Daddy Next Door (Hometown Reunion)

by Ginger Chambers

  “Did I ever show you the school papers I kept? They’re upstairs. Would you like to see?”

  Gabe shook his head. “No, Beth. Not now. Raine and I have to leave. We have a couple more errands to do.”

  Without argument, Mrs. Franklin stood up. Almost as if it were a mantle, she resumed her poised and proper pose. “Well, I’m very glad that you could come have lemonade with me, and also that you brought Lorraine. We’ve had a very nice chat. You both must come again soon.”

  “We will, Beth,” Gabe promised.

  “We will,” Raine echoed.

  Mrs. Franklin saw them to the door, then waved them on their way.

  Raine didn’t say anything until they were halfway down the path to the sidewalk. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  “Because some days she’s fine and some days she’s not. This was a not.”

  “At least about the lemonade!” she insisted.

  He grinned. “That’s hit-and-miss, too. Sometimes it’s just fine.”

  “She’s gone a little batty, hasn’t she?”

  “Only a little. She’s a sweet old thing.”

  “Now I understand why her grandchildren want her in Worthington House. How can she take care of herself?”

  “Her grandchildren want her in Worthington House so they can have her house. They want to sell off all the furnishings, get rid of her keepsakes—”

  Raine was dismayed. “You know this for a fact?”

  “Bobby told me straight out.”

  “But is she okay on her own like that?”

  “Probably, for a little while longer. She keeps the place as neat as a pin. She’s always cleaning. If she’s forced to leave too soon...”

  Raine didn’t prompt him to finish. The point of his conjecture was readily apparent. If their old teacher was made to give up everything she loved, she might decide, consciously or unconsciously, to give up on life as well.

  “Maybe I’ll go back to visit with her from time to time,” Raine murmured.

  “Good idea,” Gabe exclaimed approvingly.

  Raine flashed him a curious look. Had that been his aim all along?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RAINE ENDED UP tagging along with Gabe as he made his two remaining calls. He measured the windowpane that needed to be replaced at Mr. Foster’s house, assuring the elderly gentleman that he would return later that afternoon to finish the job. Then they stopped by Ann Tully’s house, where Gabe listened to a detailed account of her twelve-year-old son’s latest misadventures.

  “Cory listens to you, Gabe,” Ann Tully said. “You’re the only adult who can get through to him. I certainly can’t! I’m sorry he left with his friends when he wasn’t supposed to. You will come again, won’t you? I realize this is a bad time for you and all, but...”

  The look the pretty brunette sent Raine told Raine much more than the woman might have liked. It was obvious that, until hearing the news about Gabe’s unexpected marriage, the woman had hoped his involvement with her family would go far deeper than merely acting as counselor to her troubled son. Whether Gabe knew that or not was hard for Raine to tell. His manner was easygoing and friendly, but that was the way he behaved toward most people.

  “Sure, I’ll come back,” Gabe said.

  “I hate to intrude....”

  Gabe draped an arm around Raine’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Raine won’t mind, will you?” he prompted.

  “Of course not,” Raine murmured.

  He gave her a lopsided smile before releasing her. “Just give me a call when Cory shows up again. If I’m not at home, Raine will know where to find me.”

  Back on the sidewalk, Raine was quiet. After leaving Mr. Foster’s house, Gabe had told her the old man was alone in the world and often used needed repairs as an excuse to talk to someone. When she’d asked if he thought Mr. Foster had broken his own window, Gabe had shrugged.

  “What’s the story here?” she prompted.

  “Ann’s had a tough time of it lately. She and her husband were divorced last year, then the fire shut down the F and M. She worked on the assembly line and her ex worked in shipping. He took off shortly after that and hasn’t been heard from since. Now she’s having to accept financial assistance, and Cory’s causing all kinds of trouble. Not a good situation.”

  “She said he listens to you.”

  Gabe shrugged again. “For ten minutes maybe.”

  Raine fell back into silence.

  Throughout their walk in the neighborhood the streets had been quiet. The nearer they drew to the center of town, though, activity began to pick up, and Raine’s steps lagged.

  Noticing, Gabe asked, “What’s up?”

  Raine stopped walking all together. “I want to go home now, Gabe. I’ve enjoyed getting out and meeting a few people, but I’m not ready yet to meet more.”

  The town square had always been the nerve center of Tyler, with people bustling in and out of shops and offices and strolling in the grassy park. So far Gabe and she had escaped notice. If they continued on, that wouldn’t last.

  “You’re going to have to face people sooner or later,” Gabe said.

  “I know.” She turned to retrace her steps.

  “They’re basically good people,” Gabe said, catching up.

  “I’m not as sure of that as you are.”

  “The folks we visited this morning didn’t attack you.”

  “No, but then, they’re not exactly in tip-top form, are they?”

  “Whenever you’re ready, let me know.”

  Raine glanced at him. His reply had held a prickly edge that he had never used with her before.

  “You think I’m being a coward, don’t you?” she retorted, smarting. “That I’m too involved in my own problems. That’s what this morning was all about, wasn’t it? Introduce me to people who are coping with difficulties far greater than my own, so I’ll feel guilty!”

  “I never wanted to make you feel guilty.”

  “But a little healthy contrition would do me a world of good, wouldn’t it?” she challenged. “I did something stupid, now I have to pay!”

  Gabe’s jaw tightened. “You’re free to leave any time you like, Raine. I won’t keep you here.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t meant to get into an argument. Not with Gabe. She lengthened her stride. Their homes were just ahead.

  “I wanted to get you out of the house, that’s all,” Gabe explained tightly.

  Just then brakes screeched and the door of a car flew open, disgorging Annabelle Scanlon.

  “Oh, I’m so happy to see you!” the woman exclaimed, hurrying over to greet them. “Did you get my message? I left several, but you must have...well, never mind. Now it doesn’t matter, because I can pass on my good wishes in person!” She attached herself to Gabe, then turned with the same intent toward Raine. But Gabe stepped in front of the woman, blocking her path.

  “Annabelle,” he murmured, “do you think we could we do this another time? Raine isn’t feeling very well at the moment.”

  Annabelle blinked, her short, pudgy body temporarily arrested. “Not feeling well?” she repeated. She tried to peer around Gabe, but he moved again, continuing to obstruct her view. “Yes,” he said. “It was probably something she ate.”

  Annabelle smiled slyly. “Or something else very natural. When is the blessed event going to be, Gabe? There’s no use pretending. Everyone will know for sure soon enough.” She touched his arm to keep him in place and tried for a third time to see around him. “Raine?” she called. “When people ask what kind of wedding present you might like, do you want me to tell some of them to give you baby things?”

  Raine witnessed the not-so-subtle struggle taking place between Gabe and Annabelle, and felt it ridic
ulous to continue hiding. She gathered a measure of control and stepped forward.

  “Annabelle,” she said, greeting the older woman warmly.

  Gabe stopped defending Raine, and the postmistress lurched forward to give her a quick hug.

  “You’re absolutely blooming!” Annabelle decreed, her eyes taking in every element of Raine’s appearance. “A new marriage, a new baby! How wonderful for you!”

  Raine slipped her arm through Gabe’s and rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes, isn’t it?” she breathed dreamily.

  “No one suspected a thing,” Annabelle continued. “You two certainly played your cards close to your chests. But tell me, when is the baby due?”

  “The middle of November,” Raine replied, forcing a smile.

  “November,” Annabelle repeated. It was apparent she was ticking back the months in her mind. “So you’re going on three months!” She turned to Gabe. “Ahh...that vacation you took last February! Gabe, you sly dog!”

  “You must have been an excellent math student, Annabelle,” he said mildly.

  “Why, yes,” she responded, highly pleased at what she considered a compliment. “As a matter of fact, I was.”

  “Annabelle, why don’t you tell people not to bother with gifts at all?” Raine suggested. “Gabe and I want things to be low-key. We don’t want a fuss.”

  “It wouldn’t be a fuss! But if that’s what you want...”

  “It is. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to rest.”

  “Oh, of course. Of course. This is a time when you really must take good care of yourself. Gabe, you remember how hard Cece’s pregnancy was.” She named her daughter, who was married to Jeff Baron, the present chief of staff at the hospital. “But then she was carrying twins. Both girls, Raine. Did your mother tell you?”

  “I think they’d already been born the last time I visited Tyler.”

  “They’re three now. Would you like to see some pictures?” She started to open her purse.

  “Another time, Annabelle?” Gabe suggested, repeating his original request.

  The postmistress rolled her eyes heavenward. “Oh, my, yes. I’m becoming so forgetful I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached. You go lie down, Raine, and I’ll show you my pictures another time. Better yet, we can go over to Cece and Jeff’s and you can see the girls yourself. They’re such adorable little angels!”

  When Annabelle was once again in her car, she waggled her fingers before starting the engine.

  Raine and Gabe remained as they were—arms entwined, her head tipped against his shoulder.

  “You deserve an Oscar,” he murmured.

  “Broadway performers receive a Tony,” she returned.

  “Whatever.”

  As Annabelle drove away, Raine closed her eyes. The second news bulletin would hit the Tyler airwaves as soon as the postmistress could get to a telephone. Up until that moment her pregnancy had just been speculation; now it was fact. From Raine’s own lips.

  “I’m sorry I was upset earlier,” she apologized, tightening her grip on Gabe’s arm and leaning even closer. “I wasn’t angry with you. It was just...everything.”

  Gabe ruffled her hair. “All’s forgiven, Red,” he said. His reply had been easy, yet there was an unusual huskiness that caught Raine’s notice.

  For a moment she wondered what had happened to stir his emotions, but she dismissed further inquiry when she couldn’t come up with an adequate answer.

  * * *

  GABE WENT TO WORK the next day, mindful that his marriage would continue to be the prime topic of conversation. His expectation was met first thing when he found a baby’s rattle hanging from a blue ribbon on the handle of his locker.

  “You’re a fast worker, Gabe,” one of his co-workers teased. “Sure don’t mess around!” another one called.

  “You trying to set a record?” a third demanded.

  Gabe was heckled good-naturedly all around. Still, he could sense his colleagues’ puzzlement and the numerous burning questions that hovered just beneath the surface.

  Several times during the hours that followed he came upon small groups talking: Maureen and Bill, David and Bill, Maureen and David and Lynn, the station secretary. Each time they would grow quiet as soon as they saw him, a red flag that they’d been talking about him and Raine.

  Gabe tried to ignore it, to let them hash it all out. They would anyway. But once, undetected, he got a little too close and overheard part of an exchange:

  “Well, I for one don’t believe the baby’s his. How come we never heard him say anything about her? Wouldn’t you think he’d have said something?”

  “Gabe’s pretty closemouthed about things like that.”

  “Not that quiet. It’s unnatural!”

  “Well, whose do you think it is?”

  “Hell, I don’t know! One of those fancy men she ran around with in New York. She gets herself knocked up, then comes running home, and guess who she asks for help?”

  There was a pause, then, “Gabe’s not that stupid.”

  “Why not? He’s always doing things for people.”

  “But not that!”

  “That’s what I’m hearing people say.”

  “Who? Who says it?”

  “Patricia Sikes.”

  There was a feminine snort of disbelief. “You believe her?”

  “She and Raine are pretty close.”

  “I don’t remember it that way. When we were in school together they weren’t all that—”

  The alarm bell went off and everyone scattered, racing to get into their gear and to jump on the fire truck.

  As Gabe took a seat just behind the driver, David McGregor, he longed to underscore what Maureen had just said. Patricia Sikes was no friend of Raine’s. She’d always been jealous, envying Raine her looks, her talent and her drive, and you could believe very little of what she might have to say about her. But in this instance, Patricia was unknowingly right. And if Gabe said anything to refute it, he might end up only making matters worse. There were times, his father had once told him, when the best denial was complete silence. As hard as it was for Gabe to keep quiet, he had to concede that this was one of those times.

  * * *

  THE TELEPHONE RANG repeatedly again the next morning, and to escape it, Raine crossed the yard to her mother’s house. Only Marge wasn’t home, George explained upon answering her knock. She’d gone to the diner.

  Raine stood restlessly on the patio step. She had expected her mother to be there.

  George pushed the door open farther. “Would you like to come inside anyway? I know I’m second best, but...” He smiled. “Come on. She said she wasn’t going to be long.”

  Raine shrugged and stepped inside. George Phelps was legally her stepfather, but she didn’t feel close to him. He’d always been a shadowy figure in her memory—a successful physician married to someone else, living in one of the huge old mansions on Elm Street, where most of the crème de la crème of Tyler society had their homes.

  “Of course, you know her,” George continued, motioning Raine toward the cozy living room. “She could easily get involved in something and take half the day. I finally convinced her to ease up a bit, like me, but she can’t seem to stay away from that place for more than a couple of days. She’s always stopping in, just to see how things are going. That diner’s in her blood. It’s like her second child.”

  “I know,” Raine murmured, perching on the edge of the sofa.

  George stood across from her. In his late fifties, with a full head of graying hair and a nice, fatherly smile, he was a little less distinguished-looking now than she remembered him in years past. Today he was dressed in a pair of comfortable-looking khaki slacks and a softly rumpled shirt.

  “Would you like somethi
ng to drink?” he asked. “Some milk? Some orange juice?”

  Her glance traveled to the easy chair that he’d recently left. The newspaper was lying open on one of the arms, and a partial glass of orange juice waited on the narrow table abutting it, along with his trademark empty pipe.

  “Orange juice would be nice,” she agreed.

  His smile broadened. “Good for you,” he said.

  She heard the refrigerator door open and close and soon he was back, passing her her drink.

  As he resettled in the easy chair, Raine sat back, trying to relax. She didn’t quite know what to say to him. Always before, her mother had been present to smooth over any awkward moments between her new husband and her daughter. This was the first time they’d truly been alone.

  “I suppose I should be glad I could persuade her to leave it at all,” George continued, shaking his head. “If it weren’t for Susie Mack, I don’t think Marge would ever have agreed. She’d still be going in early every morning and staying late at night.”

  “Susie’s who she finally settled on?”

  “Been with her the longest. Marge says she’s always been dead reliable as a waitress. Getting the manager’s job came at a good time for Susie. Her husband worked at the F and M.”

  “That’s really affected a lot of people, hasn’t it?”

  George frowned. “I just wish the business would get going again, so people could go back to work. Roger was involved—did you know that? Has anyone told you? He saw the explosion when he was out on a late night call. He hurried over, helped the night watchman—saved his life, actually. Then he called in to report the fire on his cellular phone.”

  “I didn’t know,” Raine said. Roger was George’s only son. For a time, five or six years earlier, he’d attended medical school in New York City, and while he was there, he and Raine had gotten together for lunch on a regular basis-two expatriates from Tyler comparing notes about their lives in the big city. Then had come the news of the trouble in his parents’ marriage, coupled with the courtship of Marge and George and all the attendant stickiness around the separation and divorce. The upheaval hadn’t been easy for either Roger or Raine. And in the end— amazingly!—they’d found themselves to be stepbrother and stepsister.