment that Mr. Dalton had just expressed hit far too close to home for her to simply ignore or silently accept.

  She did her best not to sound too defensive as she responded to his assessment. “Sometimes, Mr. Dalton, that just isn’t possible.”

  Chapter Two

  The moment she said the words, Anderson realized his mistake. He really needed to monitor his thoughts before he allowed them to escape his lips, Anderson upbraided himself. He could see that he’d inadvertently hurt the woman. He glanced down at the baby in the car seat. The baby’s father wasn’t in the picture for some reason and Ms. Laramie had obviously taken his words to heart as some sort of a rebuke when nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Anderson felt a shaft of guilt pierce his ordinarily tough hide. He didn’t want Jake’s teacher to think that he was criticizing her. That hadn’t been his intent when he’d stormed into her classroom. He’d only been trying to defend his son.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Laramie,” Anderson said contritely. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Marina flushed. Of course he hadn’t. Why was she being so sensitive and overreacting this way? It was her job to think like a professional, not to turn everything around and focus exclusively on herself. Hormonal teenager girls did that, not state-licensed teachers.

  She had to remember that, Marina silently lectured herself.

  “None taken, Mr. Dalton,” she replied stoically.

  * * *

  “Anderson,” he prompted, correcting the petite redhead.

  Since they’d just been talking about the ideal parenting situation, the unexpected insertion of his given name threw her. Marina looked at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

  “Not Mr. Dalton,” Anderson told her. Mr. Dalton was his father, Ben Dalton, a respected lawyer. He was just plain Anderson, a rancher. “Call me Anderson.”

  She’d just met him today and she wasn’t accustomed to being so friendly with her students’ parents if she didn’t really know them outside the classroom.

  “I don’t think that’s appro—”

  “If we’re going to help Jake,” Anderson said, interrupting her, “I think we should be a team, not two polite strangers who sound as if they can’t wait to get away from one another.”

  Marina frowned slightly. Was that the message she was getting across to Jake’s father by addressing him formally? she wondered. That had definitely not been her intention.

  “All right,” she allowed, willing to do it his way. She resumed the point she’d been trying to make earlier. “Regarding what you said previously, Anderson, in a perfect world, every child would be raised by two loving parents.”

  Without meaning to, she glanced down at her daughter and felt a pang. Sydney was the perfect infant and she deserved to be loved by a mother and a father.

  I’m so sorry it didn’t work out, little one. But it’s not all bad. I grew up without a dad, too—mostly—and things worked out for me.

  “But the world, as we both know,” Marina continued telling Jake’s father, “is far from perfect. Very far.”

  He certainly couldn’t argue with that, Anderson thought.

  “True,” he agreed. “I’m very aware that not every relationship can work out.” Painfully aware, he thought. “But that isn’t an excuse not to be there for your kid. They weren’t asked to be born, but they were. The way I see it, the people who caused that birth to happen owe that kid something.” He was referring to himself, although he didn’t say it out loud.

  Marina found herself in complete agreement with Jake’s father. She also found herself wondering what had happened in Anderson Dalton’s relationship that was so traumatic that his girlfriend wouldn’t even notify him for ten whole years that they had
had a child together.

  It was on the tip of Marina’s tongue to ask, but she knew that it wasn’t any of her business and it had no bearing on her teacher/student relationship with Jake.

  Besides, even if she was brash enough to ask Anderson about it, it might just put the man’s back up. She had to remember that the point of talking to Jake’s father in the first place was to get him to build a stronger relationship with his son, not satisfy her innate curiosity.

  Her whole supposition about the relationship—or lack thereof—between Anderson and Jake’s mother was truthfully based on her thinking that the former was a nice guy. At least, he seemed that way to her, but then she wasn’t exactly the reigning authority when it came to reading men. When she came right down to it, Marina silently admitted, she didn’t just have a poor track record with men, she had an absolutely horrible one.

  Gary Milton was a case in point.

  She’d been utterly, completely and madly in love with the man who was Sydney’s father, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was The One despite the fact that they hadn’t been dating all that long. At twenty-seven, with all of her friends getting married and starting families, she was more than ready to take the plunge to happily-ever-after and she was certain that Gary was, too.

  Her own parents had long since been divorced, with her father hardly ever turning up in her life, but she was convinced it would be different for her and Gary.

  Vulnerable, eager, she’d felt that all the stars were perfectly aligned for something wonderful to happen that July Fourth night when she and Gary had attended Braden and Jennifer’s big bash of a wedding. Indeed, romance was in the air and, unbeknownst to her and most of the guests, a spiked glass of punch—thanks to party prankster Homer Gilmore—was in her hand.

  What came afterward seemed completely natural at the time—almost like destiny. She and Gary came together in every sense of the word that night.

  She’d expected, thanks to the night they’d spent together, to hear a proposal from Gary. But she didn’t. Holding her breath, she watched the weeks go by, but Gary was no closer to popping the question than he had been before their friends’ wedding celebration. And then she’d discovered that she was pregnant, and a small part of her had thought that now, finally, Gary would step up. But she was sadly mistaken.

 

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