Daddy Secrets

by Mia Carson

  “Well, I think you’ll want to. I hear there’s an awesome Battleship game up there, waiting to be played. When I was a kid, that was my favorite game, too. I still think I’m pretty good. Want to see?”

  “Battleship?” he asked excitedly and gave Remy a brilliant smile.

  “Yep. Why don’t you go on up and check it out? I’ll be right behind you.”

  Louis took off up the stairs, dropping his bag on the way. Remy scooped it up and held out her hand to Theresa. “Remy Reagan, nanny.”

  “Theresa Applebaum. I’m glad to see Mr. Wellington was able to find someone to help get Louis settled into his new life. It can be quite jarring for a child,” Theresa explained.

  “Yes, it can, but I’ll do my best to see he’s well looked after.”

  “Remy! Come on!” Louis yelled down the stairs.

  “On my way!” she yelled back and darted upstairs.

  Stan watched her go, his hopes rising that with Remy around, this might not be such a disaster. “Is there any more paperwork I need to worry about?”

  “No, you’re all set as his guardian. I’ll stop by for regular visits, of course, to ensure he’s doing well and that you are able to handle him.” She patted Stan on the shoulder when he sucked in his bottom lip and glanced worriedly upstairs. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the rest of the house so I can be sure everything’s in order? I’ll stay and observe for part of the day and be back in a week or so.”

  “Of course. Follow me,” he said as Louis’ laughter drifted through the house. He grinned at the happy sound and the way it lightened his spirits.

  He showed Theresa around the whole house and assured her several different times that Louis would never have any sort of access to his workshop. If he did somehow manage to get into that room, all the guns were locked up in separate vaults he would never be able to get into, and the ammo was stored in a floor safe hidden beneath the boards. Theresa still eyed the workshop with a look of disapproval, but she didn’t ask any more questions about it and they were able to move on to the rest of the house. When they reached the stairs, she said he could stay down there while she headed up to check on Louis and Remy.

  Stan spun absently around in his chair as he waited for them to come back downstairs. He wished he could hear what was being said, but when the trio appeared at the top of the stairs, Louis and Remy were arguing lightly over their last Battleship game and Theresa beamed at Stan.

  “Now, how about lunch?” Remy asked. “Louis, you hungry?’

  “I’m ten. I’m always hungry,” he teased.

  “Good thing I stocked the pantry then,” Stan mentioned, but Louis’ smile faltered and he ran into the kitchen ahead of them. Stan’s hopes vanished and he paused.

  “Give him time,” Remy whispered. “Remember? I said it would suck. This is part of the sucky days. It’ll get better.”

  “And if it doesn’t? If he hates me forever?”

  “He won’t. You can’t give up on him like—never mind,” she said quickly.

  Stan would have pushed her to tell him, but Theresa stood barely a foot away from them and his son waited in the kitchen. He let it go and led the way into the kitchen for lunchtime with his son, Remy, and the social worker taking notes on everything happening. No pressure, none at all. Stan spent most of the time trying to think of what to say to Louis that the kid might actually respond to, but nothing came to mind. Remy, on the other hand, was a natural with him and had Louis cracking a smile and eventually laughing loudly.

  “It’s nice to hear that sound,” Theresa told Stan as they sat at the kitchen table.

  Remy had asked Louis if he wanted to see the yard, and they were out there doing cartwheels in the overgrown grass. “Yes, Remy’s very good with kids. I’m afraid I might need some more work.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Louis will come to understand why you weren’t there for him in time. I’m going to make a suggestion, and though it’s not a requirement, I feel it would do you and your son some good.”

  Stan took the business card she pulled out. “Dr. Wendall Price? Who’s he?”

  “He is a therapist specializing in difficult family situations such as this one.”

  “Therapy,” Stan muttered, wanting to crumple up the card in his hand and toss it aside. “You think I need therapy?”

  Theresa gave him a knowing look. “I think you know you need therapy and have yet to find a good enough reason to speak with someone. Let Louis be that reason. I know for a fact he will need someone to talk to. It could be good for you too.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. The phone rang inside, and he excused himself to answer it. “Hello?” He set the card down on the table by the phone in the kitchen.

  “Stanford Wellington?” a woman asked sharply.

  “This is he. Who’s calling? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “Is that so?” the woman snapped. “Well, I’m sorry for you being able to still live your life while my son is in a coma fighting for his thanks to you! I’m calling to remind you about him, about what you did!”

  Stan gritted his teeth and eyed Louis and Remy outside in the yard. “I told you to stop calling me—all of you. I did not cause that accident. Your son did.”

  “I’m going to sue you, I hope you know that!” she screamed into the phone. “I’m going to sue you for everything you have!”

  “You already tried, remember? Look, I’m sorry for what happened, but I wasn’t driving a boat drunk. Do not call me again or I will report you to the police.”

  He hung up as she continued to scream. Stan rubbed a hand over his face as he backed his chair up, glaring at the phone. The family had tried to sue him right after the accident, but Stan was not found at fault. The family, however, decided they didn’t like that outcome and continued to harass Stan, demanding he pay their medical bills, court fees, their son’s debts, and everything else under the sun. For the past month, they had been quiet and he’d hoped he’d heard the last of them.

  Apparently not.

  The last thing he wanted was for Remy to answer the phone one day when he wasn’t around. He would have to be sure to tell her not to answer unless she recognized the number. He pushed aside his rising anger, focusing on the sound of Louis’ laughter outside, and forced himself to rejoin them and pay attention to what mattered.

  Remy’s sides hurt from laughing so hard as she and Louis battled it out in the sitting room. She groaned in defeat as Louis jumped to his feet, dancing around when he won. Theresa clapped and cheered from her corner as did Stan from his place beside the couch.

  “You know,” Remy said as she caught her breath, “there’s someone else in this room who really loves this game, probably as much as you do.”

  Louis’ smile fell a little as he glanced quickly at Stan. “Really?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it. “No way.”

  “Way,” she insisted. “You should ask him. He might even show you a thing or two.”

  She handed the wireless controller to Louis and gave him an encouraging grin. Holding the controller tightly in his hand, Louis walked shyly over to Stan in his wheelchair and fumbled with it as he held it out to his dad. “Stan?”

  “Yeah, kiddo?”

  “Do you…do you want to play with me?”

  Remy held her breath as Stan took the controller and grinned brightly, holding out his hand to Louis. “I would love to, but you’ll have to take it easy on me. I’m pretty sure you’re going to kick my ass.”

  Theresa frowned, but Louis laughed as he turned around and sat right on Stan’s legs. “You’re on, old man.”

  Stan shot Remy a look of disbelief at his son sitting comfortably on his legs. She worried he might be in pain and mouthed the question, “How’s your legs?” but he shook his head and winked. They started the next round, and Louis whooped Stan’s ass soundly several times. Remy stood up and stepped quietly out of the room, Theresa joining her.

  “Well, I think they�
��ll be just fine,” Theresa said as she walked with Remy into the kitchen.

  “I think you’re right,” Remy agreed as she pulled out a few frozen pizzas for dinner.

  “And I think I’ve seen all I need to today. I left a card for Stan. I’m not sure where he placed it, but I’ll give you one, too. You seem to have a way with Louis and Stan, so you might be able to broach the subject better than I could.”

  Remy glanced at the card. “A therapist, huh? I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And please, if you have any questions about Louis or if anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me,” she added. “I’ll be in touch and will stop by again in a week or so.”

  “We’ll be here.” Remy walked Theresa out. She didn’t stop in to say goodbye to Louis but peeked into the room to see Stan and Louis still duking it out on the TV and laughing loudly with each other. The scene was heartwarming after the tension Remy had felt all day between the two of them. Tomorrow might not be as hard as she assumed if they were getting along this well already.

  When the pizzas were ready, Remy cut them up and piled the pieces on two plates, delivering them to the sitting room. She came back with sodas and told them to take a break and eat.

  “So, who’s winning?” she asked, grabbing a slice and taking a bite.

  Sitting across the room from Stan and Louis, she watched them both pick up a piece of pepperoni, hold it in the exact same way, and chew, mirroring each other with the same crooked grin as they ate. Remy’s mouth slowed as she watched, fascinated to see the clear relation between the two males before her.

  “I’m pretty sure Louis is,” Stan said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to catch up.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “Not after what I saw last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Louis asked.

  “Your dad lost quite a few rounds to me,” she said and realized the second the words came out she’d said the wrong thing. Louis dropped his pizza on the plate and stood. “Louis, wait a second…please? You still need to eat dinner.”

  Sniffing hard and wiping at his eyes, he snapped, “He’s not my dad!” and ran out of the room.

  Remy jumped up to go after him, but Stan caught her hand. “Let him go,” he told her.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking,” she muttered, aggravated. “You guys were doing so well together and I had to stick my foot in my mouth.” She started clearing the dishes filled with the uneaten food and carrying them to the kitchen. “How are your legs, by the way?”

  “Sore, but that’s normal. I was more surprised that he did it than anything else.” Stan balanced one of the plates on his lap as she grabbed their glasses and moved to the kitchen. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Remy. If you didn’t say something tonight, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been long before I did.” He set the plate on the counter and played with a piece of pizza. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

  “You don’t want to check on him before you do?”

  “No…no, I think I’m going to give him some space. We’ll see how tomorrow goes.”

  “That social worker gave me the card of a therapist,” she said as he started to roll away. “Did you want me to give him a call and set something up here at the house? A meeting to get the ball rolling between you two?”

  Stan rocked back and forth in his chair and shook his head. “No, and I don’t want to talk about the need for therapy again. Good night, Remy.”

  “Night,” she replied quietly, hurt by how he shut her out, too. “Well, good job, Remy. Now you have two sulking, brooding males in the house. I guess they could unite against you and find a way to bond that way.” She ate another piece of pizza angrily, drank her soda, and tucked the card for the therapist in her pocket. She fixed a plate and a glass of milk for Louis.

  She stopped outside Louis’ door and knocked. “Louis? I brought you some more dinner in case you were hungry.”

  “I’m not, but thanks,” he muttered through the door.

  Remy frowned down at the plate in her hand. “How about I drop it off for you and if you decide you’re hungry you can eat it later?” Holding her breath, she hoped he would give her a chance again.

  The door opened and Louis gifted her with a small smile. “Thanks, Remy.”

  “Of course, hon, and you know,” she said as she walked into the room and set the plate and glass down on the dresser, “I’m sorry if I upset you earlier.”

  “It’s okay. I know he’s my dad,” Louis said, his face scrunched up in confusion. “But I don’t feel like he’s really my dad yet. It’s weird, I guess.” He drew out a picture from his pocket, folded over and over again so it was creased, the corners bent and a few of the edges torn. “And I miss my mom.” He broke down in tears, and Remy hurried to hug him as he cried.

  “It’s okay to miss her. You’ve been through a lot and I know this isn’t easy, but Stan does care about you. He wants you to be happy. This isn’t easy for him either, you know.”

  “How do you know?” he uttered through his crying.

  “Because I can see it in how nervous he is. He wants you to like him and he wants you to find a home here,” Remy said, sinking to her knees so she could be eye level with Louis. “You have to give each other time, that’s all.” Louis nodded and wiped his eyes. “You promise me you’ll give him a chance?”

  “I will,” he promised. “You’ll be here, though, right?”

  “Every day,” she said and held out her pinkie to him. “As long as you both need me around, I’ll be here.”

  He wrapped his pinkie around hers and smiled. “Good.”

  “Okay, get some sleep, kid. It’ll be a long few days, but we’ll get through them.” She left Louis alone and paused at the top of the stairs, considering going and talking to Stan one more time but didn’t want to push her luck and piss him off. Him shutting down completely would not bode well for her. She would wait a few days and bring up the therapist idea again when he was in a better mood.

  Or if things took a turn for the worse.

  Chapter 7

  The therapist’s card burned a hole in Remy’s pocket over the next few days as she watched Louis and Stan be polite to each other but nothing else. They ate breakfast together in near silence except for the questions Remy asked them both. She hoped with the weather cooling off, they would enjoy some time outside, but Louis holed himself up in his bedroom playing with the Legos she’d bought him or playing video games, and after one day of not being in his workshop at all, Stan spent the next two acting as he had the first time Remy met him. Reaching the end of her rope with both of them but not sure what to do, she told Louis she would be outside in the garden if he wanted to take a break from killing zombies.

  “Is Stan out there?” he asked, and she perked up when he sounded hopeful.

  “He’s in his workshop, but I can see if he wants to take a break.”

  “Nah, that’s okay. You don’t have to bug him.”

  Remy leaned against the doorframe, wondering what she could do to get Stan out of his workshop, and her eyes widened. “You know, there are a few battleship models that need to be built up in your room. I bet if you asked Stan, he would help you with them.”

  Louis paused his game and clambered to his feet. “You think?”

  “You never know until you ask. Give it a shot. Just remember, you can’t go into the workshop, okay? But you can knock on the door.”

  “I know, I know. There’s guns in there and I’m not allowed near them,” he said and sprinted upstairs to go grab one of the models. Remy went to the nearest intercom and paged Stan.

  “Yes?” he answered after a few seconds.

  “You’re going to have a visitor in a few minutes. He wants to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nope, you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

  She ignored his next few questions and stepped outside, walking across the overgrown grass towards the shed. There h
ad to be a mower in there somewhere. Or hedge clippers, at least. If not, she would call a service this afternoon and get it taken care of. The yard would be so much fun for a kid Louis’ age if it was in better shape. She reached the shed as Stan exited his workroom, locking the door behind him as Louis stepped out the back door. Remy paused to watch then decided this was their time to be alone and ducked into the dusty and dirty shed.

  Stan watched Louis walk towards him, carrying a box wrapped in plastic with an image of a battleship cruiser on the side. Feeling as nervous as Louis looked, he rolled closer and held out his hand for the box.

  “Whatcha got there?” he asked, trying to sound happy instead of aggravated at himself for not being able to connect with his own son.

  “A ship model. Remy said you might like to work on it with me…if you aren’t too busy.”

  Stan ran his hands over the box and his eyes darted to the shed where Remy had disappeared. “She was right. I didn’t know you were such a fan of ships.” He set the box on his lap and pushed his chair to the back door with Louis walking beside him.

  “Battleships, mostly, and aircraft carriers. They’re pretty sweet, too,” he said, bouncing as he spoke. “I had a few at my old house, but I couldn’t bring them with me.”

  “You know,” Stan said, hating how sad he sounded, “I have a room here filled with ship models.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You can go check them out whenever you want to. I’ll show them to you later. I guess we’ll set this up on the kitchen table.”

  “You don’t think Remy will mind?” Louis asked, peering out the back door.

  “Nah, we’ll just use it as an excuse to watch a movie with dinner tonight.”

  Louis laughed, and Stan’s body flooded with warmth at the sound. They opened the box and set out the pieces, talking quietly together about which pieces would go where and how they would connect. He let Louis stretch out the guide to the missile cruiser they would be constructing. Working with Louis on the ship was a great idea. He would have to thank Remy later—hell, he would buy her flowers for what she helped him achieve with his son. They were working for over an hour on the ship when Stan sensed a chance to make a comment he’d wanted to make since Louis brought the ship to him.