Instant Father Page 10

  Her phone rang suddenly, startling her because she didn’t often get calls in the morning. She answered it somewhat warily, hoping that nothing was wrong.

  “Char?”

  It was Bridget, and she sounded chipper. Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Dr. Parson has to drive into Regina for an early appointment, so he asked if I could open the clinic this morning. Do you want company walking this morning?”

  “I would love that,” Charlotte said sincerely. They quickly made arrangements and met on the corner of Charlotte’s street. Walking and listening to Bridge chat about whatever popped into her mind was exactly what she needed to get her mind off her troubles. And away from a certain car mechanic and handyman who occupied her thoughts far more than he should.

  “Did you have fun at the church last night?” Charlotte asked. “It felt like an especially good night. The students love Paul.”

  “It was fun but exhausting,” Bridget said. “Those kids are high energy, let me tell you.”

  “How was...” Charlotte stopped herself from asking directly about Tyson. “How were the kids?” she amended. “Other than energetic, I mean.”

  “Oh, you know, they’re always lots of fun. They sure keep you on your toes.”

  “I’m sure they loved having you there.”

  “I saw you and Paul talking,” Bridget said, touching on the very subject that Charlotte hoped to avoid.

  “Yes...there were a lot of people there last night.” She hoped that Bridget would take the hint and move on to another subject. But the next words out of her cousin’s mouth reminded her that it wasn’t exactly her style to let things go.

  “It’s pretty clear that he likes you,” she said matter-of-factly. “Do you not see it?”

  Not for the first time, Charlotte regretted having a face that gave so much away when color swept through it.

  “Sometimes I think he does,” she admitted, figuring there was no sense denying what Bridget was bound to pry out of her anyway. “But then I feel like something changes between us and he puts up his walls again.”

  “Do you want him to like you? Do you like him?”

  Charlotte wanted to give her an honest answer, but her own feelings were in such a jumble that she didn’t know what to say. Finally she just shrugged and said, “I don’t think it really matters. I’ve sent away my application to go overseas, and I’m waiting to hear about that.”

  “Char, I don’t think you should run away from something that might be what you’ve been looking for. I’m just saying...”

  “I’m not running away.”

  She was relieved when they arrived at the vet clinic and had to part ways.

  During the remaining walk to school, Charlotte tried praying to sort out her thoughts and figure out exactly what she did want, but the one persistent thought that kept returning was that she needed to discover herself and not live by the wishes and whims of others.

  But the words that Bridget had said about Paul liking her also landed like a timid sparrow on a wintry branch and clung in her mind with the same unexpected tenacity.

  When Charlotte stepped into the schoolyard, her teacher’s radar immediately flared up when she saw a cluster of children all focused on something that was happening in the midst of them. She hurried over. “What’s going on?”

  “Tyson punched Michael,” a little girl named Raquel announced with self-importance.

  “In the mouth,” added another student.

  “Tyson...?” Charlotte’s temples pulsed as she tried to sort out the statement.

  Her presence caused the cluster of children to break up, and sure enough, although she could hardly believe the evidence of her own eyes, Tyson stood glaring at the bigger boy with his hands still in fists at his sides, while Michael, with a look of shock and anger, touched his fingers to his bloody lip.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That can’t be true” were the first words out of Paul’s mouth when Charlotte phoned to tell him what had happened and explain that it was mandatory to meet with the children, along with their parents or guardians.

  “I’m afraid it is.”

  He thought he could hear sadness behind Charlotte’s professional tone. But he knew that whatever her personal feelings might be on the matter, she would follow the rules. He couldn’t help admiring her for it, even though he knew it meant she couldn’t choose sides.

  He hoped that her calm professionalism would impact him. Despite his first, pained reaction, he hoped he would be able to listen to the facts rationally and sort out why it had happened and what he could do about it.

  Dear God...

  He could only get out the beginning of a prayer because he hadn’t talked to God in so long. He could only hope that God understood that he needed Him now and wouldn’t hold it against him.

  He told Harold only that there had been an incident at the school and was grateful for his boss’s discretion in not asking for details.

  “Get going,” Harold said. “Take all the time you need and let me know if I can help.”

  “I will, thanks.” He doubted there was anything Harold could do, but it was kind of him to offer.

  Paul couldn’t decide if the distance to the school felt like the longest or the shortest journey of his life. He had always felt a keen desire to protect Tyson, not only because the little boy had lost his parents, but also because he knew from firsthand experience that children could be cruel and adults, despite their best intentions, could be oblivious. So, from the moment he had taken on Tyson’s guardianship, he had made it his goal to ensure that his nephew was safe and happy. Always.

  Not once had it ever entered his mind that Tyson could be the one to do the bullying. There had to be more to it, he thought.

  When he arrived at the school, he headed directly to the principal’s office and saw that Mavis was already there. A single glance in her direction told him that she was prepared to do battle for her son.

  He couldn’t blame her for that.

  Michael was sitting beside her but wouldn’t look up from staring at his shoes. Tyson stood a little ways away from them, looking like he hardly knew what to do with his own body.

  Paul went and leaned over to give him a quick hug.

  When Tyson looked up at him, it was clear that he was miserable, and surprised at the show of support that his uncle had given him.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he just had time to whisper before Charlotte arrived and ushered them in to take seats. Soon after, Mr. Millis arrived and said. “Ms. Connelly will handle this. I’m here to observe and to mediate only if necessary.”

  Mavis’s eyes sent daggers in his direction. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know how she felt. Since the day he took guardianship of Tyson, he had lived on constant alert for this scenario. He just hadn’t expected the roles to be reversed.

  “Would you like to start, Michael?” Charlotte said in a quiet but firm voice. “Tell us in your own words what happened.” Then she glanced at his nephew. “You will get your turn to talk, Tyson, all right? We do ask that no one interrupts while the other person is talking. The no interrupting goes for the parents, too.” Her eyes swept over Paul and Mavis. “When the boys have each had their say, we’ll discuss how we feel this can be most effectively dealt with.”

  Mavis mumbled something under her breath, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what she thought the repercussion should be. Once again, Paul couldn’t blame her. He would have given anything if his parents had been the type to rage like a mother bear on his behalf. But they had been tired from work, worried about bills, perpetually seeking that future goal called retirement...and he’d weathered the battering storm as best as he could on his own.

  “Okay, Michael,” Charlotte urged in an encouraging tone. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”

&n
bsp; “Tyson punched me,” Michael announced succinctly.

  Mavis clutched at her scarf, Paul cleared his throat and received a warning glance from Charlotte, and Tyson, unmindful of the instructions, cried out, “I had to make you stop!”

  “Tyson,” Charlotte said, “you will get your turn. It’s Michael’s turn now.” Her voice remained calm but left no doubt that she meant business. She turned back to Michael. “Can you please give me a little more detail, Michael? Take your time and just tell me what you remember.”

  “Aren’t there recess supervisors?” Mavis demanded. “What kind of school is this that lets my little boy get beat up on the playground?”

  Charlotte chose to let the interruption slip by long enough to answer, “We do have supervisors and we care enormously about the safety of the children. But even with the best intentions, we can’t see everything that happens.

  “But I won’t tolerate any more interruptions,” Charlotte continued. “If it happens again, I’ll ask you to wait outside while I speak to the boys alone. Okay, Michael, please continue.”

  It was clear that the boy felt very uncomfortable being put on the spot and seemed genuinely bewildered to have found himself in this situation. Despite being wholly on Tyson’s side, Paul felt a beat of sympathy for him.

  When Michael started talking, all of his brashness was gone, and he spoke breathlessly as if the blindsiding punch had knocked the wind right out of him.

  “I was standing on the playground at recess. I wasn’t doing anything. Tyson came up to me and got this real weird look on his face and then he punched me.”

  “Did you say anything to Tyson before that happened? Or do anything?” Charlotte asked.

  “Trying to blame my boy?” Mavis mumbled but stopped herself from continuing before Charlotte had to.

  “Uh-uh.” Michael shook his head solemnly. “He just punched me. Boom!”

  Paul now had a sneaking suspicion that the little boy was starting to enjoy telling his tale.

  “Okay, thank you, Michael.” It was impossible to tell from Charlotte’s demeanor what she was thinking, and that agitated Paul. Not only because of Tyson but also because he didn’t like feeling cut off from her.

  Charlotte turned to Tyson. “Now I’m going to ask you,” she said in the same firm, gentle way, “and I just want you to be honest. Did Michael say or do anything at recess before you punched him?”

  “No,” Tyson said so quietly they could hardly hear him, but the misery in his voice resounded loud and clear.

  Paul leaned forward, on the edge of his chair.

  “He didn’t that time,” Tyson continued, “but there were lotsa other times...”

  Slowly, the story unfolded: the insults, the constant belittling, but always done in a way that it would be easy to miss—easy for everyone except the victim.

  “Mostly he says I’m stupid ’cause I do bad at reading and spelling.”

  Each of Tyson’s words brought a painful jolt of memory to Paul...and a realization of how he had unintentionally hurt his nephew by keeping his secret.

  “Okay, then,” Charlotte said. “First of all, Tyson and Michael, you’re going to start by apologizing to each other. Michael, words like that are very hurtful, but Tyson, hitting someone else is always wrong.”

  The boys apologized with a lack of sincerity that Paul might have found amusing if he wasn’t so devastated.

  “And I think I’ll have you both stay in at recess for a little while,” Charlotte continued. “I feel like you should get to know each other better and show more understanding to each other. Does that sound fair?” She included the adults in her question.

  Paul nodded, too overwhelmed to voice his questions and protests.

  Mavis said, “I’m not sure. I don’t think you’ve been fair to my boy, but I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Please feel free to follow up with me later,” Charlotte encouraged.

  “I’m satisfied for now with the outcome of this,” Mr. Millis said. He glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting. I’ll leave you to wrap things up here.”

  After Mavis and Mr. Millis had left, and the boys had been returned to the classroom, which was being supervised by another teacher, Paul lingered and said, “You know, this is my fault, the trouble Tyson’s having.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.

  The words felt like inflamed tonsils being scraped out of his throat.

  “I can’t read.”

  Charlotte was in shock. She tried to muster all of her professional training to combat that reaction. But warring against her maintaining a professional distance was an almost overwhelming urge to comfort Paul with a hug and words of reassurance...even if she had no idea what those words should be.

  Dear Lord, she prayed silently. I can see that Paul is hurting and has probably been in pain for a long time. Please help me to say and do the right thing, and please be with him and be a source of comfort to him in whatever way he needs.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked. She reached out and touched his hand softly.

  His eyes, edged with shame, met hers. “I’m not sure that there’s much more to say. I can’t read.”

  “Did the trouble start in school?” Charlotte prompted gently. “Have you ever been diagnosed as being dyslexic? There are ways to work around that.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Paul spoke sharply now and sounded almost angry. “I probably shouldn’t have even said anything.” He made as if to leave.

  “But you did tell me,” Charlotte said. “And I think it’s because you’re tired of keeping it a secret and that you want to be able to help Tyson as much as you possibly can.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone else!” Paul begged as he settled back into his chair.

  “I won’t. I give you my word. I can help you, Paul—please, if you’ll let me. Why do you think you’ve struggled with reading?”

  “Because—” A fault line of pain split his voice. “I was bullied so badly in school, it took everything I had just to survive, let alone learn anything in class.”

  For one eternal moment, Charlotte wondered if the man beside her was going to be able to continue, but he suddenly sat straighter and gathered himself with all of the courage of someone who had made the best of his life despite bitterly hard circumstances.

  Devoid of expression, which somehow made it all the more shattering, Paul told her the story of a little boy who was taunted, ostracized and physically and emotionally bullied for most of his elementary school years. The ache she felt for him filled her bones and stung at the corners of her eyes.

  But she couldn’t cry. She had to be strong for him.

  “When I got to high school,” Paul said, “I don’t know what happened—maybe they finally got bored of it, or found other things more interesting, but it mostly stopped. I started to work out and I found out I was pretty good at sports and I did well with anything I could use my hands for...”

  He stopped talking then and searched her eyes. Charlotte knew that he was looking for judgment or even ridicule. She did her best to convey that what she felt for him was the exact opposite.

  “I think I used to have a sense of fairness about life, you know?” Paul said, sounding suddenly exhausted. “You try to be a decent person, do your best, and everything should work out. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done to make them hate me so much.”

  Charlotte was out of her chair almost before she knew it. She put her arms around Paul and pressed her cheek to his hair, which smelled of a pine-scented shampoo.

  He stiffened slightly with surprise, then she could feel him hugging her back.

  “I’m going to help you, Paul,” she said, not allowing him to argue. “I’m going to teach you how to read.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It took consi
derable negotiation and promises of discretion, but finally Paul agreed that he would allow Charlotte to help him with his reading. Their game plan was for Charlotte to visit him at his house two or three evenings a week. Tyson would be there and they worried a bit about his questions and what he might think, but it still seemed the best solution in a town where they were bound to be spotted, no matter where they decided to go.

  “You can try to teach me,” Paul cautioned her. “I really don’t know what it’s going to accomplish after all this time.”

  But, despite his protests, Charlotte sensed that it was an enormous relief to Paul to have finally revealed his secret. She was glad that he had chosen to tell her, and that she was in a position to help him.

  “It will make such a difference,” she insisted. “You’re an intelligent man, Paul, otherwise you wouldn’t have done as well as you have getting through life, and you’re a hard worker and, even more than that, you’re a kind, good person. I have every confidence in you.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. After a brief silence he asked, “How much will you charge for the tutoring sessions?”

  Charlotte blinked. “Charge you? I’m not going to charge you for them! Really, Paul...”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to take up your valuable time for free.”

  Neither of them was willing to cede to the other. Until Charlotte finally said, “Well...you know, my house still needs some work.”

  “Done,” Paul said. “On one condition.”

  “Driving a hard bargain, are you?”

  “I sure am. I’m more than happy to help you out at your place, but I want you to work alongside me so you gain confidence in yourself to do those kinds of things.”

  “And I want you to do the same with reading,” Charlotte said as an unexpected bubble of happiness grew within her.

  “I guess it’s a deal then,” Paul said.