Darlene Gardner - A Time To Forgive

“When they showed up on your doorstep,” Abby finished.

He nodded mutely.

“But why leave Jaye with you? Why not leave her with your mother?” Something occurred to her. “Your mother is alive, isn’t she?”

“Very much alive,” Connor assured her, “but she and Diana, they clash. I guess Diana thought I was the best choice.”

The next time Abby was alone with Jaye, she’d take her to task for the outrageous lies she’d told about her uncle and mother. But tattling on the girl now would be like heaping kindling onto a fire. Jaye was already in enough trouble with Connor for her behavior on the bus.

Abby bit down on her lower lip. She’d been so off the mark that she was tempted to find the nearest desk so she could crawl under it. But that wasn’t the way she lived her life. She owned up to her mistakes.

“I owe you an apology,” she said and gulped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. “I know of a way you can make it up to me.”

She felt her heart slamming against her chest wall. He couldn’t possibly mean to renew his dinner invitation, could he? Not after she’d unfairly accused him of neglecting a daughter he didn’t even have?

“You can give Jaye private lessons,” he said. “You are one of the teachers on the list, right?”

Disappointment shot through her that he hadn’t asked her out again, followed by annoyance at herself. High-powered stockbrokers who worked long hours weren’t her type, even if they did take responsibility for their nieces.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m on the list.”

“Great,” he said. “How does Saturday morning sound?”

“Just in case my neighbors want to sleep in on weekends, I don’t teach on Saturday mornings. I don’t take students late on weeknights, either. I live in a duplex converted into apartments. I’ve managed to schedule all my students Monday through Thursday before six o’clock.”

He grimaced. “I couldn’t get Jaye to you until six at the earliest.”

She did some quick mental calculations. Most of her neighbors didn’t arrive home from work until after seven. In the two years she’d taught private lessons and practiced her own music, they’d yet to complain that they could hear her through their shared walls. “I can work with that.”

“Then we have a deal. When you send home that list, write down whatever night fits into your schedule.”

“Okay,” she said.

He nodded in agreement. It appeared as though he might say something else, but then he turned and walked away. She stared after him, rationalizing away the lingering disappointment.

She’d treated him unfairly so it was only logical for her to make amends. She’d done that by agreeing to adjust her teaching schedule in order to give Jaye private lessons.

Wishing he’d given her a second chance to accept a dinner date that would probably have turned out badly did absolutely no good. No good at all.

ABBY WATCHED THE MINUTE HAND on the clock in her living room tick by until it reached six-thirty, a half hour past when Connor was supposed to have arrived with Jaye for her first private lesson.

She picked up her own violin and played a few notes before becoming distracted. Had Jaye and her uncle forgotten? That seemed unlikely considering the talk Abby had with Jaye after strings class that afternoon. Abby had made it clear that she wouldn’t stand being lied to, nor would she keep any future misbehavior from Connor. Jaye had nodded mutely, then asked Abby not to change her mind about giving the private lessons. So then where were they?

Abby’s duplex apartment in Wheaton, a less attractive but more affordable area than Silver Spring, was about five miles and fifteen minutes north of the elementary school on a good day. Had Connor and Jaye gotten caught in unexpectedly heavy rush-hour traffic? If so, why hadn’t they called? And why was she so anxious at the prospect of seeing Connor again that she kept checking the front window every five minutes?

She parted the mini blinds, spotted the silver Porsche in front of her duplex and jumped back so they wouldn’t see her peering out at them. When the doorbell rang, she made herself wait a good ten seconds before pulling open the door.

Jaye stood on the stoop in front of Connor, her lower lip trembling and her face streaked with tears. Forgetting her anxiety at seeing Connor, Abby quickly ushered the nine-year-old inside. “Jaye, honey, what’s wrong?”

Jaye dipped her blond head, her thin shoulders shaking. Abby’s eyes raised to Connor. He was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, the same way he’d been the other times she’d seen him, but the similarities ended there.

His hair was disheveled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it. Smudges appeared under his eyes, and he seemed at a loss.

“She’s been like this since I picked her up at the school,” he explained. “Granted I was a little late—”

“Fifteen minutes late,” Jaye interjected.

Connor finished the sentence at the same time. “But it was only fifteen minutes.”

“I was the last one there,” Jaye said unhappily.

Abby rubbed the girl’s shoulder, silently conveying that she understood. She had experience dealing with children of this age. Promptness might not seem like that big of a deal, but every minute counted when a child was waiting to be picked up.

Especially a child whose mother had left her and hadn’t come back. Couldn’t Connor see that?

“I’m sure your uncle didn’t mean to be late, Jaye,” Abby told the girl in a soothing voice.

“He’s late all the time,” Jaye said.

“Some of the time,” Connor clarified.

“And now we’re late for the lesson.” Jaye glanced at the clock, which showed the time at twenty-five minutes before seven. “There’s only ten minutes left.”

“I don’t usually do this.” Abby never did this. “But you’re my last lesson of the day. How about we go until seven-twenty. That way, you won’t miss a minute.”

Jaye’s tears stopped flowing. “Really? You’d do that?”

“I most certainly will. Go over to the sofa and take your instrument out of the case. Will you do that, Jaye?”

“Sure,” she said and headed away from them.

“Thanks,” Connor said. “You’re saving my life.”

He looked so relieved that she nearly let him off the hook but realized she couldn’t. For Jaye’s sake. “This is a one-time thing,” she said quietly. “From now on, you need to get her here on time.”

He swiped a hand over his brow and lowered his own voice. “I don’t have the kind of job where it’s that easy to leave at a prearranged time. Clients call. They’re paying me for my time. I can’t just hang up on them.”

“You’re going to have to figure something out,” she said.

“I know that. I just don’t know what it’s going to be.”

His vulnerability touched a chord deep inside her. “Maybe we can talk about it later. But for now, Jaye’s waiting for her lesson. You can pick her up at about twenty after seven.”

“Would it be okay if I stuck around?” He lifted his portable computer. “I have a couple things I need to check online. Any flat surface will do. Your kitchen table would be great.”

She glanced at the still-sniffling Jaye. She sensed that something more serious than Connor showing up late was bothering her. Jaye would never reveal what it was if she thought her uncle could overhear.

“I find that my students do better without their parents—or in this case, their uncle—in the room.” She nodded toward the door. “Seven-twenty.”

She expected him to argue, but instead he asked, “Any suggestions on a place I could go for forty-five minutes?”