Apprentice Father

With an effort, Clay kept his expression neutral and tried for a measured tone. “What did he do when he got mad?”

“He yelled at Josh. And at Mommy.”

“Did he spank Josh?”

“No. But I think…I think he hit Mommy. He said it was her fault we had accidents. I spilled a glass of milk once, and Daddy yelled at Mommy. She had big bruises on her arm the next day.” Emily’s features contorted with misery. “We didn’t m-mean to hurt Mommy.” The last word caught on a sob. “We tried t-to be good.”

Clay felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. With an unsteady hand he brushed the hair back from his niece’s forehead. It was soft and fine and gossamer.

“It wasn’t your fault that your mommy got hurt, Emily. Or Josh’s. Your daddy shouldn’t have yelled at you about accidents, and he shouldn’t have hurt your mommy. That was a wrong thing to do.”

“I wish M-Mommy was here now.”

“So do I.” More than Emily would ever know, he reflected. “But she would want you to be brave. Will you try to do that?”

Emily gave a tearful nod and looked at Josh, who had fallen asleep again, cuddled up beside her. “Josh is kind of little to be brave, though.”

Clay swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Then we’ll have to help him.”

“Okay.” Emily snuggled next to Josh, and her eyelids drifted closed.

For several more minutes Clay sat there. Once their even breathing told him they were asleep he rose and headed toward the door, pausing on the threshold. The two youngsters were lost in the queen-sized bed, their bodies an almost indiscernible bump beneath the blanket. They seemed so tiny. So forlorn. So defenseless. And they were relying on him to see to all of their needs.

Their physical needs, Clay could handle. Food, clothing and shelter weren’t hard to provide.

But when it came to matters of the heart, he was in way over his head.

She was about to hear bad news.

Cate Shepard knew it the minute she walked in the back door of the Dugan home and found both Brenna and Steve waiting for her. In the two years she’d provided in-home child care for their son they’d become good friends, and she’d learned to read their moods.

“Good morning.” She closed the door and summoned up a smile, steeling herself. “Why do I think this isn’t my lucky day?”

Brenna sent a quick look to Steve, who cleared his throat and rose.

“It’s one of those good news, bad news scenarios, Cate. I’ve been offered a great position with a new company in Chicago. Starting in two weeks. The bad news is we’ll have to leave behind the best child care provider we’ll ever hope to find.”

She was out of a job.

Cate managed to keep her smile in place. This had happened before; it would happen again. She’d manage, as she always did.

“I’m happy for you, Steve. But I’ll miss all of you.”

“We feel the same way about you, Cate.” Brenna stood and came forward to give her a hug. “You know we’ll give you a stellar recommendation.”

“Thank you.” Cate gave her a squeeze, then stepped back. “Now tell me about the new opportunity.”

She listened as the young couple explained Steve’s new position, commiserated with Brenna about her angst over finding a new job, and took care of Timmy for the rest of the day when the couple went to work.

Only later, as she drove through the streets of Washington to her condo—with a quick detour for a fudgesicle at a convenience store—did she let herself think about the future.

She always hated her jobs to end. In ten years of providing on-site child care, she’d been lucky to go through this only three times. Now she had to start the process over again. And while she’d never had trouble connecting with a family in need of her services, she usually had far more notice than this to find a new position.

Pulling into the parking place near her condo, she picked up the fudgesicle. It was already softening in the unseasonable warmth of this early March Missouri day, she noted, walking to her front door as fast as her slightly uneven gait allowed.

Once inside, she headed for the kitchen and unwrapped the treat. Leaning over the sink while she ate, she savored the fleeting sweetness as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue. And recalled, as she always did, the day she’d indulged in one after receiving the letter that had offered her a bright and shining future.

But two weeks later, that future had melted away, as surely and irrevocably as her dissolving fudgesicle.

Rinsing her sticky hands under the sink, her gaze lingered on the fingers of her left hand as a melancholy pang echoed through her. Long, slender and graceful, they looked the same as they always had. They just didn’t work as well.

Yet dwelling on memories of a time when hopes were high and dreams came true was fruitless, she reminded herself. Her life was good now. She had a satisfying career. A loving family. A solid faith that had seen her through some rough stretches. If she didn’t have the one thing she most yearned for—a loving marriage blessed with children—she needed to accept that it wasn’t in God’s plan for her. And she was working on it.

But it wasn’t easy.

Securing the pillow under his head with a firm shove, Clay fought off consciousness—and reality—as long as possible. A week and a half into his new role as surrogate father, he was sinking fast.

The kids had been thrown out of day care on Friday because four-year-old bed wetters weren’t acceptable, so he had to come up with alternative arrangements by tomorrow. And he had a ton of work to do that he hadn’t gotten to last week, thanks to all the changes in his life.

It was not shaping up to a be a good Sunday.

And the sober faces peering at him when he finally pried open his eyes suggested it was only going to get worse. Emily and Josh were already dressed, he noted. In nice clothes.

“It’s Sunday.” The pronouncement came from Emily.

She said that like it was supposed to mean something. And Clay had the distinct impression that it did not include sleeping in.

“I know.” He hoped she wasn’t heading in the direction he suspected.

“Aren’t we going to church?”

His hope dissolved. “Maybe we could skip this week.”

Tears pooled in Emily’s eyes. “Mommy told us once that if she ever went away to be with God, we could talk to her in church on Sunday.”

Clay was sunk. He could hold his own with hard-as-nails, give-no-quarter types. But these two little kids, who together couldn’t weigh much more than sixty pounds, melted his heart. Meaning his Sundays were about to undergo a radical change.

Forty-five minutes later, as he approached the white church with the tall steeple that he passed on the way to work everyday, he hoped the lot would be empty. That way, he could rationalize that he’d tried to take the kids to church.

But no, it was full. And he could hear the muffled sound of organ music. According to the sign in front, the service had begun ten minutes ago.

He was stuck.

Accepting his fate, he helped the children out of the truck, took their hands and headed toward a church for the second time in less than a week. Although he tried to unobtrusively slip into a row near the back, Josh foiled his plan by tripping over the edge of the pew and sprawling in the aisle. Clay was sure every head in the place swiveled their direction as he swooped to pick up the little boy.

After climbing over three sets of feet and squeezing in between a woman with two teenagers and an older couple, all Clay wanted to do was slink out of the church and never come near the place again.

The kids, however, were oblivious to his embarrassment. Emily’s hands lay folded in her lap, and Josh was jiggling his feet, which stuck straight out over the end of the pew. Noting that one of the youngster’s shoes was untied, Clay leaned forward to remedy the situation—and discovered another problem he couldn’t fix. Josh’s socks didn’t match.

Risking a peek at the older woman beside him, he saw her inspecting Josh’s feet. A flush crawled up his neck. The fact that it had never occurred to him to check the kids’ clothes was yet more evidence of how ill-equipped he was for this job.

The woman lifted her head, and Clay braced for disapproval. Instead he saw understanding and compassion in her eyes.

“Kids are a handful, aren’t they?” The whispered comment was accompanied by a smile. “I had four. And I had that same problem on a few occasions.” She inclined her head toward Josh’s feet.

Relief coursed through him. The woman wasn’t judging him. She wasn’t trying to make him feel inadequate. She was being kind. He hadn’t expected that.

“I’m pretty new at this. I have a lot to learn.”

“Don’t we all,” she commiserated with a quiet chuckle before turning her attention back to the sanctuary, where the minister was moving toward the pulpit.

Clay’s tension eased. Most of the Christians he recalled from his childhood had been quick to criticize and censure. But this woman hadn’t done that. Nor had the members of Anne’s congregation. It was a new view of Christianity for Clay.

This minister was also worth listening to. Mid-forties, with flecks of silver in his light brown hair and subtle character lines in his face, he spoke in a down-to-earth style, and his words had practical implications. Though Clay hadn’t picked up a Bible in decades, the passage the pastor referenced near the end of his sermon was vaguely familiar. But he’d never looked at it in quite the way that the minister presented it.

“I’m sure most of you know the story about the fig tree that didn’t bear fruit,” he said. “The frustrated owner planned to cut it down, but the vine dresser entreated him to give the vine one more chance.

“How often in our lives have we, too, wanted one more chance? One more chance to say I love you. To prove our abilities. To do the right thing. One more chance to be the person God intended us to be. Sad to say, those feelings often surface at funerals and on death beds—when it’s too late to change things.”

The minister leaned forward and gripped the pulpit. “My dear friends, God doesn’t want us to have regrets. Like the vine dresser, He offers us countless opportunities to put things right. In fact, each day that He gives us is one more chance—to mend a relationship, to lend a helping hand, to welcome Him into our lives with open hearts and minds. Let us take comfort in knowing He is always there to guide us, to console us, to strengthen us. To give us one more chance.”

As the minister concluded his remarks, Clay looked over at the two children beside him. Was he the one who was supposed to give them the chance the minister had talked about?

It was a daunting thought.

Even more daunting was the thought that came next; maybe they had been brought into his life to give him one more chance, too.

Now that was a scary concept. It reeked too much of commitment. Of long-term responsibility. The very things he’d spent a lifetime trying to avoid. He’d seen how much damage people could inflict on those they claimed to love, and he’d decided long ago that love wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, the demands of his job weren’t conducive to having a family. Nor were they compatible with single parenthood. Surely no one would expect him to change his whole life for two little kids who weren’t even his own. Would they?

Maybe.

The answer came unbidden—and unwanted. Prompted, he supposed, by the lack of other options. For if he sent the kids to live with his father, they would never have the chance to lead a normal life.

Tension began to form behind Clay’s temples. He didn’t normally get headaches. But the last ten days hadn’t been anywhere close to normal. And the organist, who seemed intent on banging his or her way through the final hymn at the highest possible volume, wasn’t helping.

When the last note mercifully died away, Clay leaned down to guide the children out of the pew. As he did so, the older woman touched his arm.

“They’re darling children. So well behaved. Good luck with them.”

Clay acknowledged the woman’s encouraging words with a nod. But they didn’t begin to solve his child care problem.

As they inched toward the exit, the children’s hands tucked in his, it occurred to Clay that the woman might have some suggestions on child care. His step faltered and he turned to scan the crowd, but she’d already disappeared. Too bad. He could have used one more chance with her, he mused, recalling the minister’s sermon.

The minister.

Perhaps the preacher might know of someone who could help with the children, Clay speculated. Clergy often had a network of social service resources. Plus, a minister would only recommend someone trustworthy and above reproach. That meant Clay wouldn’t have to worry about checking references. It was worth trying, anyway.

Because he was out of options.

And he was running out of time.

Chapter Two

As he left the church, Clay spotted the pastor greeting members of the congregation. He stepped aside to wait until the man was free, watching as Emily dug in her pocket and withdrew a plastic bag of cereal.

“I brought these for Josh.” She gave him an uncertain look. “Mommy always put some cereal in her purse for him in case he got hungry at church.”

In the rush of getting them ready, he’d forgotten to feed them, Clay realized with a pang. “That was a good idea. I think we’re all hungry. After I talk to the minister, why don’t we go out to breakfast?”

“To a restaurant?” Emily’s face lit up.

“Yes.”

“Could we get pancakes?”

“Sure.”

“We’d like that. Wouldn’t we, Josh?”

The little boy looked up at Clay and gave a slow nod.

“It’s a date, then,” Clay promised.

The crowd around the minister began to disperse, and Clay ushered the children in his direction. As they approached, the man gave them a pleasant smile. “Good morning. I’m Bob Richards. Welcome.”

“Thank you. Clay Adams.” He grasped the man’s extended hand.

“I’m happy you could join us this morning.” The pastor transferred his attention to Emily and Josh. “Can I meet these two lovely children?”

“This is my niece and nephew, Emily and Josh.” Clay rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “They just lost their mother…my sister…so they’ve come to live with me.”

“I’m very sorry.” The man’s quiet words were laced with empathy.

Clay acknowledged the expression of sympathy with a nod. “I’d like to ask your advice, if I may. I’m trying to find someone who can come to my apartment and watch the children while I’m at work, just until things settle down and I can make more permanent arrangements. I’m a construction engineer.” He mentioned the manufacturing facility he’d been sent to build. “I’m new in town, and I thought you might be able to direct me to some resources.”

The man’s face grew thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, I know someone who’s between child care jobs.” He surveyed the people chatting in small groups. “Give me a minute.”

He strode across the lawn, and Clay watched in surprise as he stopped beside a slender woman with blond hair. Her back was to him, but when the minister spoke to her she angled toward him, giving Clay a clear view of her profile. He’d expected the pastor to recommend someone older, not a beautiful young woman. But at this point, he’d hire anyone the man endorsed.

The woman’s gaze skimmed his before she resumed her conversation with the minister. After a bit more discussion, they broke away from the group. Reverend Richards took her arm as they traversed the uneven ground, and Clay discovered the man’s gesture was prompted by more than simple courtesy. The woman not only limped, she used a cane. Was she between jobs as the result of an injury? And with such a pronounced limp, how would she be able to keep up with two active children?

Despite his concern about her abilities, Clay was struck again by the woman’s delicate beauty. From a distance, he’d guessed her to be in her early twenties. But as they drew close, he realized she was more likely in her thirties.

After performing the introductions, the minister excused himself. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the details. But if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to call.” He handed Clay a card. “And I hope to see you again soon at services.”

“Thank you.” Clay pocketed the card. “You’ve been very kind.”

“It’s in the job description. For all Christians—not just ministers.” With a wink and a wave, the pastor headed toward another small cluster of congregants.

Cate watched him leave, then turned her attention to Clay. “I understand you’re in need of child care on a temporary basis.”

“Yes.” He found himself admiring the way her soft hair framed the perfect oval of her face as well as her clear, emerald-green eyes. “My sister was…she recently passed away, and I’m caring for her children.”

“Did you try the child care centers in town?”

“That didn’t work out. I’d be happy to provide more details, but this may not be the best place.” He gave a subtle nod toward Emily and Josh, who were watching the exchange with trepidation.

To his relief, she picked up his cue. “All right. But I’d like to meet the children.” Bending down to their level, she braced herself on her cane and gave them a sunny smile. “Hi. I’m Cate. Can you tell me your names?”

Emily tightened her grip on Josh’s hand. “I’m Emily. This is Josh.”

“I’m very happy to meet you both.”

“Did you hurt your leg?” Emily inspected the cane.

“Emily!” At Clay’s sharp rebuke, the little girl flinched and shrank back.

Cate, however, took the question in stride. “I was sick a long time ago, and my leg never got all the way better. Neither did my hand.”

As she lifted her left hand, Clay saw that it had limited function, too.

Casting an uncertain glance at Clay, Emily edged closer to Cate and lowered her voice. “Do they hurt?”

“Not too much anymore. Most days I don’t need this.” She indicated the cane. “But I was working in my garden on Friday, and I got a little sore.”

“Mommy had a garden. With roses and ’tunias and ble-ble-gonias.”

“Those are some of my favorites, too.” She turned to Josh, her smile warm and open. “What’s your favorite flower?”

As Josh studied Cate, he withdrew his thumb from his mouth.

Clay signaled to her. “He doesn’t…”

“Daisies,” Josh interrupted.

Clay stared at him.

“I like those, too.” Cate’s smile deepened, and she took Josh’s hand in a gentle clasp.

“We’re having pancakes for breakfast. At a restaurant,” he told her. “Can you come?”

“Not today. But I’ll see you soon.”

With a slight wince, she straightened up. “When would you like to get together?”

She directed her question to Clay, but he was still focused on Josh. The boy had spoken! It was a breakthrough.

Raising his head, Clay regarded Cate. Her physical limitations were obvious. Yet the minister had said she was between child care jobs, so she must be able to handle kids. She was sure handling Emily and Josh like a pro. If she could get Josh to talk, perhaps she could also help erase the haunted look from their eyes. “Would this afternoon be okay?”

“I’m sorry. I always have supper with my family on Sunday afternoon.”

“I hate to impose.” Clay tried not to appear too desperate. “But I’m overseeing a major construction project and I’ve already missed too much work. I need to get an arrangement in place as soon as possible.”

For a terrifying instant Clay thought she was going to refuse. But to his relief, she relented.

“Okay. I can stop by before I go to supper.” She withdrew a slip of paper and a pen from her purse. “What’s your address and phone number?” She jotted it down as he dictated. “I’ll come by about one, Mr. Adams.”

“Make it Clay.”

“And I’m Cate.” She bent down to the children again. “I’ll see you both later today.”

“Promise?” Josh asked.

“Cross my heart.” Smiling, she tousled his hair and stood to address Clay. “See you later.”

“Thanks again.”

As he watched her walk away, he found himself admiring her lithe figure. But beyond her loveliness, he’d been struck by how her mere presence had dissipated some of the turmoil that had clenched his stomach into knots since that fateful phone call ten days ago. With Cate in charge of the kids, he had a feeling he’d no longer feel as if his life was spinning out of control.

Taking the children’s hands, he guided them back toward his truck. And made a reluctant admission.

Going to church today hadn’t been a waste of time after all.

Cate double-checked the directions she’d printed from Mapquest. Two more turns and she should be at the apartment complex Clay Adams called home.

She still wasn’t quite sure why she’d agreed to meet him today. She didn’t believe in working on Sunday. But those two little children, with their big, solemn eyes, had touched her heart. They both needed a hefty dose of TLC.

Nor had she been immune to the desperation in their uncle’s eyes.

But those weren’t the only reasons she’d waived her no-work-on-Sunday rule, she acknowledged, as she negotiated the final turn before the entrance to his apartment complex. She’d also been drawn to the man himself.

Why, she wasn’t sure. With his dark good looks, golden tan and slightly rough-around-the-edges demeanor, he was nothing like the boy-next-door type that usually appealed to her.

Perhaps his generosity had captured her fancy, she speculated as she pulled into a parking space close to Clay’s apartment. Though grieving himself, he’d assumed responsibility for his sister’s children. And his efforts to find quality care for them suggested he possessed a kind and caring heart. She admired him for that.

But that odd little flutter in her stomach when their gazes had met across the church grounds couldn’t be explained away by mere admiration, she admitted. It had been attraction, pure and simple. Clay Adams might not be her type, but he was handsome in a rugged, bad-boy sort of way that for some reason made her heart race. She wasn’t quite comfortable with the notion of working for someone to whom she was attracted. Yet for the sake of those two forlorn children, she could learn to control her reaction to him. She was sure of it.

After setting the brake, she inspected the apartment development. It was well-maintained and landscaped, but there was very little open green space, and no play area, she noted. At least there was a park not far away. If she accepted this job, Cate intended to take the children there often. Their wan appearance suggested they needed fresh air, along with a place to run and play and just be kids.

Opening her car door, Cate swung her legs to the ground and scooted to the edge of the seat. Although she hated to admit it, she’d overdone it in the garden a couple of days ago. Not only had she put extra strain on her leg, she’d pulled a muscle in her back.

Once on her feet, she reached for her cane. In a day or two, she should be able to put that nuisance back in the closet. For now, though, it was a godsend. Especially when she realized Clay’s apartment was on the second floor. She could handle steps, but it was slow going even on a good day.

As if on cue, a door on the landing opened. She looked up to find her potential employer watching her.

“I forgot to tell you about the steps,” he called down, his expression troubled.

She smiled. “No problem.”

He hovered at the top, his concern obvious. It was a common reaction, and Cate was used to it. Many people were uncomfortable around those with disabilities, at least in the beginning. And sometimes forever. She’d been that way herself once, in the days when she’d moved with grace and perfect coordination. She understood his unease. She also knew that the best way to deal with it was to address it head-on.