Small-Town Dad

by Jean C. Gordon

  She turned to Neal. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” He lifted his athletic bag.

  “You can go out the front door,” Mary said.

  “Just like company. Thanks, Mom.”

  She gave him a playful swat.

  “As kids, Mom always kept the front door locked. We had to use the kitchen door so that we didn’t track dirt across the rug.”

  “Yeah, Neal’s middle name could have been dirt.”

  “Emily said that you liked working outside, helping your dad with the campground.”

  “During the summer, he would have lived outside if we’d let him.”

  “Ah, Mom, we need to be leaving. You can tell Anne all about my childhood some other time.”

  Was that a tinge of pink on Neal’s cheeks? Anne hid a smile. She’d like to hear more about Neal as a youngster. Michael had been so much older, making Anne’s mother-in-law more her grandmother’s age. They’d never developed a rapport. While she could easily imagine Neal as a boy, she had no idea what Michael might have been like.

  Anne shook the thoughts from her head.

  “I’m sorry, Anne. I sometimes get carried away talking about Neal, Emily and Autumn.”

  Where had Mary gotten the idea she wasn’t interested? She was too interested. “Pardon?”

  “You shook your head,” Neal said.

  “I...I was thinking about something else. But we do need to get on the road.”

  “Drive carefully,” Mary said.

  Neal opened the front door and let Anne precede him.

  When they reached her car, Anne handed him the keys, remembering him telling her he wasn’t a good passenger. “Why don’t you drive the first part of the trip, and I’ll drive when we get close to Boston where I’m familiar with the area streets?”

  “Sounds good. I don’t mind admitting that I’m not a fan of city driving.”

  So Neal had his weak spots, too. And didn’t seem to have any qualms about admitting them. Some of the gray cloud that had been hanging over Anne since yesterday lifted.

  Rather than taking the interstate south to Albany and catching the thruway east to the Massachusetts Turnpike as she would have done, Neal started out on Route 74 toward Vermont.

  “Wouldn’t the interstate be quicker?” Anne asked.

  “No, this way is more direct and has no traffic to contend with. It should cut some time off the trip.”

  Anne was too thankful for the company to argue. And the picturesque scenery was calming. Here and there, the trees still clung on to a few vibrant red-and-orange leaves.

  “This must have been gorgeous a couple of weeks ago. The trees,” she added when Neal didn’t immediately respond.

  “I guess. A lot of people drive up north in the fall to see the foliage. I’m afraid I take it for granted.”

  “It’s easy to do, not appreciate what we have.” Michael had been like that. Her, too, always reaching for something more.

  Neal’s mouth twisted down.

  “Like I never noticed the trees turning on the drive from home to the college, although I’m sure they have.” She filled in the brief moment of silence and waited.

  “Sorry,” Neal said after a few moments. “I was thinking about something else.”

  “I appreciate your coming with me today. I hope it doesn’t mess up your schedule too much. I know you have work and classes.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Obviously, she’d taken the conversation in the wrong direction. But she couldn’t figure out where she’d gotten off course.

  “I don’t mind.” His voice softened. “I didn’t have anything going on that couldn’t wait. Why don’t you tell me about your friend Reenie...if you want?”

  Surprisingly, Anne found that she did. “We were college roommates,” she started, and the miles flew by as she regaled him with their college escapades and how they’d reconnected when Reenie and her husband had moved back to the Boston area shortly after Michael’s death.

  They passed through a corner of New Hampshire and into Massachusetts. “Want me to take over the driving now? You’ve driven most of the way.”

  “Actually, I’m okay, if you want to give me directions once we get close.”

  “We’re close now. Margaret’s home is in the Carding Mill section of the Wayside Inn historic district.” She laughed. “But that doesn’t mean anything to you.”

  “Got me there.”

  Anne rattled off a series of directions that brought them to the drive leading to Reenie’s mother’s home. It wound through at least an acre of lushly landscaped and treed lawn before ending at a large traditional single-style New England home overlooking a large pond.

  Neal whistled. “I’ll bet you could fit the whole camp lodge in half of that house.”

  Anne had gone home with Reenie numerous times during their college years, but she didn’t remember the house being so large or ostentatious. It had simply been Reenie’s home.

  Neal was out of the car and around to her side to open the door before she’d even reached for the door handle. They walked the white stone path to the front door and rang the doorbell. It chimed their arrival.

  The door swung open to reveal an impeccably dressed and coiffed woman in a wheelchair.

  “Anne. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She bent down into the older woman’s arms and hugged her. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  The woman released her. “Please come in.” She turned her wheelchair and led them into an entryway with a cathedral ceiling and walnut staircase that rivaled his parents’ living room in size.

  “Margaret,” Anne said when the woman stopped by the doorway to another room and turned back toward them. “This is my friend Neal Hazard. Neal, Margaret Cabot.”

  Neal took Margaret’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Margaret’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered. “Thank you.” She released his hand. “Is your luggage in the car?” She looked from Neal to Anne.

  “Gammy! Where you?” A red-headed boy who looked to Neal to be no more than two and a half or three, at the most, raced through the doorway and came to an abrupt stop in front of Anne.

  “Nee Nee,” he said and looked around her. “Mommy?”

  The plaintive question socked Neal in the gut. The little guy must be Anne’s godson. He hadn’t connected Reenie with the child Anne had talked about at the barbeque.

  Anne stood statue-still.

  “Ian.” Margaret leaned forward in her chair, arms out. “Remember, Mommy and Daddy are in heaven with the angels.”

  “No!” He stomped his foot and his face crumpled.

  A teen with short spiky hair rushed in. “Mrs. Cabot. I’m so sorry. I tripped over Ian’s blocks and he got away from me.”

  Margaret smiled at the girl. “Jessica has been helping me with Ian. Her grandmother is my next-door neighbor. Jessica, this is Anne and...”

  A howl from Ian drowned out the rest of the introduction. Jessica scooped him up.

  “No,” he shouted and kicked. “Nee Nee, Mommy.”

  Anne flinched and took Ian from the girl. “It’s okay, sweetie. Aunt Annie has you.” She rubbed his back and he sobbed against her shoulder.

  The cries tore at Neal’s heart. “Poor little guy,” he said as much to himself as to anyone else.

  Ian lifted his head and looked at Neal over Anne’s shoulder. “Who dat?” He sniffled and pointed.

  “That’s Aunt Annie’s friend Neal,” his grandmother said.

  Ian looked from Anne to Neal and, then, at Margaret. “Nal.”

  “Close enough,” Neal said.

  While Ian didn’t quite smile, his cheeks dimpled. He hid his face in An
ne’s shoulder again and slowly peered over it at Neal again.

  “Boo!” Neal said.

  Ian responded with a sniffle that turned into a giggle. He scrunched his eyes closed and popped them open. “Boo!” He mimicked Neal.

  Neal’s heart swelled.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Margaret said. “Especially since Ian is usually so shy with people he doesn’t know.”

  A corner of Neal’s mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. “What can I say? I’m a kid magnet. I inherited it from my dad.”

  Margaret gave him a look of warm approval. “But Anne and I have to leave for our meeting. Jessica, you’ll be okay with Ian?”

  “We’ll be fine. I’ll read to him and see if I can get him down for a nap. I brought some homework I can do while he sleeps.”

  Ian wimpered.

  “If he sleeps.”

  “Neal, there’s a gym downstairs. Rob keeps...” Margaret’s voice caught. “Kept extra workout clothes in the foot locker. Or there’s a library in the turret. Anne can show you the way and meet me outside.”

  “Thanks.” A gym and a library. More than a little out of his element.

  He watched Anne hand Ian to Jessica and noticed the quality of Anne’s clothes compared to the teen’s casual jeans and T-shirt. Not that he knew anything about women’s fashion but the perfect fit of Anne’s simple dark blue dress said tailored for her. Light from the tall windows glinted off the bracelet watch dangling from her wrist. He swallowed. This was Anne’s element. They were from different worlds. That should be enough to quell his growing attraction. But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  “No!” Ian struggled out of Jessica’s arms and dropped to the floor.

  Anne squatted to his level. She and Margaret were due at the lawyer’s office in twenty minutes. “I have to go out with Grandma for a while. Jessica is going to read you stories.”

  He shook his head. “Nal.” He pointed to Neal.

  “You want Neal to read you a story?”

  Ian nodded.

  Anne exchanged a glance with Margaret.

  “It’s your decision.” Margaret looked down at her lap and turned the ring on her finger.

  What did the older woman mean it was her decision? She searched her face, but Margaret kept her eyes lowered.

  Neal broke the undercurrent in the room. “I don’t mind watching him.”

  Ian looked up at the sound of his deep voice and stuck his finger in his mouth, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  “We shouldn’t be too long.” She looked to Margaret for confirmation. The woman was totally focused on her grandson. Anne couldn’t shake the feeling she’d done something to hurt her. But she hadn’t.

  “We’ll be fine, won’t we, bud?” He crouched next to Anne, close enough for her to smell the outdoorsy scent of his soap or, could be, aftershave.

  “Rob, his dad, called him that—bud.” Margaret’s voice was thin, barely above a whisper.

  Ian sucked his finger as if his life depended on it. Helplessness washed over Anne. She reached for the toddler, but he brushed by her and flung himself at Neal.

  “Whoa.” Neal fought for his balance and lost, tumbling onto his back.

  Ian scrambled up his sprawled form and kneeled on his chest. “Nal?”

  The quiver in the child’s voice shot through Anne like a jolt of electricity.

  He touched Neal’s face.

  “Grrrr.” Neal rolled to a sitting position and hugged the little guy tight.

  Ian laughed. “More.”

  Anne rose and released her pent-up breath. She turned to Margaret. “This may be a good time for us to slip out.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  The older woman’s question struck her more as a reprimand. Why was Margaret acting like she needed Anne’s permission concerning Ian? Compassion pushed away her slight irritation. Margaret must be overwhelmed by everything that had happened and being responsible for an active little boy.

  “They’ll be fine.” She pointed at the two guys play-wrestling on the floor. “Neal’s a single parent. He has lots of experience.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I’ve never seen Ian take to anyone like he has to Neal.” Margaret pursed her lips. “What I meant was whether leaving Ian without saying goodbye, making sure he understands that we’ll be back, was a good idea.”

  “Of course.” Anne hadn’t thought of that at all. Another squeal from Ian drew her to the two of them romping. Neal would have.

  “Hey, guys.”

  Neal righted himself and stood, Ian in his arms. He looked so in control with a beaming Ian resting his head against Neal’s.

  She touched the toddler’s chubby cheek. “Grammy and I have to go now. Neal’s going to stay with you.”

  “Yes, Nal!”

  Margaret rolled her chair closer. “Grammy and Aunt Annie will bring you home some popcorn chicken.” She raised her hand to shield her mouth. “It’s his favorite and I’ve indulged him too often lately, but...” She shrugged her shoulders.

  This was more like the doting grandma she knew Margaret to be.

  “Chick’n for Nal, too?”

  “Of course, for Neal, too.”

  “And what do you think?” Neal nodded toward Anne. “Should we let Aunt Annie have some?”

  “’Course.” Ian parroted his grandmother.

  Margaret reached up to Ian and Neal leaned so that she could give him a kiss. “Be a good boy for Neal.”

  “Ian good boy.” He pointed at himself.

  “Oh, yes, you are.” His grandmother rubbed noses with him. She cleared her throat. “Jessica, Anne and I can drop you home on our way to the lawyer’s. I’ll pay you for the whole day.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Cabot.”

  “Yes, I do. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  The teen shuffled her feet. “You know I love this guy.” She ruffled Ian’s red curls. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Miss you,” he piped.

  Margaret and Jessica’s words weighed heavy on Anne. Must be the teen was on some kind of school break.

  “Bye, bye, Ian. Aunt Annie will see you later.”

  Ian’s “later” made them all laugh.

  “I’ll get my backpack and meet you out in the garage,” Jessica said.

  “Okay. Show Neal where Ian’s room is first and meet us in the garage.” Margaret spun her chair toward the hall to the side of the entryway.

  That sounded more like the Margaret Anne knew. She gave Ian and Neal another wave goodbye, struck again by how natural he and Ian looked together, and followed Margaret out through the dining room and kitchen.

  “Reenie talked to you about their wills, didn’t she?”

  Anne thought for a moment. Reenie had said she and Rob were having wills made and that they wanted to make sure Ian would be raised in a Christian home. Rob’s parents couldn’t provide that. Margaret could. Anne watched the older woman maneuver the ramp from the kitchen door to the garage. She must be having unnecessary—in Anne’s opinion—doubts about being responsible for Ian. Margaret and her husband had done a great job with Reenie. To Anne, Margaret had always seemed a natural mother. And she had the resources to hire a nanny and any other help she needed with Ian.

  “Yes, she did.” Her mind raced through the conversation she remembered having with Reenie and used the lack of any more details to quell the uneasiness her reassurance invoked. But she’d been preoccupied with the arrangements for transitioning the responsibility for Green Spaces’ operation so she could take the position at NCCC. Was there something she’d missed? Her throat constricted. Reenie had always been there to listen to her.

  “Good.” Margaret nodded. �
�I wanted to make sure there weren’t any surprises at the attorney’s office.”

  Chapter Ten

  Neal heard the hum of Margaret’s chair rolling down the hardwood floor of the hall outside Ian’s room. He rose from the rocking chair, placed the youngster in the toddler bed and raised the side rail. When he turned from the bed, Margaret was in the doorway.

  “How was he?”

  “I think I can recite Where the Wild Things Are by heart. Every time I’d think he was asleep and go to put him in bed, he’d open his eyes and say ‘again.’

  Margaret’s eyes were soft and a half smile curved her lips. “He does love that story. His daddy got it for him. It was Rob’s favorite story when he was small.” She backed out of the doorway. “Turn the intercom on and let’s go downstairs.”

  She led him to what looked like sliding oak doors. Margaret flicked a switch on the wall and the doors glided open to reveal an elevator. He stepped in with her.

  “My husband had it installed soon after my multiple sclerosis was diagnosed. I was so angry with him. He’d jumped the gun, but I was thankful for his thoughtfulness when I had to start using the chair. He was gone by then.” She waved her hand. “I’m rambling. And I don’t have Reenie to stop me.”

  Neal inched away from the wheelchair. Was she going to lose it? Where was Anne?

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He released his pent-up breath.

  Margaret rolled forward into another hall. “Sorry about that.”

  Guilt pricked Neal. Margaret had been through a lot. What was a little rambling? “No problem. Where’s Anne?”

  “Walking by the pond.”

  His heart constricted. “I take it the reading was rough on her.”

  Margaret twisted her ring. “Her reaction. I didn’t expect it.” The older woman’s voice rose in what sounded to Neal like anger.

  He tensed. She was obviously overwrought. But he couldn’t imagine what Anne could have said to upset her so much.

  “Go talk with her.” Margaret leaned forward. “Please. Anne needs you.”