Irene Hannon - The Family Man

“Dad got it for me.” He directed an adoring look up Bryan. “He said we’d be doing important stuff in kindergarten, and that he wanted me to bring it home in this to show him.”

When she ventured a glance upward, the tender, loving look on Bryan’s face as he watched his son made Amy’s breath catch in her throat, and she blinked away the sting of unexpected tears. His expression reminded her of the way he had once looked at her, with profound love and absolute devotion. If Dylan idolized his father, it was clear that the feeling was mutual. The love between father and son was so strong, so potent, that Amy felt awed in its presence.

Bryan shifted his attention to her, and for a second he seemed thrown by whatever he saw on her face. But when Ethan came up beside them, the mood shifted.

“Sorry. I got hung up behind a stalled car. Hi, Amy.”

She took her time rising, buying herself a few seconds to regain her composure. “How did things go at the house?” She’d begged off joining Ethan at Bryan’s father’s house, unwilling to get that up close and personal.

“Great. It shouldn’t take us long to wrap up here.”

They got down to business, and in short order Ethan had taken a series of photos of Bryan and Dylan arriving, walking into the school, saying goodbye. Amy offered a few suggestions, but Ethan, as usual, needed little direction. It was Amy, however, who noticed the opportunity for the most poignant photo of all.

“Ethan, take one more. Use the telephoto, and get the school in the background,” she said in a low voice, motioning toward Bryan as the photographer began to store his equipment in his SUV. During the entire photo shoot, Bryan had been upbeat with Dylan, kidding him, laughing with him, encouraging him. Now the mood had changed. He’d opened the driver-side door of his car, propped one elbow on the roof and rested his chin on his wrist. His other hand was in his pocket, and he was staring toward the school with a pensive, melancholy expression that tugged at Amy’s heart.

Without commenting, Ethan switched lenses and clicked off a series of shots, unobtrusively changing angles and positions each time. When he finished, he rejoined her. “That may be the best stuff we did. The expression on his face is priceless.”

Directing her attention back toward Bryan, Amy could only agree. It was clear that this parting from Dylan was hard on him, no matter what he’d said after the staff meeting. It was just as clear that he was doing a stellar job as a single dad. Although Amy didn’t know the details of his wife’s death, Dylan seemed to be coping fine without a mom, thanks to Bryan. But that didn’t surprise her. Bryan had always been the type to rise to the occasion, quietly stepping in to do what needed to be done.

A memory from high school surfaced, one she hadn’t thought of in years. There’d been a fire in the computer lab, and Amy—as yearbook editor—had been most affected. Her final files had sustained serious damage. They’d represented weeks of work, and she’d been panicked, distraught and frenzied. Until Bryan had stepped forward to help.

Prior to that, Amy hadn’t said more than a dozen words to the quiet, soft-spoken senior who had been destined to steal her heart—and who, he later confessed, had been carrying a torch for her since their sophomore year. Their paths had crossed a few times during the first half of their senior year, since he was the editor of the school newspaper, but only when he came to her rescue did she really notice him. He’d spent every evening for the next week—surviving on high-caffeine soda—helping her to salvage what she could, even as he tried to keep up with the demands of his classes and his duties as newspaper editor. As she’d discovered, he was the kind of guy you could count on. Dylan was lucky to have him for a father. And the woman he’d married had been lucky to have him as a husband, Amy acknowledged.

“How about we stop at the Bakeshoppe? I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, and I don’t think Bryan did, either. He fixed oatmeal and scrambled eggs for Dylan, but he didn’t eat anything himself.”

Ethan’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Amy turned back to him. It would be safer if she sent the two men for a meal and headed back to her office. And far more conducive to her peace of mind. She was just about to suggest that when Bryan looked her way. His bleak expression and the grooves at the corners of his mouth told her just how hard the parting had been for him. Sensing his aloneness, she wanted to do her part to help him over this hurdle.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll meet you guys there.”

As Amy walked back to her car, she wondered if she was making a mistake. Bryan had only been at the magazine for a few days, and their contact had been limited, but already her long-buried feelings were bubbling up, like boiling water from a covered pot. Still, given the look on his face just now, spending a little time with him seemed like the compassionate thing to do.

But she wasn’t sure it was the smart thing.

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