Читать книгу Colton's Secret Investigation - Justine Davis - Страница 11

Mrs. Crane couldn’t leave fast enough. After a quick report that Samuel had refused to eat dinner or quit playing his video game or go to bed, she was gone. Stefan noticed Daria looking around the house with interest, but he couldn’t read her reaction to his place in her expression. He wasn’t sure if maybe he should be glad of that.

But right now he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He shouldn’t be thinking about Daria at all, but about the rebellious kid who had landed on him. He walked over to where the boy was indeed glued to his video controller, his eyes on the screen. He didn’t even look up when Stefan came in. And not for the first time, Stefan thought he should never have hooked the system up to the big TV. He’d foolishly thought of it as a peace offering.

He walked over to the couch. “Way past your bedtime.”

The boy didn’t even look up from his game.

“Come on, Samuel. Shut it down.”

Again the boy ignored him.

“He’s almost to the big castle. He can’t stop now.” Stefan turned to stare at Daria. Even Samuel looked up, startled. “Watch out, there’s a zombie!” she warned the boy, who quickly went back to the game, and with a couple of button presses, the stiffly walking, sickly-green creature was gone.

“Nicely done,” Daria said. “Now, when you get to the castle wall, it’s time to come have something to eat before bed. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Samuel said, focused on the game but still responding.

And to Stefan’s shock, when the game seemed to pause at the foot of a soaring stone wall, Samuel closed it and put down the controller.

“Have you encountered the dragon yet?” Daria asked the boy conversationally as they walked toward the kitchen. Stefan followed, suddenly feeling like a bystander in his own house.

“Not yet,” Samuel said.

“Ohhhh, you wiiill,” she said in an over-the-top creepy voice that made Samuel laugh. Stefan was gaping now; he hadn’t seen his son laugh since he’d been here.

Then the boy looked at her curiously. “Who are you?”

“My name is Daria. I’m working with your dad for a while.”

The boy’s expression changed, became something wary. “Oh.”

“You don’t like that,” Daria said. “Why?”

“My mom worked with someone. An’ he doesn’t like me. So she sent me away. Now I’m stuck here.”

Daria glanced at Stefan, and he felt his jaw tighten involuntarily.

“Well, I like you, so no problem,” she said to Samuel cheerfully. “What do you want to eat?”

The wariness faded from the boy’s expression. And Stefan had the niggling thought that he should be paying attention.

“I don’t know,” Samuel said. “There’s never anything good here.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“It’s all this fancy stuff.”

“Not even a good burger, huh?” Daria sympathized.

“No.”

“Maybe we should just look and see if there’s anything we can make edible.”

“What’s edi—ed…what you said?”

“It means you can eat it without gagging,” she said in a loud whisper.

And again the boy laughed. Stefan gave a slow, wondering shake of his head. I should definitely be paying attention here. How does she do that?

Daria was looking at him questioningly. He realized she was seeking some reaction from him, probably to her taking over. “Don’t stop now,” he muttered.

And then she was in his kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator. She ignored the leftover Szechuan takeout he’d had last night and figured they would eat later while working, and if she noticed the six-pack of beer—well, five-pack, now—on the top shelf, she ignored it. She poked into the deli drawer, then looked over her shoulder at him.

“Bread?” she asked.

Afraid to say anything for fear of setting Samuel off again, he walked over to the small pantry and got out the half loaf that was in there.

“Good,” she said. “Samuel, do you know where a skillet is?”

Stefan blinked, since it was hanging on a rack practically in front of her, opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again.

“Silly, it’s right there,” Samuel said, grinning and pointing.

“Why, so it is. Good eyes, my friend.”

She’d done it on purpose, Stefan realized. She was bringing Samuel into the conversation in a way he never would have thought of. And the boy was responding, right before his eyes.

“Now if only we had some butter, we could have a mega grilled cheese sandwich.”

Looking intrigued, Samuel trotted into the kitchen and pointed at a covered dish on the counter. He was tall for his age, but not quite tall enough to reach it. “It’s in there.”

“Then we’re a go.” She reached up for the skillet, unhooked it and handed it to the boy, who looked beyond startled. “Go set that on a front burner for me, will you? Don’t turn it on yet, though. I have to get the stuff ready.”

“’Kay.”

With exquisite care, Samuel carried the skillet over and set it down as she’d instructed. Stefan was leaning against the opposite kitchen counter now, watching in complete fascination.

“Good job,” Daria said. “But do you see a problem?”

“No.”

“Back up a little.” The boy did so. “Now walk toward me.”

He started to do as she’d said. Then, suddenly, just before his face would have collided with the protruding skillet handle, he yelped, “Oh!” Samuel reached and moved the skillet so the handle wasn’t sticking out.

“Wow, you figured that out quick,” Daria said. And Stefan felt the strangest sensation somewhere in his chest as his son beamed at her. He’d been wrestling with the boy for a month now, and she had charmed him in fifteen minutes flat.

Not only that, but when she’d finished preparing the thick, melted cheese sandwich, the boy gobbled it down, along with a big glass of the milk Samuel had looked at scornfully when Stefan had offered it to him.

“Now, let’s get you to bed, so you can be all rested up to attack tomorrow.”

The boy seemed to like the way she put it and happily headed into the bathroom next to his bedroom to brush his teeth. Daria stood in the doorway, saying, “Look at you—you don’t even need a step stool, you’re so tall. Are you sure you’re not six or seven?”

Samuel gave her a toothpaste-laden grin. And just to further emphasize the difference, he jumped into bed happily. Daria pulled the covers up over him as she said, “Kind of a big bed, huh?”

“Too big,” Samuel muttered, so low Stefan almost couldn’t hear it. He frowned. A bed was a bed, wasn’t it? If you fit in it, what did it matter how big it was?

Well, unless you had someone like Daria in it with you.

He could feel the pressure on his teeth telling him just how hard he was clenching his jaw to make sure he didn’t say anything even vaguely like what he had just thought.

“I see you’ve got some fun books there,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed as she gestured at the two colorful books on the nightstand.

“They’re dumb,” Samuel pronounced. “For babies. Teacher reads it to us. ‘The cat chased the mouse.’ What kind of story is that?”

“I see. I guess you’d better learn to read yourself in a hurry so you can get into the good stuff.”

For the first time, Samuel glanced at his father. “You mean like the boring stuff he reads?”

Daria didn’t look at Stefan. She was fixated on his son as if he were the most interesting person in her life. “Boring, huh? What doesn’t it have that it should?”

Samuel thought, his brow furrowed. “Dragons. Maybe spaceships. Or a cool dog, not a silly cat.”

“Hmm,” Daria said, and she pulled out her phone. “I might just be able to help you there.”

Stefan couldn’t see what she was doing from here, but he was afraid to move from the doorway and shatter the mood. Plus, he was feeling decidedly extraneous, unnecessary. Add to that the realization that was dawning that he’d never quite thought of his son as a person with opinions and ideas of his own, and he was feeling like a complete failure. Again.

He watched as Daria held out her phone for Samuel to see. “Maybe a dog like that?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, I just happen to have his story right here. Want to hear how it starts?” The boy nodded excitedly. “Okay,” Daria said. “But you have to listen with your eyes closed, so you can imagine the story in your mind better.”

Obediently, Samuel’s dark eyes closed.

She swiped a finger across the screen, obviously opening what was a reading app. And then she began to read in a low, pleasant voice. But when she got to dialogue, her voice took on a different tone for each character, making it come even more alive.

Stefan found even he was caught up in the story of a lost dog looking for home. And when she stopped what seemed like a very short time later, he realized he was waiting for Daria to begin again. But instead she brushed her fingers gently over Samuel’s cheek, stood up and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. Only then did Stefan realize his son was fast asleep.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he said softly when she had crossed the room to the doorway.

“It didn’t take that much.”

More than I’ve got, apparently.

He backed out into the hallway and stood there, still a little in shock, as Daria pulled the door closed behind her. Well, almost closed; she left it open about an inch. When he reached for the knob to close it the rest of the way, she looked at him curiously.

“Don’t you leave it open a little so you can hear him in the night, if he needs anything?”

In fact, he had not. It had never occurred to him. He had looked upon the closing of that door as a sign they had survived another day, and usually felt a sense of relief that made him also feel guilty.

“I…didn’t think of it. We used to, when he was a baby, but I didn’t think—Damn, I suck at this,” he muttered.

Turning away, he headed down the hall, embarrassed that she’d seen him at his most…ineffective. She followed him into the den, where he powered up the laptop and began to set it up to mirror onto the flat screen that was actually bigger than the one at the office.

“The first time you shot for a score, was it perfect?”

He stopped, wondering where that had come from. Looked over his shoulder at her. “Of course not. I’d never shot at a target before.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You didn’t expect to be a crack shot the first time, so why expect to be dad of the year when you’ve only just jumped back into the parenting pool?”

He blinked. “I…never thought of it like that. I mean, he’s five, and…”

“You said you hadn’t had much contact since the divorce?”

“No. And what we had was…strained.”

“And you’ve been on your own for a couple of years now, so in essence, you’re starting over. Building from scratch, and that takes time.”

Stefan looked at his watch, not realizing why until the thought formed in his head. In the space of less than half an hour, Daria Bloom had both charmed his son and made Stefan himself feel so much better in the process.

“Miracle worker,” he said, “doesn’t even begin to describe it.”