The Surprise Holiday Dad (9 page)

So this was the final resting spot of the woman who’d turned his life upside down. Hard to believe all that exuberance, temperament and youth lay here quietly, forever.

“I wish she didn’t die.” Reggie wiped his eyes. “She used to laugh all the time. Except when she was sad.”

“During her upbeat periods, she sparkled.” The ache in Adrienne’s voice reflected how much she, too, missed her sister. “Remember when she brought home a bunch of old Halloween costumes she’d spotted in somebody’s trash? We couldn’t believe people threw away perfectly good outfits.”

“We wore them all day.” Reggie smiled at the memory. “Even though Halloween was over.”

“What kind of costumes?” The anecdote reminded Wade of how much fun Vicki had been while they were dating. She’d charmed him with her spontaneity, her ability to stay up all night without tiring and her enthusiasm in bed. He hadn’t known until later that these might have been signs of the hyperactive phase of her condition.

“I was a panda,” Reg announced.

“I took the witch costume,” Adrienne recalled. “Vicki was a fairy princess. She looked beautiful.”

“Take any pictures?” Wade would like to see those.

Reg scuffed his shoe on the grass. “Mommy threw them out.”

“All of them?” What a bizarre thing to do. “Why?”

“She flew into a rage a few weeks later and deleted a whole bunch of photos from the computer and our backup.” Regret and a hint of anger colored Adrienne’s words. “Reg, I’m sorry. Your mom could be wonderful, but she suffered from an illness.”

“Polar-bear disorder,” he said earnestly.

About to correct him, Wade caught Adrienne’s meaningful glance. They shared a moment of sorrow for what this boy had lost, and of joy for his dear innocence.

“Mia says angels watch over us,” Reggie went on. “Do you think Mommy’s an angel?”

Wade didn’t answer. Even if he believed in such things, he hadn’t forgotten Vicki’s cruelty in separating him and Reg.

“Your mommy didn’t deserve to suffer from a mental illness,” Adrienne said. “If there’s any justice, she’s an angel now.”

That was good enough for Wade. And as they left, Reggie began to hum “Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”

His son’s good mood had been restored. And being there made Wade feel, just a little, as if he’d visited his own mother’s grave, too.

* * *

T
HE
DAY
BEFORE
Thanksgiving Wade left the office at 11:30 a.m. He intended to grab a quick bite and then stake out a position outside a motel where a client’s husband was suspected of trysting with his girlfriend. According to the wife, her husband left his workplace for lunch about 1:00 p.m.

That gave him plenty of time to get into position. Better early than late.

He turned his key in the ignition. A clicking noise, then nothing. Cursing under his breath, Wade tried again. No response.

This morning, it had taken several attempts before the engine turned over. He’d attributed the difficulty to leaving the coupe outside in the early-morning cold.

Just what he needed: a dead battery. He’d have to wait for the auto club to send someone out.

He was about to call when Mike Aaron strode down the walkway. The tall sandy-haired man stopped by Wade’s car. “Problem?”

“Dead battery. If you’ll jump-start me, I’ll be on my way.” Wade explained where he was headed.

“You’ll probably get stuck again.”

No big deal. “Once the job’s done, I’ll have time to wait for the auto club.”

Mike jiggled his keys. “I’ll jump you, but please go straight to a mechanic. Places close early today and you could be without a car over the holiday. If lover boy has to wait till Monday, so be it.”

“I’d rather do both. And I happen to know a good mechanic.” If Daryl’s garage stocked the right battery, he could fix it in a jiffy. If not, Wade would borrow his father’s vehicle.

“You’re resourceful. Good.” With that, Mike went to move his silver sedan into the space beside the black coupe. “Nice wheels,” he commented as he lifted the jumper cables from his trunk.

“Seemed like a great car when I had only myself and the occasional lady friend to transport.” Wade opened his hood while Mike did the same with his car. “It seats two comfortably and three uncomfortably.”

“Not too practical with a kid.” His boss clamped a red cable end to the positive terminal on Wade’s battery and the other end to his own battery. Then he checked to ensure he’d done it right. There was a slight risk of an explosion if anything got screwed up. Wade had seen that happen once in his high school parking lot, although luckily not to his car.

“Speaking of which, how’s the fatherhood bit coming along?” Mike clamped a black cable end to the negative battery terminal on his sedan.

“Even more fun than I expected.” Wade hadn’t been prepared for Reggie’s lovable nature. Nor for his aunt’s tantalizing presence. “I’m glad he’s old enough for us to do things together.”

“That’s a common misperception.”

“What is?”

“That babies are boring.”

“All they do is babble, cry all night and poop in their diapers, right?” Wade was only half joking.

Mike regarded him pityingly. “You missed the best part. There’s nothing more fascinating than a baby.”

With a smack of embarrassment, Wade recalled that he was talking to the father of an infant. “I meant the average kid,” he amended. “I’m sure your daughter is a genius.”

“That’s a given.” Mike broke into a fond smile. “They pull you into a new world.”

“Yeah?” Wade had never seen this side of his boss.

“It’s a real high, watching them.” In his enthusiasm, Mike momentarily forgot his task. “Each week—each day—brings something new. Rolling over. Sitting up. Giggling as they play with you. Drinking out of a cup.”

Giggling and drinking from a cup? An ironic remark sprang to Wade’s lips. Recalling how much he hated his grandfather’s sarcasm, he restrained it.

“They’re cunning little creatures,” Mike added as he attached the other negative cable end to an unpainted bolt on the coupe. “They develop a startling resemblance to the woman you love, to you and maybe a few other relatives. They make you feel a part of generations in a way you never thought of before. Like, who had those eyes a hundred years ago? A thousand years? The DNA goes all the way back to the beginning.”

Wade wasn’t interested in Reggie’s resemblance to Vicki. Now, if he had a baby with Adrienne, what a thrill it would be to see her knowing light green eyes staring up at him from a tiny face. Holding their baby in his arms, looking over and sharing Adrienne’s joy—that would be special.

“We’re set.” Sliding behind his steering wheel, Mike switched on the sedan and let it idle. “See if that’s enough juice.”

Wade tried his ignition. After a brief grumble, it sprang into action. “Perfect.”

Leaving his car on, Mike disconnected the cables. “Straight to the garage. I don’t want this happening again.”

“Me, either. Thanks.”

Phil’s Garage, where Daryl worked, was a couple blocks from the hospital. Wade was glad to see one of the bays empty and pulled into it.

The owner, Phil DiDonato, left the SUV he’d been working on and wiped his hands on a rag. “What’s up, Wade?”

The guy had a good memory. Wade hadn’t seen him since he used to bring his car there years ago. “I need a new battery. Is my dad around?”

The mechanic, a pleasant-faced guy in his mid-thirties, tugged on his blue coveralls. “Hasn’t showed up yet.”

It was nearly noon. “Is that normal?”

Phil ducked his head. “He’s been pretty good since you came back to town, till today.”

“What about before that?”

“It’d happen once, twice a week.”

Wade hadn’t realized his father was missing work. In fairness, Daryl might have been detained by a tenant’s emergency. “When he comes in, is he hungover?”

Another pause, and then Phil said, “If he’s not here by noon, he’s not coming in.”

That was even worse. Well, there was nothing Wade could do about it now. “Any chance of you replacing my battery? I realize you have extra work with my dad gone.”

“It’s a slow day. Let’s see if I have the battery in stock.”

Through his open window Wade inhaled the oddly reassuring scent of machine oil. He supposed he could grab a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria while he waited. Then, double-checking the location of the Harbor Suites Motel in his phone, he realized it was right around the corner. That made sense. The place, which offered weekly suites as well as single rooms, probably catered to the families of hospital patients.

Along with a few marital cheaters.

Phil returned. “Yep, there’s one left. I can switch that out for you inside of an hour.”

“Great.” Wade explained that he’d be back in an hour or two.

After retrieving his camera gear, he handed Phil the keys, provided his phone number and signed an estimate form. He also made sure his phone was on vibrate. Nothing like ruining the perfect shot because your phone drew your subject’s attention.

He decided to skip lunch since he was behind schedule. En route to the motel, Wade wondered where his father was. At home, drinking?

Maybe once the job was done, he should swing by there. But Daryl wasn’t a child, and no one had appointed Wade his guardian.

He’d assumed his father was functioning, despite the occasional beer. Daryl had reinforced that impression, but a month of moderate restraint was apparently as much as he could bear.

It isn’t your responsibility.
Still, Wade hoped he could figure out a way to help his dad face up to his disease.

Chapter Nine

The cheating husband, better dressed and groomed than in the photograph his wife had provided, showed up shortly after one, carrying a shiny gift bag, no doubt an attempt to pacify his girlfriend for his upcoming absence on the holiday. Wade caught excellent images of the man and the logo on the bag. That should help identify the purchase on the man’s credit card.

He disappeared inside. Too bad. That meant no steamy embrace in public.

A second man, even more smartly dressed, strolled up to the room and tapped several times in a pattern. When he glanced around, Wade—lounging behind a tree—ducked back then captured the man’s face through the branches.

The client was in for a shock. Maybe she’d feel some sympathy for a husband trapped by his fear of coming out about his sexual orientation. However, since he was betraying her trust and possibly putting her in medical jeopardy, Wade doubted it.

Half an hour later the second man stalked out, scowling. The husband emerged, still carrying the gift bag. Clearly, they’d quarreled. People who led double lives often destroyed both of them, in Wade’s observation.

He walked to the garage, collected his refitted car and drove to the office. After writing the report, he forwarded it, with pictures, to Mike for review.

Time to go home and face what might be an unpleasant confrontation with Daryl. On the way Wade stopped at the Suncrest Market for some last-minute purchases, including a freshly baked apple pie.

Near the checkout counter a keepsake basket filled with yellow roses, orange lilies and red daisies caught his attention. Adrienne would love those. However, Wade doubted they’d stay fresh until Saturday, when he was scheduled to pick up Reggie. Also, she’d have lots of flowers left from Friday’s wedding.

In the line, carts were piled high with turkeys, yams, stuffing mix and other goodies. The shoppers must be expecting large crowds for their meals, or else love leftovers. Or both.

Once again Wade was on the outside looking in. After his mother left, he used to take walks on Thanksgiving to escape the gloomy apartment. Delicious cooking smells would fill the air. Later, in December, Christmas trees twinkled through the front windows while colored lights and lawn displays turned the neighborhood into a fantasyland. His sense of longing had cut like a razor blade.

Finally, it was his turn to unload his groceries. He was buying a lot of food for two people, he reflected. Overcompensating, no doubt.

At Daryl’s apartment the sour smell of beer struck him in the doorway. Carrying the groceries to the kitchen, Wade passed his father, who was sprawled on the couch watching a reality show.

You’ve been in denial.
His father might have limited his drinking for a few weeks rather than show weakness in front of Wade. Now he’d returned to his normal habits. If the man didn’t get a grip, he’d soon find himself jobless and possibly homeless, as well.

While putting the groceries away, Wade debated how to proceed. Or whether to say anything, since that risked a fight unlikely to produce a resolution.

“You buy any beer?” Daryl called.

“Didn’t realize you were out of it.” Since he disliked yelling from one room to another, Wade walked to where he could see his father. “Phil replaced my battery today.”

“Yeah?”

“I was surprised you weren’t there.”

“My drinking is my business.” So much for the cautious approach; his father had leaped right to the main point.

“It’s Phil’s business, too,” Wade observed testily. “He’s a nice guy, but if the work piles up, sooner or later he’ll hire another mechanic.”

“He can take that lousy job and shove it.” Daryl hefted his can, glared at it for daring to be empty and crumpled it. “I deserve a real job, the kind I’m trained for. You tell Mike Aaron he oughta hire me.”

Wade tried not to show his dismay. “Have you applied?”

“Sent him a résumé. Never got a response,” Daryl retorted. “I’m a seasoned hand and I’d bring in clients. My father founded the place, in case he’s forgotten.”

If Wade’s father believed he was in any shape to take on a job requiring dependability and discretion, he’d lost touch with reality. Most likely, it was the alcohol speaking.

A knock on the door provided a welcome interruption. A tenant’s oven was on the fritz. Daryl went to inspect it, muttering that he’d have to pay double for a repairman on the eve of a holiday.

In the kitchen, where Wade resumed stowing his purchases, he mulled Daryl’s idea of working at Fact Hunter. With luck, his father would drop the subject. Wade hoped so, because there was no way Mike Aaron would hire him.

Not unless his father made a lot of changes. And that wouldn’t happen overnight.

* * *

B
Y
LATE
AFTERNOON
on Thanksgiving Day, Adrienne’s house smelled of sausage-and-sage stuffing. She had fresh yams ready to put in the microwave and a salad in the refrigerator. A pumpkin pie sat on a side counter.

The problem was the turkey. She’d bought it two days ago, assuming it would thaw. This morning, she’d discovered the inside still frozen, the packet of giblets too solidly attached for removal. She’d bathed it in cold water, changing the water every half hour, and had finally brought it to a passable level.

She hoped to stuff it quickly, but she hadn’t counted on Reggie. “This is what my dad’s doing today, right?” he asked.

“Yes, he is.” Adrienne wished they could share this task. It would be fun cooking together. Well, maybe another day.

“Let me do it, too. Please!”

Despite running late, she agreed. Her nephew washed his hands—thank goodness—and then, without waiting for instructions, began shoving handfuls of stuffing from the bowl into the bird.

“Wait!”

“Why?” he demanded.

“We haven’t removed the giblets.” Explaining that those had to be cooked separately, she emptied the turkey and they started over.

It was two o’clock when the bird—stuffed, tied and giblet-free—went into the oven. With an estimated four-hour cooking time plus an hour of standing before carving, it would be a close race to eat dinner before they left for Mary Beth’s house at seven-thirty.

Adrienne set to cleaning the kitchen. Through the window, she saw that the predicted rain had begun to fall.

Despite her efforts to relax, she kept reviewing the wedding arrangements. She’d told the rental service to leave the tables and chairs for forty guests folded under the patio cover. Harper and Peter would arrive at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow to set them up and hold a quick walk-through of the ceremony. But if the lawn didn’t dry off, they’d have to activate their emergency backup plan and move everything indoors.

What was I thinking when I offered to a host a wedding?
That it would be a lot of fun, Adrienne recalled. And perhaps it still would be.

In the family room, she collapsed into an upholstered chair. With a long night ahead, she could use a nap.

The phone rang.

Please don’t let that be Labor and Delivery.
Today of all days, she wasn’t prepared for the charge nurse to summon her early.

Grimly, Adrienne fumbled in her pocket and drew out the phone.

* * *

T
HANKS
TO
THE
SPICES
Wade had infused the previous day following the instructions in the cookbook, the turkey emerged from the oven at three o’clock deliciously browned and smelling irresistible. Daryl followed his nose into the kitchen. “Let’s eat!”

“It has to sit for an hour before I carve it.” Wade planned to follow a video, since turkey carving was no simple matter.

“Who invented that rule?” his father grumbled.

“The salad’s ready, if you’re hungry.”

“Rabbit food.” Daryl returned to the couch and the stash of beer he’d replenished last night. Wade resented that his father wasn’t even trying to moderate his drinking. The main point of cooking this meal and missing the holiday with Reggie had been to prevent a binge like this. Not that his father had agreed to that premise, but he could expend a little more effort to be sociable.

In Wade’s pocket the phone vibrated. It was Adrienne, he saw with a lift of spirits. “What’s up?”

“They need me at work early.” She sounded near tears.

“On a holiday?” He bristled on her behalf.

“I’m sure the moms in labor would wait if they could,” she replied. “The problem is that a lot of doctors are out of town, and the obstetrician on duty can’t handle everything.”

“You have to go in right away?” He wondered if he dared suggest she drop Reggie off there. Given Daryl’s unstable mood, that was a dicey proposition.

“I discussed the situation with Zack Sargent—the OB who has this shift—and he can hold the fort alone for another hour or so,” she said. “But my turkey won’t be done until six. Also, I reached Mary Beth and honestly, I could tell it’s a major imposition to bring Reggie early. She wasn’t thrilled about babysitting tonight in the first place.”

“Tell her she’s relieved of duty. I’ll be over in...” Wade made a quick mental calculation. “Give me half an hour—forty-five minutes max.”

“What about your dinner?” she asked.

“Turkey’s out of the oven and my sweet-potato casserole’s done.” He’d break the rules and carve some meat for Daryl. “What else should I bring?”

They compared notes. She had salad and pumpkin pie and didn’t mind saving her yams to eat another day. “I can whip up the mashed potatoes from a box. What about gravy?”

That had to be fixed with drippings from the bird. Although he’d suctioned them into a pan, he hadn’t added seasoning or thickening yet. “I’ll bring the liquid with me. Shouldn’t take long.”

“You don’t mind?” she asked. “You’ll need to pull my turkey out of the oven when it’s done.”

“No problem.” There’d be a huge supply of leftovers, but they could always freeze those.

“Reggie will be thrilled,” Adrienne said. “You’re a saint.”

“No one ever called me that before.” The compliment warmed Wade. “I’ll fix a plate for my father before I go.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Sympathy quivered in her voice. “That poor man, alone on Thanksgiving.”

“He’ll hardly notice I’m gone,” Wade assured her, bitterness creeping into his voice. “He can watch football and swill beer in peace.”

Too late he realized he should have skipped the sarcasm. From the doorway, Daryl glared at him.

“See you in a bit,” Wade said. “Gotta go.”

“Thank you a thousand times.”

“I’m glad someone appreciates me.” After clicking off, Wade faced his father. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that my own son disrespects me.”

Having apologized once, Wade didn’t intend to do it again. “Guess I learned my bad manners from Grandpa.”

His father’s anger, always easily provoked, wasn’t about to fade. Instead, Daryl fixed on another cause for complaint. “You have no intention of putting in a good word with Mike Aaron, do you?”

Let’s not get into that now.
“It isn’t my place to order my boss around.”

“You think I’m unfit for your job.” His hands flexing, Daryl braced for a fight.

Since it seemed impossible to avoid an argument, Wade told the truth. “As long as you keep drinking, I can’t recommend you.”

“You owe me!” The words burst out.

“Owe you for what, exactly?”

“For how hard I’ve worked,” his father snapped. “All the sacrifices I’ve made.”

Wade’s patience evaporated. “You’re not the only one who made sacrifices. I grew up rescuing you from bars when you were too drunk to drive, doing your laundry, fixing your meals, getting you up and into the shower when you were hungover so you wouldn’t lose your job. Dad, I’ll help you fight this thing if you’ll let me, but I refuse to pretend everything’s fine. It isn’t.”

“Get out!” Rage contorted Daryl’s face. “Take your damn clothes and clear out of my apartment.”

“Fine.” Wade hadn’t meant to cause a breach, and he’d have preferred to move out on good terms. But he had a place to stay tonight, and he’d rent a place after that.

He threw his possessions together and carried them to the car. On his return he found Daryl in the kitchen, eating stuffing and yams piled on a plate. Quickly, Wade cut off both turkey legs and thighs and left half the apple pie, as well.

He poured the drippings into a jar, put the turkey and pan into a large shopping bag and scraped the rest of the yams into a disposable container. He’d already spread a couple large towels in the trunk in case anything spilled. “I’ll let you know when I’m settled.”

“Whatever.” His father stared down at his plate.

Wade replaced the spare key on the Peg-Board and took the remaining pie. By some miracle, he reached his car without dropping anything. Reviewing the blowup en route to Adrienne’s, he conceded that he shouldn’t have insulted his father, but he’d apologized. Now they were alienated, just like him and Grandpa.

Not setting a very good example of family togetherness for Reggie, was he?

On Adrienne’s street, her house glowed with welcome. The fading November sunlight played lovingly over the cream-and-blue paint and the cheerful plantings. The orange-and-violet birdlike flowers rose on long stems from the bird-of-paradise plant while his yellow miniature rose added cheer to the low-growing border.

She’d planted it. Wade was touched.

He opened his trunk and was deciding what to take inside when Reggie ran out. “Daddy!”

“Hey, sport.” Crouching, Wade braced for impact.

After the hug, the little boy helped cart in the food. Bringing his suitcase as well as the turkey, Wade inhaled pleasurably as he stepped into the house. Dinner smelled even better here than at the apartment.

In the kitchen, Adrienne grinned at him, brushing back a strand of blond hair that had escaped her clip. She’d set three places in the breakfast nook with fine china and silverware.

“I figured it would be cozier to eat in here than the dining room,” she explained. Beneath her apron she wore navy slacks and a dark pink blouse. Perhaps the layers she had on or the heat from cooking accounted for the blush on her cheeks.