An Unexpected Father

by Lisa Ruff

  “What can I say? Kippy wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “I don’t know what you see in that woman,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “All she talks about is her hair, her clothes or the latest gunk she puts on her face.”

  Evan pursed his lips. “I’m not in it for the conversation. It’s all about the—”

  Ian cleared his throat, jerking his head toward Jack. All three men looked down to see the boy grinning up at them. That he had caught the gist of their conversation was obvious.

  “Kids these days,” Evan muttered, just as three boys and a girl ran down the ramp onto the dock.

  Patrick headed off to meet them, warning that they shouldn’t run on the piers. Ian checked his watch and saw that it was time for class to begin.

  “Give me a hand with these life jackets,” Ian said to the boy.

  Jack followed and Ian gave him five of the small jackets to carry, taking the other six himself. He led the way up to the group of chattering kids flocking around Patrick. Evan stood back, arms folded over his chest, casting a dubious glance over the mayhem.

  As Patrick greeted the kids and their parents, Ian stood to one side with Jack. He slid a glance at the boy and found him watching the other children with a solemn expression that gave nothing away. After Patrick shooed the parents off the docks, he gave the children a brief lecture about what today’s class would cover. Ian had to laugh at this: the kids paid no attention to the words. They were too entranced by the little boats strung out neatly along the dock.

  Patrick motioned to Ian and he began distributing the flotation devices, one to each student. Jack followed Ian, silently handing over the jackets he held until there was one left. As Patrick demonstrated how to put the vests on safely, Jack pushed that last PFD at Ian.

  “What? That’s too small. It’s not going to fit me,” Ian said.

  “Who should I give it to?”

  “Looks runt-size. Try it on.”

  “Me?”

  “Nobody gets in a boat without a life jacket. Doesn’t matter if you know how to swim or not.” When Jack opened his mouth to protest, Ian added, “Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”

  “But I’m not getting in a boat,” Jack said, looking up at Ian. His face was scrunched into a frown.

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t sign up for class,” Jack said quietly.

  His eyes refused to meet Ian’s. Ian laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him to face the class that was assembled on the dock. Patrick had the other kids lined up, each at the bow of one of the small dinghies. There was one boat without a child next to it. Its red-and-yellow-striped sail fluttered in the breeze.

  “Look. There’s one boat left. Somebody must have known you were coming.”

  Jack stood still, staring at the other children, then turned his face up to Ian. “Really?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper. Astonished hope filled his blue eyes and it was all Ian could do not to hug the boy. He took the life jacket out of Jack’s tight grip and held it open for him.

  “Come on, runt,” he said gruffly. “You’re holding up the show.”

  In seconds the buckles were clipped, straps adjusted and Jack stood in place with the other ten students ready for class. Ian felt a lump rise in his throat as he watched how attentively Jack listened to Patrick’s instructions. When Jack looked over his shoulder and grinned—pure delight lighting his face like Fourth of July in the evening sky—Ian laughed. He was starting to like this kid. He really was.

  Chapter Four

  Mimi worked her way frantically down the street. Stopping at an alley, she peered down the length of it. All she saw were trash cans and overgrown bushes. “Jack!” she yelled.

  Nothing moved. Crossing the road, she stood at the cyclone fence that surrounded A&E Marine, scanning between the rows of boats neatly propped up on blue metal stands. It was relatively quiet this Saturday morning. A man in a baggy white work suit was sanding the hull of a sailboat. A dog chased a tennis ball thrown from somewhere. She caught sight of the water’s edge here and there between the row of large, uniformly gray buildings, but no sign of a nine-year-old child. Crossing the street again, she walked farther down, craning her neck to look into backyards, behind hedges, anyplace a boy might explore or hide.

  After breakfast that morning, Jack was supposed to have gone to his room to study—or at least pretend to study. At ten o’clock, Mimi had decided to check on his progress. She found his math book and science lessons in his unopened backpack hidden under a pile of yesterday’s clothes: he hadn’t even made a start on his homework. She called for him. No answer. Neither her mother nor father had seen him in the house or out in the yard. He had at least two overdue book reports to write for English and a second shot at a take-home math exam to help bring his grade up. Somehow he had escaped and run off. Irritated with his irresponsibility and cunning, Mimi had gone looking for him.

  After an hour of fruitless searching, her aggravation had evolved to worry, then panic. She had been all around the neighborhood: the park, the nearby grocery store, the strip mall where she had seen other kids hanging out. No trace of him anywhere. She crossed the road yet again and came to the boatyard’s main entrance. The marina lay near the bottom of her list of likely places. Jack had promised her that he would not go there again. Then again, he had made this vow under duress. He might sneak in there just because it was forbidden and a good hideout.

  The gate was wide open, beckoning, yet Mimi hesitated. She must have been by the place hundreds of times, but could not remember actually going inside it, not even in high school when she and Anna had hung out together. This was Ian Berzani’s domain, and going inside felt like sneaking into enemy territory. What if she saw him? Or he saw her?

  Stop being a wuss, she told herself. What if Jack’s in there?

  Boldly, she stepped across the gravel parking lot, each footfall making a loud crunch. She made her way toward the water, past the sheds. Each building had a sign on it: Canvas Shop, Wood Shop, Machine Shop. For a place that bustled with chaos during the workweek, it seemed rather tidy. About a dozen cars were parked near the last and smallest building. Office, the sign read. Like the others, it was closed and deserted.

  Beyond the office, a large, blue boat-lift stood idle on a concrete pad. A small powerboat hung in the canvas slings, a ladder propped against one side. No one was there either, but beyond it Mimi could hear someone shouting over the roar of an outboard motor. Something was going on out there. Mimi followed the path and ramp that led down to the docks. She saw nine-year-old-size tracks in the mud on the shoreline.

  The shouts became louder, carrying over the water and rows of boats tied to the dock. There were children’s voices, too. At the intersection of two docks, she turned left and saw about a dozen brightly colored sails—fuchsia, yellow, turquoise, orange—zipping around a patch of sheltered water. The sun reflected from the water into her eyes, but she recognized the sturdy little gaff-rigged sailboats and the emblems on the sails: Optimist dinghies. She had sailed them at summer camp when she was about twelve.

  Mimi quickened her steps down the dock, sure that the boats had lured her son and fearing that his curiosity and audacity might get him into trouble. At the end of the dock, she spied a tall figure standing facing away from her, backlit by the sunshine and dazzling colors. Ian Berzani. She stopped in her tracks. A kind of raw heat seemed to radiate from him, flashing across her skin. Her mouth went dry.

  Despite the baggy tan shorts and gray T-shirt he wore, Mimi was all too conscious of his lean strength. His arms were crossed over his chest, pulling the soft cotton shirt taut across the muscles along his back and shoulders. His bare legs, at least the length below the hemline of his shorts, were equally well muscled. He wore black flip-flops, his feet planted wide on the wood decking. The urge to go up to him and run her hands over his strong back was intense.

  Abruptly, Ian turned his head and looked over his shoulder, straight at her
. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his lips tightened into a thin line as his arms dropped to his sides. He looked gorgeous. And obviously unhappy to see her. She had seen the same scowl of pain, irritation or something the two times they had met before. Mimi bit her lip and forced herself to walk toward him.

  “Morning,” he said with a nod, as he stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  “Good morning. I’m looking for Jack.” Her voice was cool, her words clipped.

  Ian said nothing. He looked back at the fleet of boats bobbing up and down in the water. There wasn’t much wind, but the kids used what there was to create maximum chaos, tacking and jibing with abandon. Several near collisions brought screams of laughter floating across the water. Two small motorboats circled the dinghies. Mimi saw Patrick in one and Evan McKenzie in the other. They were calling out instructions to the youngsters, most of which went unheeded.

  She waited for Ian to say something, to make any sign showing that he remembered she was there. “Have you seen him?” she asked, impatient with his silence, with his ignoring her.

  One hand came out of his pocket and he pointed to the Optimists. “Third boat from the right. The one with the red-and-yellow-striped sail.”

  She shielded her eyes against the sun and instantly recognized Jack. One hand on the tiller and one on the mainsheet, his back was to her. His shoulders were set, head cocked forward in that way he had when he was intent on something.

  “What is he doing out there?” she asked, her voice rising to a squeak.

  “Learning to sail.”

  “I can see that. Who let him?”

  “He was hanging around here again. And if he doesn’t pull the bow around he’s going to…Ouch, accidental jibe. Managed not to knock himself in the head, though. Nice work, runt!” he called out, his hands cupped around his mouth.

  Jack untangled himself from the mainsheet, set the boat on a collision course with a piling and looked over at Ian. A wide grin split his face as he flapped his hand in a gesture that dismissed Ian and the interference of the shoreside world. He spied his mother, then turned around and waved wildly, recklessly rocking the little boat.

  Mimi waved back, willing him with a grimace to be more careful. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face Ian. “You put him in that boat?” she demanded.

  He didn’t even glance her way. “We had an extra one, so I thought he’d enjoy a sailing lesson.”

  “You should have called me first.”

  “I didn’t think you’d mind. He’s wearing a life jacket and Patrick’s—”

  “He’s supposed to be at home doing his schoolwork.”

  “On Saturday morning?”

  His question, which implied that she was impossibly strict, maddened her. “I’ve spent the past two hours looking all over for him.”

  “Was I supposed to know that?” he asked with a shrug that only made her angrier.

  “No, because you didn’t call me and ask my permission,” Mimi said, glaring at him.

  “I asked him if he had anything to do. He didn’t mention homework.”

  “Of course not! He’s nine!”

  Ian pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, put his hands on his hips and faced her. “What do you—”

  “Mom! Did you see me?” Jack’s piercing cry startled them both. He had somehow managed to avoid the piling. Now he was about to ram the dock a few feet away.

  Sucking in a breath, Mimi put her hands out and stepped forward. Ian was quicker. He reached out and caught the dinghy mast with one hand. The small boat gracefully bumped the dock and stopped.

  “That was about the sloppiest jibe I’ve ever seen, runt,” Ian said. “You almost beaned yourself with the boom.” Runt? Mimi frowned. Where had that nickname come from? She almost objected, except that Jack didn’t seem to mind. His brown hair was pushed back away from his eyes. Happiness danced in their blue depths.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” Jack said. “I pulled the tiller instead of pushing it.”

  “Try doing it on purpose next time.” Ian’s advice was accompanied by a wry smile that seemed to mirror Jack’s. “You still have another twenty minutes of sailing time. Unless you’re tired of it.”

  “No way! Give me a push off. Mom, watch this!”

  Mimi was about to remind him about his homework, but thought better of it. Jack seemed to have forgotten all his cares and obligations. Ian grabbed the boom and turned the boat, then gave the stern of the dinghy a gentle shove with his foot. Jack wiggled the tiller and pulled in the mainsheet. The light breeze filled the sail, scooting his boat across the water toward the center of the fleet.

  “Has he sailed before?” Ian asked, his eyes on the boy.

  “No. Not that I know of.”

  “He catches on quick. Kid’s a natural.”

  The fact that Ian seemed almost proud of this discovery, as if he had something to do with it, irked Mimi even more. “Great! Why don’t you teach him long division or how to write a book report on Treasure Island?”

  He turned back to face her, and Ian’s dark gaze met hers for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. “He needs to be in this class, Mimi.”

  “You’re telling me how to raise my son? Well, then, tell me, Dr. Spock, what’s more important—passing fourth grade or learning to sail?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it’s not. Parenting is never simple. There are rules I have to enforce. And I have to be his best friend, too. Try that balancing act sometime.”

  Ian shook his head. He looked away for a second, out over the water, then back at her. When he spoke, his tone was even and calm. “Jack is rude, has no respect for anyone—especially adults—and ignores what he doesn’t want to hear. If he doesn’t change his attitude, he’s going to end up in real trouble.”

  Mimi sucked in a breath to speak, but Ian didn’t stop there.

  “His problem is that he’s smart, Mimi, and he’s bored out of his skull. Maybe I see that because I was the same way at his age. He needs to be challenged, and since school’s not doing it for him, maybe sailing will.”

  “You’ve spent an hour with my son and suddenly you’re the expert,” Mimi said furiously. “What gives you—”

  Before she could finish, the first of the dinghies arrived at the dock. The wind had picked up during their argument. The girl in the boat squealed as she came in too fast, let go of the tiller and put her hands over her eyes. The dinghy immediately rounded up into the wind, slowed down and slewed sideways against the dock. Ian turned and caught the mast, bringing the boat to a gentle halt. The girl uncovered her eyes.

  “I did it!”

  “Excellent job,” Ian said as he crouched down to her level. “Next time we’ll try it with your eyes open.”

  Mimi watched as the girl giggled and crawled out of the boat. She didn’t want to be impressed with Ian: how he could tease, encourage and correct a child without squelching her spirit. He might know something about children and sailing. That didn’t qualify him to solve Jack’s problems.

  Ian handed the girl the bowline and pointed her up the pier. “Don’t drop this. Just pull the boat up farther and we’ll drag it up on deck in a minute.”

  She obeyed orders just as a second and third boat arrived at the dock. Their landings were little better than the first. Given the wind direction and speed, the kids that panicked and dropped the tiller fared better than those who clung on, trying to control their landings. Left alone, the sturdy Optimists performed their trick of stalling and sliding into the dock.

  Rather than stew in her irritation, Mimi decided to pitch in. She reached out and grabbed one boat before it could crash against its neighbor. The kid in it had a look of terror on his face.

  She smiled reassuringly. “You forgot to use your emergency brake.”

  Once the danger passed, the boy relaxed. “I need more practice,” he said breathlessly. He hopped out of the boat and Mimi directed him to join the other c
hildren waiting to haul their crafts out of the water.

  Jack came in next. His jaw was set in concentration as he worked the tiller. His boat also came in at ramming speed, but Ian caught it easily. “You have to let the main out when you come in,” he said. “Spill wind so that you slow down, then you can push the rudder over and come alongside.”

  “That was so cool!” Jack nearly bounced out of the dinghy and up onto the dock. “Mom, did you see? I was flying out there! Sailboats are fast. Did you know—”

  “Hold up there, runt. Let’s get everybody stowed and then you can tell her all about it.”

  Patrick and Evan herded the last two wayward boats in, then tied up their powerboats at one end of the dock. Everyone joined in hoisting the dinghies out of the water. It was mass confusion with excited children darting around, jostling each other, shouting commentary. Parents began to show up, as well, and chaos briefly reigned again.

  Patrick got things under control quickly with a short, sharp blast from the whistle he had around his neck. “All right! You’re free to go today, but next week you’re all going to step the masts and rig the boat yourselves and down-rig them at the end of the day.”

  Scattered chatter ensued as the group of adults and children began to disperse. Patrick moved through the crowd of kids and parents, talking to each individually. Evan worked the crowd, too, obviously acquainted with most of the adults there. Mimi stood on the sidelines, waiting for Jack. He was describing some feat he had performed to Ian with wide, sweeping hand gestures. She saw Ian smile, then laugh, his head tipped down to the boy.

  Jack had not been this excited in weeks, or even months. Maybe Ian was right about one thing: her son was bored. Mimi chewed her lower lip as she watched them together. Maybe. But sailing was no substitute for homework. Once school was over, she would consider letting him come back. Mimi sighed. She wished he had found interest in something that didn’t involve Ian Berzani. It was time to get them both out of here.

  AS JACK TOLD HIS TALE about his narrow escape from a crash with two other boats, Ian glanced at Jack’s mother. Mimi was still mad, that much was clear. The set of her shoulders, arms folded tightly across her chest, said it all. But what Jack needed was just as obvious. A good education meant more than books and homework, especially in Jack’s case. Couldn’t she see that? Ian didn’t regret telling her what he thought; if it annoyed her, too bad. Putting the kid on the right track was worth any amount of anger.