Instant Father Page 13

  Lord, You have a funny way of answering prayers, Paul thought, in what felt like the first real communication with God he’d attempted in years. He hadn’t expected to be casually put to work on the first Sunday he’d come back to church but, at the same time, it did help ease the path. He left Tyson with Eugenie, the high school student who worked at Seth’s Café, then followed Ralph downstairs to the Sunday school rooms.

  When he saw the rooms that had been set up with obvious amounts of care and creativity, he could picture Tyson’s joy at being there and choosing from the many activities to participate in, and he was happy that they had come.

  “Does Charlotte Connelly ever teach Sunday school?” Paul blurted out, wondering where that had come from.

  At Ralph’s probing look—once a police officer, always a police officer—Paul quickly amended. “Ms. Connelly, I mean...she’s my nephew’s teacher at school, so I just wondered...”

  “I believe she might fill in from time to time,” Ralph said, his tone as dry as autumn tree bark. “If there’s a real need for it. But her regular gig teaching school keeps her busy enough and, of course, she’s been helping you out on Wednesday nights.”

  Ralph’s expression, like he was waiting for Paul to fill in the blanks, caused Paul to change the subject.

  “Which table leg is wobbly?” he asked.

  By the time they got back upstairs, the opening hymn was in progress and Paul went up a side aisle, searching for an empty seat. His preference would have been the back row, but it was filled with slightly beleaguered-looking parents with infants. So he slid into a row a bit farther up and avoided looking around to see who was near him and who had noticed his entrance. He picked up the bulletin that the usher had pushed into his hand with a quick nod of greeting as he hurried in, and pretended to study it.

  Once the service started, Paul found, to his surprise, that it was a little like putting on an old garment that he hadn’t worn in years, but that brought a kind of comfort with it. The pastor’s sermon on forgiveness contained a line that Paul knew he wouldn’t be able to shake away: “Sometimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself.”

  When they stood to sing “Amazing Grace,” the words that had been buried somewhere within his heart found their way to his mouth and poured out. He recalled that, as a youth, he had been told he had a good singing voice and urged to join the choir. But, in those days, he’d viewed everything as an opportunity for others to bully him, so he hadn’t joined.

  Then a joyfully soaring soprano behind him captured his attention and made it impossible, at least for the moment, to be anything but hopeful. He couldn’t help himself. He turned his head to see who that uplifting sound was coming from and found himself looking into Charlotte Connelly’s violet eyes.

  * * *

  Charlotte had seen Paul come in, but she had also seen his need for invisibility, so she had given him his space. When he turned around and saw that she was right behind him, his eyes widened with surprise, and with something else, but he turned back toward the front before she could quite decipher what that something was.

  When the service ended, it was her turn to be surprised when he turned again to speak to her instead of bolting toward the nearest exit.

  “That’s some voice you’ve got,” he said.

  She blushed. “Thank you. I love to sing, especially those songs that just speak right to your heart, you know? You’re not so bad yourself.”

  The tips of Paul’s ears actually turned red. The sight of a strong, handsome man blushing did things to Charlotte’s emotions that she knew she should probably ignore. One of these days she truly did have to sit down with God and sort out what she was supposed to do with her life...and whether Paul Belvedere was meant to be part of it in any serious way. She just hoped she was willing to accept whatever direction the Lord planned to lead her in, even if that meant her being led away from Paul.

  “Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Charlotte?” Her mother’s voice immediately pulled Charlotte away from her fanciful thoughts.

  “This is Paul Belvedere,” she said. “He’s the uncle of one of my students. Paul, these are my parents, George and Lenore Connelly.”

  They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, although Charlotte could only imagine that Paul must be itching to bolt. Of course her parents knew who he was, because of what had happened to his sister, if nothing else. But clearly her mother wanted to know what his role was in Charlotte’s life.

  “What did you think of the sermon?” Lenore asked Paul. “I hope that we’ll be seeing you here more often?”

  “It was an excellent sermon,” Paul answered, but he didn’t respond to the second part of the question. Paul darted a single, pleading look in Charlotte’s direction.

  “I guess Tyson must be waiting for you to pick him up,” she said. “Come on, I’ll help you track him down. I’ll talk to you later, Mom and Dad. Enjoy your Sunday afternoon.”

  Before they could say anything else, she headed out of her row. Paul did the same in his and they met in the aisle.

  “If we go this way, we’ll be able to skip the meet and greet,” she said bluntly. Then as they headed toward the Sunday school rooms, she softened as she realized what it must have taken for Paul to show up, and said, “I’m so glad you came. So...what did you think?”

  “I only did it for Tyson,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

  “Oh. Well, of course...”

  “But,” Paul conceded, looking back at her, “I liked it more than I thought I would. It felt... I don’t know. I guess it felt more familiar than I thought it would.”

  “God always remembers us even when we’ve been ignoring Him for a long time,” Charlotte said quietly. “And He has His ways of drawing us back.”

  For a moment Paul looked like he was going to agree, or at least be willing to be drawn into a deeper conversation, but then it was like a blind had been drawn down over his face, shutting out the light.

  “I’m sure being here on Wednesday nights has a lot to do with it feeling familiar, too,” he said.

  Charlotte told herself not to be disappointed or to expect too much. It was a huge step that Paul had come to Sunday service at all. She knew that people never responded well to being pushed toward God, especially if they had once known Him but had felt their faith had been betrayed. Knowing what she did now about Paul’s experiences with bullying, she couldn’t honestly blame him for his feelings. It was almost impossible not to ask where God was when horrible things happened. Some people clung more tightly to God in those times, as she had; some, like Paul, shoved Him away.

  “Speaking of Wednesday nights...” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “It still baffles me how you can do such a great job of teaching when...”

  Paul shifted from one foot to the other, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Tyson should be out of Sunday school soon, shouldn’t he?” he interjected.

  “He’ll be fine with Eugenie until you pick him up. The kids like to stay and play as long as they can. Please, Paul, I really want to know. It might help me figure out how I can help you.”

  “I’m not even sure I can explain it...” Something in his eyes deepened, and his hands instinctively made gestures like he was holding something. “Whenever I pick up a tool, or work on a car engine, it’s like...it’s like I have the memories of them in my hands and I just know what to do.” His mouth lifted in a rueful smile. “Even if I couldn’t look up the names of any of the tools if I had to.”

  “I have an idea...” Charlotte said as something started to take shape in her mind. “A way to help you learn to read that I think will mean something to you. But, Paul, we have to start with the basics—the ABCs—there’s no getting around that.”

  Paul shook his head, not saying no, she knew, but in an expression of frustration. Charlotte didn’t know exactly how, but she felt l
ike she knew this man’s heart and knew how important it was to him to feel accepted and to have honor and purpose in his life.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Next time you come over to help me with a project, I’ll write down the names of everything we use and you can see what the words look like, at the same time as you’re holding the tools and using them. That way, you can connect the words with things you already know and...” She stopped speaking abruptly as something...

  She saw Paul register her expression and turn to look. He turned back to her with a grim expression.

  Across the room, Mavis stood holding Michael’s hand. Her eyes met Charlotte’s with a mixture of ferocity and fear. A bruise the color of a spoiling plum marred one cheek.

  “I have to go,” Charlotte said hurriedly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I liked Sunday school a lot,” Tyson said while eating a grilled cheese sandwich after church.

  “Swallow before you talk, bud,” Paul cautioned, then added, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

  “I liked it so much I want to be there all the time.”

  Apparently, his nephew didn’t believe in subtlety. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Did you like it too, Uncle Paul?” Tyson persisted. “Church, I mean.”

  Paul stirred the chicken rice soup that was simmering on the stove and tried to focus his thoughts. Unbeknownst to the little boy, his simple question didn’t have a simple answer—especially when he was mulling over Charlotte’s proposal for teaching him and still trying to process her unceremonious departure.

  He had stayed long enough to watch her approach Mavis and Michael before he turned away and went to get Tyson from the Sunday school room. He knew why she would approach them—that was just Charlotte—and while her kindness and inclusive nature was a big part of what drew him to her, he couldn’t deny how disgruntled he felt seeing her talk to them.

  “Uncle Paul, did you like church? Is the soup almost ready?”

  “Yes, sorry, Ty. I guess I’m daydreaming.” He spooned soup into a bowl and then opened the freezer to get an ice cube to cool it more quickly for Tyson. “I did like church. I liked the songs, and the pastor had some good things to say.”

  Tyson gave a sigh of deep contentment. “I knew you’d like it if you just gave it a chance.”

  Paul knew there was no way he could explain to a six-year-old how deeply conflicted his feelings really were on the matter, but for the time being, it was enough for him to know that he had made Tyson happy.

  He let his nephew’s happy chatter and innocuous questions wash over him, giving him reprieve from the place where his mind—and heart—kept wanting to go.

  He was beginning to hope that Charlotte Connelly’s concern for him meant that he was important to her, and not just because it was her nature. But seeing how instinctively she responded to Mavis and Michael had him rethinking things. Besides, wasn’t it better to detach himself now before he was forced to at the time of her departure?

  His phone rang, and he made a futile effort not to hope that it was her.

  “Paul? Harold, here,” his boss said. “Listen, I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I need you to open the shop tomorrow. My tooth flared up again and I’ve got an early appointment with the dentist.”

  “Sure, I’ll be happy to do that,” Paul said.

  “Thanks. Oh, and I think that new woman in town—Mavis?—will be stopping by with her car. I saw her at church today and she says she needs some work done on it as soon as possible. I don’t know what that’s all about but I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, you know? She looks pretty rough and I can only imagine why. Anyway, I told her we’d squeeze her in if you can manage.”

  Paul hesitated as thoughts raced through his mind.

  “Paul?” Harold’s questioning voice came over the line. “Is that okay with you?”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Thanks for letting me know.” He hung up the phone and tamped down his displeasure before turning his attention back to Tyson.

  “Have you had enough to eat? What would you like to do now?”

  “I dunno...” The boy shrugged, then his face lit up with an idea. “Can Ms. Connelly come over again?”

  Maybe it would be easier to battle his own attachment to Charlotte if his nephew wasn’t so clearly attached, too.

  * * *

  Charlotte tried to enjoy the leftover chili she was having for lunch but had no appetite for it. As soon as she had headed in Mavis’s direction, the other woman had grabbed her son’s hand and they had hurriedly gone in another direction, which puzzled Charlotte because the message she had received was that Mavis was insistent on talking to her. So, why was she avoiding a perfectly good opportunity to do so, and if she wanted to avoid people, what had brought her to church in the first place?

  Her phone rang, interrupting her speculations.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “You and Paul rushed off in church today,” her mother said. “It would have been nice to get to know him a little better.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Charlotte said. “But his nephew was waiting to be picked up.” She didn’t add that she also had no desire to have them make more of her friendship with Paul than it was, especially since it would make her decision whether to leave or not even more difficult if she longed for more.

  “Still...if he’s in your life...” her mother prompted.

  “He’s not,” Charlotte answered quickly. “Like I told you, we’re just friends. His nephew is in my class.” She changed the subject then by asking how her mother was feeling.

  “Unfortunately, not well, and those doctors still aren’t giving me any satisfactory answers.”

  After promising to pray for her mother’s improved health and an assurance that of course she would be at family dinner on Friday night, Charlotte ended the call.

  She sat without moving for a moment, still holding her phone, then set it down and went to find the unopened letter about her missionary work application. She held it in her hands, feeling like the paper weighed more than it possibly could. She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to see what the answer was. She wanted to leave everything that was tying her down here, didn’t she?

  But then Paul Belvedere’s face came into her mind, and she asked herself if living life for her own goals alone was truly what she wanted to do. Because she realized that each time she tried to convince others that there was nothing between them other than their connection through Tyson and their Wednesday night activities, she was also trying to convince herself. But she didn’t want to fall into the trap of wanting something that wasn’t meant to be. Paul had his own priorities, which included keeping up an emotional wall that wouldn’t completely let anyone in. She understood why, but it didn’t mean she wanted to open herself up for rejection.

  No, the answer was to stay focused on her own goals. She went over to the kitchen drawer that held miscellaneous items and rummaged in it to retrieve a letter opener. When she opened the letter, she read:

  Dear Ms. Connelly,

  We were so pleased to receive your application that expressed your interest in volunteering with our program. Therefore, we are especially pleased to tell you that we believe that you are a perfect fit, so please consider this your invitation to join us...

  Charlotte scanned over the rest of the letter, which talked about the importance of making sure that her passport was valid and that her vaccinations were up-to-date. It then went on to give a briefing of the political climate of the countries she could be sent to and reminded her of the importance of discretion, both for her own safety and the safety of those she would be helping.

  Charlotte set the letter aside and waited for something in her heart to tell her that God had answered her prayer, some feeling of happiness or at least of reassurance to come over her, but her feel
ings were ambivalent.

  She retrieved her phone and spontaneously made a call before she could talk herself out of it.

  “Paul? It’s Charlotte. I hope I didn’t catch you at a busy time. Sorry I had to take off so suddenly at church today. I was wondering when we could get together to do some work around my house and try out that teaching idea I had.”

  She could hear his slight intake of breath that signified someone being caught off guard, and she hoped that she hadn’t overstepped her boundaries. But then Paul spoke, and she was warmed by his surprised but not displeased tone.

  “I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again today,” he said. “Ty and I just finished lunch not that long ago.”

  “I’ve finished lunch, too,” she told him, not bothering to mention her lack of appetite for it.

  And definitely not telling him that she had been accepted to the missionary work program.

  “This is a coincidence,” Paul said. “Tyson was just asking about you.”

  “Is that Ms. Connelly?” Charlotte could hear Tyson faintly in the background and she smiled.

  “Tell Tyson I said hello.”

  “I will, but right now he’s supposed to be rinsing off his dishes,” Paul said. “Not eavesdropping on my phone calls.”

  Their shared laughter made Charlotte feel bonded to him. She rarely allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to be married and to have children that she and her husband could rejoice and fret over, and teach by example how to love and be loved. Until quite recently, she had believed that her role in life was to try to make up for loss, to try to fill in gaps wherever they were and in whatever way she could. And even when she had been struck by the almost unbearable need to escape her family’s expectations, she still hadn’t thought of allowing the simple dreams of her heart to blossom.

  So why did the sudden picture in her mind of Paul and Tyson and her together rock her with such sharp, sudden emotion that she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time?