Single Dad's Christmas Miracle. SUSAN MEIER
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we eat.”
She wasn’t the kind of person who got cozy so quickly with strangers. But when she’d turned over the new leaf about her life a few months back, she’d promised herself she’d stop being so cautious. Plus she was extremely hungry. The thought of a cup of coffee and a sandwich made her taste buds dance for joy.
Clark walked to the counter, opened a rollaway door and pulled out a coffeemaker. Feeling odd with nothing to do, she said, “I could put on the pot of coffee if you show me how.”
On his way to the counter to get the groceries, Jack snorted a laugh. Clark faced her with a smile. “This is a single-serve coffeemaker. I can make two cups of cocoa for the kids and an individual cup of coffee for each of us.”
“Oh.” And didn’t she feel stupid?
While the first cup of cocoa brewed, Clark whipped around the kitchen, gathering bread and ham and retrieving milk for the coffee from the fridge, along with condiments for their sandwiches. Teagan crawled up on one of the stools beside the center island where Clark opened the deli meat and a loaf of bread. The dog clip-clopped over to her, soundlessly parking herself beside Teagan’s tall chair. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Big, beautiful white flakes on a huge, silent mountain.
Silent.
She glanced around. That’s what bothered her. It was as quiet in here as it was outside. Jack had put away the few things his father had directed him to, but he said nothing. Teagan sat on one of the tall chairs by the center island, just watching as Clark raced around, going between the coffeemaker and the refrigerator, gathering things for the sandwiches.
“Can I help with anything?”
“No. No. I’m fine. I’m accustomed to doing this.”
Doing what? Getting lunch? Having quiet kids? Being a one-person whirlwind of activity? Because it was Tuesday, Althea suspected his wife was at work. So maybe when she was around everything was noisier?
With the ham, bread and condiments on the center island, Clark motioned for her to come over. “Fix yourself a sandwich while I make Teagan’s cocoa.”
She walked over, put bread on a paper plate and noticed Teagan watching her, her dark brown eyes cautious, curious. “I can make your sandwich first.”
The little girl buried her face in the dirty pink bear she held. Though they’d been in the house ten minutes, she still wore her jacket with the hood on her head and her mittens on her hands.
Clark hustled over. She tugged on his shirtsleeve and he leaned down.
She whispered something in his ear.
He said, “Okay,” and went back to the coffee/cocoa maker. “We don’t have that flavor.”
Her lips turned down in an adorable pout, as she slid her hood off. Her hair was as dark as her eyes. The pale pink coat she wore accented both. As pretty as a princess, she blinked at Althea.
“I can help you with your coat, if you want.”
Teagan’s gaze whipped to her dad. He walked over with a cup of cocoa. “I’ll get her coat. You just finish making your sandwich.”
Teagan tugged on his shirtsleeve again. He leaned down. She whispered in his ear.
Baffled, Althea stopped slathering mayonnaise on her bread. Not only did the little girl think it normal to talk only to her dad and only in a whisper, but also Clark was so accustomed to it, he automatically leaned down to listen.
“Sure. We have marshmallows.”
She almost asked Clark about it. But she knew kids hated it when adults talked about them as if they weren’t in the room. Any minute now she and Clark would go into the den for her interview. She could ask him then. Delicately of course.
“Jack, do you want to make your sandwich now, too, so that I can put all this stuff back in the fridge before we go into the den?”
Jack walked over, grabbed some bread and ham and fixed his sandwich without a word.
Althea’s eyebrows rose. She’d taught middle school for six years. She knew twelve-year-olds. They were sassy, moody, and the boys were always hungry. They didn’t wait for an invitation to make a sandwich.
What was going on here?
Clark handed Teagan her sandwich then he brought over her cocoa, complete with marshmallows, and started the first cup of coffee. He made his sandwich and the second cup of coffee then he put away the bread, ham and condiments before he faced the kids.
“Althea and I will be in the den. If you need me, just come back and get me.”
Teagan blinked. Jack nodded.
She followed Clark down a long hall off the front foyer to the den. He motioned for her to take the empty chair in front of the desk then sat on the tall-back chair behind it.
“I think we should just get right to the point.”
She nodded, knowing what was coming. With a housekeeper in the hospital with pneumonia and a wife who obviously worked, this job had morphed into babysitter/teacher. She might even have to cook. Or clean up. It was not going to be the piece-of-cake, easy-money job she’d expected. Not that she was above helping out. Plus, truth be told, taking this position was about more than money. Spending four weeks close to her sister, but not really in Maryland was a stall tactic. She longed to see her sister. But she was afraid to see her dad. So finding employment close enough that Missy could drive up and visit her here in Pennsylvania might have been too good to be true.
That was usually how her life worked. Everything she thought was “perfect” ended up being a scam.
She smiled slightly. “Sure. Let’s just get right to the point.”
“My wife was killed in an automobile accident three years ago.”
Her mouth dropped a bit. That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. From the casual way he’d mentioned her when she complimented the view, she never would have guessed his wife had died. She’d even suspected the poor woman was at work.
“Jack did okay until this fall. Now suddenly he’s failing all his classes. He’s done so poorly that his former teacher quit. I need you to pack four months of learning into one month.”
“That’s quite a job.”
“He’s been over the material once already. Technically only the December material will be new.” He leaned back in his chair. “He’s not a stupid kid. In fact, he’s very bright. I’m sure he’s retained some of what he heard. This is more about getting him focused again and making him see that if he decides to slack off, there are consequences.”
“Are you sure this isn’t about him grieving for his mom?”
Clark sighed. “She died three years ago. He had two therapy sessions. One right after. One about a year ago. He has the techniques and tools to cope.”
“But he’s in a new life phase. And I’m not a therapist—”
“If you think he needs to begin seeing his therapist again, back he’ll go. But I think this is more about him getting soft than anything to do with his mom. Twelve is a normal rebellion stage.” He winced. “I know that because I went through one myself.”
When she pictured rebellion, she didn’t picture silence. She envisioned anger. Pouting, sure. But not the control and quiet she’d seen in that kitchen.
Still, he’d said if she believed his son needed to talk to someone he would get him help. She couldn’t argue that.
“So, what makes you want a temporary job?”
“As I said, I lost my job and I’m on my way to live with my sister in Maryland. I want the extra cash to give me more time to look for a teaching job.”
He nodded as if remembering their conversation