“I suppose I’m compulsive about putting people’s lives in order,” Adrienne admitted. “Plus, you’ll want a safe place for Reggie where he’d be comfortable. For overnights.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“Practical, really.” Down the block, Adrienne saw a couple mothers waiting at the corner bus stop. Since she’d rather speak without an audience, she remained in place. “My friends Stacy and Cole opened escrow on a house, and they’ll be vacating their apartment in a month. Then Harper and Peter are getting married at Thanksgiving, and she’s leaving her rental house.”
He ran a hand over his short thick hair. “I’d love to get off Dad’s couch, but I’m watching my wallet.”
“You don’t have to pay for Reggie’s upkeep,” she blurted.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m his father. Of course I’ll help support him.”
“Sorry.” Adrienne hadn’t meant to step into a minefield. “I was just...”
“Trying to let me off the hook?” Wade asked.
“If that’s what you want.” Please say yes.
“It isn’t.”
“Understood.” Maybe Geoff had been right. This discussion might have been easier with an objective third party. On the other hand, the attorney had put Wade’s back up, too.
The rumble of the bus approaching on the cross street short-circuited further discussion. They went to join the small group of parents waiting for their kids.
* * *
THE IDEA THAT he might stop paying his son’s support had made Wade bristle. Walking beside Adrienne toward the corner, however, he conceded that she was trying to be generous. Just because his grandfather always expected the worst of him didn’t mean she did.
He could see now that being a father required a lot of planning. In Pine Tree he’d had a one-bedroom unit, but that might feel crowded if Reggie slept over. Also, Wade’s usual mode of decorating, or rather not decorating, wasn’t exactly kid oriented.
He wished he had a house like Adrienne’s, with its well-stocked kitchen, cozy furnishings and vegetable garden. While Wade didn’t plan for his relationship with Reggie to turn into a competition, neither did he care to make a poor showing.
What did other single fathers do? Did they buy toy chests and bunk beds and all that stuff? When he rented a place, maybe Adrienne could advise him on how to set it up. That is, if she remained as cooperative as she’d been today.
While she obviously wasn’t thrilled about having Wade around, she appeared to understand that the law favored his claim. And for his part, it didn’t take a lot of parenting experience to see that yanking a little boy out of his home and away from the woman who anchored his world would be an act of selfishness, not love. Like it or not, they were stuck with each other, for now.
Ahead, the yellow bus halted, lights blinking, and a stop arm extending from the left side. The door wheezed open. Two girls got off, followed by a boy of about ten. Then a familiar head of blond hair appeared.
When Reggie saw Wade, surprise flashed across his face, then a smile. “Dad?”
“Hey, kid. Thought I’d drop by.”
“Yeah!” Reg jumped down and trotted over, backpack bouncing. His heart expanding, Wade bent to share a hug.
The three of them strolled to the house, Reggie in the middle holding both their hands. “I’m only staying for a few minutes today,” Wade said. Adrienne hadn’t invited him to dinner, and there was no reason she should. “I’ll be back tomorrow for your birthday, and we can build that police set.”
Reggie slanted a disappointed glance up at him. “You aren’t staying?”
Since it would be unfair to lay the blame on Adrienne, Wade replied, “I have a lot to do. I’m starting a new job Wednesday. I need to buy a couple suits and, uh, figure out where to live.” Eventually.
They reached the front walk. “You can stay with us,” Reggie offered. “We have plenty of room.”
Adrienne gave a start. “Honey, we can’t just invite someone to move in.”
“Why not?” the little boy demanded. “You told me I own half the house. And I want my dad to live here.”
Chapter Five
A sharp refusal sprang to Adrienne’s lips. This stranger, this interloper, this dangerously attractive man, move into her house?
But although she was accustomed to taking charge at the hospital and with her nephew, so much hung in the balance. Wade could side with his son, casting her as the enemy. Even if not, she risked offending him unnecessarily.
Over Reggie’s head, their eyes met. Did he read her panic? Embarrassed, Adrienne searched for diplomatic words. “It’s not that simple.”
“Your aunt isn’t running a motel,” Wade told Reggie. “I can’t just dump my stuff at her place and interrupt her routine. Besides, we all have to get used to me being your dad. Let’s take this slow, okay?”
That was decent of him. When they reached the front porch, Adrienne fished the keys from her purse, grateful for the excuse to avert her face. If Wade saw her expression, he might notice how relieved she felt. And the last thing she wanted was pity.
“Peter’s going to live with Mia and her mommy,” Reggie protested. “He’s not even her real dad.”
“He and Mia’s mother are getting married,” Wade reminded him. “That’s a special relationship.”
Storm clouds gathered in the little boy’s eyes. “What if I don’t get to see you?”
The topic had shifted, thank goodness. “You’ll be spending plenty of time with your dad,” Adrienne said.
“Tomorrow night, for instance,” Wade put in.
Reggie stood with feet planted apart. “If you lived here, you won’t disappear.”
Her nephew’s anxiety was well-grounded, Adrienne conceded sadly. Not only had he lived all these years without a father, but Reggie had also lost his mother and grandmother, as well as Mia’s father. In his small world, loved ones did indeed disappear, never to return.
“I do live here now,” Wade countered. “In Safe Harbor. I’ve been hired at a detective agency, which means I’m staying. I’m your father, and you can count on me being around from now on.”
Adrienne found that prospect worrisome. Still, things could have gone worse had Wade tried to move into the house.
Well, they had a routine to stick to. After opening the door, she said, “Let’s have a look at your homework, Reg.”
“I don’t want to do homework!” Seeing her frown, the little boy amended that to, “I’ll do it later.”
“After dinner Peter promised to shoot hoops with you and Mia while Harper and I shop for wedding stuff, remember?” Adrienne said. “Let’s get it out of the way.”
Reggie grabbed his father’s hand as they went into the front hall. “Dad, will you help?”
“Sure, if... What kind of homework is it?” Wade asked.
“The first-grade kind,” Adrienne teased.
Wade gazed fondly at his son’s eager face. “I can add one plus one. Let’s get started.”
Reggie reached into his backpack. He stopped, his hand in midair. “Oops.”
“You left it at school?” Adrienne would have to check the teacher’s website.
“No. I forgot.” Reggie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have any homework today.”
How typical of her nephew to stand his ground, ready to fight to the bitter end about something that didn’t exist. “Lucky for you,” she said. “You can play. Something educational.”
“That gives me an idea. Hang on.” Slipping free, Wade strode down the steps and went to his car. Reggie took off in pursuit.
Adrienne nearly ran after him until she saw him stop on the sidewalk. They weren’t driving away, for heaven’s sake.
From the trunk, Wade lifted a guitar case. “Do you know
what this is?” His voice carried across the lawn.
The boy studied it warily. “It’s a machine gun.”
“What?”
As the man swung toward Adrienne in confusion, she started to laugh. “Too many gangster shows on TV,” she said as they neared her.
“Aha.” Wade regarded his son in amusement. “Reg, it’s a guitar.”
“Like in a rock band?”
“Yes, except rock bands use electric guitars. This one is acoustic. It has a softer sound.”
In the den Reggie perched on the sofa beside his father. Despite the difference in hair color—Wade’s was medium brown, Reggie’s blond—the rounded shapes of their heads showed a strong resemblance.
The little boy watched in fascination as Wade took out a small electronic device and began tightening the strings. “What’s that?”
“It’s a tuner,” he explained as he worked. “Centuries ago somebody decided it’s easier to sing and play music with other people if we all use the same notes. Like, not too high and not too low.” His voice rose to a squeak on high and dropped to bass on low.
Reggie giggled.
“We use letters from A to G to identify the notes,” Wade said. “Each string is assigned a particular note, but they get loose on their pegs, so they have to be tuned.”
“How can you tell which is which?” Reggie asked.
“On a guitar the lowest string is usually tuned to an E. The others are A, D, G, B and then E again, an octave higher. That’s... Well, let’s keep this simple. One more thing—when I strum more than one string at a time, that’s called a chord.”
“Can’t I just play it?” the little boy asked.
“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” Wade replied, bending over his instrument. “Just as you learn arithmetic and reading and geography, musicians learn about notes and chords.”
He was a natural teacher, Adrienne reflected. And patient, at least under these relaxed circumstances. Was it possible things could continue this smoothly? Stay alert just in case.
Tuneful strumming broke into her thoughts. Adrienne recognized the opening notes of “Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”
“If you go into the woods today...” Wade’s mellow tenor captured the spirit of the song. Reggie joined in enthusiastically, and after a moment, Adrienne couldn’t resist singing, too.
When the song ended, Reggie said, “I’ll be right back!” Out he raced, feet thumping on the stairs.
“What’s he up to?” Wade asked.
“I’m sure we’ll find out in a few milliseconds.” From her chair Adrienne leaned toward him, drawn by Wade’s openness. “How did you learn that song?”
“After I heard it at your house, I found it on the internet.”
He’d done research and put forth the effort to learn it, she reflected. “You play well. Did you take classes?”
“I’m self-taught.” He smoothed the satiny finish of the guitar. “Thank goodness for online tutorials.”
More pounding feet, and Reggie rounded the corner with his favorite teddy bear. “Zoomer wants to sing, too.”
“Is this an encore request?” Wade asked. “That means a repeat.”
“Yes!”
They ran through the song again, followed by several other old favorites. At five o’clock Adrienne reluctantly ended the session. “It’s time to fix dinner. Reggie, you need to set the table.”
“You do it,” the little boy grumbled.
“That’s no way to talk to your aunt.” Wade replaced the guitar in its case. “I’ll teach you a few chords tomorrow if you like, but you have to obey your aunt.”
He was standing up for her. Adrienne hadn’t expected that.
“Okay.” Reggie’s face scrunched, a sign that his brain was working hard. Adrienne tensed. His schemes could be unpredictable, like inviting Wade to live here. “Dad?”
“What, little guy?” Wade rumpled his son’s hair.
“Will you sleep over Friday night?” Reggie asked. “My sitter’s having out-of-town guests.”
“You’re staying with Aunt Stacy and Uncle Cole on Friday,” Adrienne reminded him.
“Aunt Stacy gets tired. You said so yourself,” Reggie argued.
“Tell you what,” Wade replied. “You take Zoomer up to your room and wash your hands for dinner. Your aunt and I will discuss this.”
Deep breath, a wiggle on the sofa and Reggie yielded. “Okay. But say yes, Aunt Addie.”
Adrienne felt torn. While yielding might encourage Reggie’s demands for his father to move in, she disliked repeatedly saying no. “Once he gets an idea in his head, it sticks like glue,” she observed after the boy left.
“So I’m learning.” The dimming light through the bay window cast Wade in partial shadow, silhouetting the breadth of his shoulders and bringing out the strong lines of his face. “Look, I understand that I’m the shiny new toy in his life, but you’re the one he depends on.”
“Seriously?” Adrienne asked.
Wade’s eyebrows drew together. “You think I’m just saying that? Like I have some ulterior motive?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Let’s be clear. I’m not abdicating my authority over my son,” he said. “The law’s on my side, according to my research, but at this age a boy needs a mother, too, and you’re doing a great job of standing in for his. Probably better than she did. For his sake, I’m willing to work together.”
“So am I, but...” Usually, Adrienne guarded her emotions carefully, but this man’s openness deserved candor on her part, too. “Nothing personal. I’m just not sure how far I trust anyone, emotionally.”
“Even your friends?”
Good question. “Stacy and Harper were Vicki’s friends first. They kept her afloat as best they could, and now they’re helping Reg and me. I don’t know what I’d do without them. All the same...” Deeply thankful for their support, she’d never stopped to question how far she could rely on them.
“But you don’t feel completely safe with anyone.” Wade rested an elbow on the upright guitar case.
“Yes.” She’d held that truth inside, unwilling to admit it to those close to her. “How can you understand that?”
“As I mentioned, I grew up in a chaotic home,” he said. “My father’s an alcoholic. It’s like what people say about the weather. If you don’t like your parent’s mood, just wait a few minutes.”
Her father and sister had been mercurial, too. “That applies equally to my upbringing. I learned not to trust promises.”
“For the record, I don’t entirely trust you, either.” When he smiled, the fading light glinted off his white teeth.
“You think I’ll turn on you?”
“If I do or say the wrong thing, possibly.”
This was the bluntest discussion Adrienne ever recalled having—certainly with a man. “Where does that leave us?”
Overhead, the water stopped running. Reggie had finished washing his hands.
“Let’s make this a win-win situation,” Wade proposed. “I’ll pitch in Friday night. With my new job, I can’t promise to be a regular weekend sitter, but you deserve a break, and so does your pregnant friend.”
“Is this a foot in the door?” she asked.
Wade shook his head. “No, it’s a bedroll in the den. And if there are any dripping faucets that need fixing, stuff like that, let me know so I can pick up supplies.”
“I’m fairly competent with a wrench. But that’s kind of you.” Adrienne felt obligated to add, “You’re turning out to be a better father than I expected.”
“Really? Mostly I’m going by instinct.” He ran his hand over the gentle curve of the guitar case. “In view of my family experiences, it’s good to hear that I’m not screwing this up.”
“You aren’t,” she confirmed.
His eyes met hers with a tingle of electricity. “That was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?”
“Horribly.” He was very perceptive—scarily so. “Reggie means everything to me.”
“That makes two of us.” Wade arose as his son pelted in.
“Well?” Reg demanded, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. “You can stay here on Friday, right?”
“Hey, sport, here’s the deal.” Wade fixed him with a stare. “Tomorrow night for your birthday I’ll take you and your aunt out for an early dinner and play with you till around eight. Then we’ll go to your sitter’s. On Friday I can stay over.”
“Yay!” The little boy jumped in the air.
It hurt to see him so eager to be with his father, and Adrienne had to fight the impulse to reassert control. Still, she recognized the inevitability of sharing power with Wade, like it or not. Besides, after their conversation, she didn’t dislike it as much as she had before.
“There are conditions,” Wade went on.
Reggie stopped jumping.
“You have to help your aunt around the house and treat her with respect. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean she’s been demoted, okay?”
“Okay,” Reggie agreed, although Adrienne doubted he knew what demoted meant.
“I refuse to provide an excuse for misbehavior,” Wade concluded. “So do me proud. Show your aunt what a great kid you are, and you’ll be showing me, too.”
“Yes, Dad.” Reggie laced his hands in front of him.
Having a veritable stranger defend her rights as a parent felt strange. I don’t need anyone’s help, was Adrienne’s first reaction. Yet kids naturally tested limits, and it helped when both parents backed each other up.
“Now, I have to leave,” Wade told his son. “Didn’t I hear someone mention setting the table?”
“I will!” Reggie scampered toward the kitchen. That was impressive cooperation, Adrienne mused.
Wade tilted his head. “Not even a hug for poor old Dad.”
“One-track mind.” And a reminder that Wade wouldn’t always be—what had he called himself?—the shiny new toy.
The Surprise Holiday Dad Page 6
