Virginia Myers - The Dad Next Door

“Well, you can’t compare public and private schools—that’s apples and oranges. But statistically, homeschooled children can always outperform public school children.”

“Always?”

“According to everything I’ve seen so far.”

“That’s certainly food for thought,” Ian said. “Raymond is, I regret to say, just a so-so student—”

“Raymond’s been under a lot of stress,” Kate interposed quickly. “He wouldn’t be if…” She faltered. Was she really capable of taking on the teaching? Again, she wondered about it. She felt color rise into her face.

“Look at this new series,” the pastor was saying with enthusiasm, pulling out a brochure and unfolding it. “This looks like an awfully good approach to the teaching of chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Kate asked faintly.

“Kate, don’t worry about it,” the pastor said. “Your home is full of chemistry experiments. This looks very practical. And remember, it’s designed for home teaching.”

“Let’s have a look,” Ian said, reaching for the brochure. “You know, Kate,” he added, “I could help out when I’m home. I remember I was fascinated by chemistry, got pretty good at it, and I didn’t blow up anything. And they offer this whole kit of stuff. See?” He handed the brochure to her.

Kate looked at it without really seeing it. Was he coming round? Was he accepting this? And could she do it if he agreed?

“And look at this,” the pastor said. “This comes with a complete set of videos. It would be like having your own private lecturer come into your home. All interactive with the students. And do you have a computer? They have a lot of things geared to the home computer.”

“I don’t—I don’t have a computer,” Kate said.

“I could get you a computer,” Ian said. “That’s no problem.”

“Me learning to use it might be a problem,” Kate responded without thinking, and Ian laughed.

“I’ll bet the kids could pick it up quickly,” he said.

The pastor plunged ahead, explaining, illustrating, advising.

“I think I’m sort of convinced,” Ian said after a while. “At least as a stopgap, for the time being. My boy’s grandparents want me to place him in a good military school, but my gut feeling is that my kid is not a military type. He’d hate it, but I do think just a good boarding school might be the solution for him.”

Kate’s heart, which had lifted, sank.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” the pastor asked kindly. “Be guided by his test scores at the end of the school year.”

“That would be the acid test,” Ian agreed.

“That and the fact that Raymond might thrive on it,” Kate heard herself saying somewhat testily. Boarding school, indeed. He had mentioned last night that Marsha had been “warehoused” in boarding schools, yet somehow he saw it as a good solution for Raymond.

The church secretary popped her head in the door.

“Mr. Barnes is here about the room dividers.”

“Oh, dear,” the pastor said. “Well, think about it. Take all these things with you and go over them. Take your time. Here, I think I have some sort of case.” He got up and rummaged in a closet, bringing out a battered old leather briefcase. “Put them in this.”

Kate and Ian helped arrange all the items in the case.

“Call me if you have any questions,” the pastor said optimistically as they left.

Going home, Ian didn’t say much. Driving was difficult. Snow had started coming down heavily again, and the windshield wipers couldn’t handle it. Kate hoped the children had gone inside. Twice they had to detour because the street was barricaded due to an accident, although traffic was very sparse. They encountered three city buses, stalled because they couldn’t make it up the hills. And once Ian had to slam on his brakes because two children on a sled careened down a hill into the middle of the street. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they drove into Ian’s driveway.

“I may not go in to work today,” Ian said as they were making their way through the snow to Kate’s porch. “I can dictate my reports from home. You didn’t have time to get Raymond to the doctor yesterday, did you?”

“No. He seemed all right. Not all right, really, but you know what I mean.” Ian had taken her arm to help her. It was a warm, comforting feeling. She had been so alone, so long. The snow was swirling around them.

“Yes, but I saw him undressed,” Ian said. “I’m glad you asked me to look at his body. He’s one big bruise.” Ian’s voice was briefly unsteady.

“He was still limping this morning,” Kate said as they got near her front porch. “Come in and we can call the pediatrician. See if they can fit Raymond in. Did you have breakfast?”

“No, and I’m starved.”

“The kids probably are, too. They couldn’t wait to get outside this morning. Look at that!” They both stopped to look at the snowman. He was about four feet tall, a series of large snowballs. His round face was topped with Ian’s now somewhat damp and limp felt hat. Kate saw that he also wore her fancy sunglasses that she had bought at a sale and had never yet used.

“Dad, don’t you have an old pipe?” Raymond shouted. “Don’t snowmen always have a pipe?”

“Maybe this guy’s a nonsmoker,” Ian said, smiling at his son’s enthusiasm. “We can get him a pipe later, if you want to.” Raymond’s face looked terrible today. “Kate said something about food. Is anybody besides me hungry?”

This brought on an interval of happy holiday-type confusion, which included Kate coping with wet snowsuits and sweaters, Ian calling the pediatrician and everybody ending up in the kitchen, either helping or getting in the way. With a lot of laughter and noise their new master plan was decided. They would have a large brunch now, a later skimpy snack and a regular dinner with the two mandated veggies.

This is what the good life is like, Kate thought, piling the just-right scrambled eggs onto the platter beside the bacon strips. Ian had washed the large bunch of grapes she had bought for school lunches, breaking them into small individual bunches and piling them onto another plate. Raymond was pouring orange juice into glasses, and Tommy and Joy were working on buttered toast, and a crooked pile of it was now ready.

If only…if only…Kate thought as they all sat down around the table to devour the spread. When the fun-filled meal was finished and the children were on the service porch struggling into their still-damp snowsuits, Kate and Ian lingered at the table. Ian picked up a leftover curl of bacon and put it down again.

“I can’t eat that. I’m stuffed,” he said, smiling a bit wistfully. “Kids…Raymond’s having a ball, isn’t he? He…seems to have forgotten yesterday.”

“Children are so resilient,” Kate said. Ian really had beautiful eyes, especially when he was looking thoughtful.

“You’re sure doing a great job as surrogate mother, Kate. Raymond’s lucky to be with you when I’m away.”

“Did…the pediatrician have any time for him today?”

“Yes, she did. I didn’t want to mention it in front of the kids. Raymond won’t want to go. The nurse said they have nothing but time today. Several people have canceled because of the snow.”

“When is your appointment?”

“Three o’clock.” He glanced at his watch. “Let me help you clear up this mess.”

“No. I can do it,” Kate said. “I suggest you go out and help with what’s-his-name, the snowperson. It might be a good idea to kind of prepare Raymond for the idea of going to the doctor.”

Ian laughed. “I expect a battle. But okay. Thanks for the reprieve.”

As Kate cleaned up the kitchen she could hear shouts and laughter from the front yard. As three o’clock approached there was, as Ian had predicted, a brief battle, which Ian won. He took her children with them, as they had never ridden in the sport van and wanted to. The company also provided a much-needed distraction for Raymond.