A Maverick and a Half
Autore
Marie Ferrarella
Letto da
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Capitoli
18
Chapter One
All he had come in for was a glass of water.
Ranching was hard, sweaty work, even in September. Granted, if he was so inclined, he could have easily spent his days just sitting on the porch, delegating work to a myriad of ranch hands and no one would have said anything, but that just wasnât his way.
As far back as he could remember, Anderson Dalton had loved working on the family ranch, loved being one with the land as well as the animals that were kept here. Ranch work wasnât a hardship for him, but he had to admit that there were times, when he got too caught up in what he was doing, that he did wind up working up a powerful thirst.
Walking into the kitchen and wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist, Anderson made his way to the sink.
But heâd made the mistake of absently glancing toward the wall. Specifically, the wall where the old, faded off-white landline was mounted.
That was when he saw it.
The red light blinking at him like the bloodshot eye of an aging dragon way past its prime but still a force to be reckoned with in its own right.
Anderson kept the landline with its answering machine in service because out on the range cell phone signals had a habit of playing hide-and-seek with him. Not to mention he had a tendency to lose his cell phone while riding and doing the thousand and one chores that a large ranch required. Because he was now a father, he had taken to keeping one close by despite all this.
When he saw the pulsing red light, Andersonâs first reaction was just to ignore it and walk out again. But a nagging voice in his head urged him to listen to the message.
You never know. It might be important.
Now that he had an eleven-year-old son to take care ofâalbeit temporarilyâeverything was different. He had to be more responsible, more cautious, more aware of things than heâd ever been before.
Fatherhood at best was a hard thing to get used to. Instant fatherhood to an eleven-year-old was a whole different ball game altogether. Heâd been discovering that firsthand since this July when Lexie James, the woman heâd had a casual one-night stand with twelve years ago, showed up on his doorstep asking him to take temporary custody of their son while she âworked some things out.â
Eager to finally get to know his son, Anderson had agreed without a secondâs hesitation. He hadnât realized that being a father demanded years of on-the-job training. It wasnât something that happened overnight. But he was trying his best.
Downing the glass of water heâd come in for in three quick gulps, Anderson crossed to the wall phone in a few long strides and hit the Play button.
âYou have one new message. First new message,â the machine metallically announced. The next moment, the machineâs robotic-sounding voice was replaced with a very melodic one.
âMr. Dalton, this is Ms. Laramie, Jakeâs teacher. We need to talk. Please call me back so we can make an appointment.â She proceeded to leave Rust Creek Falls Elementaryâs phone number before terminating her call.
Anderson stood there, staring at the answering machine.
âWe need to talk.â
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Anderson closed his eyes. Glimmers of dĂ©jĂ vu flashed through his mind, propelling him back to his own school days all over again. Heâd certainly been a bright enough kid, but his mind was always wandering, going in all different directions at once, most of which were not scholastic in nature. That didnât make him the best student in the classic sense of the word.
His mouth curved a little. Obviously the son whose existence heâd only discovered a year ago was a chip off the old block.
Heâd only gotten temporary custody of Jake this July and school had just been in session for a couple of weeks now. How much trouble could the boy be in? Anderson couldnât help wondering.
If it was something majorâlike accidentally blowing up the boysâ bathroom, he thought, remembering an incident out of his own pastâwouldnât Paige have alerted him? The fourth-grade class that his younger sister taught was located right across the hall from his sonâs fifth-grade classroom and he was fairly certain that if anything actually bad had happened, he would have known it by now. Paige would have called to tell him.
Fairly certain, but not completely certain.
Muttering a few very choice sentiments about thin-skinned teachers under his breath, Anderson tapped out the numbers that connected him to his sisterâs cell phone.
On the third ring he heard what he assumed was his sister taking his call. But before he could say a word, he heard, âHello, youâve reached Paige Traub. Between teaching a class of energized fourth graders and chasing after my two-year-old fireball, Iâm too busy to answer my phone. Please leave a message. If Iâm still breathing, Iâll call you back.â
Anderson frowned. He hated talking to an inanimate recordingâso he didnât.
Terminating the call, he could feel himself getting worked up. What right did this Ms. Laramie have to judge his son? Sheâd only been his teacher for two weeks. How could she find fault in the kid so fast? Besides, Jake was a good kid. He didnât mouth off, didnât act out. Hell, he hardly made any sound at all. Just his thumbs, hitting the keys on the controller of those damn video games he was so hooked on.
Considering that two and a half months ago, Jake was living in Chicago and now he was here, in Rust Creek Falls, Montana, the middle of nowhere by comparison, the kid had made a great adjustment. Just what did that woman want from his son?
Lily!
His brother Calebâs daughter Lily was in Jakeâs class, he remembered. The thought hit Anderson like a thunderbolt. Maybe she knew what was going on.
It took Anderson a minute to remember Calebâs numberâbut he might as well have spared himself the trouble. He had the same results when he called Caleb as heâd had with Paigeâs phone, except that this time, he didnât wait for the recorded message to go through its paces. He terminated the call before his brotherâs message was over.
Two strikes. Now what?
This Ms. Laramie had said to call to set up an appointment but if he found himself on the receiving end of yet another answering machine recording, he knew heâd probably yank his phone right off the wall. He didnât want to risk blowing up or losing his temper.
But he couldnât very well ignore the woman, either. After all, sheâd said she wanted to talk to him about Jake. Sheâd probably get bent out of joint if he didnât get in contact with her.
Besides, he knew he wasnât going to have any peace of mind until this thing with the thin-skinned lady teacher was resolved.
That left him only one option. School was almost over for the day, but the last class was still in session. Heâd signed Jake up for after school basketball, so that gave him a little extra time. He was going to go down to that school and have it out with that woman before this thing blew any more out of proportion.
With that, Anderson stormed out of the house, the memory of every teacher whoâd ever found fault with him all those years ago spurring him on.
* * *
If someone had told Marina Laramie five years ago that she would simultaneously be juggling a teaching career and single motherhoodâwhich entailed taking care of an infant in creative ways sheâd never dreamed possibleâshe would have said that it just couldnât happen. The very idea of doing both wasnât feasible.
Yet here she was, fifteen minutes after her fifth graders had filed rowdily out, homeward bound, and instead of contemplating a fun evening out the way she would have only a couple of short years ago, she was hovering over her desk, trying to change Sydneyâs rather pungent diaper as quickly as possible.
Marina sighed, shaking her head. This was not quite the carefree life sheâd once pictured for herselfâbut even so, she wouldnât have traded this life for anything in the world.
âLucky for you I like kids, muffin-face,â Marina said, addressing her very animated daughter, who apparently hadnât yet grasped the concept of lying still. The embodiment of perpetual motion, Sydney was all arms and legs and Marina had to be vigilant to keep the five-month-old from literally propelling herself right off the desk that had been temporarily transformed into a changing station. âEven stinky ones,â Marina teased as she succeeded in separating her daughterâs bottom from what was now a considerably used diaper.
Moving swiftly, she cleaned Sydney off and then slipped a fresh diaper under her. The old diaper had been tightly packed into itself like an unusual origami creation.
âAre you timing me?â she asked the baby. Reacting to the sound of her voice, her daughter seemed to cock her head and stare at her with her bright blue eyes. âIâm getting better at this. Yes, I am,â Marina informed her daughter with conviction. âAnd Iâd be better still if you could find it in that heart of yours not to wiggle all over the place quite so much.â
Finished, Marina quickly disposed of the old diaper and deposited it, plus several wipes sheâd used, into a plastic bag that she then knotted at the top, sealing away the last of the less than fragrant odor. The janitor hadnât been by yet and she definitely didnât want to gross the man out.
âNow then, letâs get you presentable again. A lady doesnât hang around in just her undiesânot unless she wants to get in a whole lot of trouble. Remember that, Sydney,â Marina emphasized. âOtherwise, someday you just might find yourself changing diapers in strange places, too.â
Having finished redressing her daughter, Marina popped Sydney into the car seat she had set up on her desk and tightened every available strap around her daughterâjust in case. She knew she was probably being overly cautious, but she didnât want to take a chance.
âWhen did I turn into this super cautious, neurotic woman?â Marina murmured under her breath. âI used to be so carefree.â
A lifetime ago, it seemed.
* * *
When heâd turned down the hallway, Anderson had found the door to his sonâs classroom open. Hearing the same voice heâd heard earlier on his answering machine, he walked in, loaded for bear. He assumed that this Ms. Laramie was talking to someone, but he didnât care. He wanted her to know that he was here and that he was ready to have it out with her about whatever it was that she found so lacking in his sonâand he wasnât about to go away until it was resolved.
He hadnât expected to find his sonâs teacher talking to a babyâor changing its diaper, either. Just how young were the kids in this school? he wondered.
The next beat, Anderson realized that the baby she was talking to had to be her baby. That in turn had him wondering just how lax things had gotten in school these days. Why would the principal allow a teacher to bring her baby in to school like it was some kind of a class project?
Didnât the woman have any money for a babysitter? Or was she checking her fifth graders out for babysitting possibilities?
In any case, all of this seemed like very unorthodox behavior to him. And this Ms. Laramie had the nerve to tell him that they had to talk about his son?
Anderson couldnât wait to give her a piece of his mind.
âThere,â Marina declared after testing the strength of the car seat straps. âThatâll hold you in place, Your Majesty.â
That was when she heard someone behind her clearing their throat. Startled, Marina jumped as her heart launched into double time.
She could have sworn that she and Sydney were alone. Apparently she was wrong, Marina thought as she swung around.
The next second, she blinked, not quite sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.
There was a six-foot-one dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger in her classroom. A stranger who looked far from happy.
Neither was she, caught like this, Marina thought, flustered as she quickly tossed the bagged diaper into the wastepaper basket. She didnât like being caught unprepared like this. She was still trying to get her bearings as a working mother and absolutely hated looking as if she was at loose ends.
âJust give me a moment,â she requested, struggling to measure out her words.
She was trying to sound as if she was in control of the situation even though she was very aware of the fact that she wasnât.
Not waiting for the stranger to respond, Marina quickly hurried over to the sink where her fifth graders washed their hands whenever they got too into recess and enjoying the great outdoors.
Still flustered, Marina turned the faucet handle too quickly. The next second, she found herself on the receiving end of a water spray that promptly soaked her, if not to the skin, enough to look as if sheâd been caught in an unexpected fall shower.
Even the floor beneath her feet was wet.
With a dismayed cry that sounded suspiciously like a yelp, Marina managed to turn off the water, but not before she was completely embarrassed.
She was fairly certain that the tall, dark and handsome cowboy who had just walked in, wrapped in scowling mystery, undoubtedly felt she was the veritable Queen of Klutzes.
âSorry,â she apologized, grabbing two paper towels and drying herself off as best she could. She found she needed two more just to do a passable job. Wadding up the paper towels, she tossed them into the same wastebasket that contained Sydneyâs diaper. âYou caught me off guard.â
âApparently.â
Had the word sounded any drier, it would have crackled and broken apart as it left the strangerâs rather full lips.
Marina walked back to her daughter, moving the car seat closer to her on the desk before she turned fully and addressed the stranger.
In her best âteacher voiceâ she said to the man in her classroom, âNow then, you didnât mention your name.â She spoke as pleasantly as she could, waiting for him to fill in the blank.
Anderson drew himself up to his full height, aware of just how intimidating that appeared to the casual observer.
âIâm Anderson Dalton,â he informed her in a no-nonsense voice. âYou left a message on my phone, saying you wanted to see me about Jake.â
The name instantly rang a bell. It wasnât that big a classroom, nor that big a town, so Marina didnât have to struggle to pair up the name to a student. But she was a little mystified as to why he felt the need to come in so quickly.
âWell, I didnât mean immediately,â she told him, sounding half apologetic if sheâd conveyed the wrong impression. âI wanted you to call me back so that we could set up an appointment for a time that was convenient to both of us.â
His wide shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. Okay, maybe heâd gone off half-cocked and misunderstood. But all that was water under the bridge in Andersonâs opinion.
âWell, Iâm here now,â he pointed out needlessly. âWe might as well get to itâunless you want to take some time to dry off some more or maybe change your clothes,â he suggested.
She didnât have a change of clothes here. It never occurred to her that she might wind up taking an unexpected bath.
âNo, Iâm fine.â
That was Andersonâs cue. He immediately launched into a defense on his sonâs behalf.
Taking a step closer to the teacher, he all but loomed over her as he began his rapid-fire monologue. âLook, Jakeâs a good kid, but youâve got to remember, heâs dealing with a lot right now. Itâs not easy for a kid his age to go from a big inner city to the sticks. Even so, I think heâs doing a pretty bang-up job of it, all things considered. A lot of other kids in his place might have acted out. You just have to cut him some slack, thatâs all,â he told her with feeling.
Marina opened her mouth but again, she didnât get a chance to utter a single word. Jakeâs father just kept on talking.
âIf anythingâs wrong, then itâs my fault. Jake and I hardly had time to exchange two words since I found out about him and bang, suddenly Iâm the one in charge of him, making all these big decisions. And hellâheck,â he censored himself, casting a side glance toward her infant daughter, âI donât know what Iâm doing most of the time. This parenting thing is really tough.â
Well, thatâs putting it mildly, Marina couldnât help thinking. But being a private person, she kept that sentiment to herself. While she was generally friendly and outgoing, there were parts of her life that she considered to be private. Her unexpected entry into motherhood was one of them.
Anderson didnât notice the silence. He kept his monologue going.
âDonât punish the kid because of my mistakes,â he implored, growing more emotional. âWhatever Jake did that got you angry, he didnât know any better. Let me talk to himââ
This could go on for hours, Marina realized, dismayed.
âMr. Dalton, stop!â she cried, raising her voice so that he would finally cease talking and take a breath. âI donât know what gave you the impression that Jakeâs done something wrong, but he hasnât. Youâve really got a great kid there, Mr. Dalton.â
Anderson stopped dead and stared at her, clearly bewildered. âI donât understand,â he finally said. âYou said we had to talk.â
âAnd we do,â Marina agreed. One hand on the car seat, she glanced at her daughter. Despite the manâs verbose monologue, Sydney appeared to be dozing. Thank heavens for small favors, Marina thought. âBut not because heâs done something bad.â
The temporary relief Anderson felt quickly gave way to annoyance. âIf he hasnât done anything wrong, then why am I here?â he wanted to know. âIâve got a ranch to run.â
She saw that if she wanted to make any headway with Anderson Dalton, she was going to have to speak up and speak with conviction. Otherwise, the man gave every impression that he would steamroll right over her and keep on going.
âI asked to see you because I am a little concerned about Jake,â she told him.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney beginning to stir.
Please go on sleeping, pumpkin.
âConcerned?â Anderson echoed. Was she doing a one-eighty on what sheâd said a minute ago? Just what was this Ms. Laramieâs game? Didnât the woman know how to speak plainly? âWhatâs there to be concerned about?â
The man was beginning to irritate her. Marina started to wonder if this so-called meeting was ultimately an exercise in futility. But as heâd already said, he was here and since he was, she might as well press on and hope she could get through what appeared to be that thick head of his.
Sounding as friendly as possible, Marina asked, âHave you noticed how quiet Jake is?â
Andersonâs eyebrows drew together in what amounted to a perplexed scowl. âWell, yeah, sure. I noticed. Why?â
Obviously the man needed to have a picture drawn for him. She did what she could to make that happen. âIâm worried that your son might be holding back something thatâs really bothering him.â
Anderson shrugged again. Just like a woman, he thought. Seeing problems where there werenât any. Couldnât she just appreciate the fact that Jake wasnât some loudmouth class comedian?
âJakeâs been quiet for as long as Iâve known him.â Which was technically the truth. It was also a roundabout way of avoiding stating outright that the length of time heâd been acquainted with his son could only be deemed long in the eyes of a fruit fly. âLike I said, itâs been a major adjustment for himâfor any kid,â he stressed, âto move from the city to the country. Did you ever think that maybe Jakeâs so quiet because he hasnât had any time to get to know all that many people here yet?â
Sydney began to fuss in earnest and Marina automatically rocked the car seat to and fro, mentally crossing her fingers as she tried to lull her daughter back to sleep. She would much rather have turned her full attention to Sydney instead of talking to a thickheaded rancher who didnât seem to know the first thing about the son living under his roof, but that wasnât her call. She was Jakeâs teacher and she owed it to the boy to help him if he did indeed need any help.
She tried again, tiptoeing diplomatically into the heart of the subject. âMr. Dalton, I apologize if I sound as if Iâm getting too personal here.â She saw him raise an eyebrow as if he was bracing himself. âBut do you and Jake ever really...talk?â she asked, emphasizing the last word.
âSure we talk,â Anderson retorted quickly, even as he thought that this wasnât any of this teacherâs business. âWe talk all the time.â
Marina was highly skeptical about his reply, even though she had a feeling that as far as this man was concerned, he and his son actually did communicate.
She paused for a moment, taking a breath. She knew that she needed to tread lightly here. She didnât really know the man, not like she knew the parents of a great many of her other students, and she got the feeling that he wasnât happy about the question she was putting to him. Even so, this needed to be asked and she wasnât one who backed away, not when there was a childâs well-being at stake.
âNo, Mr. Dalton, I mean talk about things that really matter,â she stressed.
Judging by the expression on his face, Marina felt she had her answer before the man opened his mouth to say a single word. But she waited for him to say something in his own defense anyway.
âMaybe not so much,â Anderson finally conceded rather grudgingly. He didnât like having his shortcomings placed on display like this. âBut I donât want Jake to feel as if Iâm pressuring him about anything,â he added quicklyâand truthfully. He remembered what it was like, being hauled out on the proverbial carpet by one or both of his parents and taken to task for something heâd doneâor hadnât done when he should have. He didnât want to make that sort of a mistake with Jake. He wanted Jake to feel like his own person.
He watched as Jakeâs teacher pressed her lips together and murmured, âI see.â
With his back up, he felt his shoulders stiffen. What a condescending woman, he thought. How the hell could she possibly âseeâ when she knew nothing about him, about Jake or about the dynamics of their still freshly minted relationship?
âNo,â Anderson informed her angrily, struggling to hold on to his temper, âyou donât.â
The man clearly had a chip on his shoulder now, Marina thought. He hadnât behaved as if he had one when heâd first walked in. Was she somehow responsible for the change in attitude?
âAll right,â she conceded, giving him the benefit of the doubt. âThen why donât you tell me?â
That was not the response heâd expected. Caught off guard and unprepared, Anderson started talking before he had a chance to fully weigh his words.
âFor the first ten years of Jakeâs life, I didnât even have a clue that the kid existedâso I wasnât able to be part of that life,â he added, which was, to him, the whole point of his frustration. He should have been there for the boy. To guide him, to support him and to get to know him. âNow that Iâve gotten temporary custody, I think that Jakeâs confused and conflictedânot that I blame him,â he added quickly. âHis whole world has changed and heâs discovered that everything that he thought he knew, he really didnât.â
He blew out a breath and for a moment, Marina had the impression that he wasnât really talking to her anymore, but to himselfâand perhaps to the boy who wasnât there.
âI really regret all those years that I lost because a kid really needs his father.â
Marina felt as if sheâd taken a direct blow to her abdomen. For just a second, she remembered the disinterested look on Garyâs face when he told her that if she wanted to have this baby, she was on her ownâas if heâd had no part in it.
The sentiment that Mr. Dalton had just expressed hit far too close to home for her to simply ignore or silently accept.
She did her best not to sound too defensive as she responded to his assessment. âSometimes, Mr. Dalton, that just isnât possible.â
