Muriel Jensen - Four Reasons For Fatherhood

AARON LISTENED to both sides of the dispute when they got home. Paul was finally willing to admit that it might have been an accident, but was most grieved by the missing tooth. “I don’t have a tooth to put under my pillow! That’s a whole dollar I don’t get!”

“That isn’t true.” Susan was suddenly inspired. “Didn’t you know that you can use the tooth of a comb when you lose the real tooth?”

John, Paul and George looked at each other then at Aaron.

“Is that true?” John asked skeptically.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small black comb. “And I’ve got a comb right here. Pick out the tooth you like the best and we’ll put it under your pillow.”

Paul took the comb and frowned over it. “Do we have to wait for it to fall out?”

Aaron kept a straight face with difficulty. “No. I’ll snap it off for you.”

He indicated the one at the end, next to the rim. “That one. Then you can still use the comb.”

“Okay.” Aaron snapped off the tooth with the Leatherman tool in his pocket and handed it to Paul. “Got a handkerchief to put it in?”

“No.”

He dug into his pocket again and produced one with a silver monogram. “There you go.”

“All right!” George and John followed Paul upstairs to help with the ritual.

“That was a stroke of genius,” Aaron said to Susan, reaching down to lift Ringo, who’d walked around the table to him.

Susan flexed her stiff arms. “I’ve got a million of those gems tucked away for emergencies. So, you can take care of packing up and selling the house?”

“Sure.” He looked around the modest fifties-era tract home. It was from the togetherness period when rooms ran into one another without doors. The living room, dining room and kitchen were built around a brick fireplace. “You take anything you want. I’ll just close it up for a couple of months until I can come back, look through things and save some stuff for the kids and me. Then I’ll sell it.”

That sounded reasonable. She pointed to the two guitars hanging above the mantel. “Do you think I could have Becky’s guitar? When we were kids she used to con me into singing with her at family picnics, and I can remember swaying with her to the music of that guitar. I know, the kids should have it, but they’ll be with me, anyway.”

“Of course. Take it home with you when you go.” He glanced down at Ringo and smoothed his tiny cowlick. “This little guy’s a cuddler. He walks pretty well, but he certainly seems to prefer lap sitting.”

“I guess even babies get upset when things change, and being held is comforting.”

Aaron nodded. “True. I’ve had moments like that.”

“Yes. So have I.”

Aaron thought he caught a wistful hitch in her voice. He was just beginning to really understand what she was taking on here. “Are you seeing someone?” he asked wondering what this new responsibility might do to a relationship.

“No.” She got up and pushed in her chair. “I meet a lot of men in my line of work, but they’re confused by a woman who can use power tools and carry a four-by-four. And generally, men are uncomfortable with women who confuse them.” She made a rueful face. “At least, I think that’s why I have trouble with relationships. Or it could be I’m just funny-looking or hard to get along with.”

“Well, you’re not funny-looking,” he said.

“Thanks.” She laughed lightly and came around the table to relieve Aaron of Ringo. “I’ve got to get some of the boys’ things packed. I’ll take—”

Ringo began screeching and clutched Aaron’s ears.

Susan stepped back in surprise.

“Whoa! Ouch!” Aaron tried to pry the boy’s fingers off him, but Ringo only screamed louder. “Okay. Let’s change approach,” he shouted at Susan over the protesting screams. “Why don’t I help you pack and bring him along?”

She looked hurt. “I don’t understand. He’s always liked me.”

Aaron rolled his eyes in false modesty. “Oh, I have this irresistible charisma. Sometimes it’s a terrible burden. You’re powerless against it, so don’t try to fight it. If we were going to be in each other’s company long enough, soon you’d be holding on to my ears and screaming, too.”

Her hurt feelings fled as she laughed at that suggestive remark. “A carpenter and computer…” She’d been about to say “nerd,” but Aaron Bradley was as far from a nerd as any man she’d ever met. “Genius?” she finally finished. “I don’t think so.”

He looked surprised. “Why not?”

“We have nothing in common.” She led the way to the stairs and he followed.

“Having things in common is overrated. It pretty much rules out surprises.”

“But surprises can be bad, as well as good.”

“True. But you wouldn’t rule out the good ones to save yourself from the bad ones, would you?”

She thought about that at the top of the stairs while waiting for him. Ringo had wriggled to get down and Aaron was now helping him climb one laborious step at a time.

“If you’re so philosophical about relationships,” she asked, “why aren’t you in one?”

“Takes a lot of time and energy from business,” he said with a frankness she appreciated even as it horrified her. “And I haven’t found anyone who’d make me want to do that.”

“But…” She watched him supporting Ringo’s valiant struggles up the steps and found it paradoxical.

“Do you want your life to be just about business? I mean, I know you have an active social life, but if it’s all just superficial, is there any satisfaction in that? Any fulfillment?”

At the second step from the top he lifted Ringo by his hands and deposited him on the landing. Ringo giggled triumphantly.

“I get those from my work,” he insisted.

She looked up at him in disbelief. “But they’re not the same.

“Fulfillment from success tells you that you’re good at what you do. Personal fulfillment tells you that you have value whatever you do.”

“How do you know that?” he challenged with a grin. “You said you didn’t have a relationship.”

“I’ve observed others. Dave and Becky, for instance.”

He nodded a little grimly. “Yeah, well, Dave and Becky were pretty unique. And I’ll only believe you when you can tell me that from firsthand experience.”

“Susan!” A loud desperate scream came from the direction of John’s and Paul’s room.

Susan ran the short distance to find that someone had opened all the drawers in the highboy dresser, and it was tilting forward, threatening to fall onto the boys, who pushed hard against it.

She shot both hands out to help just as a toy dump truck on the top slid off and hit her in the head.

She struggled to maintain her balance while seeing stars.

“Got it.” Aaron pushed the top two drawers closed and held them while giving the dresser a solid shove that righted it again. John pushed the other drawers closed.

“Wow!” the boy said excitedly. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Hey!” Paul held up the truck. The scoop had snapped off. “Susan’s head broke your truck!”

“What did the truck do to you?” Aaron pulled her hand away from the top of her head and a trickle of blood fell onto her forehead and the skin in the V of her blouse.

“She’s bleedy!” George, reported the obvious.

All six of them crowded into the small bathroom while Aaron wet a washcloth and dabbed at the wound. “You have a cut about an inch long,” he said. “But it’s not very deep. I think all it needs is a little antiseptic.”

The boys crowded around Susan, who sat on the edge of the bathtub. She felt like a subject in an operating theater.