Читать книгу A Maverick And A Half - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

Chapter Two

The moment she said the words, Anderson realized his mistake. He really needed to monitor his thoughts before he allowed them to escape his lips, Anderson upbraided himself. He could see that he’d inadvertently hurt the woman. He glanced down at the baby in the car seat. The baby’s father wasn’t in the picture for some reason and Ms. Laramie had obviously taken his words to heart as some sort of a rebuke when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Anderson felt a shaft of guilt pierce his ordinarily tough hide. He didn’t want Jake’s teacher to think that he was criticizing her. That hadn’t been his intent when he’d stormed into her classroom. He’d only been trying to defend his son.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Laramie,” Anderson said contritely. “I meant no disrespect.”

Marina flushed. Of course he hadn’t. Why was she being so sensitive and overreacting this way? It was her job to think like a professional, not to turn everything around and focus exclusively on herself. Hormonal teenager girls did that, not state-licensed teachers.

She had to remember that, Marina silently lectured herself.

“None taken, Mr. Dalton,” she replied stoically.

* * *

“Anderson,” he prompted, correcting the petite redhead.

Since they’d just been talking about the ideal parenting situation, the unexpected insertion of his given name threw her. Marina looked at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

“Not Mr. Dalton,” Anderson told her. Mr. Dalton was his father, Ben Dalton, a respected lawyer. He was just plain Anderson, a rancher. “Call me Anderson.”

She’d just met him today and she wasn’t accustomed to being so friendly with her students’ parents if she didn’t really know them outside the classroom.

“I don’t think that’s appro—”

“If we’re going to help Jake,” Anderson said, interrupting her, “I think we should be a team, not two polite strangers who sound as if they can’t wait to get away from one another.”

Marina frowned slightly. Was that the message she was getting across to Jake’s father by addressing him formally? she wondered. That had definitely not been her intention.

“All right,” she allowed, willing to do it his way. She resumed the point she’d been trying to make earlier. “Regarding what you said previously, Anderson, in a perfect world, every child would be raised by two loving parents.”

Without meaning to, she glanced down at her daughter and felt a pang. Sydney was the perfect infant and she deserved to be loved by a mother and a father.

I’m so sorry it didn’t work out, little one. But it’s not all bad. I grew up without a dad, too—mostly—and things worked out for me.

“But the world, as we both know,” Marina continued telling Jake’s father, “is far from perfect. Very far.”

He certainly couldn’t argue with that, Anderson thought.

“True,” he agreed. “I’m very aware that not every relationship can work out.” Painfully aware, he thought. “But that isn’t an excuse not to be there for your kid. They weren’t asked to be born, but they were. The way I see it, the people who caused that birth to happen owe that kid something.” He was referring to himself, although he didn’t say it out loud.

Marina found herself in complete agreement with Jake’s father. She also found herself wondering what had happened in Anderson Dalton’s relationship that was so traumatic that his girlfriend wouldn’t even notify him for ten whole years that they had had a child together.

It was on the tip of Marina’s tongue to ask, but she knew that it wasn’t any of her business and it had no bearing on her teacher/student relationship with Jake.

Besides, even if she was brash enough to ask Anderson about it, it might just put the man’s back up. She had to remember that the point of talking to Jake’s father in the first place was to get him to build a stronger relationship with his son, not satisfy her innate curiosity.

Her whole supposition about the relationship—or lack thereof—between Anderson and Jake’s mother was truthfully based on her thinking that the former was a nice guy. At least, he seemed that way to her, but then she wasn’t exactly the reigning authority when it came to reading men. When she came right down to it, Marina silently admitted, she didn’t just have a poor track record with men, she had an absolutely horrible one.

Gary Milton was a case in point.

She’d been utterly, completely and madly in love with the man who was Sydney’s father, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was The One despite the fact that they hadn’t been dating all that long. At twenty-seven, with all of her friends getting married and starting families, she was more than ready to take the plunge to happily-ever-after and she was certain that Gary was, too.

Her own parents had long since been divorced, with her father hardly ever turning up in her life, but she was convinced it would be different for her and Gary.

Vulnerable, eager, she’d felt that all the stars were perfectly aligned for something wonderful to happen that July Fourth night when she and Gary had attended Braden and Jennifer’s big bash of a wedding. Indeed, romance was in the air and, unbeknownst to her and most of the guests, a spiked glass of punch—thanks to party prankster Homer Gilmore—was in her hand.

What came afterward seemed completely natural at the time—almost like destiny. She and Gary came together in every sense of the word that night.

She’d expected, thanks to the night they’d spent together, to hear a proposal from Gary. But she didn’t. Holding her breath, she watched the weeks go by, but Gary was no closer to popping the question than he had been before their friends’ wedding celebration. And then she’d discovered that she was pregnant, and a small part of her had thought that now, finally, Gary would step up. But she was sadly mistaken.

Gary not only didn’t step up, he stumbled backward and completely freaked out.

Stunned by his initial reaction, Marina had been struck utterly speechless when Gary had actually accused her of engineering her pregnancy so that she could trap him into marrying her.

Angry, Gary had loudly proclaimed that he was way too young to be “saddled” with a wife and kid. He’d broken off their relationship then and there.

An entire spectrum of feelings had gone careening through her at Gary’s declaration of independence, but she’d gone positively numb when he had gone on to tactlessly suggest that she “take care of the problem.”

The problem.

As if the tiny being growing inside her was anything other than a miracle, she’d thought.

That was when it had hit her with the force of a two-ton truck. She’d been wasting her time and her heart on a self-centered lowlife, foolishly thinking that this poor excuse for a human being was her Prince Charming. He didn’t even qualify to be a frog prince. She’d countered his suggestion by telling him in no uncertain terms to get lost.

And he did.

So completely lost that after Sydney had been born, he’d never come by to see his daughter even a single time.

His loss, Marina had silently declared, and from that point forward, she’d eliminated all thoughts of Gary, all memories of their time together, from her mind. She had better things to do than to spend even a single moment reliving the past, or pining for a future that wasn’t in the cards.

And while she was actually eternally grateful that their paths had crossed long enough to gift her with the greatest present of her life—her daughter, Sydney—at the same time, the whole traumatic interlude with Gary had definitely scarred her. In a nutshell, it had shaken her faith in her own ability to know whether or not a person was actually a decent human being or just a deceptively charming rat on two legs.

In his own way, Gary had taught her one hell of a lesson.

“Ms. Laramie, is something wrong?”

At the sound of Anderson’s deep voice, Marina roused herself. She realized that she’d allowed her thoughts to take her attention hostage, which was, as far as she was concerned, completely inexcusable behavior.

Clearing her throat, she flushed. “What? No, nothing’s wrong. Sorry, something you just said started me thinking.” Which was true, but undoubtedly not in the way that Anderson might have thought. So before he could ask her any further questions, she quickly redirected the conversation. “I agree with what you said.”

“Great.” The enthusiasm went down a notch as he asked, “What part?”

“The part about you not wanting Jake to feel as if you were pressuring him,” she told him, glad that Anderson was at least partially intuitive. “Being pressured definitely wouldn’t help bring your son out of his shell.”

“What would?” he asked, curious to hear her take on the matter.

The blanket covering Sydney’s legs slipped and she moved it back into place. Her daughter, mercifully, went on dozing but she knew that wasn’t going to last for long. She needed to wrap up this conversation. “I was thinking along the lines of some TLC.”

“TLC?” Anderson repeated quizzically.

Marina nodded. “That stands for tender loving care,” she explained.

“I know what it stands for,” he retorted, insulted. Did she think he was entirely backward and clueless? “What I’m trying to figure out is how would I go about expressing that? Are you telling me you think I should hug him and stuff?”

She hadn’t been thinking along those lines, but she gave it some thought now. “An occasional hug wouldn’t hurt,” she acknowledged, then qualified her answer. “But in general, eleven-year-old boys aren’t really into that. They’re not big on that sort of parental display of affection. At least not on a regular basis.”

“Then what?” Anderson asked impatiently. “I’ve already got him signed up for some after school sports activities,” he said, “so that Jake can be around other kids participating in some bonding sports.”

“All that’s good,” Marina agreed tentatively, not wanting to shoot down the man’s fledgling enthusiasm so early in the game. “But I was thinking of something along the lines of a more personal, fulfilling activity.”

He looked at her uncertainly. He wasn’t sure just what she was suggesting. So far, they just seemed to be going around in circles. “Just what is it you have in mind?”

Since she wasn’t sure how open he would be to her suggestion, Marina proceeded with caution. “How would you feel about Jake helping me after school a few days a week?”

Anderson had a feeling that her question wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded, so he tried to get her to clarify it. “You mean like cleaning paintbrushes in the art room and stuff like that?” he asked.

Marina shook her head. “No. Jake’s a sensitive, caring boy. Those sort of traits should be nurtured,” she told Anderson. “I was thinking that Jake might make a perfect mother’s helper.”

“A mother’s helper?” he repeated uncertainly, somewhat stunned and taken aback. “Isn’t that something that, you know, girls usually do?” he asked, wondering if he should be insulted on Jake’s behalf. Just what was she saying about his son?

Marina was quick to set Anderson straight. The man was stereotyping and she couldn’t allow that to get in the way of Jake’s development as both a student and a boy-in-progress.

“Not necessarily. All that’s required to be a mother’s helper is patience—and of course the desire to help. From what I’ve seen, Jake’s equipped with both.” She became more impassioned as she spoke. “There’s no reason why a boy can’t help out as well as a girl and I could really use a hand at home—and even here at school,” she added for good measure, thinking that might help tip the scales. She was paying someone to watch Sydney while she was teaching, but she could barely afford that.

“I don’t know,” Anderson said after giving the whole matter less than thirty seconds of thought. “I really don’t think it’s a very good idea,” he confessed with conviction. “Jake and I are doing okay just the way things are.”

Marina banked down her growing impatience. She knew she couldn’t push this. Anderson—if he was going to come around—was going to have to come around on his own. If she pushed in any manner, she had the distinct impression that he was the type to dig in his heels and resist until his dying breath left his body. The bottom line there was that she’d never get anywhere with him.

This way, by maintaining an open mind and an equally open door, there still might be a small chance that things would go her way. With Jake’s well-being in mind, she had to take it.

She wanted to argue about it—to discuss it, actually—but the idea of arguing with the man seemed counterproductive in its own right. So for now, and the sake of peace, she went along with what Dalton suggested.

“All right,” she told Anderson gamely. “But if you do happen to change your mind about this, please let me know,” she requested with a large smile. “You know where to find me.”

He nodded, ready to terminate the conversation. He knew the value of quitting while he was ahead.

“Just like I found you this time,” he replied, already edging his way out.

Marina spoke up just as he was about to reach the door. “I just suggested Jake being a mother’s helper because I think it might help him if he puts himself out in order to help someone else.”

“Someone else,” Anderson repeated, then knowingly added, “like you.”

She saw no reason to pretend that Jake’s father had guessed wrong. Marina certainly wasn’t embarrassed by either the fact that she needed help nor that she would have accepted it from one of her students.

“Like me,” she replied, then hurriedly tacked on, “And Sydney.”

“Sidney?” Anderson questioned, suddenly lost. “Who’s Sidney?”

“This lovely young lady here,” Marina told him, her voice teeming with affection and pride, albeit quietly, as she indicated the car seat.

“Oh.” Chagrined over his misunderstanding—and concerned about the odd sort of attraction he was experiencing—attraction to his son’s teacher for heaven’s sake—Anderson was practically inaudible as he mumbled, “I thought you were talking about some guy.”

“An understandable mistake,” she said, the corners of her mouth curving in what Anderson could only describe as an appealing smile that seemed to communicate with some inner core of his. He did what he could to block it, or at the very least, just ignore it.

“Well, it’s usually a guy’s name,” Anderson protested in his own defense, trying to backtrack from his error.

While Marina didn’t exactly contradict him, she expanded on his answer. “It’s both.”

She had a feeling that Jake’s father was in somewhat of a combative mood and saying anything to outright oppose him would not be the smart thing to do at the moment. It fell under the heading of discretion being the better part of valor.

“Yeah, I know that,” he informed her with a dismissive shrug. All he wanted to do was get out of the classroom, away from Marina Laramie and her sleeping infant. “So, if there’s nothing else you want to discuss about Jake, I’ve got to be getting back to the ranch,” he informed her, as he turned to leave. Then just before he exited, Anderson felt a need to add, “Those posts don’t nail themselves up.”

“I’m sure that they don’t,” she responded with what he had to admit seemed to him to be a very infectious grin.

He hadn’t come here to make trite observations about Jake’s teacher’s smile, Anderson reminded himself. He’d come because he had Jake’s best interests at heart and he was really trying, in his own less than stellar way, to make up for all the time that had been lost to him. Precious time he wasn’t going to ever get back.

“Okay, then, so it’s settled,” Anderson announced as if they had arrived at a mutual agreement rather than something he was just stubbornly reiterating. “Jake’s going to be playing some after school activities.” Eyeing Marina Laramie, he waited for the redhead to contradict him.

But she didn’t, which surprised him—as well as relieved him.

“You know what’s best for your boy,” she said.

“That’s right,” Anderson said as he strode out of the classroom, “I do.”

Except that he didn’t, and he knew it.

He was feeling his way around and fighting the feeling that he was doing a far from spectacular job at every turn.

Indecision nibbled away at him like a stubborn, persistent mouse. Maybe that Laramie woman had the right idea. Maybe Jake would do better helping her out after school. At least it would get him out of his room and away from those video games of his.

Heaven knew the idea of helping the woman out was not without its appeal or merits, he mused. He wouldn’t mind having that job himself.

Whoa, there, Andy. Get a grip, he counseled himself. We’re talking about Jake here, not you. He’s the one who could benefit from spending some extra one-on-one time with the lady.

When he came right down to it, he didn’t know why he’d turned Jake’s teacher down, or why, as he left the building now, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a chastised grade-schooler. After all, the woman hadn’t actually said anything to make him feel like he’d done anything wrong. If questioned, he couldn’t even put his finger on one reason why he felt that way. He figured it was probably rooted deep into his past, back to the days when he actually was a grade-schooler and everyone was always telling him what to do.

He hadn’t taken their advice then, Anderson reminded himself, and he wasn’t about to start now by being led around by the nose by that slip of a redhead.

He needed to do more than that, Anderson thought as he climbed back up into his truck. He needed to keep his distance from Jake’s bubbly, interfering teacher. Everything in his gut—the center of his very best survival instincts—told him that he needed to steer clear of her if he knew what was good for him and if he intended to get through this time of parental custody intact.

Not just intact, he reminded himself. He needed to do more than to remain intact. He needed to come out a winner when it came to all the matters that concerned Jake.

From the second he had found out about his son’s existence, Jake was his number one priority.

As for this Ms. Laramie, the woman might be a real stunner, but she was way off base. Jake, a mother’s helper? Anderson silently questioned as he now frowned at the idea. Not his boy, he thought. Not if he had anything to say about it.