Once a Father

by Marie Ferrarella

  “But you’ll have your own room,” he told the boy. Adam closed the door behind Tracy. “It’s just down the hall, opposite mine.”

  The “hall” was all of three feet long, just off the living room.

  The apartment was tiny. An echo would have trouble bouncing around, Tracy mused as she took in her surroundings. She’d taken a few hours off to look into Jake’s background. A drive by the area showed her that the Andersons had lived in a sprawling, huge house with a pool and tennis courts visible out back. With no other next of kin to contest the will Daniel Anderson had left, the house belonged to Jake. But he needed a court appointed guardian and legal wheels turned slowly.

  After living in such a big house this was going to take some getting used to for Jake, Tracy thought.

  Adam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he guided him to the room that had been, until yesterday, his storage area. He’d cleaned the room out and then hastily bought a bed for Jake. Currently his belongings were distributed amid his siblings, tucked away in six different garages.

  Jake winced from the contact. Adam immediately pulled back his hand, silently upbraiding himself for not being more careful. “Sorry.”

  Tracy quickly stepped in to alleviate the situation. “Healing’s going faster than I anticipated,” she told them both. “The two of you will be roughhousing in no time.”

  Adam didn’t see that in the cards.

  Considering the state of the rest of the house, dishes in the sink, a shirt haphazardly tossed over the back of the sofa, several days’ worth of newspapers scattered on the coffee table, Tracy was amazed at the pristine condition the second bedroom was in. There was a bed, a nightstand with a kid’s baseball lamp and a bicycle parked beneath a window that looked out onto the communal pool.

  From where she stood, she could see into Adam’s room. The bed wasn’t made and there was laundry strewn on the floor. The second bedroom had to have taken considerable effort on his part.

  Jake took several steps into the room and went no farther. She gestured about the area. “What was this before today?”

  A hint of a grin slowly worked its way to Adam’s lips. The woman didn’t miss much. “Storage area.”

  She was trying not to pay attention to the effect his grin was having on her pulse. The man’s solemn expression didn’t do him justice.

  “What happened to the things?”

  “My brothers and sisters let me use their garages for a while.” Otherwise, even though the boy was small, there would have been no room for him amid all the other belongings. The room had held all the memories of his former life that he could safely deal with, things that had been important, in one way or another, to Gloria and Bobby. Things he couldn’t get himself to part with. He just wished he’d been able to save more than a handful of photographs. But the fire had destroyed the albums that he and his wife had painstakingly put together.

  She turned to Jake, trying to get him to come around even a little. “A bed, a nightstand with a lamp and a bike. What more can a guy ask for, right, Jake?” Crossing to the last item, she ran her hand over the frame. Tracy noticed that the bicycle, a boy’s model, had a slight dent in it and though in good condition, was not new. She looked at Adam. “Borrowed from a nephew?”

  The bicycle had belonged to Bobby. His first two-wheeler. Adam could remember how excited his son had been when he’d first learned how to ride it.

  Like a typical father, Adam had run behind it, holding on to the back of the seat until that all-crucial moment when he’d let go without telling Bobby. His son had made it a whole three yards before the boy had turned back to see if he was still holding on. The dent in the fender had come when Bobby had landed in the bushes, surprise throwing off his budding, wobbly coordination.

  Bobby had brushed himself off and immediately gotten back up on the bike. He’d had that kind of spirit. Nothing daunted him. He was always eager to take on the world.

  Adam felt a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he said shortly.

  There was something more, Tracy thought. Something he wasn’t saying. She looked into his eyes and saw the sorrow there. The same sorrow she saw in Jake’s eyes. One thought fed into another. Could the bike have belonged to someone other than one of his nephews?

  To a son, perhaps?

  But Collins was obviously alone. He’d told her that his wife had died. Could he have lost a child as well? Tracy knew she was making a huge leap here, but the loss of a son would go a long way toward explaining the bond that was knitting itself between the silent fireman and the mute little boy. Both had suffered losses. Jake was a fatherless child and Adam could very well be a childless father.

  Two pieces of a whole that needed each other.

  Adam saw the way Tracy was studying him, as if she were dissecting something. It made him feel uneasy. “What?”

  She shook her head. Now was not the time to pry, or ask if she was guessing correctly. That wasn’t why she’d come along. Her purpose was to help heal wounds, not open old ones. “Nothing, just wondering how the dent got there.”

  “Bushes,” he told her matter-of-factly. “The bike crash-landed in the bushes.”

  With a novice riding it. His son? “Must have hurt.”

  Adam inclined his head in vague agreement. “He was a resilient kid.”

  Was.

  The single word told her everything she needed to know. Sorry that she had touched upon such a raw nerve, she turned her attention back to Jake, her eyes smiling at the boy. “Resilient. Just like you, right, Jake?”

  For the first time, Jake looked at her when she said his name. Until now, if their eyes met at all, it was because she would place herself directly in his line of vision.

  But that had been at the hospital. Here he was confronted with a different set of circumstances and he needed a way to relate, however peripherally.

  Her stomach suddenly pinched, reminding her that she’d had only a slice of toast for breakfast. Tracy glanced at her watch.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what,” she announced, gently ushering Jake from the room. “Since it’s coming on to noon, why don’t I fix us all something to eat and then we can see about getting you settled in, making this place a little more your own, Jake.”

  Surprised, Adam followed her out to the kitchen. Jake trailed after them, stopping in the living room. “You’re staying?”

  Tracy turned around. He sounded surprised. “That was the plan.”

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about this, about her staying in his apartment so long. Other than his sisters and sisters-in-law, no woman had stepped foot in here. This was his private territory.

  “No one ran it by me.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t just take her presence for granted. “I’m sorry, I thought you understood I was coming along to help get Jake situated.”

  The word had a vague connotation. “I thought that meant just coming with him to the apartment.”

  She gave him a lopsided smile. “That’s not situated, that’s walking in. You get a lot more for your money with me.” The smile turned into a tantalizing grin he had no idea how to read. “Now then, what would you like me to fix for lunch?”

  She opened the refrigerator and then paused, her enthusiasm on momentary hold.

  Aside from a lightbulb and shelves, there was a quarter of a loaf of white bread and what looked to be some leftover tuna fish salad in a bowl. The tuna fish had a sour odor to it. The bread, she was willing to bet, was probably turning a light green hue.

  He’d been so busy clearing a place for the boy and turning down his siblings’ offers to come help that Adam had forgotten all about stocking the refrigerator. The days he didn’t eat at the station house, he ate out. Filling a refrigerator had never been a priority for him. He wasn’t the kind to nibble. If he got the hungries at inopportune times, he just toughed it out.

  Tracy closed the refrigerator again. Nothing to work with there.

  “Well, seeing as how
I’m not exactly up on my miracles and never got the hang of how to feed anyone using just a part of a loaf of bread and a bad fish salad, I’d say that one of us needs to make a run to the supermarket.” She was vaguely aware that they had passed one on their way here, but how far away, she wasn’t sure. “I’ll give you first call.”

  He was at the door already, relieved for the break. “I’ll go. What do you need?”

  An instruction manual on what makes you tick. The thought snuck up on her from nowhere.

  She was fairly certain she knew the way to the heart of a little boy. Or at least to his stomach. “Why don’t you just pick up two pounds of ground beef—lean,” she emphasized. “Ketchup, buns and pickles and I’ll make some hamburgers for us. How’s that?”

  She looked at Jake for approval. After a beat, he nodded.

  Another breakthrough, she mentally high-fived herself.

  Though she didn’t say anything about the boy’s response, the sparkle in her eyes as she turned them on Adam gave her away.

  It took him a second to gather up the thoughts that had scattered in response to the overwhelming exuberance he saw in her face. “Why don’t I just go to a fast-food drive-through and save you the trouble?”

  “No trouble.” She liked to putter around in the kitchen and didn’t get nearly enough time at it. “And this’ll be healthier than what you can get there. We’ll save the fast-food place for something special,” she promised Jake. Her grin went up a degree, melting the tips of the laces on Adam’s shoes. “Like maybe your first word.”

  “I won’t be long,” Adam promised, pulling the door open.

  “Oh, and get some chicken. A cut-up fryer,” she specified.

  He looked at her. “To go with the hamburgers?”

  “No, for dinner, silly.”

  That stopped him for a second. “You are spending the whole day.”

  She grinned. “Damn straight I am.”

  With what looked to be a resigned nod, Adam closed the door behind him.

  She’d guessed right about coming here, she decided, turning away from the door. Good intentions notwithstanding, Adam wasn’t quite comfortable with the boy yet.

  “Okay, Jake,” she said brightly. “Let’s go set the table.”

  Though she’d expected him to be gone for a while, Adam was true to his word. He returned fairly quickly.

  During Adam’s absence, she’d kept up a steady stream of conversation with Jake while she explored Adam’s kitchen. The firefighter had only the barest essentials available. One large pot, one small one and a single frying pan. Luckily, it was a large one. She was able to fry all three hamburgers at the same time. There was no need for anyone to wait for their serving.

  Though he was slow to start, once he did, Jake ate with more appetite than she’d witnessed in the hospital.

  Maybe he was feeling better, she thought happily. Being out of the hospital and taking small, baby steps into a brand-new life was having a positive effect on him.

  She only hoped that it would continue.

  With a surge of triumph, she caught Adam’s eye and indicated Jake. When he got her meaning, they shared a smile.

  Though he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, Adam found that he had no say in the matter. Tracy spent the day.

  After lunch, she drew both him and Jake into the living room where she proceeded to locate specials on a station that featured live animal stories. Jake watched with mild interest, which Tracy clearly took to be another positive step. Adam had to admit that the programs didn’t put him to sleep. That was something.

  Afterward, there was a parade of different cartoon shows thanks to another channel, which was apparently where old cartoon programs went to die. Adam had grudgingly remained on the sofa after her silent entreaty, conveyed by her laying a hand on his knee and giving it a quick squeeze. He didn’t know what amazed him more, her action or the fact that Tracy obviously took pleasure in such silly fare, apparently enjoying it every bit as much as any child.

  What also surprised him was his reaction to her simple, intimate gesture. Having her touch his knee stirred him, reminding him of the kind of contact that had been missing from his life these past two years. The intimate shorthand between a man and a woman.

  He sat beside Tracy, watching her as much as he watched the small screen. More.

  The sound of her laughter echoed in his head, drifted through his system. Soft, melodious, like the promise of spring. It suited her.

  And, in an odd way, it seemed to comfort him, though he wouldn’t have been able to say why if anyone had asked him about it.

  The day passed, remarkable only insofar as it came very close to approximating the family life he’d lost, with its days that defied recall, days that only left imprints of contentment in their wake.

  It passed all too quickly.

  After dinner, she’d had the boy help her pile the plates into the sink. That he did her bidding partially amazed Adam. But then, she was probably accustomed to getting men of all sizes to do what she wanted. She had that kind of a way about her, he decided. The kind of ability to make people want to do things for her.

  He found himself wondering when his turn would come. What would she want of him?

  The professional side of her emerged. Tracy took the boy into his room and changed his bandages just before bedtime. That done, she tucked him in and sat reading to him from books that mysteriously emerged from her bottomless bag, the same bag she’d brought the bandages in.

  The woman was nothing short of amazing, Adam decided. She seemed prepared for everything, unruffled by anything.

  She sat by the boy’s bed, reading to him until he closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep. By then Adam had withdrawn to leave the two of them together. He figured she worked her magic better without an audience looking on.

  As he waited for her to finish, Adam did something he rarely did. He was putting dishes away after having washed them. He’d just finished cleaning the roasting pan that Tracy had brazenly gone to the next-door neighbor and borrowed when she finally came out of Jake’s room and walked into the kitchen.

  “He’s asleep,” she announced with no small satisfaction.

  “I kind of figured that.”

  Tossing the damp dishtowel aside, he looked at her. She looked tired, but happy. He found himself wondering why she wasn’t married. Why wasn’t she home somewhere, tucking her own kids into bed, reading them stories?

  The questions surprised him. He didn’t usually wonder about anyone. It wasn’t like him. That was more the domain of the woman who lived across the way, Mrs. Wells, a widow who spent her entire day at the window, monitoring the comings and goings of everyone in the complex.

  “You’re really good with kids,” he commented, walking into the living room with her.

  She prided herself on that. “It’s not hard. I really love them.” For some reason, this touch of domesticity had left her with a bittersweet feeling. As if she was being given a glimpse of a life that would have been hers, if only things had turned out differently.

  Tired, she sank down on the sofa for a moment. “That’s the pity of it.”

  Without thinking, Adam sat down beside her. “Come again?”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what started her off. Maybe it was because he seemed interested. Or maybe she was just feeling vulnerable. Whatever the reason, she heard herself sharing with him what she hadn’t told anyone but her best friend.

  “I can’t have any of my own. Ironic, isn’t it?” A trace of a bitter smile played on her lips. “The lady pediatric doctor is barren.” She shrugged. Talking about it didn’t change anything. She had to accept it. And she did. Over and over again, every single morning as the thought hurdled at her with the force of a comet entering the atmosphere when she first opened her eyes. “So I throw myself into my work to get my kid fix.” She saw he wanted to ask, but respected privacy too much to invade hers. She liked that about him, his nobility. “I had a really bad bo
ut of endometriosis.”

  The term was foreign to him. “I don’t know what that is.”

  She laughed softly. “You’re lucky. I do.” Feeling suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself and continued. “In a nutshell, it’s a disease that messes with your reproductive system. Worse case, it destroys your ability to bear children.” She remembered how devastated she’d felt when the doctor had first told her. She went into denial for over two months before she finally forced herself to accept the information. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, as if she were talking only to herself. “I had worse case.” Rousing herself, Tracy shook off the mood that was descending on her. “Things happen, I guess.”

  The urge to comfort her came from nowhere. Surprised, he banked it down. “Even to nice people.”

  She turned to look at him, her hand splayed over her heart. “My God, was that another compliment?”

  He almost laughed at her comical exclamation. “An observation. You can do what you want with it.”

  “Is everyone in your family like you?” The voice that framed the question was teasing and kind. “You must have some pretty quiet Christmases if they are.”

  He liked setting her straight. “On the contrary, they can get pretty rowdy. Nobody notices if I don’t talk.”

  She knew he was wrong there. “People always notice, they just might not say so.” She could see that he was unconvinced. “I notice when you don’t talk.”

  Now that he sincerely doubted. She liked the sound of her own voice too much. “It’s hard getting a word in edgewise, even if I were so inclined.”

  “People have said that,” she allowed with a grin that told him she wasn’t insulted.