The Coil (6 page)

She was a conservative woman, and what started out as confusion on her behalf somehow morphed into a feeling of betrayal and anger. As much as he attempted to explain that he was not trying to hurt her, that he was the same person he had always been, the same person she had loved before she had known, it had all fallen on deaf ears. She just would not listen, and therefore could not understand that it had actually been she who had betrayed him by turning her back on him.

Having Jamie, he could not imagine, could not
conceive
of ever thinking him morally backward. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make him not love his son. Especially something as insignificant as whom he was attracted to. Just as he could not change Jamie’s autism, his mother could not change his sexuality. Whether it came down to nature or God, people are what they are, and it’s never wrong. Nature is not wrong. Nature is the one certainty, the one truth that is visible to people, and he hung on to that.

And yet he missed her. But Jamie came first, and he would not risk her upsetting him. The main reason she had not been successful in dragging him to court was the simple fact it was very evident that he was number one in Jamie’s life. Jamie needed him; his entire routine revolved around and relied upon his father. If he were to be out of the picture, the consequences for Jamie would be devastating.

No. It would be just him and Jamie, and no one would ever come between them, or ever give any form of authority any reason to even question to whom Jamie should be entrusted. He wondered again, like he had many times before, if Tim had resented him back then for just assuming that he would have his back and want to be a second father to Jamie. He shook his head minutely. There was no point in thinking about it, not when it didn’t even matter anymore.

The vibration of his phone against the table top drew his attention, and he steeled himself to answer if it was his mother. They would have to speak sooner or later, and unless she had a genuine apology ready, it would be an extremely short conversation. A glance at the screen showed that it was not his mother, and he quickly answered. “Hello? This is Simon Castle speaking. Is everything all right? Is Jamie—my son—”

“Simon? It’s Sarah.”

Simon let out a breath. His heart always jumped into his throat when the number for Golden Acres flashed up on his cell. “Sarah, is everything all right?”

“He’s okay, Simon. He’s not hurt or anything, but I do think you may need to pick Jamie up early.”

He was already closing his laptop down and fishing out his wallet to lay a few bills on the table. “What happened?” He heard her sigh, and stood straight when she explained. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I saw it happen. I’ve called the other parents in and explained the situation.”

“Oh God.”

“Relax, their son is autistic too, Simon. They understand.”

“I’m on my way now.”

He quickly zipped his laptop into its carry case and slung the bag across his body. He grabbed his jacket and weaved his way quickly past the other patrons and out the diner doors, not even sparing a glance or noticing the concerned gaze of the handsome young man at the sandwich counter.

The elderly woman he’d come to know as Margaret, and who sat at the school’s reception desk, had been happy to take him to Jamie’s classroom. She was also kind enough to reassure him briefly, explaining why he’d been called in by his son’s teacher. Apparently she’d seen her fair share of frantic and overprotective parents in the time she’d worked at Golden Acres.

“Sarah?” she said as she popped her head inside the classroom.

A young man came to the door, shushing his class and telling them to listen to one of the other support teachers as he pulled the door to. He offered Simon a smile and his hand to shake.

“Hello, Mr. Castle. Jamie’s with Sarah in one of the quiet rooms. I’ll take you to him now. Thank you, Margaret.”

“Is the other boy all right?” He’d never been in this position before, but then Jamie had never struck another child before either.

“Tommy’s okay. He went home a few minutes ago with his mother. He’s not even upset anymore.”

“Do you think you could give me Mrs.…?”

“Mrs. Sadler.”

“Can you give me Mrs. Sadler’s telephone number? So I can call and apologize?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t, it’s against school policy. But—with your expressed permission—I can forward your details on to her and ask her to contact you instead?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you. Sarah has my number.”

“I’ll get that from her as soon as you leave. She’s just through here.”

“Thank you… uh?”

“You can call me Adam.” The support teacher smiled and offered his hand again.

Simon shook it, said his thanks, and headed through the door held open for him. With just one glance, he knew he would be in for a tough evening. Jamie sat on one of those small orange plastic child seats, and Sarah sat opposite him, her neck stretched forward as she dipped her head as if attempting to catch his son’s gaze. She glanced up when she noticed his presence, and offered him a sad smile. Looking back at Jamie, she reached for his hand.

“Your dad’s here—”

“I don’t like that!” Jamie snatched his hand away from the teacher, pulling his cape tightly around him.

“Jamie, Miss Protrakis is being nice.” Simon knelt beside his son’s chair, knowing better than to just pick him up as he’d like to. He barely held in his sigh when he heard Jamie mumble his prime numbers. He looked at Sarah.

“It was break time, and he was playing with the blocks. Tommy wanted to play with him, but he wouldn’t let him, so Tommy knocked over his tower,” she explained. “Jamie smacked him.”

Simon frowned and looked back at his unhappy son. “Jamie, that was very bad. Do you understand me? We never,
ever
hit.”

“Tommy’s fine, Simon. His mother picked him up a few minutes ago. She mentioned ice cream, and he forgot what he was upset about.”

“I’m glad.” He looked back at his son, attempting to gain his attention. “But you should never have hit Tommy in the first place, Jamie.”

“He knocked them all over,” he replied sullenly.

“That’s not a reason to hit, Jamie. We never hit.”

Jamie didn’t answer, but his breaths came quickly, and Simon soon realized that his son was beginning to cry. He wanted desperately to comfort him, but this was a rule he truly needed to push home for Jamie. He could not have him hitting other children.

“Did you say sorry to Tommy?”

This time Jamie did look at his dad, and shook his head no. His mouth pulled down at the corners, and he looked absolutely miserable.

“Do you think we should?”

Jamie paused, thinking it through, and then nodded. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s isn’t me you need to apologize to, is it?”

“You told me to be good, and I was bad,” he said in a small voice.

Unable to stop himself, he reached his hands out for Jamie, and his son—thank God—willingly went to him and allowed Simon to pick him up. He gently shushed him and rubbed soothing circles into his back. “We all make mistakes, and it’s all right, because that’s how we learn, isn’t it?”

Jamie nodded against his shoulder, and Simon caught a brief, approving smile from Sarah. “What are you going to do next time you see Tommy?” There was a loaded pause before Jamie answered.

“Let him play with the blocks?”

Simon smiled. “And?”

“And say sorry for smacking him.”

“That’s my good boy. Perhaps we can even go to the store on the way home and pick up some gummy bears. Don’t you think it’d be nice to give Tommy some gummy bears tomorrow?”

Jamie nodded, and when Simon went to set him down, Jamie wouldn’t allow it, refusing to let go. He was more than happy to comply, taking Jamie’s backpack when Sarah handed it to him and shifting Jamie onto his hip.

“Thank you for calling.”

“Of course.”

“The other support teacher, Adam? He said that he’d get my number from you to pass onto Mr. and Mrs. Sadler. I’d like to apologize and reassure them that Jamie won’t do anything like that again.”

“I’ll make sure to do that. I think they’ll appreciate it. Though, honestly, Simon, she seemed to understand. All the parents here are in the same boat.”

“I’d still like to call.”

She nodded and then once again attempted to catch Jamie’s gaze. “Tomorrow will be a much better day, Jamie.” She spoke as they headed toward an exit. To his relief, Jamie lifted his head and looked at Sarah.

“I’ll say sorry to Tommy.”

“Good boy. And then later I’ll be over to watch a movie with you while your dad is out.”

Simon had almost completely forgotten. His editor, Andrew Camp—a man who was a complete and utter ass but was nonetheless very good at his job—had given him a ticket to some sort of art exhibition for tomorrow evening. Andrew had edited his previous two books, and despite a certain lack of affection on his behalf for the crude man, they had a solid professional relationship, and he couldn’t imagine working with anyone else at this point. He had a suspicion that this was Andrew’s way of trying to stir his writing muses, but hell, an evening out just sounded plain nice. Usually his instinct was to turn down any sort of social event. The only person he was happy to leave Jamie with was Sarah, and he didn’t want to abuse their friendship and ask her to sit too often. But it had been so long since he’d gone out for an evening, whether it was by himself or with someone else. He was simply eager for a night off.

Tomorrow night, he’d be by himself, but his editor would be there with a few other authors, which would be interesting. He couldn’t say that he knew much about art, but there would be free champagne and adult conversation. He’d been looking forward to it for some time.

“You’re still okay to sit?” he asked, turning to face Sarah, who paused by the exit.

“Of course.” She smiled. “Tomorrow we’re going to watch
The Two Towers
, right?”

Jamie nodded, and Simon was glad to see his son wasn’t looking quite so upset.

“There’s a battle at Helm’s Deep in the second one, with lots of orcs,” Jamie piped up.

“There certainly is. Shall I bring some popcorn?”

“He doesn’t like the kernels.” Simon smiled, swaying Jamie gently. “But feel free to raid the cupboards for anything.” He touched her arm briefly. “Thank you, Sarah. I really appreciate you sitting.”

She waved him off. “Think nothing of it. Now I have to get back to my class. I’ll see you tomorrow around seven.”

He nodded and told Jamie to wave good-bye. He was happy when Jamie did, and decided that they’d go for a walk through the park before heading home.

S
ITTING
on the bench with Jamie beside him, he found himself content to watch as his son threw pieces of bread for the ducks. They’d had another talk about why it was bad to hit people, and Jamie had promised him that the next time he felt angry, he would tell a teacher. They’d gone to the store to pick up a few vitals, including bread to feed the ducks and gummy bears to feed Tommy, which had made Jamie giggle. Now they sat together, his hand gently stroking Jamie’s head. Jamie’s feet swung happily as he chattered quietly to the ducks.

“That one’s called Boromir,” Jamie announced, pointing to what could be any one of five ducks.

“All right then,” he laughed.

“And that one’s Frodo.”

“Is there a Samwise Gamgee?”

“That one!”

“I see. Do you like ducks?”

“Yes.” Jamie nodded.

Simon worried his lip for a moment, debating something. “How about one weekend soon, we go to the zoo?” He laughed when Jamie’s head snapped up to look right at him. It wasn’t often Jamie would show such excitement.

“Will it have ducks?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, there’ll be ducks. And there’ll be all other kinds of animals too.”

Jamie hesitated. “Will there be orcs?”

“No, baby,” he laughed.

“Good.” Jamie nodded.

“There’s just one condition. If we go, you’re going to have to hold my hand the entire day. And it might get a little busy and noisy, but if that starts to make you unhappy, you just ask me to pick you up, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Jamie nodded eagerly, and Simon felt a little less guilty about leaving him tomorrow evening. He smoothed down that little cowlick and laughed when a piece of bread meant for the ducks made its way to Jamie’s mouth instead. “Feeling hungry?”

“Yep,” Jamie chirped.

He’d pushed him—albeit very gently—on the swings, and helped him on the monkey bars, and then they’d fed the ducks again. It had been a long day for Jamie, and they should think about heading back soon.

“Shall we head home?”

“Can we go to the place with the funny music?”

Simon frowned while he stood to gather the few bags they had. “You mean the diner?” Instantly his conversation with a rather nosy waiter and the image of baby blues and very kissable dimples returned.

“Yes.” Jamie nodded as he struggled to put on his backpack.

Simon placed the two carrier bags on the bench to help Jamie thread his arms through. He untwisted the strap on Jamie’s shoulder, picked up the two bags in one hand, and offered Jamie the other. “Okay then, the diner it is.”

H
E
COULDN
’
T
help but look to see if the cute guy—Mattie, apparently—was still there. Unfortunately, he seemed to have finished for the day. In his place stood a rather portly and sour-looking man with a dark complexion. Simon ignored his disappointment and walked over to the sandwich bar, where the less-than-friendly man stood, already glaring at them.

On the way there, Jamie had already said he wanted a sandwich instead of the usual mac ’n cheese. While this surprised Simon, it also pleased him that he was getting some different foods into Jamie’s diet. The child was notoriously picky when it came to what he’d eat.

“Okay-dokey, up?”

Simon set the bags down and picked Jamie up to rest against his hip while they looked into the refrigerated glass case where the different sandwich fillers sat. “What do you fancy?” he asked, bouncing Jamie on his hip a little, and thought absently that he’d miss it dreadfully when Jamie would be too big for him to hold. Jamie leaned forward, pressing a hand on the glass.