Читать книгу Fatherhood 101 - Mae Nunn - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

CULLEN FIGURED A week of preparation for his first class was enough.

He’d figured wrong.

Standing before the small group in Blair’s lecture hall on Monday afternoon, he felt like a poor substitute for the professor the students had expected to hear. After he began to rush through the talking points, only one person bothered to make eye contact, and having that person’s blue eyes fixed on Cullen’s every move only made things more nerve-racking.

Twenty minutes short of the ninety-minute class he closed Blair’s carefully prepared notes and dismissed the group. He turned about-face as they hurried toward the exit as if their stand-in instructor might call them back for another hour of boredom on European civilization.

“The sign on the lecture hall door claims you’re Dr. Cullen Temple but you didn’t sound anything like the smooth talker I had coffee with last week.”

Cullen looked around to find Sarah Eason standing in front of him. She’d tried to be helpful by signaling him a couple of times during his lecture to slow his delivery down, without success.

“Was that awful, or what?” he asked, already well aware of the answer.

“I wouldn’t say awful. Awful is a dried-up, day-old hot dog. That was more of a cold, greasy onion ring. If you just warm it up there may still be potential.”

“I’m sorry you witnessed that debacle.” He slumped against the white board on the wall behind him. “I shouldn’t have agreed to take over this class. It’s one thing to be a guest lecturer on a subject of my own choosing and quite another to pick up where a tenured professor has left off.”

“So Dr. Mastal really was supposed to be teaching this class, as it says on the syllabus? I thought maybe I’d wandered into the wrong lecture hall, but when I saw it was you I decided to hang around. I’m only auditing this semester so it’s not as if anybody was expecting me.”

“I hope my performance tonight doesn’t stop you from sitting in on the class again. I’m really gonna have to cram so I can redeem myself on Wednesday. Otherwise, your husband’s going to complain that your time away from the family is being wasted.”

She took a seat in the front row, settled her notebook and purse on the adjacent chair and crossed one bare leg over the other beneath the full skirt of her faded yellow sundress.

“Come, sit,” she encouraged, probably in the same patient voice she used with her children.

He did as instructed, sitting two seats away with her things in between them.

“I’m a widow.” Her voice was soft but matter-of-fact.

Before he could stammer out condolences she reached across the vacant seat and placed a hand on his arm.

“Don’t say anything. It’s been three years and the girls and I are adjusting to our new normal.”

“How...” Cullen wanted to ask, not at all sure he should.

“Joe was diagnosed with leukemia right after we learned I was pregnant with our third daughter, Hope. He’d suspected something was terribly wrong for months but kept it to himself because he didn’t want to worry me. We were told from the start it was terminal but we’d have a few years. I don’t pretend it wasn’t devastating to our lives or that everybody’s fine now. We get through it one day at a time and treasure every blessing.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine losing a spouse. When I was in high school, both of my parents were killed in a private plane crash, so I understand a little of what your daughters are going through.”

“It’s tough for my girls. I try to meet all their emotional needs but nothing can take the place of a daddy, as you well know. And I’m sorry you had a tragic loss at such a young age.”

“Thank you.” Cullen released a sigh. He was a bonehead, making too much of one failed lecture when the woman beside him was struggling with problems that might eventually get better but would never completely go away. Something else he was well acquainted with.

After his parents’ deaths, he’d suffered terrifying anxiety attacks, and while they’d subsided years ago, the dread of their return never left him. He’d only ever told Blair and Alma, the woman who’d stepped in to care for the Temple brothers, of his fears.

Hoping to get them past these sad subjects, he said, “Do you have to rush home, or can I buy you a bite to eat? I’m suddenly starving and the grill in the student center makes great cheeseburgers. I’ll even spring for some onion rings so the evening won’t be a total loss.” He smiled to lift the mood.

“Could I get a rain check? Tonight I’m meeting my mother and the girls for pizza. It’s one of those family places where kids can stay busy with arcade games for hours. Mom gives them each a roll of quarters and then she’s free to sit and read her romance novel. That should keep everyone occupied for a while, but I should head over soon.”

“You say it’s a family place?”

“Yeah, it’s the one out on the loop, near the mall.”

“Oh, I know the one you’re taking about. They have a nice buffet. What could be better than all the pepperoni pizza you can eat?”

“Would you care to join us?”

He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to fish for an invitation. But Blair’s words about giving less attention to the people in books and more to the living had stuck in Cullen’s mind like bubble gum on hot pavement.

“Oh, I wouldn’t horn in on your family evening. Besides, how would your mother and girls react if a man you just met showed up to share the table?”

“It’s going to take them about thirty seconds to recognize your face and then they’ll be all up in your business asking questions about your famous twin.”

Cullen leaned away from the comment. “Hey, I wouldn’t exactly say Hunt’s famous, at least not for anything other than being my little brother. I will give him credit for being a great chef, though. And he still does some appearances on television when he’s not working with his fiancée over at Temple Territory.”

“Oh, that mansion in Kilgore that’s become a hotel? I hear it’s quite an historical landmark.”

“I can arrange for your daughters to get a tour of the estate if they’d be interested. Our grandfather built the place and it comes with lots of interesting stories and legends.”

“That’s a great idea for an outing this summer,” she agreed. “But please join us tonight. There’s probably a whole pepperoni pizza over there with your name on it.”

The mental picture of rising dough swimming in golden grease from cheese and sausage caused his mouth to water like Pavlov’s dog. He did an inward double take at his very predictable reaction. Maybe he was a natural for the study of human behavior, after all.

“Only if you’re sure nobody will object.”

“With five women at the table somebody is always bound to object. It just comes with the territory. So don’t take it personally, it’s a family female thing,” Sarah assured him.

A family female thing was uncharted water for Cullen. But how hard could it be to share a casual meal with three generations of women? He might even learn something from the experience if he carried some gestures of kindness to soothe the savage breast.

* * *

SARAH WASN’T NEARLY as confident as she tried to sound for Cullen’s sake. While she could trust her mother to be hospitable, the girls were another matter. Carrie was in the throes of a Goth stage and Meg was forever wrestling with some imagined worry. Hope lived in la-la land, inventing superhero memories of her daddy to replace the fragile flesh-and-blood truth.

Thank goodness Sarah had a thirty-minute head start before Cullen arrived at the pizza place. He’d said he had personal business to attend to and then he’d join them. She’d have to set the scene carefully, to say the least.

“What do you mean a friend from the university is meeting us for dinner?” Meg questioned. “Who is she and how well do you know her?”

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Sarah’s mother added.

“My friend is actually a guy and he’s teaching the European history class I’m auditing. He was going to eat dinner alone so I invited him to have pizza with us. You might even recognize him.”

“He’s not that old high school boyfriend of yours, is he? That Bobby Whatshisname?” asked her mother.

“Of course not.”

“Good. I was always suspicious of that kid.”

“Mom, Bobby got married right after we graduated, he was a torpedo man on a navy guided-missile destroyer and he has a Ph.D. in agricultural economics. I’d say he’s done pretty well for himself. You can let go of those qualms.”

“Well, I’ve read how women are hooking up with their old flames these days and I don’t want any surprises when this stranger shows up.”

“He’s nobody from my ancient past, but he does have a face you might have seen before.”

“Like on an FBI Most Wanted poster? What if he’s a bank robber or a mass murderer?” Meg chewed the tip of a plastic straw.

“Honey, this guy has spent his entire life in Kilgore, he’s well respected at the university and I’m pretty sure he’s been too busy studying and teaching to dispose of bodies.”

“So, is this the way college women behave? Will there be a different man in your life every week now?” Carrie’s snide question was inappropriate, but at least she was talking.

“No, dear,” Sarah said with restraint. At home she’d have lectured her daughter on being disrespectful, but tonight reassurance was more important than manners. “Cullen is the only person on campus who’s even spoken to me, if you don’t count the grouchy woman in the administration office.”

“Oh, Nancy Norment is still over there? So the University Torment is alive and well. She must be up into her eighties by now.”

“She might be too mean to die.”

“I’m glad to hear Miss Nancy is on the job. The town honored her years ago for her service to the community. You’d better pray she lives twenty more years so she’ll be there when your girls go to college.”

“Right now I’m praying that I can stick around for two years to finish my degree, but I’ll add Miss Nancy’s continued health to the bottom of my lengthy prayer list.”

“Don’t look now, but a suspicious man just spotted us and he’s walking this way.” Meg’s words were muffled behind her hand.

Sarah watched Cullen approach. He seemed much more relaxed than he had in the lecture hall. In one hand he clutched a bunch of flowers and with the other he gripped the handles of an oversize canvas bag stamped with a recycle emblem. When he stopped at the head of their table, Sarah stood to make introductions.

“Cullen Temple, this is my mother, Margaret Callaghan, and my daughters Carrie, Meg and Hope. Ladies, this is my instructor, Dr. Cullen Temple.”

There was silence except for a nod from her mother.

Sarah stamped her foot, a not-so-covert sign for her daughters to use their manners.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” the girls responded politely as they’d been instructed all their lives.

“I appreciate your mama inviting me. I love a pizza buffet.”

* * *

NOT FEELING OVERLY WELCOME, Cullen decided to go straight for the peace offerings, hoping the atmosphere would warm up. He set the canvas bag on the tabletop and handed the flowers to Sarah’s mother.

“These are for you, Mrs. Callaghan. My mama taught me that you never go to a woman’s dinner table empty-handed, not the first visit, anyway.”

Next he made a production of poking around in the bag, which seemed to get the girls’ attention.

“I had to shop fast and I only have brothers so I hope I did okay,” he apologized as he withdrew a trinket for each of the sisters. For Carrie, whose hair was...purple...there was a paperback volume of Vampire Academy, the first in a popular young adult series. He presented Meg with a silver-tone bracelet that had a dangling smiley face charm inscribed Don’t Worry, Be Happy. And for Sara’s youngest, who was missing her front two teeth, there was a fluffy stuffed bear holding a velvet heart that read Faith, Hope and Love.

“I think this was meant just for you,” Cullen said as he handed over the teddy.

“What did you bring for Mommy?” Hope asked.

“The best gift of all,” he answered as he rubbed his palms together.

He reached to the bottom of the bag and then pulled out a thick, gray volume. Black letters on the spine read European Civilization. It was the very expensive textbook for his class.

“I can’t accept this, Cullen.”

He waved away her concern. “Dr. Mastal kept a stack in his office for loaners. When the semester is over you can return it and I’ll use it to bless another unsuspecting victim.”

“Hey!” Carrie had glanced up from her novel and was studying Cullen through squinted eyes, her index finger pointing a silent accusation his way.

Margaret nodded her head. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

“What?” Meg slid the bracelet over her hand and rejoined the conversation.

“You look just like the Cowboy Chef!” Carrie insisted.

“Actually, I’m the older twin, so he looks just like me.”

“You’re brothers with the cutest chef on food television? Awesome sauce!” Meg exclaimed.

“Why don’t we go fill our plates and you can hear all about it while we eat,” Margaret suggested. She took charge and herded the girls toward the buffet line.

“Thank you for everything, Cullen. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble and expense.”

“It’s only one evening of my life and it’s the least I can do for your family. If I never meet your girls again they’ll have a personal reminder of a Temple brother—even if they forget about me and only remember the Cowboy Chef.”

He smiled, not the least bit bothered by the shadow his twin cast.

“Shall we?” Sarah suggested.

“After you.” Cullen stepped aside to let her take the lead.

He smiled as he watched the family of women load their plates, but inwardly he shuddered over what the atmosphere must be like in their home. The noise, the bickering, the demands, the drama—all the stuff he did his best to keep out of his life. Anything short of peace and quiet might tempt his old nemesis, anxiety.

What he’d said to Sarah was true. Giving up one evening was an easy gesture to make, especially for one of his students. But a steady diet of this bunch would not simply have him under the covers, it would have him under the bed!