Apprentice Father

by Irene Hannon

  “Half the fun of a fishing trip is the picnic. Right, guys?” She winked at the two children as she set a bag of chocolate chip cookies on the table.

  Josh helped himself to one. “I like picnics.”

  Grabbing a cookie, Emily swung her legs over the bench of the wooden picnic table. “Can we go down to the lake again?”

  “Sure. But not by yourself.” She looked at the two men.

  “I’m too full to move,” Pop declared.

  “Me, too,” Clay seconded. “We’ll go back down a little later, Emily.”

  At their disappointed expressions, Cate caved. “Okay. I’ll go with you guys. You two finish cleaning up.” She tossed a roll of plastic wrap in Clay’s direction.

  He caught it with a grin. “Looks like I’m on KP.”

  “You had the opportunity for more pleasant duties,” Cate replied pertly, taking the children’s hands.

  “Yeah. Missed opportunities seem to be my lot today.” He held her gaze as he took a sip of soda.

  Blushing, she turned away. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

  Clay watched them, his grin softening into a tender smile. The three of them looked good together, he reflected. And right.

  “Cate’s sure got a way with kids,” Pop commented.

  “Yeah.” Clay stretched his legs out in front of him. “I wish I had her knack.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing a fine job.”

  With a rueful shake of his head, Clay took another swig of soda. “Thanks, but I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

  “That’s what being a father is all about. Or a husband. You make mistakes, learn and try to do better the next time.”

  “Maybe. But I never expected to have to deal with family stuff.”

  “Not the marrying kind?”

  “I never thought I was.”

  “It just takes the right woman to change a person’s mind.”

  Clay sent an involuntary glance toward Cate. When he turned back, he wasn’t sure he liked the gleam in Pop’s eye. Doing his best to ignore it, he focused on selecting one of the cookies Cate had brought.

  “At thirty, I’d sort of reconciled myself to being single, too, until my Mary Beth came along,” Pop offered in the lengthening silence.

  “What was it about her that changed your mind?” Clay finally chose a cookie.

  “She was beautiful, for one thing. I always did have an eye for a pretty woman.” He gave the younger man a wink. “But that wasn’t why I fell in love with her. That happened more slowly, as I got to know her. She had a great capacity for love, plus tremendous courage and strength. I’ve always liked strong women. And I’d never met anyone stronger or braver than Mary Beth.”

  “How so?” Now Clay’s interest was piqued.

  Pop selected a cookie of his own. “It’s a long story. Let me see if I can give you the short version.” He took a bite and chewed for several seconds. “Mary Beth came from a single-parent household with five children, where love was doled out in meager portions. As the oldest, she was also expected to take on a lot of responsibility for the younger ones. She couldn’t wait to get out, and six months before her high school graduation, she married a truck driver. Only it didn’t have quite the happy ending she hoped for.”

  Chasing away a bee, Pop picked up his soda. “Things were okay until Mary Beth decided to get her GED. Her husband, who’d never finished high school, didn’t much like that idea, but she did it anyway. After that, she started to talk about getting a degree. Took a second job to pay the tuition at the community college, and enrolled despite his disapproval. But he sabotaged her every step of the way. Even burned her books and a term paper, once.”

  “Are you serious?” Clay stared at him, appalled.

  “Yes. And it got worse after she became pregnant with my stepson, Roger. I guess her husband figured that would slow her down, but instead she worked harder to give them a better life. That’s when the physical abuse started. I’ll spare you all the details, but it went on for several years. The neighbors called the police twice, and Mary Beth ended up in the emergency room more than once.”

  “Why didn’t she leave him?” It was the same question Clay had asked himself over and over about Anne.

  “In the end, she did.”

  “But why did she wait so long? The guy was a bum. She was better off without him.”

  “Just like your sister would have been?”

  Pop’s quiet question caught Clay off guard. “You know about Anne?”

  “Only the basics. Cate’s pretty close-mouthed about confidential client matters.”

  Clay wiped a hand down his face and set his uneaten cookie on the table. “I wanted her to leave years ago. But my father laid a guilt trip on her. Told her she’d fall from God’s favor if she didn’t honor her marriage vows.” He didn’t attempt to mask his bitterness.

  “Guilt can be a powerful motivator,” Pop conceded. “But there are all kinds of insidious ways to intimidate—or terrify—a woman into staying in an abusive relationship. Name-calling, put-downs, threats, forced isolation, withholding money. The list goes on and on.”

  Could some of those tactics have been factors in Anne’s reluctance to leave Martin? Clay wondered. Was it possible the pressure his father had exerted from a religious perspective wasn’t the only reason—or even the main reason—she’d stayed? It was a new and disturbing insight. One that merited more consideration, Clay decided.

  “Anne had decided to leave her husband, too. The day before she died.”

  Pop laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, son.”

  “At the funeral, the minister talked about how courageous she was.” Clay swallowed hard. “I guess I never understood how true that was.”

  “Hold on to that thought, Clay.” Pop squeezed his shoulder. “If she’d decided to leave, she had the same courage as my Mary Beth had. I’m just sorry her story didn’t have the same happy ending.”

  Cate shaded her eyes and looked toward the picnic table. The two men were engrossed in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Good. After her almost-kiss with Clay, she needed a chance to regain her balance. And answering the children’s eager questions about the lake and the fish, and how come stones skipped instead of sinking if you threw them at the correct angle, helped her do that.

  “Is Pop really a grandfather?”

  “Yes. He’s my grandfather. And Rob’s and Mark’s.” Cate lowered herself to the rock beside Emily. “Why?”

  “He’s not anything like our grandfather.”

  Cate had learned enough from Clay to know Emily’s assessment was accurate. “Not all grandfathers are alike. And not all fathers are alike, either.”

  Emily pondered that. “Your daddy is nice.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Uncle Clay isn’t a daddy, is he?”

  “Well, he never had any children of his own. But sometimes a person can be a daddy without having their own children.”

  “How?”

  “I had a friend once, whose mommy and daddy couldn’t take care of her. When she was a little baby, they found a lady and a man who were married and who wanted a baby to love. So they gave that lady and man their baby to take care of forever. That’s called adoption. And the lady and man became her new mommy and daddy.”

  “Was she happy?”

  “Yes. Very happy.”

  “So…since my mommy is in heaven and my daddy is gone, could Uncle Clay adopt me and Josh?”

  “He’s figuring that out now with a judge. I know he wants you to stay with him, whether he adopts you or not.”

  “But if he adopted us, wouldn’t that mean we’d never have to go live with our grandfather?” Emily persisted.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I think he should adopt us. But…you know how you said your friend was adopted by a lady and man who were married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Uncle Clay’s not married.”

 
“That’s okay. He’s your uncle. That makes a difference.”

  “But it would be okay if he was married, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not married, are you, Cate?”

  Suddenly Cate sensed where this was leading. “No, honey. I’m not.”

  “That means you could marry Uncle Clay, right?”

  Cate stole a quick look at the man in question, who remained engrossed in conversation with Pop, and her heart did a little somersault.

  Oh, yes! I could marry him—if I listened to my feelings instead of reason. And if my disabilities weren’t a stumbling block.

  “Cate?”

  With an effort, Cate focused on Emily’s question, trying to frame a noncommittal reply. “People only get married if they love each other, honey.”

  “Do you love Uncle Clay?”

  She should have seen that coming, Cate berated herself.

  “Look what I found!”

  Josh thrust a frog in her face, and Cate recoiled with a squeal, leaving Emily’s question unanswered.

  But it continued to echo in her mind, reminding her that even if she never gave Emily an answer, she needed to consider the question.

  As well as the consequences.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sorry to interrupt, Clay, but I have a Lieutenant Butler from the Omaha police department on line one for you. Shall I put him through?”

  At Becky’s question, Clay’s grip tightened on the phone. “Give me a minute.” He punched the hold button and turned to the electrical contractor. “Can we finish going over these revisions in a few minutes, Les? I need to take this call.”

  “Sure. I’ll go keep Becky company. Let me know when you’re ready.” He shut the door to the construction trailer’s small conference room as he exited.

  “Okay, Becky.” Clay waited as the connection went through. “This is Clay Adams.”

  “Mr. Adams, Lieutenant Butler in Omaha. I wanted to let you know we located Martin Montgomery.”

  Clay shut his eyes and expelled a long, relieved breath. But quick on the heels of relief came anger. And bitterness. “I hope you lock him up and throw away the key.”

  “Mr. Montgomery won’t be using any taxpayer money. He was killed in a barroom brawl in Oklahoma two days ago. We got a positive ID on the body a couple of hours ago.”

  As Clay absorbed the news, shock gave way to resentment. He’d wanted retribution. Wanted to see the man caught and punished. Wanted to see him suffer as he’d made Anne suffer.

  On the other hand, Martin’s violent end gave Clay a sense of vindication. Someone had bullied the abuser, hurt him, as he’d hurt Anne. It seemed fitting, somehow.

  From everything he’d learned since attending the church in Washington, Clay knew he shouldn’t feel this way. That he should somehow dredge up compassion for the man, even forgive him. But he couldn’t. Not after what he’d done to Anne. And to his children. The man was scum. He’d deserved the end he’d met.

  Though his emotions were churning, his response was calm. “Thank you for letting me know, Lieutenant.”

  “I know this doesn’t bring your sister back, Mr. Adams. But I hope it will give you some sense of closure.”

  As Clay hung up, he realized the news did provide an end to one part of the story. Anne’s husband could never hurt anyone again. His death was no great loss, and Clay doubted anyone would miss the man. Least of all his children.

  But they still had to be told. And he didn’t relish the job. While he could see definite signs of healing, they remained as fragile as a butterfly’s wing. They were too attuned to nuances, and a brusque tone, aggravated glance or irritated gesture could devastate them. Insecurity remained a problem, too. They craved approval and were hyper-sensitive to criticism.

  Clay had no idea how they would react to this news. But he did know it needed to be handled with the proverbial kid gloves. Not the kind he’d ever had much occasion to wear until Josh and Emily entered his life. And if he blew this, in one fell swoop he could wipe out all the progress the kids had made.

  He needed help.

  He needed Cate.

  As he reached for the phone to call her, it occurred to him that a request for help from the Lord might not be out of order, either.

  His hand stilled as he thought back to some of the bible stories Reverend Richards had talked about over the past few weeks. The loaves and the fishes. The wedding at Cana. The storm on the lake. The death of Lazarus. All tales of people turning to the Lord for help. And He hadn’t failed any of them.

  Yet the concept of prayer remained foreign to Clay. Even in church, he felt awkward about it. But no one would know about this prayer, except the Lord. If He was listening. And if He was, if He was as loving and benevolent and caring as the people in Reverend Richards’s congregation believed, surely He would overlook an error in form, or a few stumbles.

  Closing his eyes, he spoke in the silence of his heart.

  Lord, You know I haven’t been Your most faithful servant. For years I turned my back on You because I thought You were vindictive and revengeful. But I’m beginning to think I may have been wrong. That the information I was given as a child was ill-informed and misinterpreted. If You’re the compassionate God Reverend Richards talks of, please help me handle this well with the children.

  As Clay finished, an odd sense of peace enveloped him. It wasn’t as if all his problems had been solved. Far from it. But for the first time, he felt that perhaps some greater power was on his side.

  And since he needed all the reinforcements he could get, he dialed the number that would connect him with the woman who had been on his side from the start.

  Two hours later, Cate heard the slam of the truck door as she cleaned up the last of the craft supplies from the kitchen table. She and Clay had talked strategy on the phone, and they’d decided he should finish out his workday. Any change in routine made the children anxious, and an early homecoming would raise their suspicions. Cate and Clay had agreed it was important for the children to feel relaxed and secure when they heard the news.

  Cate had promised to read them a story before she left, but she’d managed to distract them with the special craft project they were stashing now in their room. Retrieving the book from the top of the refrigerator, she laid it on the table as Clay opened the back door. The kids had memories like elephants, and she was counting on them holding her to her word about the story.

  As Clay stepped across the threshold, that all-too-familiar flutter quivered in Cate’s stomach. She’d never met a man with such intense magnetism. And nothing detracted from it. Not the smudge of exhaustion under his eyes. Not the mud-splattered jeans or grimy cotton shirt rolled to the elbows that revealed tanned forearms. Not the tense line of his jaw.

  If anything, she had to fight the temptation to reach up and tenderly smooth away the deep grooves of worry and weariness carved beside his mouth and between his eyes.

  That not being an option, she needed to find some other way to loosen him up. His tension was almost palpable, and the children would pick up on it in a heartbeat, foiling their plan.

  Locking her hands behind her back to keep them out of trouble, she put the kitchen table between them and tried for a teasing tone. “The kids will be back any second. I’ll give you a chocolate chip cookie if you smile.”

  For a moment his face went blank. Then, as he got her message, he rolled his head and flexed his shoulders. “Better?”

  She tipped her head and studied him. “A little. How about if I raise the ante to two cookies?”

  “That’s a good incentive.” He seemed to relax a bit more.

  “It always works with Josh and Emily.”

  “I can think of a more grown-up treat that would be far more effective.” He smiled, cast a lingering look at her lips, and waggled his eyebrows.

  His sassy response did nothing to steady her pulse, but at least he was more relaxed now.

  “Hi, Uncle Clay.” J
osh zoomed through the door and launched himself into Clay’s arms.

  Emily was close on his heels, grabbing the storybook on the table as she passed.

  After hugs were exchanged, Emily waved the book at Cate. “You promised you’d read this to us before you left.”

  “You’re right. I did.” Cate gestured toward the living room. “Let’s cuddle up on the couch. Maybe Uncle Clay will come, too.”

  As two expectant little faces tipped up toward him, Clay called up a smile. “I could use a good story.”

  He followed them into the living room, where the two children settled beside Cate on the couch. Wedging himself into one corner, he angled his body to observe the domestic scene playing out beside him.

  Clay paid little attention to the fairy tale. He was more focused on the slender, blond-haired woman who was reading the words in a lilting, animated voice that kept the children enthralled. And it was easy to see why. She gave them her absolute attention, reaching out to stroke Emily’s hair or give Josh’s hand a squeeze as she read, demonstrating her instinctive ability to discern—and provide—what people needed. And if her kindness and unselfish generosity had endeared her to the children, it had done no less with him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d begin to think in terms of the L word.

  And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, Clay acknowledged.

  He’d dodged commitments for more than twenty years. And it had been an effective strategy for keeping his heart safe. His existence might have been emotionless, but he hadn’t inflicted damage on anyone, nor had anyone hurt him.

  Yet now that he was surrounded by caring people, he recognized that while his previous life might have been safe, it had also been lonely.

  Very lonely.

  “…And they lived happily ever after.”

  “I like happily-ever-afters,” Emily declared. “Does happily-ever-after really happen, or is it only in stories?”

  “What do you think?” Cate asked, closing the book.

  “I guess it can happen. Like that friend of yours who was ’dopted when she was a little girl.” Emily’s expression grew wistful. “Are we going to have a happily-ever-after?”