Virginia Myers - The Dad Next Door

He sighed. “I wish I hadn’t pushed so hard for this promotion that keeps me on the road so much. But it’s part of the game. And it’ll be a while before I move past it. Thank heaven you stepped in to take over Raymond’s care. You just looked at your watch. Am I keeping you from something?”

“I was just checking to see how much time I have until I start dinner. And I’ve got almost an hour yet.”

“Time to look over that homeschooling stuff again?’ he asked hopefully.

“Yes. I was just thinking that.” And a few minutes later they were seated at the dining-room table with the contents of Pastor Ledbetter’s battered briefcase spread before them.

“I talked a bit with Dr. Madison about this,” Ian said, “and she thought anything that takes the pressure off Ray would be good. You and he get along so well. He does things for you that he’d dig his heels in about with anyone else. This may be the answer, at least for the time being.”

They studied the material together, finding little nuggets of agreement and encouragement.

“Your pastor is right about the less rigid system. You and the kids don’t want to burn out trying to imitate a school,” Ian said.

“And look,” Kate said. “Look at the educational stuff available at Seattle Center and the Pacific Science Center. I’ll call tomorrow and get on their mailing lists.”

They were interrupted by the phone ringing. It was Kate’s mother, Beth, who ran a successful bed-andbreakfast about ten blocks away.

“Kate, dear,” she said, “can’t you get through with the muffins?”

“Oh, good grief, Mom. I got involved with… something here and clean forgot. Don’t tell me you actually have more guests. How did they get through from Sea-Tac or wherever?”

Beth laughed. “They didn’t. These are the ones who can’t get out. So they are staying on until meltdown. I’m temporarily a boardinghouse, serving three meals a day. It’s only humane, since they’re stuck here playing Scrabble and doing your dad’s old jigsaw puzzles.”

At the mention of her late father Kate felt again the sense of loss. How she would have loved to talk things over with Dad. She could certainly use his gentle common-sense wisdom now.

“Just a minute, Mom,” she said, turning to Ian. “Ian, I make those miniature muffins twice a week for Mom’s guest house. You know the ones I mean. I was supposed to be making them today. I can whip up a few batches now. When they’re done could you take me over in your van? It got through fine this morning.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Mom, do you need anything else besides muffins? You know I have a lot of canned summer fruit and frozen vegetables from my garden. Maybe you’d better give me a list.”

“I was going to ask you. Yes, I’m short a lot of things, since I only usually do breakfasts.” She gave Kate a list of things to bring.

The children were elated at the late muffin-baking time and pitched in to help. One of the specialities of Beth’s bed-and-breakfast was the wide variety of the two-bite-size muffins. Kate had been supplying them and other baked goods since the business had opened. She was the best cook in the family and it added to her small income.

Now Tommy and Joy set the table and Raymond prepared the dinner vegetables and, between muffin batches, Kate made hash from leftover roast beef. Ian watched them.

“I didn’t know you were so good in the kitchen, Ray,” he said, and Raymond laughed.

“I help a lot I know how to do a lot of things, Dad. I’m not a washout in everything.”

“Oh, I believe it, buddy. You’ve got success genes you haven’t even used yet.”

The dinner was rather fun, with a lot of joking and laughing because the timer kept ringing and Kate would have to jump up and take a batch out of the oven or put one in.

It was almost nine o’clock before the muffins were all baked and the children put to bed. Raymond usually slept at home when Ian wasn’t away. But tonight, because of the snow, he stayed. Raymond often found excuses not to stay in the big house next door. Ian helped with bedtime, and Kate was filled with a warm glow. It’s almost like family, she reflected. This crisis, unpleasant as it had been, had been a kind of breakthrough. I know now, she thought. I know. And she hugged the knowledge secretly to her heart.

Her private joy lasted until Marsha came softly into the kitchen in her lovely peach-colored robe, her dark hair tousled from sleep. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Oh, dear, did our noise wake you?” Kate asked.

“It didn’t matter,” Marsha said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I think I got hungry after all. What is that heavenly smell?”

“Muffins. I make them for my mother’s bed-and-breakfast. They are so small her guests get a kick out of having several different kinds. Would you like some? I’ve got banana, orange and nut, cinnamon and blueberry tonight.”

“Yes, could I have some? I think the blueberry. No, maybe the cinnamon.” Marsha settled back in the kitchen chair, looking around Kate’s old-fashioned kitchen. “Where’s Ian?”

“He’s probably in the boys’ room with Raymond. They don’t get enough time together, with Ian traveling so much.” As soon as she said it she was sorry. Bite your tongue, Kate. “Here you are,” she added brightly, handing Marsha a small plate of four tiny buttered muffins. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

At that moment Ian came back into the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Marsha. Couldn’t you sleep through our racket?”

“I did sleep a while, and I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish these. They’re delicious. Did you have some?”

“Yes. I’ve had them before. Kate’s a generous cook.”

Marsha said she would stay up until they came back from delivering the muffins.

“Kate, you’re sure you don’t mind Marsha staying over? It’s an imposition, I know,” he asked in the van.

“Not really. In an emergency anything goes, and this snow is an emergency.”

He laughed, but sounded tired. “I still have a pile of dictating at home, but I think I’ll put it off until tomorrow. There’s nothing much doing at the office anyhow—most of the staff couldn’t get there today.” When they came back, he asked, “If it’s okay I’ll just drop you off at the door and not come in.”

She went in the back way to shake off the accumulated snow from her coat on the service porch. The house was silent, so at least the kids were still in bed.

When she went through the dining room, Marsha was standing at the dining-room table, leafing through all the homeschooling material. She looked up, her violet eyes filled with alarm, anger, resentment. “What in the world is all this?” she demanded. “What are you two planning to do?”

Oh, no, Marsha. Why can’t you just go away?

Kate was so tired when she came in that she wanted nothing so much as to crawl into her bed, which she couldn’t do because Marsha would be sleeping in it.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she heard herself saying calmly, going over to the dining-room table. “Raymond is going to be privately tutored for a while. Ian is taking him out of the school he’s in.”

“For how long? When is Ian going to face facts that he’s a single parent— and I’m not? ”

The words sent a chill through Kate. Should she call Ian? No, he had left exhausted, as well. Marsha was right. Ian was a single parent, away most of the time, and Marsha was married with, as she had said, this perfect little gem of a house in Georgetown. How would that look in court? Before a judge who knew nothing of the background?