The World's Best Dad. Valerie TaylorЧитать онлайн книгу.
with Maggie were never good and were getting worse, instead of better. Joe didn’t need to hear an argument between the two most important people in his world. “Okay, I’m back. Now, what about Joe?”
“I don’t like that day-care center he goes to.”
Ben bit his tongue and paced down the hall to keep from replying sharply. “Maggie, it’s a preschool. And he’s very happy there, and it’s only ten minutes from the job site.”
She hesitated a moment. “I think he’d be better off here with me.”
Why were they wasting time on this argument again? Ben tried to control his irritation. Pacing back down the hall and into his bedroom, he gave her the same answer he’d given her last time she’d suggested she watch Joe during the day. “That’s impossible. You’re an hour away, and I can’t see how spending two hours each day in the car is good for Joe.”
Much less the four hours Ben would spend driving Joe back and forth. But he knew better than to bring up that. “Maggie, we’ve been through this before, several times—”
She broke in, hurrying to get the words said. “I mean, during the week. He could stay here with me.”
He almost laughed. “Stay with you? You mean overnight?”
Her voice took on new resolution. “I think we should talk about Joey living here with me during the week. He could go to preschool here, a couple mornings a week instead of all day every day.” Maggie started to talk faster. “You could come get him on Friday nights, and bring him back Sunday nights. Or even Monday mornings. That way you’d only have to take time out of your workday once each week.”
Ben was speechless.
“Don’t you think that’s a much better idea than driving back and forth?” Her voice turned wheedling. “And think how much more freedom you’d have during the week.”
He gritted his teeth. She’d always thought that was the real issue with Ben. His own convenience. For a moment, resentment flared. Did she really think he liked having Joe in preschool nine hours a day? Carefully he tamped down on his emotions before he lost his temper.
She continued. “And this way he wouldn’t have to spend such a long time in day care each day. And I don’t mind a bit—you know how Joey and I get along.”
“Joe.”
“Pardon?”
“Joe. He hates being called Joey.” Ben took a breath. “Maggie, you can’t possibly have thought this idea would fly with me. I appreciate your offer, but of course I want Joe here with me.”
He could almost hear her stiffening. “Perhaps what you want and what is best for Joey are two different things.”
There it was. That’s what it always came down to. Ben’s selfishness. He felt guilty and anxious enough about Joe’s preschool schedule. He didn’t need Maggie adding to it with advice and suggestions that tore him up inside.
“I’m his father. I know what’s best for him.” He took a breath to calm himself and made a conscious effort to lower the tone of his voice. “Maggie, you know I’ve always loved and respected you. I understand you think Joe needs something different than I’m giving him. I respect your opinion, but I think you’re wrong. I understand you’re saying these things out of love for Joe. But I can’t put this any other way—back off.”
She gasped, probably at the dead-serious tone of his voice as much as the words themselves, and he felt another stab of guilt for hurting her. Then she gave an offended huff. “I am the child’s grandparent. The only living representative of his mother’s family. I have a responsibility to make sure he is being cared for properly.”
“Then I can assure you, Joe is being very well cared for. Unless you think I’m incapable of doing a good job, you’re just going to have to accept that.” He took another deep breath and tried a warmer tone. “Look, I know you only want what’s best for Joe. That’s the same thing I want. Trust me. You must know I’m doing my level best here. Do you believe that?” He paused, waiting for her response.
“Of course, Ben.” Her voice sounded muffled, flat.
“And if you believe I’m doing my best, can’t you give me enough credit to believe my best is good enough?” He hated the hint of pleading he heard in his own voice, the implication that he didn’t believe it himself.
She sighed, sounding resigned for now. “I believe you believe it.”
He shook his head. There was no winning. “Maggie, listen, I have to go. Joe’s in the tub, and it’s way too quiet in there.” At her disapproving gasp, he closed his eyes in disgust at his own stupidity. Why had he told her Joe was unsupervised in the tub?
He knew he’d never manage to keep his tongue through one more lecture on parenting practices. “Look, Maggie, we’ll talk more later.” He hung up before she could protest.
He hadn’t heard the end of it, but at least it was the end for tonight. Maybe next time he talked to her he’d have more patience.
He headed back toward the bathroom, deliberately willing himself to calm down before he walked in on his son. Joe didn’t deserve the remnants of Ben’s irritation with Maggie.
He looked at his watch. Only four o’clock, but after a full day on the site and only a half hour with his son, he was beat. Maybe he could get Joe down to bed early tonight.
He’d get Joe bathed and fed and played with and read to and put to bed and put to bed again and put to bed sternly and put to bed with dire threats. Then Ben could start mentally recharging himself for the next day. When had he gotten so old?
He stepped into the bathroom.
No Joe.
JULIE STOOD STARING at the dead phone stupidly.
In the open doorway, one of the movers grunted as all three tried to maneuver her wet living room couch through the opening.
Mrs. Malloy walked past her and into the living room with yet another body for her collection.
Julie felt like throwing the dead cell phone on the floor and stomping on it. With an effort, she controlled herself. She was a mom now, she had to be mature. All the parenting books emphasized the importance of the role model she played for her daughter. Especially since she was the female parent. Especially since she was the only parent. She had to be practically perfect. The knowledge settled like a familiar weight on her shoulders.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. It didn’t really work but she did manage to keep from doing violence to the phone.
She peered out the dining room window at the house next door. Maybe the neighbor had a cordless. Or even a phone with a long cord. There was only a slim strip of driveway between the two houses—the two identical tiny bungalows had obviously been shoehorned in on what had originally been a single lot long after the rest of the neighborhood had already been built.
Fine, she’d go meet her new neighbor.
She called up the stairs. “Marisa? I’m going next door for a minute. Carla’s here.”
“Take me with you!” Marisa ran from her bedroom into the small hall at the top of the stairs. Her nervous glance shot to Carla and back to Julie. Carla gave Marisa an encouraging smile, but Marisa was having none of it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Carla. She just couldn’t seem to let Julie out of her sight.
Julie looked out the door as the movers tried again with the couch. “But it’s raining, honey.”
Marisa ran down the stairs. “That’s okay.”
Julie shrugged at Carla. “Okay, we’ll both get wet.”
Carla was watching Marisa. “Can I come, too?”
Marisa nodded, and Carla mouthed “progress” at Julie.
Julie