An Unexpected Father

by Lisa Ruff

  “I just…I need to talk to you.”

  Standing up, he glared down at her. “About what?”

  Mimi stiffened at his scathing tone. “I’m sorry I frightened you—”

  “You didn’t frighten me. What do you want?”

  Irritation flashed through Mimi. She wanted to turn and walk away, but she had to do this for Jack’s sake. “I’m sorry I got annoyed with you about Jack last Saturday. I was wrong and you were right. He needs to learn to sail.”

  At her first words, Ian stilled. His eyes narrowed as he listened. “So?”

  “I should have known this would be impossible,” Mimi said with an exasperated sigh. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

  She turned to stomp away, but Ian caught her arm. “Hold on a minute. Forget what?”

  Mimi gave him the short version of the meeting with the principal. “So he—I think that the best way to entice Jack is to offer him sailing as a reward for summer school.”

  “And if he doesn’t toe the line, you want me to punish him by not letting him sail.”

  “It’s supposed to be a reward. Not a punishment.”

  “It cuts both ways, Mimi,” Ian said, his eyes hard. “What are you going to do if his grades aren’t any better now than before?”

  Mimi fumed. Why was he making this more difficult than it had to be? “I’ll deal with that when I have to. I just want to know if you’ll help me.”

  Ian was silent, watching her with enigmatic eyes. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll help Jack.”

  Though she should feel grateful, Mimi had the urge to smack him. He had made it clear: he was doing this for her son, not for her. “Thanks. That’s all I needed to know.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and walked away from him. In a way, she was glad he had behaved so badly. It reminded her of just what a jerk he had turned out to be. Sure he had a body to die for, but his personality and manners left a whole lot to be desired. If it wasn’t for Jack, Ian Berzani could go to hell and she would help him get there.

  MIMI SLOSHED TWO PINT GLASSES into the sudsy water, then rinsed them before plunging them into the disinfectant and setting them on the drain board. She looked around the bar for more chores to do: dusting the bottles, restocking refrigerators, refilling condiment dishes, anything. There was nothing to do. The tables were clean, the bar sparkled and every one of her ten customers had full glasses in front of them. With a sigh, she wiped her hands on a bar towel and leaned against the back counter.

  The past three days had been miserable. Jack wasn’t speaking to her—or anyone. Ever since their meeting with the principal he had been sullen, silent and remote. Not even his grandfather could pull a smile out of him. He refused to go to summer school on any terms. Mimi had tried to soothe him, to coax him, but even the possibility of sailing school on Saturday was no enticement. In the end, she had told Jack the harsh truth: he was going whether he wanted to or not. From then on, he gave her the silent treatment.

  The door swung open and Mimi perked up, expecting a customer. She slumped back when she saw her father enter the bar. He walked around the counter and patted her on the shoulder.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Slow.”

  He looked at her from beneath shaggy eyebrows. “And my grandson? Still mad at the world?”

  “Is the sky still blue?”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  “In my lifetime?” Mimi muttered.

  George chuckled. “Why don’t you get out of here for a while?”

  “And do what?” Mimi asked morosely.

  “Go practice your guitar so you can sing tomorrow night.”

  “What! Are you crazy?”

  “Do it for Jack. It will pull him out of the dumps, don’t you think? He was pretty excited by the idea when we first talked about it.”

  A thread of hope and anticipation began to weave around Mimi, though she tried to reject it. “You think it’s that simple,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I do. So much so, that I already printed these.”

  George handed her a flyer that announced, “Mimi Green returns to the stage! An intimate, unplugged performance at the Laughing Gull Tavern.” It had the usual raves snipped from reviews of her past performances.

  “I can’t believe you did this!” Mimi wasn’t sure if she was pleased or upset.

  George smiled. “The job of Mimi Green’s publicity agent was vacant, so I applied for the position and hired myself.”

  “Don’t you think you should have asked me first?”

  “No. This saves time. You would have wasted a good hour arguing with me when you should be practicing.”

  Mimi shook the handbill at her father. “I might need more than twenty-four hours to get ready, you know.”

  George dismissed her complaint with a wave of his hand. “That’s plenty of time for a pro like you.”

  As Mimi thought about the best way to fire her new publicity agent, the front door swung open again and Anna walked inside.

  “Well, Anna Berzani,” George said with a wide smile as he stepped out from behind the bar and gave her a hug. “I’d have recognized that red hair anywhere.”

  “Mr. Green! How are you?” Anna pulled back and tugged on a lock of her hair. “Hasn’t gotten any darker, has it? I don’t know why I believed my mother when she said it would. Hers is exactly the same color.”

  Mimi and George both laughed at Anna’s obvious disgust.

  “What’s up?” Mimi asked. “I thought you were going to Patrick and Kate’s house tonight.”

  “I am,” Anna said, slipping onto a stool. “But I need some fortification before I go. I just found out that Mom convinced Patty to invite one or two of his sailing buddies. Single ones.”

  “She is persistent, isn’t she?” Mimi said with a chuckle.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Anna said with a sigh, one elbow leaning on the bar. “Oh, well. Two more days and I’m out of here. I think I can manage to fend off engagement rings for that long.”

  “Fortification coming right up,” George said. “What’ll it be, ma’am?”

  Anna smiled and sat up straight. “Ooh, a serious adult beverage. How about a margarita?”

  “Coming right up. Mim, you joining her?”

  “Yeah,” Mimi said with a smile, coming around the bar to sit on the stool next to her friend. “I need at least one.”

  “You let her drink on the job?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow at George.

  “She’s off the clock,” he said, deftly pouring tequila and Triple Sec, then adding mixer. “She’s supposed to be practicing for her gig here tomorrow night.”

  “You’re playing?” Anna asked excitedly. “What time?”

  “Nine o’clock.” George set the two salted glasses on the bar and gave Anna a few handbills. “Invite everyone you know.”

  “This is exciting,” Anna said. She picked up her glass. “To Crab Creek’s newest singing sensation.”

  “Whoever he or she may be,” Mimi said dryly, and they clinked glasses.

  George moved down the bar to serve another customer and Anna turned to Mimi. “What brought this on? I thought you retired from the stage.”

  Mimi took a sip of the margarita. The salt was perfect with the tang of the lime. “Don’t ask me. It’s Dad’s idea. I just heard the news myself right before you came.” She twisted the glass around on the coaster. “He thinks I need a push.”

  “I agree with him.”

  “You would.” Mimi used the stir stick to poke at the ice in her glass. “He also thinks it will help Jack.”

  “What’s wrong with Jack?”

  “He and I had a chat with his principal on Tuesday.”

  “And?” Anna prompted after Mimi remained silent for a long time.

  “He isn’t going to pass fourth grade.” Mimi put her hands over her face. She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. “God, I am such a failure.”

  “Oh, Mimi. Don’t be ridicu
lous. You are not!” Anna handed her a cocktail napkin.

  In a muffled voice, Mimi recounted her meeting with Jack’s principal, her short conversation with Ian and how Jack refused to budge in spite of her best efforts. With a sniff, she looked over at her friend. “So, there you go. More fallout from me chasing dreams.”

  “Maybe. It sounds fixable to me, though,” Anna said. They sipped in silence for a while. “At least this explains Ian’s foul mood.”

  Mimi raised her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Big brother’s been in a snit for days, but he wouldn’t say why.” Anna took a drink.

  “Anna, I have to tell you that your brother is an arrogant jerk,” Mimi said vehemently.

  “Really? Ian?” Anna frowned. “Arrogant and jerk don’t sound like him. Patrick, on the other hand, yeah, but Ian’s much too down-to-earth.”

  “Trust me,” Mimi said. “I could have smacked him.”

  “You should have. He probably deserved it,” Anna said with a laugh. She looked at her watch and lifted her drink. “This has been wonderful, but I’ve got to go ward off more potential suitors.”

  “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Anna stood and hugged Mimi. She grabbed the handbills George had given her earlier. “Save me a table for tomorrow night. I will definitely be here.”

  Anna thanked George for the margarita and left. Mimi sat where she was and looked at one of the flyers. Tomorrow night. The anticipation began to build again. She spun off her stool and headed for the door. She had some practicing to do. Funny how the prospect of singing made her feel alive and full of hope in an otherwise hopeless week.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey, Ian, where’s your little worker?” Evan asked as he, Patrick and Ian laid out masts, sails and rigging next to the eleven Optimists arranged on the dock. “We could use the help.”

  Ian shrugged. “Ask his mother.”

  “Oh? I thought you had that base covered,” Evan said slyly. “Maybe I’ll have to step in and try my luck again.”

  “Stow it, McKenzie.”

  Evan laughed, unperturbed until he caught sight of ten excited children coming their way. “Here we go again,” he muttered.

  Ian followed his gaze; for once, he agreed with Evan. He was in no mood to teach sailing. Yet shrieks of laughter and shouts of glee quickly surrounded the three men. Patrick soon had all the students rigging their dinghies. As he helped two boys untangle the wires, rope and sails from their mast, Ian kept glancing up the dock, looking for Jack. There was still no sign of him when the first Optimist launched. By the time the tenth went in the water, Ian was fuming.

  Whenever Ian had thought about Mimi Green this past week, aggravation rose. Their encounters—her stubbornness—exasperated him. His clumsy, embarrassing reaction to the unexpected sight of her had only compounded his annoyance. As a further reminder, the lump on his head from the ladder was still there. Tuesday, she had asked for assistance he couldn’t refuse to give. Today, she had kept Jack at home, no doubt to punish the kid. It was the wrong way to go about it, but experience told him she wouldn’t listen to sense.

  Once the fleet was under way—minus one red-and-yellow-striped sail—Ian jumped into a powerboat. The breeze was brisk enough that he, Patrick and Evan all needed to be out on the water. The two hours flew as Ian called instructions and corralled boats that strayed too far from the herd. Soon, all ten skippers and dinghies were tied to the dock again. Ian helped stow the boats, life jackets, sails and other gear, including the stuff he had laid out for Jack. After the last parent had picked up the last kid, Ian was still seething.

  Patrick grabbed the box of bottled water they had brought down for the students. “Anyone want one of these?”

  “I’d rather have a beer,” Evan said, falling into step beside Ian as he walked up the pier. “I’ve earned at least one.”

  “Me, too,” Patrick said. “Who’d have thought that teaching kids to sail would be so exhausting?”

  “Remind me again—why did I agree to do this?” Evan asked.

  “You were probably drunk at the time,” Ian said dryly.

  “Definitely.” Evan shook his head.

  “Hey, Jack,” Patrick called suddenly. “You’re late.”

  Ian followed his brother’s gaze to the shore. Jack stood there in the mud, stick in one hand, his face set. Even at this distance, Ian sensed unhappiness radiating from his thin body.

  “Hey, kid,” Evan said. “You forget to set your alarm clock?”

  Ian shot a glance at the other two men. “I’ll catch up to you guys later,” he said and grabbed two bottles from the box that Patrick carried.

  “Sounds good,” Patrick said easily.

  Jack ducked his head and looked away as the men passed over the ramp near him. Ian turned and walked through the reeds to where Jack stood. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head so he could meet the boy, eye to eye. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  Jack shrugged and tossed his stick into the water. Silently, Ian led the way back down the dock, glancing covertly to make sure Jack followed. The boy kept his face averted, hair hiding his eyes. At the end of the pier, Ian sat on a dock box. From here, they could see the open water of the Chesapeake Bay. A few sails off in the distance hardly seemed to move, especially compared to the powerboats that buzzed back and forth like sports cars.

  The boy sat down, his feet dangling above the dock. Ian cracked open a bottle of water and handed it to him. Jack sipped from it, his eyes on the boats. Ian unscrewed the cap on his own bottle and chugged half the contents. He let the silence between them linger for a while as they both took in the view.

  “So. Why’d you skip class this morning?” Ian looked over at Jack, eyes narrowed in the bright sunlight.

  The abrupt question seemed to startle Jack. He dropped the plastic bottle. Water gurgled out to form a puddle as he put his hands up to cover his face. At the first sob, Ian slid closer and put a tentative hand on one thin shoulder. Immediately, he found himself with an armful of crying boy.

  “Hey, now. It can’t be that bad,” he said gently as he rubbed Jack’s back in slow, soothing circles. “What happened?”

  The boy could not—or would not—answer. The pain that gushed out in great sobs was too enormous for his small bones. Ian waited patiently for it to recede, keeping his arms around Jack. As he sat, he looked out over the water again. A Chesapeake Bay deadrise had wandered into the creek, its diesel engines throbbing in a low-voiced roar. Small pink-and-green-striped buoys floating in the creek marked the position of the waterman’s traps. He plucked the first from the water with his boat hook, then wrapped the rope around a pulley attached to the side of the craft. When the trap cleared the water, the waterman rested it on the gunnel and yanked open the top. He pulled out three crabs, kept one and tossed the other two back, put in fresh bait and dropped the whole thing over the side. Then he gunned the engine and spun over to the next buoy.

  By the time the ninth trap was emptied and freshly baited, Jack’s crying had eased. Ian could feel the small body slowly relax. When Jack finally sat up, Ian handed him a faded bandanna from his pocket. The boy blew his nose while Ian picked up the bottle. There were still a few swigs left. After wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his T-shirt, Jack took the bottle and drank.

  “Did your mom tell you not to come to class?” Ian asked.

  “No,” Jack said. His voice was slightly nasal. Wiping his eyes again, he looked over at Ian. His lashes were spiked and wet, his cheeks flushed.

  “So why didn’t you come?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want me here.”

  Ian frowned. “Where’d you get that idea?”

  Jack’s shoulders sagged. He crushed the empty plastic bottle in his hands. “’Cause I’m a dummy.”

  “No you’re not, runt.” Sensing where this was going, Ian put
a hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “You have dumb ideas like that sometimes, but you’re not dumb.”

  “The principal says I am.”

  Ian’s heart ached. “That’s pretty harsh. Did he really say that?”

  Jack shrugged, silent. “I flunked,” he mumbled, then glanced at Ian, a defiant, lightning flash of blue.

  “That’s too bad.” Ian squeezed Jack’s shoulder.

  “He says I have to go to summer school,” Jack said in a rush. “My mom said she’d make me. And I can’t come sailing if I don’t.” He squeezed the plastic bottle he held even tighter.

  “So that’s why you didn’t come to class? To get back at your mom?”

  The boy didn’t look at him. “She doesn’t care about me. She just tells me what to do and I have to do it.”

  “Your mom cares about you, runt.”

  “Then how come she’s making me go to school?” The boy looked at Ian, his blue eyes full of anger and anguish in equal parts. “All summer.”

  Ian took a deep drink of his water, wishing it were something a whole lot stronger. He sighed. “You know, my mom made me go to summer school once.”

  “Really?” Jack squinted at Ian skeptically.

  “Yep. Except it was in seventh grade. I flunked English and history. Mostly because I’d farted off all semester.” He looked over at the boy, one eyebrow raised. Jack squirmed, but remained silent. “She made me quit the baseball team until my grades got better, too.”

  “Your mom’s mean. Like mine.”

  “Sometimes she is,” Ian agreed with a laugh. “I sure was mad at her, but she didn’t budge an inch. She told me that she loved me and that she wanted the best for me. If I thought that was mean, she didn’t care. You know what?” Ian held Jack’s gaze with his own. “She was right and I was wrong.”

  The boy absorbed the information and was silent for a long time. “I hate school,” he finally declared.

  Ian chuckled. “Yeah. I did, too, runt.” Seeing the boy’s unhappiness return, Ian got to his feet. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  “You gonna make me work?”

  “Only if you want to.”