Father to Be (31 page)

“I’m not sure we believe in those around here either. Everything happens for a purpose.” And what had been the purpose of yesterday’s incident? To force him to acknowledge that he did want to keep those kids? To provide a means through which he and Caleb could get closer? Or to somehow separate him and Kelsey? Though there was only a desk between them, he felt as if they’d never been farther apart.

“Are you working today?” she asked, looking pointedly at his clothes. I bet you wear shorts to work, she’d accused when he’d told her her severe, drab-colored suits were
ugly. The memory made him smile. So did the pretty summer dress she was wearing that day.

“Nope. I took the day off. I’m taking the kids out to the house. I’m trading a picnic and a swim at the creek for some help cleaning up before the carpet layers come. Care to pack your swimsuit and join us?”

She shook her head, making him wish her hair were down, loose and tumbling over her shoulders, instead of confined to that damned braid. “Unlike you rich doctors, I have to put in a full week to get my paycheck.”

“You put in a full week and then some. It wouldn’t hurt you to take a few hours off. Call it a home visit.”

“That would be deceptive, Dr. Grayson, and I try very hard not to be deceptive.”

“It would be a
visit
to my
home
. There’s nothing deceptive there.”

“Home visits are work.”

“So spending the afternoon with me, with us, at the house would be pleasure?”

She smiled faintly. “I didn’t say that. But I feel quite certain that the first caseworker who makes home visits in her swimsuit will also be the last.”

“So you’re turning me down.”

“Regretfully, but yes.”

“You don’t look regretful.” He stood up from the chair, feeling about five years younger than when he’d walked through the door. “By the way, my dad’s coming for a visit. He’s claiming my couch indefinitely.”

The light in her eyes brightened. “Your dad? The man who helped your mother name you? Who knows what J.D. stands for?”

He grinned as he walked to the door. “Don’t even think about trying to charm it out of him. He’s been keeping my secret for ages. He’s coming in tomorrow around five. Why don’t you have dinner with us?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You need to meet him. After all, he’ll be spending time with the kids. Consider it work. Wednesday. My apartment at six.”

She was still for a moment, weighing her professional need to meet his father against her personal desire to … what? Avoid him? Keep him at a distance? After a moment she nodded, and the muscles that J.D. hadn’t even realized were tight eased and sent a fluttery, freeing sensation through him. “I’ll be there at six,” Kelsey said.

He nodded, too, and walked out. Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, it was shaky. So was he. He got to keep the kids awhile longer, and Kelsey was still willing to smile at him and tease with him. He’d won the battle.

Now, if he could just win the war.

Chapter Twelve
 

B
ud Grayson hated to fly, didn’t care for trains, and had cut back on his driving once his eyeglasses got thicker than a Coke-bottle bottom. That was why five o’clock Wednesday afternoon found J.D. and the kids downtown, waiting outside the restaurant that marked Bethlehem’s bus stop. Caleb stood off to the side, hands shoved in his pockets, and Gracie and Jacob displayed great interest in the ants that marched in a weaving red line across the sidewalk. Noah was content to sit beside J.D. on the stone wall of the planter that fronted the restaurant.

“Where’s the bus station?” Noah asked, swinging his feet so that the rubber soles of his shoes bounced off the rock.

“Right here.”

“But where’s the ticket seller? And the suitcase man?”

“You buy your ticket from the bus driver, and he stows your luggage.”

“I wish he’d come by plane. Then we could’ve gone to
the airport to pick him up. We’ve never been to an airport before. Or I wish he’d come by train. We’ve never been to a train station before. Or—”

“Or maybe he could’ve come by spaceship,” Caleb said sarcastically, “and then put you on it before it went back out in space.”

Noah leaned around J.D. to give his brother a long, wary look, then resumed talking again. “This is your dad, right? I didn’t know grown-up people had dads. Our daddy didn’t. And our mama didn’t neither. And Miss Agatha don’t, and Miss C’rinna don’t, and Mrs. Bee—”

Caleb sighed loudly. “Do you have to talk all the time? You’re getting like Josie.”

Noah’s sigh was softer, sweeter. “I like Josie. She’s funny, and she can beat up Gracie and Jacob and Lannie and prob’ly even Caleb and definitely me. And she’s
real
smart. She knows where babies come from.”

Before Caleb could respond to that, the bus came into sight at the end of Main Street. Noah scrambled up to stand on the wall, looking as excited as if it were his father arriving. He rested one small hand on J.D.’s shoulder. “What if he don’t like us?”

“My dad likes everyone.”

“But what if he don’t like
us
? Then we can’t be his … his …”

Caleb came a few steps closer. “We aren’t his
anything
, Noah. We ain’t nothin’ to him. He’s
his
family,” he said with a jerk of his head at J.D. “Not ours.”

The bus pulled to the curb, brakes squealing, and the door opened with a rush of air. Before turning his attention that way, J.D. scowled in the opposite direction. “Caleb, do me a favor. Shut up.”

Bud was the only passenger getting off. He studied the kids, three lined up like little soldiers, one dragging the toe of his shoe across the sidewalk with his head ducked down,
then said in greeting, “What a fine-looking bunch you are. You must be Gracie.”

She smiled prettily and tossed her head.

“And Jacob.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Noah?”

Noah tilted his head back and squinted to see into the sun. “Do you like us?”

“I like everybody.”

“That’s what
he
said. But do you like
us
?”

“I like you just fine, Noah.” Bud mussed his hair, then turned to the outsider. “You must be Caleb.”

“I must be,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Be a good boy and get my bag from the driver.” He didn’t wait to see if Caleb obeyed but assumed he would—and he did. “J.D. You look well, son.”

J.D. stepped up for his hug, holding him tight, for a fleeting moment feeling safe, the way he always had as a child. As long as his father had been there to hold him, nothing really bad could ever happen.

Too bad his father hadn’t been with him in Chicago. The world would be a different place.
He
would be a different man.

Though sometimes he rather liked the man he’d become.

“It’s good to see you, Dad. It’s been a long time.”

“You know, the same bus that brought me here from Pennsylvania could take you there to see me. Though I suppose you’d rather take the train or a plane or drive your fancy car. Where is it?”

The bus pulled away, and J.D. pointed to the truck across the street. The mud-spattered, battered off-road vehicle brought a broad grin to Bud’s face. “Nice,” he said, reaching for Noah’s hand as they prepared to cross the street. “Very nice.”

The kids doubled up in the backseat for the ride home. The apartment made Bud grin too. J.D. stayed in the kitchen to start dinner while the kids showed him around. The tour took an extraordinarily long time considering how small the apartment was. No doubt the younger ones were showing him each and every thing they could claim as their own. By the time they made it back to the kitchen, Noah and Gracie were acting as if they’d found their long-lost grandfather.

“Why don’t you kids go watch a little television while I help J.D. with dinner?” Bud suggested, and they both ran off. He washed his hands, then located a knife and pitched in with peeling the potatoes. J.D. worked silently, waiting for the impressions that were sure to come.

“Interesting place.”

“Hmm.”

“Interesting life you’ve built for yourself here.”

“Doesn’t have much in common with Chicago, does it?”

“Nope. But neither do you. You look good.”

You look good
. As compliments went, it was on the bland side. People said it to co-workers, neighbors, folks they hardly knew. It was about as insignificant as Have a nice day. But it meant the world to J.D. because Bud had seen him at the lowest a man could go—weak, defeated, damn near destroyed.
You look good
was at the other end of the spectrum. “I feel good. Most of the time.”

From down the hall came a burst of giggles that made his father smile. “Noah asked if he should call me Mr. Grayson, Mr. Bud, or maybe Grandpa Bud. I told him he could call me whatever he wanted.”

“I’m impressed. It took them about a week to stop calling me ‘the man.’ As far as Caleb’s concerned, I still have no name. I’m ‘he’ or ‘him,’ said in that particular tone of voice that kids do so well, of course.” J.D. hesitated.
“Would it bother you for them to call you Grandpa?”

For a moment the knife went still in Bud’s hand. J.D. didn’t risk a look at his face. He knew too well the sadness he would see there. Then, abruptly, the knife started again, shaving potato peels onto the counter. “No, not at all. They’re young kids. I’m an old man. It seems pretty natural.” Without a break in tempo he changed the subject. “I see you’ve got seven places set. Who’s joining us tonight?”

“Kelsey Malone.”

“With a name like that, she’d better have red hair, porcelain skin, and freckles.”

“Brown curls, peaches-and-cream skin, and legs that could give a man sweet dreams.”

“Ah.”

J.D. rummaged through the cabinets until he found the pot he wanted, then began filling it with water.
“Ah?”
he echoed. “No, Dad, no
ah
. She’s the kids’ social worker, and she’s coming to see you.”

“Uh-huh. This might come as a surprise to you, son, but someday you’re going to meet a woman, fall in love just like it was the first time, and get married and raise me a houseful of grandkids.” Bud wagged his knife at him. “You know, man is not made to live alone.”

It would come as a surprise to his father that J.D. was well aware of that fact. Maybe not love just like the first time, but definitely for the last time. He’d known it in his head for a long time. He was starting to feel it in his heart.

But there was no way he was telling Bud that. Even a son deserved a few secrets from time to time. “You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve been alone a long time.”

“That’s different. I was with your mother for forty years. I’m too old to think about getting used to someone new.”

“You’re never too old, Dad,” he disagreed as the doorbell rang. “Not as long as there’s breath in your body.”

After opening the door, he leaned one shoulder against the jamb and slowly smiled. Kelsey stood on the porch, wearing a summery dress with no sleeves, a rounded neck that dipped low over her breasts, and a hem that skimmed her thighs inches above her knees. Her hair was secured at her nape, but a few tendrils had managed to escape, curling gently around her face.

By doing nothing more than standing there, she’d proven his last point. There was breath in his body—and it was hot.

“Hi,” she said, her smile tentative, a bit shy.

“Hi.”

“Am I early?”

He didn’t bother checking his watch. “No. You’re right on time.”

Her own smile faltered, then returned. “Then can I come in?”

He tore his gaze away from her as he moved back. “Where’s your car?”

“It was such a pretty evening that I walked here.”

He looked her over again, from head to flirty little yellow dress to toe, then murmured, “That’s a sight I would’ve paid money to see.”

She eased past him, careful not to touch, but leaving behind a hint of the fragrance he was certain he would recognize in his sleep. He breathed deeply, once of her, then once again.
Ah
, indeed.

Bud was waiting expectantly in the kitchen. “Well, well, well.” He gave her the same sort of appreciative survey J.D. had just indulged in, then grinned. “You’re everything my son said and more.”

“Kelsey Malone, this is my father, Bud Grayson. He’s a bit of a flirt and a charmer, so watch out for him.”

“Don’t believe a word he says,” Bud admonished as he claimed her hand. “He just wants you for himself. Can’t say as I blame him either. I raised a smart boy. Go see to the children, son. Kelsey will keep me company while I cook. We’ll talk.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” J.D. stood to one side of the doorway and watched as Kelsey moved into the room.
Brown curls, peaches-and-cream skin, and legs that could give a man sweet dreams
. Oh, yeah, she was all that and more. She was the sort of woman who could keep a man warm at night, who could keep the shadows at bay and make him feel protected. Needed. Trusted. She was the sort of woman who would draw strength from her partner and give it back two, three times over. She was the sort of woman he wanted, needed.