Phyllis Halldorson - A Man Worth Marrying

Gray muttered an oath under his breath as he drew his daughter closer. Bambi! If he didn’t know better he’d think she was deliberately sabotaging his efforts to bring Tinker up to the learning level of the rest of her class.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Bambi didn’t mean any harm; she just didn’t understand how important it was to tread softly so as not to further damage Tinker’s already low self-esteem. He should have known better than to tell her what he was planing to do until it was an accomplished fact.

“Tinker,” he said gently, “I’m afraid your mom misunderstood. What I want to do is find a teacher who will come here for just a couple of hours several afternoons a week, and help you catch up with the rest of your class. She won’t push you, but she’ll teach you all you’ve missed because of your dyslexia. When school starts again next fall, you’ll be able to read, write, and do the arithmetic along with the others.”

Tinker scrutinized Eve, and there was fear in her eyes. “No, I don’t want her to teach me,” she cried, and threw her arms around Gray’s neck.

Eve was getting more distressed by the minute. Tinker didn’t want to be tutored, but she clearly needed the one-on-one help.

Eve spoke before Gray had a chance. “Tinker, you don’t need to be afraid of me. Your father thought you and I should get acquainted because I can help you—but only if you want my help.”

She glanced around and picked up the glass of cola and ice she’d poured for Tinker. “Here, honey,” she said, and held it out to the youngster. “Your dad said this glass of soda is for you.”

Tinker hesitated, then raised her head and looked back at Eve. After a moment, she twisted out of her father’s arms and walked across the floor to take the beverage.

“Why don’t you sit beside me here on the couch,” Eve said, making it a suggestion, not a command.

Tinker said nothing, but finally did sit down.

Next, Eve deliberately shifted her attention from Tinker to Gray, giving Tinker a chance to observe her. “How do you take your coffee, Gray? Cream and sugar?”

“Black,” Gray said, and stood to walk over and get the cup and saucer.

He pulled up an upholstered occasional chair and sat down next to his daughter.

For a few minutes there was strained silence, then Gray spoke. “Tinker, I bought cookies at the bakery and put them in the cookie jar, then forgot to bring them out. Would you mind getting them?”

The child’s eyes lit up. “Peanut butter with chocolate chips?” she asked.

Gray nodded. “Your favorite.”

“All right!” she said excitedly as she jumped up and headed for the kitchen.

Gray let out his breath. “Now where do we go from here?” he asked anxiously.

“Nowhere,” Eve said firmly. “It’s out of the question for me to tutor Tinker now. We got off to an impossible start, and she’ll never trust me. I’m sorry to say this, but the first thing you must do is undo the damage her mother has done. Then you’ll have to find another tutor.”

His cup clattered in the saucer as he put it down on the low table. “Unfortunately, I made the mistake of discussing my plans with Bambi.” There was bitterness in his tone.

“Did you tell your wife you didn’t want Tinker to know you were making plans to have her privately tutored?” Eve asked.

Gray ran his hand over his face. “Ex-wife,” he corrected her. “And of course I did, but when did that ever stop her. She gets upset if I make plans for Tinker without telling her, but when I do tell her, she broadcasts it all over town. If the kids at school hear Tinker’s being tutored, they’ll undoubtedly tease her, call her dumb or stupid. Children can be so cruel without ever meaning to.”

Eve knew all about that, both from her experience as a child when she’d been teased about her long, Greek, almost-unpronounceable last name, as well as her height, and now as a teacher whose pupils constantly fought for recognition and didn’t care how they got it. They often taunted those who were different, or spread vicious rumors about a student who was smarter or had a few more possessions than most of the others did.

She shuddered. “Yes, I know,” she murmured softly, wishing there was a way she could shoulder some of his child’s pain.

Tinker’s young voice came from the kitchen. “Daddy, I can’t find the cookie jar. I think it’s on the top shelf, but I can’t reach it.”

Gray jumped out of the chair. “Just stay where you are, and I’ll get it,” he called as he hurried into the other room. “I don’t want you to climb up on something and fall.”

They were back in a few seconds with a plate of cookies that Gray passed around. Tinker took two, then picked up her glass of soda. “I’m going back to the office and watch television,” she announced sharply, and turned to walk away.

“Just a minute, young lady,” Gray said in a tone that stopped his daughter in her tracks. “I didn’t hear you ask to be excused.”

“Please-may-I-be-excused.” She ran all the words together, her back still turned to them.

“Not until you ask politely,” Gray reprimanded, and it was clear that it embarrassed him to have to discipline his daughter in front of a third person. Being caught in the middle of it embarrassed Eve, too, but she admired him for not letting Tinker get away with being disrespectful.

“Oh, Daddy,” she said mutinously, but she turned to face them, and once more asked—politely this time—to be excused.

Gray looked relieved. “Yes, you may,” he answered crisply. Tinker turned around and headed for the back of the house.

When they heard a door slam shut, Gray sighed and dropped down on the couch beside Eve. “I don’t know what to say, how to apologize for my daughter’s behavior.” He sounded more concerned than humiliated. “I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but she’s usually too meek rather than too aggressive.”

Eve wished she could touch him in a reassuring gesture, but knew that would be a big mistake. There was too much magnetism between them. Neither of them had admitted it, but it had been building since their chance encounter in the hallway of her school the previous afternoon.

That sort of thing had never happened to her before. The attraction she’d felt for men had usually taken time to build, and had never really gone anywhere. Except with Damian, and she wasn’t going to think about him....

“I’m not a bit surprised or offended by Tinker’s bethavior, Gray,” she told him. “The poor child is terrified.”

He looked at her and blinked. “What do you mean, ‘terrified’?”

“She’s afraid of trying something new and failing again,” Eve said gently. “Apparently her mother isn’t very supportive of the idea of having her tutored, and let Tinker know it. Then you sprang me on her—”

“I admit that was a mistake. I should have listened to you. You warned me—”

“But you couldn’t have known your ex-wife would be so...so...” How could she put it without criticizing?

“I think insensitive is the word you’re looking for,” he said harshly. “But I should have known. I lived with her for eight years...” His voice trailed off.

Eve wondered what he meant by that, but she wasn’t going to prolong this conversation. She took a sip of her now-cold coffee, then put the cup down and stood.

“I’m truly sorry this happened,” she said. “It will make the process of having Tinker tutored much more difficult. But I urge you to keep trying to find someone she likes and trusts. Have you tried counseling? That might help.”

Gray stood also. He didn’t answer her question, but posed one of his own. “Eve, are you sure you can’t work with her? I’ll have her counseled if that’s what you suggest. You and the counselor could work together, but I have a gut feeling that you can handle my daughter better than anyone else.”