Instant Father Page 7

  Paul sat down again and resisted the urge to ask Charlotte what they’d talked about.

  “Mildred says that Tyson is fine. Max is over there, too.”

  “That Mildred is a trouper,” Charlotte declared.

  “Is that any way to talk about one of your students?” Paul gently chided her. Then as she blushed, he grinned at her and told her about the plank walking.

  “Apparently Tyson is a trouper, too,” she said, and they laughed together.

  After some silence, in which Paul asked himself if he was imagining something between them, he said in a deliberately light tone, “So, we said we were going to talk more about the fix-it program.”

  “I’m so glad it’s a go. And I’m glad I’ll be here to see it get underway and to help the other volunteers blending the classes in case I...well, in case I end up leaving.”

  Paul sipped his coffee silently, unsure of what to say.

  Reading his silence as disapproval, Charlotte said, “I do plan to finish up the school year.”

  All at once, the previous ease of their time together vanished. Paul felt bad about that, but it reminded him what his priorities were.

  “I really should go pick up Tyson,” he said.

  Charlotte nodded, her eyes cast downward. Silently she drank what was left of her tea. Then she spoke.

  “Paul, I’m not gone yet. I’m committed to helping Tyson have the best year in my classroom that he can have. And now we have this new program at the church that we’ll work on together. Can’t we focus on those things and not worry about the future?”

  “I just like to be prepared,” Paul said. “I’ve found in my life that it’s better that way. That way people can’t disappoint you.”

  “And I’ve noticed,” Charlotte answered softly, “that there’s no way you can prepare for everything that happens in life.”

  There was a sadness in her that made him wonder what she was referring to.

  “Time to go.” She stood up, and he followed suit.

  “Thank you for the tea,” Charlotte said. “Please say hello to Tyson for me and I’ll see him tomorrow.” She didn’t include the fact that she would see Paul, too.

  They parted ways in front of Seth’s Café.

  Despite her reassurance that she would be in town until June, and her urging for him to take life as it came, Paul was more determined than ever to make sure that he kept some distance between them, at least as far as his emotions went.

  “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow night,” he said without the enthusiasm he’d felt earlier.

  Charlotte nodded, and he tried not to notice her troubled look.

  “I can tell you then how Tyson’s day went, if you like,” she said.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  They sounded so formal, Paul thought. It was like a gauzy curtain had been hung between them. They could still see and hear each other, but the feeling of closeness and comfort that was starting to develop had retreated again.

  He was glad that he hadn’t told her his secret.

  Chapter Eight

  Charlotte stood by Paul’s side at the front of the classroom and felt decidedly out of place. Not only because she had as least as much to learn as anyone when it came to being handy, but also because of how she and Paul had parted ways the night before.

  It had been easy to pinpoint the change in mood to when she mentioned going away to do missionary work. It was frustrating that he doubted her good intentions, but she didn’t know what she could do about that.

  She could see that Paul was in his element, smiling and gesturing and somehow managing to make “righty-tighty and lefty-loosey” sound like the most fun anyone could possibly want to have. He had a way of making the participants comfortable and encouraging them until they performed the task with ease, and he encouraged the others to applaud everyone’s efforts.

  Paul stepped closer to her. It both intrigued and troubled her that she was already familiar with his scent that mingled fresh laundry with the light sweat of good, honest work.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  The expression in his eyes was complicated; it wasn’t unfriendly, but it wasn’t at ease, either. It gave her the sensation that he had as many questions as she did...and was just as afraid to ask them.

  “You can’t be the only one who doesn’t try,” he urged.

  Charlotte shook away the thought that those words had more import than he meant them to have.

  Eugenie caught her eye when Paul wasn’t looking and waggled her eyebrows. Charlotte smiled a noncommittal smile. Honestly, people in this town were just too much sometimes. But she was glad she could hide her confused, flustered feeling behind her lack of coordination and blame the friendly ribbing of the group for the warmth in her cheeks.

  When Charlotte finally succeeded in removing a bolt and then screwing it back in again, Paul led the group in applause, and she was both relieved that it was over and regretful that his praise felt so impersonal.

  Please, Lord, she prayed silently, help me to keep my focus. She needed to think about helping the group and learning new skill sets, not what the particularly handsome instructor was doing.

  When the class was over, she murmured that she was going to see if Stephanie needed any help cleaning up and hurried out of the room.

  Stephanie and a couple of others were busy stacking chairs and wiping down tables. Charlotte grabbed a stack of books and carried them to the appropriate shelf.

  “How was the fix-it class?” Stephanie asked.

  “Good,” Charlotte said. “Paul is a great teacher.”

  “And?” Stephanie prodded.

  “And I hope we all learn some things that can help us out, including me.”

  “I hear Paul makes house calls, too,” Stephanie said.

  Charlotte knew she was teasing her, but she wasn’t in the mood for it. She had enough distraction with her own conflicted thoughts. Nevertheless, she forced a smile.

  “I’m pretty sure he would help out anyone who asked him,” she said.

  When they went out into the main area, she could see Paul squatted down beside Tyson, and ruffled his hair, making it stand up while Ty squirmed and alternated between protests and giggles.

  “You look kinda funny,” teased the ever-helpful Max.

  “Yeah, you look really stupid,” said Michael, with a biting edge that lacked a teasing tone.

  Charlotte watched Paul stand up quickly, looking somehow larger than he already was. For a split second she could see the flash of true fight in his eye. But surely he would keep in mind that Michael was just a little boy—a troubled, unpleasant one, to be sure, but a little boy nonetheless.

  Then she saw Paul almost visibly maintain his self-control.

  “Come on, Ty,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  As they walked toward the door, Charlotte could hear him gently coaching his nephew on the importance of ignoring the mean things that people said. It was the Paul she knew, the caring and encouraging uncle, and it was almost as if she had imagined what she had seen in his eyes a few minutes ago.

  Except she knew she hadn’t, and it made her even more curious about him.

  His eyes briefly locked with hers as he and Tyson walked by, and he gave her a small wave. “Good job tonight, Charlotte,” he said. She wondered why those simple words meant so much to her.

  Michael’s mother came from the direction of the library. She looked bleary-eyed and slightly rumpled, as she often did. Charlotte hesitated to approach the woman who gave off the vibe of not liking her, even though she didn’t really know her. Then again, she didn’t know the woman, either. But they were called by the Lord to be a welcoming community, and if the woman couldn’t find acceptance at a church, where could she?

  Charlotte took a deep breath and made herself walk over. �
�Hi there!” she said with a confidence that she didn’t feel. “My name’s Charlotte Connelly, and I think I heard you’re Mavis Cannon? And I know Michael because I have friends who help with the children here.”

  She held out her hand. Mavis studied it with an expression like Charlotte was about to release a toxic substance, then she briefly shook the extended hand, dropping it quickly. Her hand felt cold.

  “Don’t just stand there, Mikey. Say hello,” Mavis ordered her son, who suddenly looked small and not like a bully. He mumbled something that could have been a hello.

  “I’ve noticed you both here before,” Charlotte forged ahead, “and I want you to know that you’re welcome to join in any of the groups, or if you need help with—”

  “What I need is peace and quiet,” Mavis cut her off. “Which is exactly why I don’t join any of the groups.”

  “Oh...well...” Charlotte floundered.

  “Look,” Mavis said, “I’m sure you mean well, everyone does. But none of you get it.”

  Briefly Charlotte thought about asking if the other woman wanted to explain, but Mavis had already made it clear that she didn’t want questions.

  “Say, you’re the schoolteacher, right?” Mavis asked suddenly, tilting her head in a speculative way. “What grade do you teach?”

  “I teach grade one.”

  “Well, maybe you and Mikey here will have the chance to get to know each other better. If things work out with the rental place I’m after, I think we might be moving here.”

  Her teaching experience helped Charlotte keep her expression neutral, although her thoughts immediately flew to Tyson and what Paul would think if Michael ended up in the same classroom.

  “I’ll look forward to that.” She smiled at the boy, who scowled.

  On her way home, Charlotte wondered if she should say anything to Paul about the possibility of Tyson and Michael being classmates. But she realized that professionally, it wasn’t her place to reveal what the plans of another family might be.

  If only that fact would appease her conscience.

  * * *

  On Thursday morning Paul took advantage of the pre-lunchtime lull at the garage to clean up his work area. He hoped the routine monotony of the work would be enough to chase away the troublesome thoughts that coursed through him. He was worried about the way Michael treated Tyson and was thankful that his nephew didn’t have to see the other boy on a daily basis. He wondered if they should stop attending the Wednesday night gatherings, but quickly dismissed that idea. Tyson enjoyed it there for the most part, and he had made a commitment to the fix-it class participants, which he intended to follow through on. He was also starting to enjoy the camaraderie at church.

  He thought of Charlotte and how funny and shy she’d been when it was her turn. He enjoyed seeing her on Wednesday nights, too. There was nothing wrong with admitting that to himself. She was a good person, and she was Tyson’s teacher.

  And the way she fumbled with the screwdriver made him want to place his hand over hers and help her.

  Don’t go there, he warned himself.

  The chime of the door snapped him out of the direction that his thoughts were headed in, which was probably a good thing. Except when he saw that the customer who’d come in was Charlotte.

  “Back again?” he quipped.

  “Well, I’m assisting with a simple home- and car-repair class,” she said, bantering back. “And the instructor seems like a bit of a stickler, so I figured I’d better make sure I have everything I need.”

  “A stickler, you say? I can’t possibly imagine.” They both grinned at each other.

  Then they chitchatted about what Charlotte’s class was busy with that morning as Paul helped her find the items she was looking for. He rang them up quickly on the cash register.

  “Good memory,” she commented.

  “Pardon?”

  “The prices. You rang everything up without looking. Harold’s cash register is old-school and doesn’t have a scanner.”

  “Oh, right. Well... I just find it’s easier to remember them. Makes things go faster in the long run.”

  He couldn’t tell her what a painstaking process it was, constantly committing prices to memory, and the casual way he had to ask things like, “What are boxes of these nails going for again?” There were always tricks when a person couldn’t read. It was utterly exhausting.

  But the most exhausting thing of all was keeping the secret.

  Just as Paul was placing Charlotte’s purchases in a bag, Harold came into the shop, bringing in a rush of fresh autumn air with him.

  “Hi, Harold,” Charlotte greeted him.

  “Hey there, Charlotte,” he said, his words sounding a bit peculiar.

  “Ah, I’m guessing you’ve been at the dentist.”

  The older man nodded with pained resignation.

  “Get going for your lunch,” he slurred at Paul. “You covered for me while I was out. You can walk this pretty lady back to school.”

  Paul glanced at Charlotte, and something in her eyes unsettled him.

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I mean, if you’re busy.”

  “No, it’s all good. Harold’s right, I could use a break.”

  “Take your time,” Harold urged with his lopsided grin.

  “I get spoiled always knowing when my lunch break is going to be,” Charlotte remarked as they headed toward the school. “I guess for you it depends on how busy you are.”

  “It usually works out,” Paul said. “Harold’s fair that way, like just now.”

  “Harold’s a good guy.”

  Paul noticed that they had both chosen to ignore the “pretty lady” comment.

  “Do you have any special plans for Thanksgiving?” Charlotte asked. “I’m already planning art projects for the kids. It will be here sooner than we think.” Then, as if realizing that the question might remind him of the loss of Tyson’s parents, before he could reply, she spoke of her own plans with family.

  “Of course,” she said, with a nervous little laugh, “we have so many family meals together, it’s hard to know sometimes what makes Thanksgiving different than any other get-together.”

  “The turkey?” Paul suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’ll just be Ty and me,” he said, returning to her original question. “But we always manage to enjoy ourselves.”

  “You know, Paul, you and Tyson are more than welcome to join us...”

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “But, you know, I think it’s better if we are on our own this year. Tyson has done remarkably well adjusting, but it’s still pretty hard on both of us, and special occasions can be especially tough. Besides, it’s still a few weeks away, and I wouldn’t want you to feel tied down to the invitation.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I know you meant well.”

  For a moment they were silent, then Charlotte changed the subject. “I talked to Mavis a bit after you left last week.”

  “Michael’s mom?”

  “Yes.”

  He had the feeling that she wanted to tell him something.

  “How did it go?” he prompted.

  “Good... I mean, okay. She’s not very friendly, but I don’t think she’s a bad person. I think she’s been through a lot and could use some support.”

  “Do you think you’re the person to offer that?”

  They had stopped at the gate of the fence that surrounded the school grounds. She tilted her head and fixed him with slightly challenging look.

  “I think any of us can be the person to offer that to someone, don’t you?”

  “I suppose.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he rarely believed in the inherent goodness of people or in their ability to help others.

 
“Have you ever read To Kill a Mockingbird?” Charlotte asked. “It’s one of my all-time favorite books. I just love what it says about decency and the human spirit, and the ways that people can be more than what we expect them to be.”

  “And less,” Paul couldn’t help adding, thankful that he had seen the movie, which was said to be a fine representation of the book. “I mean, there’s no denying that Atticus Finch is a noble guy, but the prejudices in that town were appalling. I’m not sure what’s so uplifting about that.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to debate that another time,” Charlotte said. “Thanks for walking with me.”

  As she turned to go, the heel of her shoe caught on some gravel and she lost her balance.

  Paul caught her by the elbow as her knees buckled and she started going down. He steadied her, and she was fine. He could let go.

  Except he didn’t want to...

  Her cheeks were flushed such an appealing shade of pink that reminded him of the way the apple blossoms used to look on the tree in his parents’ backyard before the apples came. She smelled so good—not the overpowering scent of perfume, but the smell of soap and crisp autumn air.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on Charlotte’s mouth.

  Chapter Nine

  Charlotte spent the afternoon with her thoughts in a haze, grateful that her students were engaged in silent reading time. She was glad she didn’t have to say much, because she kept having the most inappropriate urge to blurt out, “Paul Belvedere kissed me!”

  She didn’t know how she felt about it—it had happened so quickly and so unexpectedly. But, by the look on his face afterward, she could tell that Paul was as puzzled by what had happened as she was. He had mumbled something about getting back to the shop before hurrying away, which caused her to feel even more confused. She had been completely caught off guard, but he didn’t need to act like he could hardly wait to get away from her.

  After school, she met up with Bridget at Seth’s Café. She hadn’t been in the mood to go home. And Bridget usually had good insights, although she might make too much out of it. Still, Charlotte decided she was willing to risk it if only to find a way to deal with the unsettled feelings that were coming over her.