He shrugged. “We’ll see what he wants to do.”
Renee looped her arm through his to walk across the parking lot. He didn’t know whether it was her exuberance for the outing or a reward for his saying the right thing. But it didn’t matter. It made him feel like he and his sons belonged, at least for the time being.
* * *
“There it is! I can see the sign!” Emma shouted in a voice loud enough for the people in the car ahead of them to hear.
“Yes, it is.” Renee couldn’t believe how quickly the fifty-minute drive to Blue Mountain Lake and the museum had gone by. And despite the car vibrating with their excitement, the kids had been well behaved, better than she and her siblings had been on some trips her family had taken.
Emma twisted around. “And Mr. Rhys is still behind us.”
“I expected he would be.” Renee pulled into a parking space in the museum parking lot. “Everyone stay buckled in and in the car until Mr. Rhys has the van parked and I say so.”
Rhys pulled in next to her.
“Okay.” She gave the go-ahead. “Stay beside the car. We’re going to walk into the museum together.”
The kids tumbled out of the car to mingle with the others who’d ridden with Rhys. As was Building Bridges’ policy, Renee took a head count and checked off each child on a clipboard. “Let’s head in. Line up single-file.”
The younger kids scrambled to be first, while the two fifth-grade boys took their time sauntering from the van over to the end of the line.
“Mr. Rhys, would you follow up in the back?”
“Sure thing.” He smiled before stepping over next to the two boys, one of his rare real smiles that made Renee think there was a lot more to Rhys than he let on. It made her want to know him better.
“Follow me,” Renee said, leading them into the museum entrance.
The woman at the admission desk greeted them. “You must be the Building Bridges group.”
“How did you know that?” Emma asked.
The woman eyed their matching lime-green T-shirts. “Your shirts, honey.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I have you down for three adults and nine children. Is that right?”
“All present and accounted for.” Renee handed her the Building Bridges’ debit card to pay for their admissions.
“Your tour guide will be here in a minute.” The woman handed the card back to Renee a minute later and looked over the group again. “After the orientation tour, I suggest you break into older and younger groups. Some of the hands-on mountain man activities have a minimum age.”
“Okay, thanks.”
When she turned back to the group, Rhys walked up to her and motioned for Paige to join them. Was something wrong?
“I know we didn’t talk about it beforehand, but I think it would be a good idea if we go with a buddy system as well as breaking into age groups,” he said.
“It would.” She should have thought of that. She was the person in charge. Renee took in Rhys’s clear, steady gaze. No, we’re a team. The Hazardtown Building Bridges team. She cleared her throat. “Everyone listen up. I want each of you to choose a buddy for the day.”
Emma jumped up and down, her hand in the air. “Like we do at school when we go to lunch, hold hands and walk together? I want to be Mr. Rhys’s buddy, unless he’s going to be your buddy, Miss Renee.”
The air in the museum seemed to crackle as Renee remembered the feel of Rhys’s strong, calloused hand gripping hers when he’d said grace before dinner the other night.
“Mr. Rhys and I will look out for each other.” Her cheeks warmed as she hastily added, “And Mrs. Anderson. I meant for you to choose another child as your buddy.”
“But there are nine kids,” Emma said. “You can’t divide nine by two.”
The older boys snickered. A look from Rhys was enough to quell them. Emma was too cute and too smart for her own good.
“I have a solution,” Renee said. “We’ll divide into our two groups first. Everyone who’s going into fourth or fifth grade is in Mr. Rhys’s group.”
Four boys, including Owen and Serge, shuffled toward Rhys.
“Emma, Melody, Tyler, Noah and Dylan are with Mrs. Anderson and me.” Renee shot Rhys an apologetic look. He shrugged. “Now, everyone choose buddies. I’d rather not assign them.”
“I choose Noah because I don’t want to be with a girl,” Tyler said, his belligerent tone making Melody cringe.
“I’ll be Melody’s buddy ’cause she’s little and I can look after her,” Dylan said quietly, ignoring the other boy’s dig.
“That’s very nice of you,” Renee said.
Tyler pulled a face at Dylan. Renee prayed the whole afternoon wouldn’t go like this.
“And Emma’s buddy, too,” he said. “If I have to.”
Seeing the same protective trait in Dylan that she’d seen in Rhys for his sons tugged at her heart.
“That’s okay with me,” Emma said. “We can both be Melody’s buddy and take care of her. We’re six.”
“Thank you, Emma. Is everyone paired up?” Rhys’s gaze held hers until the connection became a line pulling her into murky waters. And the waters didn’t get any murkier than Rhys.
“Hi, I’m Talia, your guide.” A bubbly young woman introduced herself to the group.
“Renee Delacroix, from Building Bridges, and my volunteers Paige Anderson and Rhys Maddox.” She ignored the irritation that poked her when Talia cast Rhys a wide smile.
The tour lasted about forty minutes, almost too long for some of the younger kids. But lunch at the museum’s Lakeview Café with ice cream for dessert revived them. They broke into their two groups afterward to try the special children’s activities staffed by volunteer mountain men and loggers.
* * *
Toward the end of the afternoon, everyone met up at the last two activities. The younger children were trying their hand at poling logs down a model of the Schroon River, and the older boys testing their strength wielding rubber mallets on a machine that measured how many ax strikes they’d need to chop the branches off a felled tree to ready it to float downstream.
“Hey, Dad,” Owen said when he’d finished his turn. “Why don’t you take a try?”
“No, it’s for you guys.” Rhys motioned at Owen and the other boys in his group.
“Come on, Mr. Rhys. Show us your stuff,” Serge joined in.
“Go ahead. Give it a try,” the reenactor staffing the activity, said. “There’s no one else waiting.”
“Isn’t it a kid thing?” Rhys asked, checking out the guy’s nametag—Jeff.
“No,” Jeff said. “Tell you what. Why don’t we have a friendly competition? I could use the exercise. I’ll go first. You see if you can beat me.”
Rhys hesitated.
“Do it, Dad.”
“Yeah, Mr. Rhys,” the other three boys said in chorus.
“Okay.” Rhys relented.
“Dylan, Miss Renee!” Owen shouted. “You’ve gotta see this. Dad is going to try to beat the logger guy.”
* * *
Renee looked over from where she was helping Melody finish guiding her log down the river and waved. “Be there in a minute.” This was something she wouldn’t mind watching.
“I’ll take the kids over and Emma to the ladies’ room while you and Melody finish here,” Paige said.
“I’ll be real fast,” Emma said, hopping around more than usual. “I don’t want to miss Mr. Rhys.”
“Thanks, Paige.”
Melody skipped beside Renee as they moved to join the others.
“Honey, your shoe’s coming untied.” Renee stopped her.
“Can you tie it? It takes me too long. I want to see Mr. Rhys.”
Did
n’t they all? Renee knelt and glanced over at the boys standing wide-eyed while the burly reenactor began making quick work of trimming the virtual tree.
“All done,” Renee said. She stood and took Melody’s hand. With a satisfied smile, the reenactor handed Rhys the mallet.
“Wait, Dad,” Owen said as Rhys accepted the mallet. “Wait for Miss Renee.”
“And Mrs. Anderson and Emma,” Renee called back. Emma would never forgive any of them if she missed watching Mr. Rhys.
“Your father should be real good at this,” Tyler said.
Renee’s ears perked up. Was Tyler saying something nice to Dylan? The boy had tried to belittle Dylan during every activity and to get his buddy to do the same. She was going to talk with the director and Pastor Connor about Tyler. She certainly didn’t want to deprive Tyler of the benefits of the group, but constant disruption and bullying wasn’t good for the other children.
“Him being in prison, he probably got a lot of practice smashing rocks with a sledgehammer like on cartoons.”
“Did not,” Dylan said. “Mommy took us to visit him there. They don’t smash rocks.”
“Ha, ha, I’m going to tell everyone in first grade that you’ve been to prison, learning to be a criminal just like your father. No one will be your friend, right, Noah?”
At Noah’s agreement, Dylan’s face crumpled. Renee broke into a jog that Melody could keep up with. Why wasn’t Rhys doing something? She looked at him. He stood as still as a granite mountain, the devastated look on his face rivaling the one on his younger son’s face. Her heart tore in two.
“Leave Dylan alone.” Owen lunged at Tyler. Renee dropped Melody’s hand and broke into a run.
Rhys caught Owen by the neck of his T-shirt with one hand and held his other arm out, fingers splayed to block Tyler’s rush toward Owen. “Stop. Violence doesn’t solve anything.” His voice was low and held no anger, only solid steel.
It wasn’t exactly how she would have handled things, or even close. Her training had emphasized encouraging touch. But Rhys had been effective. Both boys stood still, glaring at each other. Renee caught her breath and placed her hand on Tyler’s shoulder, tightening her grip when he tried to shake it off. She’d admit that Rhys might know more about getting through to boys than she did.
“I didn’t miss it, did I?” Emma trotted up with Mrs. Anderson behind her.
Rhys released a mirthless laugh, along with the hold on Owen’s shirt.
“Mr. Rhys with the hammer,” Emma clarified.
“No, sweetie, you didn’t miss anything with the hammer,” Renee answered. At least not the hammer you mean. “Tyler, please walk to the van with me.”
The boy shot Rhys and Owen a nasty scowl.
“Now,” she said.
Tyler started toward the parking lot with her. In the background, Renee heard the repeated ding of the bell signaling Rhys’s hammer blows. She wouldn’t be surprised if the brute strength earned him a museum record.
What did surprise her, however, was the deep reassurance his show of strength gave her.
* * *
I will not be the example for Owen and Dylan that kid said I am. Rhys silently repeated the phrase with each slam of the mallet until a blast of bells and whistles signaled that he’d trimmed his tree.
“Nice job. You win,” Jeff said as Rhys handed him the mallet. “In fact, that might be a museum record.”
Rhys nodded.
“Everyone line up with his or her buddy,” Mrs. Anderson said. “It’s time to go. Thank Jeff for the good time.”
Rhys wiped the sweat from his brow. Mostly good time. He probably should have said what Paige had. It was his group’s activity.
“Wait, Dad,” Owen said as Rhys started toward the end of the line to follow the kids to the vehicles.
“What?”
“You should get a badge like we did.”
“So you should,” Jeff said with a grin. He handed Rhys the stick-on circular badge the boys in Rhys’s group each sported.
“Put it on,” Owen and Serge said.
Rhys peeled off the paper back and slapped the badge on his T-shirt.
Paige smiled her admiration.
But instead of her pleasant, attractive face, Rhys couldn’t help visualizing Renee’s beautiful one, all smiles when he’d completed the behavior modification training at her house the other evening with a perfect score. He pulled at the neckline of his sticky shirt. Despite the time with his sons, today’s trip couldn’t be over soon enough.
“Dylan’s riding back with me,” Rhys announced when they met Renee and a very sullen-looking Tyler in the parking lot.
“Okay,” Dylan said quietly.
Rhys shoved his hands into his front pockets. He was the father. Right now, he didn’t care if his son wanted to ride with Renee or if Renee thought he should ride with her. He didn’t want him with Tyler.
“Of course,” Renee said. “He rode here with you.”
The remaining tension Rhys hadn’t pounded out of himself with the mallet drained from him. He didn’t know what he expected her to say. But whether it was her intention or not, Renee’s words validated Rhys’s actions as a father, even if those actions may not have been recommended in the Building Bridges’ handbook.
Renee pulled out her clipboard and checked off the kids as they took their seats in each vehicle.
The kids were quieter on the way home, their excitement and energy spent, which made the trip seem much longer without their enthusiastic chatter.
When he pulled into the church parking lot, Rhys was glad to see all of the parents there waiting to pick up their children. He wondered if Renee was glad, too. Today had been an experience for him, in more ways than one.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Renee escort Tyler to his mother as he walked Owen and Dylan to Jack Hill, who was waiting beside his truck.
The usual sense of loss spread through Rhys’s gut.
“Rhys.”
“Jack.”
“Did you guys have a good time?” Jack asked.
“The best,” Owen said. “You should have seen Daddy hammer through the tree trimming activity. He beat the logger guy, probably set a record. He’s really strong.”
Jack nodded, a smile twitching the corners of his lips.
Rhys shifted his weight.
“Yeah,” Dylan said softly. “And he made Tyler stop saying mean things to me.”
Nothing he’d had to contend with while in prison—or anywhere else—had ever made him as weak-kneed as Dylan’s quiet statement.
“Without hitting Tyler or anything,” Dylan added, “like Owen was going to.”
Molten iron ran through him. How would Jack take Dylan’s implication that he might consider that? He’d never hit his sons or any other child since he’d been a child himself.
“Daddy said vi-lence doesn’t solve anything.” Dylan brought Rhys down off the ledge. Since when had he cared what other people thought of him?
“Like we learned in vacation Bible school,” Owen said. “Turn the other cheek. But I think Daddy’s loud voice scared Tyler out of saying anything else.”
“Sounds like you had quite a day,” Jack said, opening the back door to his pickup. “All of you.”
Jack’s gaze held his while the boys climbed in the truck, and Rhys experienced an alien feeling, one he’d had very few times before—male camaraderie that didn’t have any expectations.
“’Bye, Daddy.” His boys waved out the open window as Jack climbed in the truck.
“’Bye, guys. See you at church tomorrow.”
He watched them drive off, followed by the last of the other parents.
“Rhys,” Renee said.
He started. “Dylan told Jack that I made Tyler stop b
eing mean to him.” He scuffed his toe on the asphalt. He had no idea why he’d blurted that out, except for the difficulty he was having processing the feelings Dylan’s words had released in him. “The Building Bridges stuff may be working,” he said to cover himself.
“I’d say that’s progress. Congrats.” Renee’s gaze flickered around the parking lot, as if making sure no one was listening to them. “I know you’re probably anxious to get home but...”
Was she going to ask him to do something with her this evening? Dinner at her place with Claire again? He forced out a hitched breath. The stress of the day must have made him delusional.
“I talked with Tyler’s mother about his behavior and have a strong feeling she’s going to call the Bridges’ director to complain about how Tyler was treated.”
“She’s going to call and complain about us?” His disbelief made him pause between each word. “Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so. We have to fill out a form about the incident, anyway, so unless you have other plans for the evening, I’d like to take the time now and have it on the director’s desk before Tyler’s mother calls him.”
“Here?”
“No.” She looked at him strangely.
Of course not. If he’d been talking with her on the phone instead of in person, he’d have slapped himself on the side of the head. The day had taken more out of him than he’d thought. If this was day-to-day parenting, he had his work cut out for him—not that the thought in any way diminished his determination to regain full custody of Owen and Dylan.
“Do you have a laptop?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He’d picked up a refurbished one last paycheck in anticipation of having custody of Owen and Dylan in a few months, figuring Owen at least would need one for school. He planned to have cable internet service installed next payday.
“The form is online. You could stop by your house, pick up your laptop and meet me at the Paradox Lake General Store. They have Wi-Fi. We can grab a table and fill it out there. Get something to eat.”
“All right. See you there.” He wasn’t even going to think about suggesting they do the form at his house, not with the way his insides churned around her at the least expected times. Besides, he had nothing to offer her to eat.
Reuniting His Family Page 10
