it wasn’t good to have her think her father didn’t like children. Even if it was true.
“Oh, I think you must be wrong about that,” he said carefully. “I know he likes you two. And you’re kids.”
Beth was staring at him intently. “How do you know that? Do you know our daddy?”
The girl was too sharp for him, that was for sure. No comforting platitudes were going to mollify her.
“Noooo...but...”
There was no avoiding those clear green eyes. Scott cleared his throat and changed the subject just a bit.
“Listen, kids. Tell me more about your daddy.”
Two pairs of huge eyes stared at him.
“Why?” Beth asked softly.
He sat cross-legged on the floor closer to them. They were watching him closely, and now they both had guarded expressions. He smiled at Barnaby, and then at Beth.
“Now don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t want you to tell me any secrets. I don’t want you to say or do anything your mother wouldn’t want you to do.” He looked down into the little girl’s eyes, trying to look sincere.
“All I want to know is...”
He looked from one to the other and realized he couldn’t do this. They weren’t adults. He couldn’t question them. It was becoming more and more important to him to know if Cathy’s husband still played a part in her life. But it wasn’t right to ask the children. He began to wish he’d never started down this path.
He sat up straighter and shrugged. “Uh, listen, never mind. I just was wondering if I would get to meet your daddy, that’s all.”
“I told you,” Beth said quietly. “They’re divorced.”
“I know.” But does he come around much? That was what he wanted to know. And that was what he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.
There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Scott stared at where the toe of his shoe was sticking out from under his knee. Beth got up from her chair.
“I’ll go down and help Mommy,” she said. And then she was gone.
Scott looked at Barnaby. He got up, too, but he didn’t make it out the door. Instead, he dropped behind the chair and peered out from around it, his green eyes cold as ice, as though he needed cover but was prepared to return enemy fire.
Scott stared at him for a moment, then turned back toward the window to finish his job. He had no idea what he could possibly say to this silent child that would reduce the hostility radiating from him. Maybe it was best to ignore it.
He drew the window closed and latched it, and then he heard Barnaby’s voice, still coming from the vicinity of the chair. “My daddy is bigger than you,” he said.
Scott looked back and managed a false smile. “Is he?”
The green eyes blinked before he fired his next salvo. “My daddy made six home runs already this year.”
Scott nodded, pretending his attention was fully engaged by the job he was doing. “Good for him.”
Barnaby came out from behind the chair, eyes flat and wide. “My daddy is Superman,” he cried suddenly. “My daddy could beat you up.” Arms raised, he made automatic weapon fire noises with his mouth as he gunned Scott down with his imaginary rifle, then turned and fled the room.
“He probably could,” Scott murmured to himself, staring after the child. “I guess I’m not so tough after all.” He sighed, looking at his own reflection in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall of the room.
“I don’t need this,” he muttered to his own image. “Do I need this?”
The answer was clear. He cleaned up the evidence of his work, listening all the while to the muffled talk and movements of Cathy putting the two older children to bed. When he finally made his way downstairs, she was waiting for him.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. She’d tied her blond hair back, but wispy curls had pulled free and now framed her face. She’d put on white slacks and a soft pink sweater, but her feet were bare.
Altogether, she was the prettiest thing
“Oh, I think you must be wrong about that,” he said carefully. “I know he likes you two. And you’re kids.”
Beth was staring at him intently. “How do you know that? Do you know our daddy?”
The girl was too sharp for him, that was for sure. No comforting platitudes were going to mollify her.
“Noooo...but...”
There was no avoiding those clear green eyes. Scott cleared his throat and changed the subject just a bit.
“Listen, kids. Tell me more about your daddy.”
Two pairs of huge eyes stared at him.
“Why?” Beth asked softly.
He sat cross-legged on the floor closer to them. They were watching him closely, and now they both had guarded expressions. He smiled at Barnaby, and then at Beth.
“Now don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t want you to tell me any secrets. I don’t want you to say or do anything your mother wouldn’t want you to do.” He looked down into the little girl’s eyes, trying to look sincere.
“All I want to know is...”
He looked from one to the other and realized he couldn’t do this. They weren’t adults. He couldn’t question them. It was becoming more and more important to him to know if Cathy’s husband still played a part in her life. But it wasn’t right to ask the children. He began to wish he’d never started down this path.
He sat up straighter and shrugged. “Uh, listen, never mind. I just was wondering if I would get to meet your daddy, that’s all.”
“I told you,” Beth said quietly. “They’re divorced.”
“I know.” But does he come around much? That was what he wanted to know. And that was what he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.
There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Scott stared at where the toe of his shoe was sticking out from under his knee. Beth got up from her chair.
“I’ll go down and help Mommy,” she said. And then she was gone.
Scott looked at Barnaby. He got up, too, but he didn’t make it out the door. Instead, he dropped behind the chair and peered out from around it, his green eyes cold as ice, as though he needed cover but was prepared to return enemy fire.
Scott stared at him for a moment, then turned back toward the window to finish his job. He had no idea what he could possibly say to this silent child that would reduce the hostility radiating from him. Maybe it was best to ignore it.
He drew the window closed and latched it, and then he heard Barnaby’s voice, still coming from the vicinity of the chair. “My daddy is bigger than you,” he said.
Scott looked back and managed a false smile. “Is he?”
The green eyes blinked before he fired his next salvo. “My daddy made six home runs already this year.”
Scott nodded, pretending his attention was fully engaged by the job he was doing. “Good for him.”
Barnaby came out from behind the chair, eyes flat and wide. “My daddy is Superman,” he cried suddenly. “My daddy could beat you up.” Arms raised, he made automatic weapon fire noises with his mouth as he gunned Scott down with his imaginary rifle, then turned and fled the room.
“He probably could,” Scott murmured to himself, staring after the child. “I guess I’m not so tough after all.” He sighed, looking at his own reflection in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall of the room.
“I don’t need this,” he muttered to his own image. “Do I need this?”
The answer was clear. He cleaned up the evidence of his work, listening all the while to the muffled talk and movements of Cathy putting the two older children to bed. When he finally made his way downstairs, she was waiting for him.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. She’d tied her blond hair back, but wispy curls had pulled free and now framed her face. She’d put on white slacks and a soft pink sweater, but her feet were bare.
Altogether, she was the prettiest thing
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