Читать книгу The Dad Next Door - Virginia Myers - Страница 9

After Ian had gone and the children were in bed, Kate started her evening routine of living-room tidy-up. She was tired but not sleepy, having just successfully completed one of her mental conversations with Ian, during which she said all the things she should have said. Halfway through her task she noticed the time. Eleven o’clock. She might as well get tomorrow’s weather report. She flipped on the TV and sat down, straightening the newspapers she held for the recycle bin, only half listening.

There was another freeway drive-by shooting. A serial arsonist was taken into custody. The city council was deadlocked about something. A Siberian cold front was moving down from Alaska. Kate’s hands became still and she watched the screen. Snow! A real blizzard! Oh, wonderful news. None of the kids would go to school tomorrow. In a heavy snow Seattle came to a dead stop until it was over. The news media would give constant updates twenty-four hours a day, and at some point some news anchor would interview somebody from Minnesota who was having a good laugh at Seattle’s snow hysteria. Seattle was a city of many hills and had never come to terms with the occasional heavy snowfall. Yes, the anchor was now listing the school closings for tomorrow. Kate listened for and heard what she wanted to hear. Raymond would be elated. So would the other two.

But this left uncertain their appointment with Pastor Ledbetter for early tomorrow. Before Ian had left, she had called the pastor at home. He, hearing the concern in Kate’s voice, had agreed to meet them for an earlymorning appointment. Now if the streets were impassable maybe they couldn’t go. But even as she thought it the phone rang. She flipped off the TV. It was Ian.

“I knew you were still up. I saw your lights on,” he began. “Were you looking at the news?”

“Yes. Snow. The kids will be over the moon. I’ll have to dig out the snowsuits and extra sweaters. I thought winter was winding down.”

“Does this do anything to our early appointment with your pastor about the homeschooling thing? Will he be in the church office?”

“Yes. The parsonage is right next door. He’ll just shovel a path through. He did last year.”

“Well, we can keep the appointment, then. I’ll use my sports van. It’ll get us anywhere. Haven’t used it in a while.” There was a hint of wistfulness in his tone. The sports van, purchased just after Marsha had left and he had received the promotion that required traveling, had been another good idea gone wrong. He had bought the sports vehicle planning good-father fishing trips with Raymond to some of the many rivers nearby, but it hadn’t worked out.

Kate knew Ian was on the fast track at his company, being groomed for bigger things. He was employed by a manufacturer of security and surveillance devices, and the latest in laser and other equipment. His travel was usually as a consultant to rural police forces needing to upgrade their equipment for new procedures.

It wouldn’t have worked anyhow, since Raymond was a child who disliked fishing intensely. He had sat politely in the boat—another wasted effort—because he didn’t want to disappoint his father. But he had managed to cut several fingers on fishhooks, become nauseated at the motion of the boat, gagged when he watched Ian remove the fishook from the fish’s mouth, and had spent the rest of the day under a tree on the riverbank reading a book he had brought along. Kate thought again that Ian should have taken Tommy, who was the nature boy, with his rock collection, his leaf collection and his dead-fly collection.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll go as scheduled, then.”

In the morning they awoke to a world of white. The children were elated, and by the time Kate and Ian had left for their seven-thirty appointment, all three of them were out in front, building a snowman. Ian had contributed a rakish, broad-brimmed safari-type hat she had never seen him wear and a red muffler. Kate got the feeling that he would rather stay with the snowman and the kids, but he dutifully drove her to Pastor Ledbetter’s office.

“It’ll be warm in a few minutes,” Pastor Ledbetter said as they settled themselves in the chairs around his small conference table. “I just turned on the heat.”

Everything in the pastor’s office had the look of leftover rummage sale, from his battered, paper-strewn desk to the refinished kitchen table and odd repainted chairs he used for conferences.

“I’ve laid all this stuff out for you,” he said. “There are many curricula and plans to choose from. If you want my recommendations, I’ll give them to you. But I need to start with a few cautions.”

Ian was leafing thoughtfully through some lesson plan material. “This does look very thorough,” he commented.

“It’s prepared for nonteachers,” Kate said hopefully.

“What cautions did you have in mind, sir?” Ian asked.

Cyrus sat down. Kate wondered again how old he was. He certainly never seemed to run out of energy. She knew this was the beginning of another long day for him.

“First and foremost, school authorities oppose homeschooling on principle. They are convinced that only credentialed teachers should teach, which has been proved to be invalid. With all the built-in wasted time in some of the large structured school districts, plus busing of students, often from a long distance, surveys have found that some students are spending less and less actual time in the classrooms. But they routinely object to homeschooling.”

“That seems a bit much,” Ian said. “Do you think this school district would actively object if Kate homeschooled Raymond?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But remember that homeschooling is perfectly legal in this state. Sometimes a district can put up roadblocks, but usually they can’t stop you. You can take precautions.”

“What precautions?” Kate asked, feeling a distinct qualm.

“I would suggest the first thing you do is join the Home School Legal Defense Association. It only costs a hundred dollars, and they are your counsel, your protection, just in case. If necessary they’ll go to court for you, but it doesn’t usually come to that. It sure beats hiring your own lawyer if push does come to shove. You need to first bone up on your rights, so you can’t be bluffed.”

“My rights?” Kate asked faintly. Suddenly the idea of homeschooling Raymond seemed very intimidating.

The pastor leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t give in to faint heart yet, Kate,” he said, smiling. “Homeschooling is a grand solution in some cases and I think, in the case of your Raymond, it should work. Some public schools are very good. Some aren’t.

“Everything—remember this—everything depends on your child passing the exams. If he or she can pass the exams at the proficiency level for his or her grade, then the goal of teaching has been achieved, regardless of how, or where or from whom.”

Kate felt a bit overwhelmed. She’d be taking on a huge responsibility here. She wasn’t sure she was up to it.

“Do you know anything about actual results?” Ian asked. “How do homeschooled students compare with children from public and private schools?”

“Well, you can’t compare public and private schools—that’s apples and oranges. But statistically, homeschooled children can always outperform public school children.”

“Always?”

“According to everything I’ve seen so far.”

“That’s certainly food for thought,” Ian said. “Raymond is, I regret to say, just a so-so student—”

“Raymond’s been under a lot of stress,” Kate interposed quickly. “He wouldn’t be if…” She faltered. Was she really capable of taking on the teaching? Again, she wondered about it. She felt color rise into her face.

“Look at this new series,” the pastor was saying with enthusiasm, pulling out a brochure and unfolding it. “This looks like an awfully good approach to the teaching of chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Kate asked faintly.

“Kate, don’t worry about it,” the pastor said. “Your home is full of chemistry experiments. This looks very practical. And remember, it’s designed for home teaching.”

“Let’s have a look,” Ian said, reaching for the brochure. “You know, Kate,” he added, “I could help out when I’m home. I remember I was fascinated by chemistry, got pretty good at it, and I didn’t blow up anything. And they offer this whole kit of stuff. See?” He handed the brochure to her.

Kate looked at it without really seeing it. Was he coming round? Was he accepting this? And could she do it if he agreed?

“And look at this,” the pastor said. “This comes with a complete set of videos. It would be like having your own private lecturer come into your home. All interactive with the students. And do you have a computer? They have a lot of things geared to the home computer.”

“I don’t—I don’t have a computer,” Kate said.

“I could get you a computer,” Ian said. “That’s no problem.”

“Me learning to use it might be a problem,” Kate responded without thinking, and Ian laughed.

“I’ll bet the kids could pick it up quickly,” he said.

The pastor plunged ahead, explaining, illustrating, advising.

“I think I’m sort of convinced,” Ian said after a while. “At least as a stopgap, for the time being. My boy’s grandparents want me to place him in a good military school, but my gut feeling is that my kid is not a military type. He’d hate it, but I do think just a good boarding school might be the solution for him.”

Kate’s heart, which had lifted, sank.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” the pastor asked kindly. “Be guided by his test scores at the end of the school year.”

“That would be the acid test,” Ian agreed.

“That and the fact that Raymond might thrive on it,” Kate heard herself saying somewhat testily. Boarding school, indeed. He had mentioned last night that Marsha had been “warehoused” in boarding schools, yet somehow he saw it as a good solution for Raymond.

The church secretary popped her head in the door.

“Mr. Barnes is here about the room dividers.”

“Oh, dear,” the pastor said. “Well, think about it. Take all these things with you and go over them. Take your time. Here, I think I have some sort of case.” He got up and rummaged in a closet, bringing out a battered old leather briefcase. “Put them in this.”

Kate and Ian helped arrange all the items in the case.

“Call me if you have any questions,” the pastor said optimistically as they left.

Going home, Ian didn’t say much. Driving was difficult. Snow had started coming down heavily again, and the windshield wipers couldn’t handle it. Kate hoped the children had gone inside. Twice they had to detour because the street was barricaded due to an accident, although traffic was very sparse. They encountered three city buses, stalled because they couldn’t make it up the hills. And once Ian had to slam on his brakes because two children on a sled careened down a hill into the middle of the street. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they drove into Ian’s driveway.

“I may not go in to work today,” Ian said as they were making their way through the snow to Kate’s porch. “I can dictate my reports from home. You didn’t have time to get Raymond to the doctor yesterday, did you?”

“No. He seemed all right. Not all right, really, but you know what I mean.” Ian had taken her arm to help her. It was a warm, comforting feeling. She had been so alone, so long. The snow was swirling around them.

“Yes, but I saw him undressed,” Ian said. “I’m glad you asked me to look at his body. He’s one big bruise.” Ian’s voice was briefly unsteady.

“He was still limping this morning,” Kate said as they got near her front porch. “Come in and we can call the pediatrician. See if they can fit Raymond in. Did you have breakfast?”

“No, and I’m starved.”

“The kids probably are, too. They couldn’t wait to get outside this morning. Look at that!” They both stopped to look at the snowman. He was about four feet tall, a series of large snowballs. His round face was topped with Ian’s now somewhat damp and limp felt hat. Kate saw that he also wore her fancy sunglasses that she had bought at a sale and had never yet used.

“Dad, don’t you have an old pipe?” Raymond shouted. “Don’t snowmen always have a pipe?”

“Maybe this guy’s a nonsmoker,” Ian said, smiling at his son’s enthusiasm. “We can get him a pipe later, if you want to.” Raymond’s face looked terrible today. “Kate said something about food. Is anybody besides me hungry?”

This brought on an interval of happy holiday-type confusion, which included Kate coping with wet snowsuits and sweaters, Ian calling the pediatrician and everybody ending up in the kitchen, either helping or getting in the way. With a lot of laughter and noise their new master plan was decided. They would have a large brunch now, a later skimpy snack and a regular dinner with the two mandated veggies.

This is what the good life is like, Kate thought, piling the just-right scrambled eggs onto the platter beside the bacon strips. Ian had washed the large bunch of grapes she had bought for school lunches, breaking them into small individual bunches and piling them onto another plate. Raymond was pouring orange juice into glasses, and Tommy and Joy were working on buttered toast, and a crooked pile of it was now ready.

If only…if only…Kate thought as they all sat down around the table to devour the spread. When the fun-filled meal was finished and the children were on the service porch struggling into their still-damp snowsuits, Kate and Ian lingered at the table. Ian picked up a leftover curl of bacon and put it down again.

“I can’t eat that. I’m stuffed,” he said, smiling a bit wistfully. “Kids…Raymond’s having a ball, isn’t he? He…seems to have forgotten yesterday.”

“Children are so resilient,” Kate said. Ian really had beautiful eyes, especially when he was looking thoughtful.

“You’re sure doing a great job as surrogate mother, Kate. Raymond’s lucky to be with you when I’m away.”

“Did…the pediatrician have any time for him today?”

“Yes, she did. I didn’t want to mention it in front of the kids. Raymond won’t want to go. The nurse said they have nothing but time today. Several people have canceled because of the snow.”

“When is your appointment?”

“Three o’clock.” He glanced at his watch. “Let me help you clear up this mess.”

“No. I can do it,” Kate said. “I suggest you go out and help with what’s-his-name, the snowperson. It might be a good idea to kind of prepare Raymond for the idea of going to the doctor.”

Ian laughed. “I expect a battle. But okay. Thanks for the reprieve.”

As Kate cleaned up the kitchen she could hear shouts and laughter from the front yard. As three o’clock approached there was, as Ian had predicted, a brief battle, which Ian won. He took her children with them, as they had never ridden in the sport van and wanted to. The company also provided a much-needed distraction for Raymond.

“Drive carefully,” she said, waving them off.

A peaceful silence settled over the little house. She used the time to call her sister, Jill, for a good gossip. Jill, the bright, bold, beautiful sister, had been the one who had got her and Ian together for the care of Raymond. And before Jill had given up her restaurant to become a stay-at-home mom, she had helped out financially from time to time after Claude had died. They covered all the family news, her plans to plunge into home teaching and were winding down when the doorbell rang.

“Is that your doorbell?” Jill asked. It had been a loud and prolonged ringing.

“Yes. I’d better run. It can’t be Ian and the kids back so soon. Probably someone selling something or offering to shovel snow.” They rang off.

The doorbell rang again insistently as she was opening the door. For a moment Kate didn’t recognize who it was. She had met Marsha only a few times, very briefly.

“Thank heavens you’re home. Ian isn’t. I rang over there a dozen times. And like an idiot I let my cab go.”

“Marsha!” Kate gasped.

“Yes, the infamous Marsha. Please invite me in. I’m freezing.” She was the same lovely, charming, impeccably groomed woman Kate had last glimpsed. Her exquisite cameo face, framed with near-black hair, her startling violet-blue eyes, her flawless skin. Today she looked like Little Red Riding Hood, enveloped in a capelike coat in vivid scarlet, with a hood trimmed in white fur. Her knee-high black boots were also trimmed in white fur.

“Yes, of course.” Kate stood back to let her in.

“Better get that, too,” Marsha said, coming in. “It has my jewel case in it. I dragged it clear over from next door.” It was then that Kate saw the large suitcase on the bottom step. Kate sighed, then darted out into the icy air to get it.

“Where’s my son? Is he home from school yet?”

“School is closed today,” Kate said, shivering as she shut the door, “because of the snow, but Raymond isn’t here. Ian took him—Ian has all the kids out. I expect them back any time.”

“That’s quite a snowman out there,” Marsha said, shaking out her dark mane of hair as she took off the hooded coat.

“Oh, the kids love it when it snows.”

“Yes, I saw some sliding on the hills when I was coming in from the airport. You did say Ian would be back. He’s not off on some business jaunt. I was rather hoping he would be. Sometimes he can be…a little hard to persuade.”

“No. He just came back from a business trip. Would you like some coffee or something? Have you had lunch?”

“Nothing, thanks. I’m okay. I had something or other on the plane. In one of those little plastic dishes. It wasn’t too bad, and I have to watch my weight.” She glanced over Kate, assuring herself, Kate felt sure, that she was the thinner of the two. “I suppose you’re wondering why I popped in like this.” Marsha sat down in the big chair by the fireplace.

“It did cross my mind,” Kate said, sitting down opposite. Marsha was really so lovely and so poised and confident. No wonder Ian had fallen in love with her. Was he still?

“I…don’t know if Ian has mentioned it or not, but I…” Marsha began.

“Ian mentioned that you planned to marry again,” Kate said. “Congratulations. I hope you will be very happy.”

“I will be. I am.” Marsha smiled her beautiful smile. She held out her elegant left hand. Marsha’s slim hands, always beautifully manicured, made Kate want to put hers in her pockets. “You see,” Marsha continued. “We didn’t wait until June, which was the original plan.”

“Oh? You’ve moved it up?”

“Very much so. We’ve already done it.” And Kate really looked at the hand, with its sparkling diamond solitaire and slender circlet of diamonds that was the wedding ring. “Chet, my husband, is down in Virginia now, explaining things to his family.”

“Wonderful,” Kate said, since that was obviously what Marsha expected her to say. At the same time her heart plummeted. Ian was now no longer liable for alimony payments. He could put Raymond in a boarding school immediately if he wanted to.

“What, er, made you speed it up?”

“Several things. It seemed foolish to wait for a June wedding when it’s a second time around for both of us. Did Ian tell you who I was going to marry?”

“No, he didn’t.” Kate thought it best not to mention that Ian had referred to him as Mr. Right.

“Chet Burgess. Chester Burgess.” Marsha paused, and Kate realized she was supposed to recognize the name.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t ring a bell,” she said apologetically.

“Well, perhaps it wouldn’t,” Marsha conceded. “Chet is with State. The State Department. You’ve probably seen him on TV. He sometimes makes statements, you know, about the nation’s position on this or that or the other thing. He’s an undersecretary. Not that he needs to work. The Burgess family is old money. But all the Burgess men serve the nation in some way—army, navy, government, whatever. I’ll love living in Washington. I mean D.C., of course. Chet and I have bought this perfect little gem of a house in Georgetown. It cost the earth. It’s going to be a wonderful life. I’ve finally got things right.” Her lovely face was glowing.

“Good,” Kate said woodenly. “I’m happy for you, Marsha. I think I should mention that Ian took Raymond to see the pediatrician. I’d better prepare you. He looks pretty awful. He got in a fight at school yesterday. He’s all bruised.”

“A fight. Good heavens. Well, I guess boys will be boys. Ian has him in a public school, hasn’t he?”

“He has been, yes,” Kate said, deciding not to mention the homeschooling plan.

“Well, I can take him off Ian’s hands now that I’m married again. Chet…” She paused, as if deciding how to phrase her next sentence. “Chet is very family. I mean he—he wants a family.” Her tone implied that she didn’t quite understand this but was willing to accept it.

“What do you mean, ‘take him off Ian’s hands’?” Kate asked, knowing the answer before it came.

“Why, I can take him back to D.C. with me, of course. Chet’s prepared to adopt him. Legally. He’ll inherit from Chet. When I explained to Chet how difficult it had been for me to be without my son, he understood immediately.”

Kate felt her mouth go dry. “I thought,” she said carefully, “that Raymond was placed in Ian’s custody at the divorce. Because you…didn’t want his care.”

“Yes, he was. But that’s all changed now. I want him back. He’s my child. I…have to get him back.” Suddenly she sat up very straight and looked squarely at Kate.

“Woman to woman, Kate. Wasn’t your time being pregnant the awfulest, most dreary time in your whole life?”

“No,” Kate gasped. “I loved being pregnant. It was…wonderful.” She just managed to keep from saying, “I wish I were pregnant now. I want Joy to have a sister, as I have.”

Marsha stared at her, confusion in her lovely eyes. “I…don’t understand that,” she murmured at last. “Well,” she added briskly, “it’s academic now. My parents are elated, of course, at my marriage. My father—he’s a retired army colonel, you know—wants Raymond in a good military school. Chet agrees. Chet is so hipped on family.” A shadow of worry came and went in her violet eyes.

“Of course, I promised Chet we would have our own children—child, but later. Not now. We deserve a bit of time together…without…” Her voice dwindled off.

Kate held her peace with an effort. She wanted to scream at the other woman, reprimanding her for her selfishness. Chet wanted a family and Marsha was willing to provide him with a ready-made son—Raymond, who would be warehoused in some cold, austere military school, to be brought out on occasion for display. No longer able to stay seated, Kate got up.

“Marsha, please excuse me. I have a million things to do. Ian will be back soon. There are—there are magazines here on the coffee table.” She indicated the littered table and fled to the kitchen. She stood by the kitchen sink, her hands gripping the edge of it.

Oh, Ian, don’t let this happen.