C.J. Hill - Baby Dreams And Wedding Schemes

“I guess I am mercurial,” she grinned. Then added,

“Some people even say I have rapid and unpredictable changes of mood.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he admitted. “I can see that. Now, about Cody?”

“Oh, Cody! He’s a great kid,” she enthused. “But he’s got a problem.”

Jacob Windsor grinned. At least she thought that’s what you could call it. His lips curled in a dry, mirthless sneer that made him look hard as a rock.

“I’m sure he does. More than one, in fact.” His gray eyes hardened to slits of steel. “But nothing that I can’t deal with. I’m used to it, you see. I am his father, after all.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “That is your bailiwick. But I don’t think you’re handling it very well.”

Black eyebrows tilted upward mockingly. “‘Bailiwick’?” He shook his dark head in amusement. “Yes, I guess it is.” His face hardened. “Look, Miss Lambert. I am perfectly capable of dealing with my son and his problems without the help of a female.”

Sasha decided she didn’t like the look he cast her way but watched silently as he surged to his feet, one hand digging into his pocket.

“We don’t need a little mother to take care of us. We’re doing just fine. Let me pay you for whatever damage he’s done and then we can get on with our respective lives.” He thumbed several bills from a worn, tattered leather wallet.

“Will this about cover the damage?”

Sasha shook her head determinedly. “Not nearly,” she muttered, frustrated by his uncaring attitude.

Mr. Jacob Windsor merely peeled off a few more dollars, ignoring her sarcasm.

“You know,” she mused, head tilted to one side as she perused his rigid stance. “I always thought a minister of the church was supposed to have some special sense that lets him see into the misery and confusion of others, empathize with their troubles. You appear to have lost it where Cody’s concerned.”

She watched the tide of red rise from the base of his neck to the black roots of his hair.

“Now, just one blasted minute. For an autodidact like yourself—”

“A what?”

His face wore the smug look of one who knows he has the upper hand. “It means a self-taught person.”

Sasha could feel him watching her scribble it on another of her sticky notes. She ignored him, finished the word, or a facsimile of it, and smacked it against the refrigerator with a snap of her wrist.

“Yes, I guess I am self-taught,” she told him. “That doesn’t mean I can ignore what I see. Go on.”

He inclined his head, obviously choosing his words with care. “To someone like you, who is a stranger to us and outside of our family, perhaps it seems as if Cody is having difficulties.”

He is a blind, narcissistic fool, Sasha decided impartially. Condescending and rude, yes. But still a hunk.

“I assure you that Cody is a perfectly normal little boy who is simply adjusting to a new environment.” .

Sasha placed her hands on her hips. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“Especially when he thinks he’s responsible for his own mother’s death, and that you blame him for that?”

He spouted another word Sasha hadn’t ever heard before but she had no intention of asking him to repeat it. In fact, she pretended she hadn’t heard it as she watched his hands curl into fists at his sides. She faced the flintlike steely gleam in his eyes when they riveted on her.

“What did you say?” His voice was frigid with dislike.

“Cody thinks he’s the cause of your wife’s death and that you are keeping mum about it to shield him from public opinion.”

“Just how did my son come to confide such information?” The words were chipped away from his hard lips as he scowled at her across the table.

“It was after Henry died. You see—”

“Who?” His eyes wore a dark, puzzled look as they met hers.

“Henry. The goldfish. The bag broke and Henry ended up drying out on my floor. He’s still there, I guess.”

Sasha thought about that for a moment before Jacob Windsor’s throat-clearing sounds drew her attention back to him.

“Anyway, Cody wanted me to give Henry a proper funeral. He said you’d kill him for making the mistake of terminating another pet. I don’t do funerals—especially goldfish.”

“I believe the sign in your window says you cater to all occasions,” he said tongue-in-cheek.

Sasha shook her head. “Sorry. Not funerals. But to get back to Cody...” She purposely let the words hang for emphasis.

“Yes, let’s.” He was clearly not going to be deterred by her sharp tone.

“In Cody’s words, ‘everything dies.’” There, she’d said it. Now he would tell her to mind her own business.

But Jacob Windsor just shook his head stupidly. Sasha could see he wasn’t following.

“I’m not going to kill Cody just because his goldfish died.” He looked confused.

“Oh, good.” She sipped at her coffee for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. It didn’t help, so she plunged right in. “Well, anyway, it was during this discussion that Cody told me about his mother dying. He said she died from a gun and that you didn’t talk about her any more because you didn’t want people to blame him.”

“Oh, my Lord. I thought we had left all that behind.” It was a groan of despair that touched her nerves as the tall man stooped against the tabletop, head in his hands as he sighed in defeat. “I really hoped he’d forgotten all about it.” His voice was full of pain and sadness.

“What happened?” she whispered softly, reaching out to brush her fingers over his arm in empathetic understanding. She pulled back when he flinched. “I just want to help Cody as much as I can.”

When he looked up at her his eyes were dark and hooded. He withdrew visibly into a shell that blazed don’t touch like a neon sign. The deeply carved lines of his face emphasized the sadness that marked him.

“I’m not sure you can,” he whispered hoarsely. His voice was flat. “And if anyone’s to blame for Angela’s death, it’s I. I insisted we go away. Unfortunately, it was too late.”

Sasha heard the words in stunned disbelief, but filed them away for later inspection.

“Cody was three when Angela died during our summer vacation.” He was speaking again in a dull, flat monotone. “She’d had an asthma attack. For some reason he’d started having nightmares. He dreams that she was killed by some punks who were trying to steal from the church. He thinks he saw the whole thing.”

“Oh, no.” Sasha gasped in consternation, imagining the terror such an event must have had on his young mind.

“In fact he did see her choking. But it happened almost three years ago and in another place. I was hoping he’d forget it all. Put it away. Get on with life.” He shook his head. “Apparently neither of us can,” he half whispered to himself.

Sasha thought for a moment considering the little boy’s plight and his words. “The series of recurring problems with pets probably brought on some of his self-blame. He seems to have some difficulty keeping them alive.” She tried to be kind.

He snorted derisively at her obvious understatement. “Difficulty? If Cody gets his hands on them, they can’t last long in this world. He’s probably the most well-known human in pet heaven and he’s only five years old!”

Sasha glared at her visitor.

“What your son needs, Reverend Windsor, is something to take his mind off his troubles. A little fun. Some jocund person who can regurgitate his high spirits back to where a five-year-old boy’s should be.”

“You really do have a thing for all these weird words, don’t you? Jocund, indeed.” He smiled sadly at her strange choice of words.