Terry Essig - A Gleam In His Eye

Johanna put her bedside light on and climbed into the twin-size bed. Propping up the pillows against the wall behind her bed and settling back against them, she picked up the psychology book she’d been reading from her nightstand and found her place.

Twenty minutes later she snapped it shut, unable to concentrate. Her insides practically bubbled with impatience.

“A few more weeks,” she whispered to herself, and got out of bed. Johanna roamed the hall, checking under the doors for patches of light. Charlie and Chris were still up, naturally, and probably would be for a while. Charlie was almost eighteen, so his sleep patterns were his problem, and she was trying to lighten up on sixteen-year-old Chris as well. She wouldn’t say anything just yet.

The strip under Stephen and Will’s door was dark, but light shone out from under the girls’ door. Johanna opened it quietly and peeked in. Aubrey lay sprawled on her stomach, a green-stuffed rabbit clutched close, sound asleep. Grace sat up in bed, reading a laminated, numbered paperback.

“Whole class reading that one?” Johanna whispered as she nodded at the book in Grace’s hand.

“Yeah. Mr. Woodley says it’s a classic, but it really stinks. I mean, who’s gonna take the time to knit the names of people you want dead into your socks?”

“I thought it was a scarf.”

“Whatever.”

“I can’t say I ever cared much for Dickens, either. Twenty more minutes, max, then lights out, okay?”

“This is so boring I’ll probably be asleep long before then.”

Johanna shut the door.

What was the matter with her? Why was she so restless? Okay, she’d finally be out on her own, working a real job, using her hard-won education in a couple of weeks. It’s not as though it was happening tomorrow.

So what was the deal?

Johanna slipped down the steps and rechecked the doors and windows.

It was that guy. That uncle guy. He’d thrown her for a loop without so much as an “excuse me.” He’d been seriously cute. Seriously cute. Her initial response had been to avoid him. Twice before single fathers on the swim team had seen that she related well to kids and thought she’d be the perfect replacement mother figure for their own little darlings.

Been there, done that. She’d been raising her siblings while her mother worked long hours ever since her dad died. Though she wasn’t a mother herself, at twenty-five she’d already done the mother thing.

But had she known Uncle Hunter was only their uncle she might not have dived into the pool quite so quickly. All evening long while she’d swum, checked homework, diverted squabbles and tried to read, he’d been there, just out of reach in her thoughts.

He couldn’t have been that special. Probably it was because she’d never seen him before and he’d spent an awful lot of his time looking at her. She’d just been uneasy, that was all.

So maybe he’d be back again tomorrow.

He was.

Johanna watched him out of the corner of her eye as he settled himself on the hard metal bleacher bench. Two little boys, really little boys—like around four and maybe two years old—accompanied him this afternoon. Hunter handed them each a small bag, and the twosome immediately began dragging tiny cars and trucks out, vavooming them over the metal bench and flooring, up Hunter’s legs and across his wide chest. Hunter never even flinched.

Johanna was impressed.

She directed her eight-year-olds and unders in a stroke drill and observed while trying not to look as if she was observing.

He was just as good-looking as she remembered. Better. Yesterday her perspective had been clouded by the fact that Johanna had thought Robby and Karen belonged to him, which would have put him right off limits in her book. She’d done everything in her power to convince herself he wasn’t all that hot. His eyes were not bluer than blue flames, his chest was not wider than wide and the only reason he probably looked tall at first was because he was standing on the bleachers.

She’d mostly failed.

Johanna lined up her crew behind a starting block after they finished their drill. “Okay, we’re going to practice starts now. Marcus, you’re up first. Take your mark…hup! Let’s go, Rebecca. Take your mark…hup!”

Now that she knew the children were his only temporarily she felt far more comfortable with that funny feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when Hunter was in the immediate vicinity. She could even admire the ease he displayed around his niece and nephews, in a detached sort of way. Karen and Robby waved in his direction frequently. He was always paying attention and responded. The littlest one had crawled up on his shoulders for a better view of the pool. Hunter held his chubby little legs while small fry pulled his thick, dark hair, bounced up and down and crowed at his older siblings.

“Meet coming up in a few days, my friends. Let’s try some relay starts. Aubrey, come into the wall full tilt. Kimmie, get on the block and follow her in with your arms. When she touches, you take off like lightning, but make sure Aubrey’s actually touched before you leave the block. Okay, Aubrey, jump into the water halfway down the lane and head on in.”

Someday when Johanna was ready to settle down, provided that day ever came once she finally achieved her freedom, Johanna would look for a man like Karen and Robby’s uncle.

Someone rock steady.

Dependable.

And sexy as hell.

The sexy as hell part was good enough for now.

“Karen, walk over and ask your uncle if you and Robby can stay after for just a few minutes, will you, honey? Let’s see if we can get you two to do a flip turn. Okay, Robby, you want to try going off the block?”

“It’s too high.”

“Once you get used to it, it won’t seem so bad.”

“Why can’t I just go off the edge like before?”

“You can. It’s just easier to hold on to the edge of the starting block and you get a better start that way, go out farther right at the very beginning.”

“I’m scared.”

“Coach Jo, Uncle Hunter says okay, but it’s gotta be quick ’cuz the natives are getting restless and he’s all out of Cheerios.”

Johanna understood the cryptic message perfectly, having used the same cereal many times herself during church services, choir and band concerts and assorted other programs requiring attendance by the care providers of small children.

She acknowledged receipt of his acceptance with a wave to the stands.

Hunter waved back and Johanna’s heart flipped. Stupid, but no longer alarming. Without a care in the world, Johanna asked Robby, “How about if I hold your hand?”

Robby thought about it. Hard. “Okay,” he finally reluctantly decided. “But you’re not gonna let go or anything, are you?”

“Promise.” Johanna made a crisscross motion over her heart and extended her hand. “Ready?”

Robby took her hand with all the enthusiasm of a French nobleman ascending the steps to the guillotine. Slowly he climbed the two steps to the top of the block and stood there, well to the rear of the small platform.

“So,” Johanna said, “how’s the view?”

“Okay,” Robby allowed.

“Good. Come on down.”

“I don’t hafta dive in?” Robby questioned suspiciously, sure he was missing a trick somewhere.

“Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Then climb down. That’s enough for your first try.”

“Karen will think I’m a baby.”

“Who cares? She’s living in a glass house and I don’t think you’re a baby. I think you’re very brave for getting up there at all.”

The youngsters who’d been packing up paused in their tasks and one by one came to stand by the edge as they became aware of the drama being enacted.