Four Reasons For Fatherhood. Muriel JensenЧитать онлайн книгу.
patience, “that your offer to help—however kindly meant—would only complicate your life.”
“I meant,” he corrected “that I’d like to help you financially, though, of course, I’d be available for whatever else the boys needed.”
“Don’t you live in Seattle?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s 3300 miles away.”
“I have a jet.”
“Of course you do.”
Okay. Now he was getting annoyed with her. “You seem to resent the fact that I’m successful.”
“No, I don’t,” she retorted. “I resent the fact that you think you can solve all my problems with your genius touch or your money!”
SUSAN COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d said that aloud. He was staring at her in confusion.
She looked for the boys in the play area to avoid his eyes. She saw the kids crest the slide, then disappear down it in a laughing rush.
Aaron reached across the table to turn her face toward him when she continued to ignore him.
“Do you not want to take the boys?” he asked with a gentleness that surprised and unsettled her.
Guilt rose out of her chest to strangle her. She had to clear her throat to be able to reply. “I do want them! I do!”
“Because you promised Becky.”
“Because they need me, and because it’s the right thing to do! I’m just…a little…”
“Scared.”
“Yeah.” There was a certain relief in admitting it, even to him. Then she felt the weight of the trusting child in her arms and knew the three wild boys on the slide needed her, too, even though they didn’t understand that. So she pulled herself together. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t do just fine once I get the hang of it and the boys are enrolled in school and settled into a routine.”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as though he’d found a chink in her armor. As though she wasn’t quite what he’d thought her to be and he was now concerned about his nephews.
She was about to assure him that the boys would be fine with her when the door from the play area flung open and John and Paul tumbled in. They rolled along the tile floor, punching and kicking at each other all the while.
“Paul gots a bleedy mouth!” George announced. He was dancing around his brothers like a referee at a wrestling match. “’Cause John kicked him in the face!”
Susan tried to sidle out of the booth with Ringo still asleep against her, but Aaron was already pulling the boys apart, holding them away from each other with a hand to each jacket front.
Aaron pointed John to the booth and held the wriggling screaming Paul to examine his mouth. He dabbed at it with a clean handkerchief.
“Looks like he knocked out a baby tooth,” Aaron said, lifting the boy into his arms. “I’ll take him into the men’s room to wash his mouth.”
Paul clung to his neck, crying pathetically.
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” John shouted after him. “I was coming down the slide after him and he stopped at the bottom and turned around. He got my foot in his face, but I didn’t kick him!” When Aaron and Paul disappeared into the men’s room, John turned to Susan and said imploringly, “I didn’t! It was an accident.”
“Yup,” George confirmed. “An assident.”
Susan dipped the end of a paper napkin in her cup of water and dabbed at a scratch under John’s eye. Her life, she thought, had become an “assident.”
AARON LISTENED to both sides of the dispute when they got home. Paul was finally willing to admit that it might have been an accident, but was most grieved by the missing tooth. “I don’t have a tooth to put under my pillow! That’s a whole dollar I don’t get!”
“That isn’t true.” Susan was suddenly inspired. “Didn’t you know that you can use the tooth of a comb when you lose the real tooth?”
John, Paul and George looked at each other then at Aaron.
“Is that true?” John asked skeptically.
“Absolutely,” Aaron replied. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small black comb. “And I’ve got a comb right here. Pick out the tooth you like the best and we’ll put it under your pillow.”
Paul took the comb and frowned over it. “Do we have to wait for it to fall out?”
Aaron kept a straight face with difficulty. “No. I’ll snap it off for you.”
He indicated the one at the end, next to the rim. “That one. Then you can still use the comb.”
“Okay.” Aaron snapped off the tooth with the Leatherman tool in his pocket and handed it to Paul. “Got a handkerchief to put it in?”
“No.”
He dug into his pocket again and produced one with a silver monogram. “There you go.”
“All right!” George and John followed Paul upstairs to help with the ritual.
“That was a stroke of genius,” Aaron said to Susan, reaching down to lift Ringo, who’d walked around the table to him.
Susan flexed her stiff arms. “I’ve got a million of those gems tucked away for emergencies. So, you can take care of packing up and selling the house?”
“Sure.” He looked around the modest fifties-era tract home. It was from the togetherness period when rooms ran into one another without doors. The living room, dining room and kitchen were built around a brick fireplace. “You take anything you want. I’ll just close it up for a couple of months until I can come back, look through things and save some stuff for the kids and me. Then I’ll sell it.”
That sounded reasonable. She pointed to the two guitars hanging above the mantel. “Do you think I could have Becky’s guitar? When we were kids she used to con me into singing with her at family picnics, and I can remember swaying with her to the music of that guitar. I know, the kids should have it, but they’ll be with me, anyway.”
“Of course. Take it home with you when you go.” He glanced down at Ringo and smoothed his tiny cowlick. “This little guy’s a cuddler. He walks pretty well, but he certainly seems to prefer lap sitting.”
“I guess even babies get upset when things change, and being held is comforting.”
Aaron nodded. “True. I’ve had moments like that.”
“Yes. So have I.”
Aaron thought he caught a wistful hitch in her voice. He was just beginning to really understand what she was taking on here. “Are you seeing someone?” he asked wondering what this new responsibility might do to a relationship.
“No.” She got up and pushed in her chair. “I meet a lot of men in my line of work, but they’re confused by a woman who can use power tools and carry a four-by-four. And generally, men are uncomfortable with women who confuse them.” She made a rueful face. “At least, I think that’s why I have trouble with relationships. Or it could be I’m just funny-looking or hard to get along with.”
“Well, you’re not funny-looking,” he said.
“Thanks.” She laughed lightly and came around the table to relieve Aaron of Ringo. “I’ve got to get some of the boys’ things packed. I’ll take—”
Ringo began screeching and clutched Aaron’s ears.
Susan stepped back in surprise.
“Whoa! Ouch!” Aaron tried to pry the boy’s fingers off him, but Ringo only screamed