Muriel Jensen - Four Reasons For Fatherhood

“But I thought you were the boss,” John said. “Doesn’t that mean you can tell other people to do the work and they have to do it or they get fired?”

“A good boss does a lot of the work himself,” Aaron replied. “Or even when other people do it, he sticks around in case there’s a problem and to make sure everything’s getting done in the right way.”

“I know!” Paul shouted, waving both arms in the air. “We can all go with you!”

“But Susan has a job here,” Aaron persisted. Susan could tell he was finding their arguments exhausting.

John sighed. “It’s too bad we couldn’t move New Jersey closer to Seattle.”

Aaron patted his shoulder. “You can all come and visit me at Christmas,” he said. “How would that be?”

“How long till Christmas?” George asked.

“Nine months, give or take a few weeks.”

“That’s how long it takes to have baby,” Paul chimed in. Then added seriously, “Only you can’t do that ’cause you’re a guy.”

“Well, I’m pretty happy about that,” Aaron said with a grinning glance at Susan.

And then for some completely mysterious reason, Paul’s mention of a baby and Susan’s soft brown eyes watching him connected in his brain in a way that made him temporarily breathless, speechless, mindless.

A part of him was thinking that his mind was working like a teenager’s, snatching double entendres out of the air. Another was thinking speculatively, Hmm…

“Your uncle has to go home,” Susan said gently but firmly, “and we have to let him.”

“Why?” John asked simply. “I mean, if we want him to stay with us?”

She obviously didn’t know what to say and looked to him for help.

Aaron was just a little offended by her eagerness to get him out of their lives and let her flounder. It was perverse, he knew, since he kept telling himself he had to get away, but it was the principle of the thing.

“What kind of dog do you have?” Paul asked.

“A Siberian husky.” Aaron reached for his coffee cup and saw that it was empty.

Susan noticed and got up to get the carafe from the warmer.

“Those are the ones with the mask,” John said. “Jared Butler down the street has one.”

George’s eyes widened. “There’s a dog that wears a mask?”

John and Paul groaned while Aaron explained about the Husky’s markings.

Dinner and the conversation about Aaron going with them ended when Ringo, bored with being ignored, threw his plastic bowl from the high chair into the middle of the table. It overturned two glasses of milk and landed with a splat in the mashed potatoes on top of the remaining shepherd’s pie.

All hands were required to clean up.

Susan maintained a militarylike schedule to get the boys in and out of the shower, then scrubbed Ringo in the bathtub. Aaron helped her get everyone to bed.

Ringo and George were asleep before the covers were pulled over them.

“So…where are they exactly?” Paul asked. “My parents, I mean. I know they’re with God, but where is that?”

“In heaven,” John answered. “It’s in the sky.”

“Like…in a plane?”

“No. In the clouds.”

Paul, ever practical, propped up on an elbow, frowning. “But they’d fall out.”

John stared morosely at the ceiling. “They have wings.”

Aaron was tempted to correct the misconception, but wasn’t sure what could replace it. Who knew? And the thought that Dave and Becky had wings and lived in the clouds was somehow comforting.

“Nobody really knows where heaven is,” Susan said simply, quietly, “because nobody can come back to tell us, and if they see that we need anything, they tell God about it.”

“Like if we wanted to move New Jersey closer to Seattle?”

She sat on the edge of Paul’s bed and smoothed his hair. “Like if you wanted to have sweet dreams, and think about happy things like all the fun stuff we’re going to do together.”

John folded his arms pugnaciously atop the covers. “What if we asked them to come back?”

Susan tucked Paul in, then went to John’s bed. “That’s something they can’t do, John. But they’re with us in spirit.”

“That’s not good enough,” he said unequivocally. “I want them back.”

“I know,” she replied gently. “So do I. But you can’t have that.”

“Then I want Uncle Aaron to stay.”

She patted his arm. “We all have to get on with our lives, John. Your uncle has to get on with his, and we have to get on with ours.”

John turned onto his side. “Well, it sucks.”

She leaned down to kiss his cheek. When she stood to leave the room, she looked tired and grim.

Aaron felt even worse than that. He kissed Paul, then John. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now,” he said, “but pretty soon you won’t feel so bad and life will be fun again. I promise.”

The boys gave him the look children give adults when they know they’re being scammed.

“Yeah,” John replied. “Good night, Uncle Aaron.”

SUSAN SHOOK CEREAL into bowls, added milk, sliced bananas, and told herself bracingly that the day couldn’t be too awful. All they had to move was two rooms of furniture—the boys’ bedrooms. Paulette Norris, her producer and Chris Charbon, her neighbor, were coming to help her. How awful could that be?

She didn’t want to think about it. Keeping four little boys out of trouble while heavy furniture was being moved struck terror into her heart. She’d have to leave Paulette or Chris with the boys while she helped the other move. Or maybe their uncle would stay with them. She wasn’t sure just when he intended to return to Seattle. He’d missed the funeral and seen the boys. There was nothing else left for him to do here.

He’d folded the blanket he’d used last night on the sofa and stacked it neatly with the pillow in a corner. He’d apparently left already on some errand he hadn’t shared with her, because he didn’t seem to be in the house. His bag, though, was at the foot of the stairs where he’d left it.

“I don’t want to move,” John said as Susan spooned instant cocoa into a lineup of cups.

She smiled sympathetically at him over her shoulder. “I know you don’t. But most of my television show takes place in the room I’m fixing at my house and it would make things a lot easier for me if I didn’t have to travel across town. I think you’ll like it once you get there.”

“Do you have ponies?” Paul asked.

She shook her head. “No ponies.”

“Dogs?”

“Nope.”

Paul sighed dramatically. “I don’t want to go either.”

George looked woeful. “Are we gonna go today?”

She poured hot water into the cups and stirred. “Yes,” she said. “My friend is going to stay with you while I move all your stuff over, then we’re going to have a pizza party at my house, then you can fix things up in your room however you like.”

George’s lip began to quiver. “But I don’t want to go today. Can’t we go tomorrow?”

She took the handle of two cups in each hand and carried them to the table, wondering what she could do to lighten the mood. Only Ringo happily stuffed cereal into his mouth, unaware that his brothers’ world had crumbled—and that they weren’t too happy with the woman who was trying to reassemble the pieces.

“We have to go today,” she explained gently “because I have a show to do the day after tomorrow and I have a lot to get ready.”

John poked desultorily at his cereal. Paul picked up spoonfuls of milk, then tipped the spoon and dribbled it back into the bowl again.

George began to cry.

A firm rap sounded on the door, followed by Aaron’s arrival in the room. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt that seemed to change the color of his eyes. He was followed by two other men, one of them pushing a furniture dolly.