Читать книгу Matthew's Children - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 10

ON WEDNESDAY EVENINGS from seven to ten, Gillian taught drama at night school and Matthew went over to her house to take care of the kids. When he and Gillian had split up, Violet had been only two. Much too young, Gillian said, to be away from her mother at night. So while Derrick could spend every second weekend with his father, Matthew was able to see his daughter only on day visits.

The trouble with that was that he never could be the one who helped her with her pj’s, who tucked her in and sang her lullabies. Now she was almost too old for that, which only made the routine all the more precious to him.

Last summer, when Gillian had told him about the teaching opportunity, he’d jumped at the chance to look after the kids on that night. Now, every Wednesday, Matthew was able to be a part of his children’s everyday life. Exactly what he wanted—and missed—the most.

On this Wednesday, Matthew read three of Violet’s favorite books to her, then made her a snack of sliced apples and cheese.

Derrick was out with his friends. According to the note Gillian had left on the kitchen table, he was supposed to be home by eight to do homework. Matthew checked his watch. It was ten to now. He glanced out the front window.

Hurry home, Derrick. He was eager to see his son and discuss the soccer coach situation. He’d been talking his dilemma over with one of the young lawyers on staff, who was also a father with kids who played soccer. Tim had suggested he work out a team coaching arrangement with one of the other parents. That way, if work interfered with a particular game or practice, he’d have some backup.

Matthew wanted to ask his son what he thought about the idea. If Derrick seemed keen—hell, if he seemed mildly supportive—Matthew planned to start working his way through the team phone list to find a coaching partner.

“I’m s’posed to brush my teeth now.” Violet had finished her snack and was gazing up at him with her huge blue eyes.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.

“I can walk, Daddy. I’m a big girl.” She slithered from his arms and scampered ahead of him. Once there, he helped her to squeeze a tiny bit of paste on her princess toothbrush.

She set to work, brushing vigorously, while with her free hand she held on to his shirt as if to prevent him from going anywhere. He wished she didn’t have to worry, that she would know she could count on him being here whenever she needed him.

During those first months in his own apartment, after he’d moved out of the house he’d shared with his family for thirteen years, the hardest times had been coming home from the office. Every night he would open the door to silence. Only, in his mind, he would hear the sound of running footsteps and little voices calling out, “Daddy! Daddy’s home!”

Derrick had been beyond that stage by the time of the breakup, but not Violet. Matthew remembered setting down his briefcase so he could scoop her into his arms, and the giggles when he placed her on his shoulders and galloped around the dining-room table.

Gillian had claimed he was a workaholic, but there had been happy times, too. He wished that instead of letting his work drive a wedge between Gillian and him, she could have helped him understand how much he was missing.

But blaming Gillian for his obsession wasn’t fair. His father’s untimely death wasn’t responsible for his compulsive work ethic, either. According to his mother, he’d always been an A-type personality.

When he had a job to do, he felt like he was in a tunnel. He couldn’t focus on anything but the deadline in front of him.

His brother Gavin couldn’t understand. But then Gavin was one of those guys born to be a dad. Even though he, too, had a demanding job, as an architect, he’d had no trouble fitting in lots of time with his twin girls.

And Gavin’s life hadn’t been a picnic. First the mother of his girls had deserted them. Then, when the twins were in first grade, one had been killed in an accident on the street.

For the sake of the daughter he still had, Gavin had relocated his small family to New Hampshire, where he was now happily remarried.

Whenever Matthew was in a pinch with his kids, he always asked himself what Gavin would do. Now, as he settled Violet into her bed precisely at eight o’clock and Derrick still hadn’t shown up, he found himself once again wishing for his brother’s wisdom.

Violet had always been a sound sleeper, and her eyes were closed by the time he had her covered. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he whispered. He kissed her cheek, then left her room with the door ajar.

The view out the front window was disappointing. No sign of Derrick. He called his son’s cell phone—last year’s Christmas gift—only to be put through to messages.

“It’s after eight, Derrick. You should be home by now. Please call as soon as you get this.”

Matthew riffled through the newspaper, but he couldn’t concentrate. An ad for watches caught his eye. Wasn’t that the same brand Jane wore? He felt a rush of pure sexual desire as he pictured the gold band slipping up and down her slim, elegant wrist.

He imagined pressing a kiss to her wrist, then trailing his mouth along the length of her arm until he reached the delicate skin of her neck. Would she moan? Sigh? How did Jane react when she was aroused?

He stopped the fantasy before it could go further. He had no right thinking of her this way. No right to wish for anything more than the possibility that they could be colleagues again. Friends.

He located the remote control for the television and cruised through the channels, finding nothing that could hold his interest. Resisting the urge to phone Jane, he started to pace.

The door to Gillian’s bedroom was open, and as he walked by, he noticed a pair of men’s shoes on the floor.

He paused. It was none of his business. He knew Gillian had been dating. But was the guy also spending the night?

For Matthew not to go into the bedroom to look around took a lot of willpower. He was especially curious about the master bathroom. Would there be an extra toothbrush in the holder? A razor and some shaving gel?

He didn’t begrudge Gillian a sex life. But what impact would it have on the kids when their mother’s boyfriend showed up at the breakfast table? Violet was too young to think much about it, but Derrick would understand what was going on.

The last thing Matt wanted was to start a fight with Gillian. But he would ask her about this, he decided. Surely he had some rights as a father.

His concern about Gillian’s boyfriend faded, though, as another fifteen minutes went by and Derrick still wasn’t home.

There were some numbers by the phone, and he recognized the names of two of the boys on Derrick’s soccer team. He called both of them, but neither of the mothers who answered had seen Derrick this evening.

Hell. Now what?

Matthew was considering phoning Gavin, or even Nick, whose connections on the police force might be useful right about now, when finally the back door opened.

“Derrick.” Thank God.

His son kicked out of his runners, then headed for the fridge without saying a word, or even glancing in his direction.

Don’t jump to conclusions, Matthew counseled himself. It was what he imagined Gavin’s advice would be if he were here. Keeping his tone calm and reasonable, Matt pointed out to his son, “You were supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago. Did something happen?”

“I missed the bus.” Derrick poured himself a tall glass of juice.

“You missed the bus,” he repeated. Did Derrick know how lame that sounded? Or perhaps that was the point. “Maybe you should have showed up at the bus stop five minutes earlier.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Matthew couldn’t help it. His anger rose. “At the very least, you could have phoned.” He checked the impulse to say that he’d been worried, that he’d even been thinking about contacting the police.

“The batteries in my phone were dead.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Derrick’s eyes met his and they were so full of defiance that Matthew knew he was lying. As if to prove it, his son’s cell phone let out a burst of music, signaling an incoming call.

The chime repeated four times. Derrick ignored it. He was still staring at Matthew as if daring him to do something. Options ran through Matthew’s head, most of them out of the question. He didn’t want his first words to be spoken in anger. He struggled for calm.

One. Two. Three.

“You were supposed to be home by eight, Derrick, and you weren’t. You don’t have a good reason, so there will be consequences.”

Derrick smirked.

Again Matthew had to rein in his temper. “You’re grounded for the rest of the week—and that includes no cell phone.” He held out his hand until his son passed it over. “Plus you won’t see any friends this weekend.”

His words hit their mark. The pressure on his chest eased as uncertainty flickered in Derrick’s eyes.

But a moment later, the arrogance was back. “Fine. Ground me. Mom won’t stop me from going out.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Matthew was so disappointed he was practically choking on it. He’d been thinking about the conversation he wanted to have with his son all evening, and none of this had been part of the script.

He cleared his throat. Tried to make a fresh start. “Now, about your soccer situation—”

“If you’re talking about the coach, don’t worry about it. Like you said, the soccer association found us a new one.”

Damn. Could nothing go right for him and Derrick tonight? “Good,” he said weakly. “I guess this means the game on Friday is a go.”

“I guess.” Taking the glass of juice with him, Derrick disappeared into his bedroom.

Matthew groaned with frustration, then picked up the newspaper one more time. He’d read through the business section and sports by the time Gillian arrived home.

She entered through the back door, too, and set down a bag stuffed with what looked like a batch of test papers. She’d taught drama between acting gigs before they were married, but she’d never really loved the work. It was something she did for the extra cash and to get out of the house.

She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes alighting on the plate he’d used for Violet’s snack.

Feeling as if she’d caught him out, Matthew grabbed the plate and stacked it in the dishwasher. “How was class?”

“Not bad. I’ve got a decent group this semester. Some of them even have talent.” She bent over to move Derrick’s sneakers out of the way. “Did Derrick finish his homework?”

Matthew felt his shoulders tense. “I’m not sure, but I doubt it. He wasn’t home until almost nine. He’s been in his room with the door closed since then.”

Gillian rolled her eyes, as if this was nothing new to her. “I wish you would talk to him.”

“I did. I told him he was grounded for the rest of the week.” He remembered the men’s shoes in her room. “By the way, is your boyfriend staying the night now?”

“What?”

“I saw a pair of men’s dress shoes in your bedroom—”

“You were in my bedroom?”

“I was walking past your bedroom.”

“Whose shoes are on my bedroom floor is none of your business, Matt. Or who is in my bed, for that matter.”

“When it comes to my kids—”

“This has nothing to do with Derrick or Violet.”

“I don’t want strange men spending the night.”

“Bruce doesn’t spend the night, okay? He’s a doctor and he works shifts, and sometimes he needs to shower and change after we’ve gone out.”

His ex was dating a doctor. That stopped Matt cold. Of course, he’d assumed that eventually Gillian would move on with her life. But what bothered him was that his kids had a new man—a permanent man—in their lives.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“That’s not any of your business, either. I don’t ask you for an accounting of your dating life.”

“Well, maybe you should.” Matthew was about to elaborate, when Derrick walked into the room. As earlier, he headed for the fridge.

“Derrick. Your father tells me you were home late.”

“Yeah. He grounded me,” Derrick said, as if it were some kind of joke.

“I don’t understand why you find that so funny.”

Derrick just shrugged and looked at his mother. Then he grabbed a soda from the fridge and left again.

“That kid,” Matthew muttered. “You better watch that he sticks to the grounding I gave him.”

“Really, Matt. And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Tell him to come straight home after school, that’s how.”

“And when he shows up at six, saying he missed the bus? Or at seven because he had to stay late to work on a school project?”

Matthew wondered how long these problems had been going on. “I guess you’ll have to pick him up after school and drive him home.”

“That easy, huh? And what about Violet? Nursery school ends at three-thirty, the same time Derrick gets out of classes. How am I supposed to be in two places at once?”