Her Valentine Family (9 page)

She almost laughed, picturing her telling Chad that he had a son and then asking him to sign up for coaching duty. It was nearly funny, if it would only be that easy.

“Are you thinking that Daddy will find us soon?” she asked, trying to use Nathan's own terminology to describe what was bound to happen in the next few days.

“Yep.”

“Me, too,” she whispered, and Nathan smiled broadly.

“When?”

“I'm thinking he'll find you in the next few days,” she said. Then she thought about the other part of this equation, the one Nathan didn't know about yet. “And Nathan, do you remember when you told me you'd like a little brother or sister?”

“Yes!” he said, letting go of the paper in his excitement at the possibility. The sheet flittered off the bed to land on the floor.

Jess decided to wait about picking it up. This was more important. She cupped her palms beneath Nathan's face and looked into those excited green-gold eyes. “Well, when your daddy finds us, he may bring you a little sister with him.”

“Really?” he asked. “Cool!” He moved his head away from her hands and peered past her to the floor. “Mama, get that for me,” he said, then thought about what was missing in that request and added, “Please.” He pointed to the paper on the floor. “And I need a color.” He paused, grinned. “Please.”

Jessica handed him the paper and then withdrew a box of crayons from his nightstand drawer. “You want a crayon?”

“Yeah, a red one.” The paper had already started curling back up on the ends, and he worked to flatten it back out. Jessica grabbed the David and Goliath book that was still on the nightstand from when her father read him the story and placed it in Nathan's lap. Then she put the paper on top of the hard surface so it'd be easier for him to color…whatever he planned to color.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You'll see.” He continued trying to make the sides of the page lay down, but they continued curling up.

Jessica flattened her palms on the page and pushed them to the edges so she could hold the paper in place for her son.

“Thanks,” Nathan said, placing the crayon next to the daddy figure on the paper. Then he shook his head, mumbled, “Nope” and moved the crayon to the other side, beside his Nathan figure. When he was done, there was a new, smaller figure added to the scene. A small, circular head and two string legs formed a child to Nathan's left. Mommy on the right, little girl on the left. And Daddy still on the far side.

Jessica didn't like the feeling she got from that.

“Why did you put her there?” she asked. “By you?”

“Because,” Nathan said, “I'll have to teach her stuff.”

She smiled. “Yes, you will.”

He picked up the crayon box and frowned. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know what color of hair she has.”

“Yellow,” Jess said. “I believe she has yellow.”

He nodded, grabbed a yellow crayon and put a puff of yellow hair on top of the little girl.

“Very nice,” she said.

“Now,” Nathan said, when he'd determined the piece was done. “It's just like Ms. Hannah said.” He handed her the yellow crayon, and Jess slid it back into the box, then put the crayons away.

“Like Ms. Hannah said?” she asked.

“This side is Abraham's family,” he explained, turning the page for her to see the preprinted paper that he'd colored in class. He turned the page again and smiled. “And this one is mine.”

Jessica blinked a few times to keep the tears at bay. The image was nice, except for the daddy being on the other side of the page. Maybe soon Nathan would see them all together.

Please, God, let it be that way. Nathan wants a real family.

And so do I.

T
he last thing Jessica had planned to do on Thursday afternoon was cancel her coffee plans with Chad, but nevertheless that's exactly what she was about to do, thanks to a bizarre telephone call from Nathan's teacher.

She dialed Chad's number as she crossed the quad toward the English building, and her English Comp class. He didn't answer, and she really didn't expect him to, since he was probably preparing to teach his last class for the day, but she didn't want to break their plans via text message.

She prayed he'd understand.

After his voice mail greeting ended, she waited for the tone and then spoke as clearly as she could, given how worried she was about her son—about
their
son. “Hey, I'm sorry. I can't do coffee tonight. Nathan's teacher called, and she thinks there might be something wrong with him,” she said and then swallowed. She had to tell him more than that. “Not physically,” she clarified, “socially.” She shook her head, thinking about how awkward this was to say into a cell phone. She needed to
actually talk to him about what Nathan's teacher said. She needed parental advice. “She asked me not to speak to him until she has a chance to try to figure out what's wrong. I guess she just wanted my permission to talk to him, and I told her she had it, that I'd wait about asking him anything, but now—now I'm thinking maybe I should talk to him tonight. I'm his mama, so I should probably be the one—”

The phone beeped and an automated voice informed her that she had exceeded the allotted time to leave a message. She was then informed that she could rerecord or delete her message. Jessica debated an attempt to try leaving the message again so she didn't sound so much like a paranoid mother, but it was time for her class to start, and she didn't have the willpower to try and start over. Yeah, she'd botched the message, and yes, she forgot to tell him she'd still like to go out with him tomorrow night. But she knew he would return her call, and maybe she didn't sound as pathetic as she thought.

She entered her class in the nick of time, rather than her usual early arrival, dropped into her customary front row seat and concentrated on staying focused throughout the class. Unfortunately, her attempt at concentration failed. The class ended, and she had no clue about what Ms. Smelding discussed. She should have just gone on home after her first class so she could've gotten to Nathan quicker. Jessica sighed dismally and began gathering her books.

“Here, honey.” An elderly voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to see Ms. Smelding standing in front of her, a batch of stapled papers extended toward Jess.

Jessica glanced around and realized the rest of the class had already left while she was thinking about Nathan and gathering her things. “What's that?”

“My notes from today's lecture. Normally you don't miss a word I say. Today, I'd wager you didn't catch one. Never even saw you pick up your pen. So I figure I'll give you a freebie this week, since you're probably the only one in here who's actually trying to learn something.” She pushed the papers toward Jessica's nose. “Better grab them quick. My niceness can only last so long, you know. It runs out with age.”

Jessica took the papers. “Thank you. I'm sorry about being so distracted. My son's teacher called me after my first class and said she wanted my permission to talk to him tomorrow and that she suspects he may have a problem, socially.” She shrugged and was a little embarrassed when her mouth quivered.

The older woman stepped closer, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Well, now, that explains everything. Nothing can tear at your heart more than thinking there's something wrong with one of your kids. I've got four of them, all boys, you know. Stair steps, that's what they were. Only six years' difference from the oldest to the youngest.” She gave Jess a squeeze, then removed her arm and laughed. “They were a handful, let me tell you, but they turned out all right. Each of them had their quirks.” She shrugged. “I suppose everyone does. Some things are real problems. Other things, not so much. Until you know something for sure, though, there's no sense worrying too much about it, in my opinion. My youngest, Tyler, was nearly two years old before he uttered a word. I took him to one doctor after another thinking something was wrong with the boy.”

Jessica listened with interest. “And was there?”

Her teacher shook her head and laughed again. “Turned out that he never had to talk because all of his older brothers were always more than anxious to tell everybody what he wanted to say. As soon as they got out of the house and in school, Tyler chatted up a storm. In fact, I've often joked that it took us two years to teach him to talk and the rest of his life to teach him when to shut up.”

Jessica grinned, feeling a little better. “Thanks for sharing that.”

“He's an attorney now and sure enough talks his share, let me tell you. But I do remember how worried I was back then when I thought something was wrong with my baby. It's hard to think that your child is anything less than perfect. But in Tyler's case, he's fine. And now I've got a baker's dozen of grandchildren to boot, each of them with their share of problems, their share of differences.” She moved to her desk and gathered her teaching materials. “I won't lie to you and tell you some concerns for my kids weren't warranted. But you'll make it through. You pray for him, don't you? Your little boy?”

“All the time.”

“Best thing you can do. And just so you know, I've had my share of parent-teacher meetings, too, and have been on both sides of the table—the parent worried about my child and the teacher worried about a student. If his teacher wants to talk to him and asked your permission before doing so, it sounds like she has both of your best interests at heart.”

“It seems so,” Jessica agreed.

Strong, sturdy footsteps echoed as someone moved through the hall. They grew louder and faster until the owner of those long, steady strides stepped inside the classroom.

Chad Martin's presence seemed to overpower the room, and Jessica saw him in an entirely new light. Not as the best looking instructor on campus. Not as the boy she'd grown to love in high school. Or as the man she still cared about more than any other.

She saw Nathan's daddy.

“I just got your message. What's happening with Nathan? What did his teacher say, exactly? I understand that you want to go home and see him soon, but I thought you might want to talk about it first.”

Ms. Smelding tucked her teaching materials against her chest. “Hello, Mr. Martin,” she said. Then to Jessica she said, “You two are welcome to talk in my classroom, if you like. I'm headed home, and there aren't any other classes in here tonight.” She turned back to Chad. “Lock the door when you leave?”

“Yes, thank you, Ms. Smelding.”

“You're welcome, son.” She moved past Chad toward the door. “I'll say a prayer for your boy.”

Jessica's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, it appeared Ms. Smelding was talking to Chad, but then she realized that her words were addressed to Jess.

“Thank you,” she said and watched the older woman leave.

Chad wasted no time crossing the room, taking her books from her tight grasp and putting them back on her desk. “Come here, let me help.” He pulled her against him, his strong arms wrapping around her and folding her into his warmth. “It'll be okay,” he soothed.

The compassion in his voice, the sincerity of his embrace and concern for what she was going through pushed Jessica over the edge, and she finally released her tears.

“It's okay,” he repeated softly, brushing his hand down her hair and holding her close. “I'll help you. Let me help you, Jess. I know you're worried about him, but you're not on your own here.”

He didn't say another thing, allowing her to let go of the emotions that she'd held in check throughout the afternoon, ever since she received that call. She pressed her face against his shirt and felt the sturdy, solid beat of his heart against her cheek. Her tears trickled freely, and she let them fall. The weight of her worry lessened as each drop released, as though transferring through her tears from herself to the strong, compelling man that held her close.

Eventually, her tears subsided, and she sniffed, then eased away from his chest to look into those green-gold eyes. Chad's eyes. Nathan's eyes.

He gently, tenderly brushed her tears away. “You ready to talk about it?”

He was wearing jeans and a pale blue dress shirt with a big damp spot on the chest, right beside the green Polo Ralph Lauren logo. Apparently she'd lost more than tears, since the black residue on that spot looked like a good portion of the mascara she'd been wearing had also marred his nice shirt. She assumed the rest of it was smeared across her face.

Chad looked down, saw the spot that held her attention. One corner of his mouth lifted. “I was taking it to the cleaners anyway.”

“I must be a mess,” she whispered, attempting a ladylike dab beneath each eye and then viewing even more black smeared across her fingers. “I didn't realize I put on that much mascara.”

He laughed, low and easy, reached for the tissue box at the corner of Ms. Smelding's desk and extracted a tissue, then a few more for good measure. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She made an effort to do a better job cleaning her face, then looked at him. “How'd I do?”

She could tell by the tightness of his jaw that he was working hard to keep from laughing at her attempt. He took one of the tissues from her hand and lightly rubbed the top of each cheek. She wouldn't have thought the black would have traveled that far.

“That's better,” he said, tilting his head from one side to the other as he surveyed his handiwork. “So, are you ready to talk about it? You said Nathan's teacher thinks he has a problem socially?”

Jessica inhaled, nodded, then let it out.

“Did she say what she meant, exactly?” he asked, edging his hip on the desk then indicating the spot beside him for her to sit down, too.

Jess sat on the desk and was comforted again when he draped a supportive arm around her as she spoke. “She said that she noticed Nathan was a little distant last week when the kids would go to the gym to play. She said all of the boys would typically gather together to play basketball or jump rope together or something else that involved, you know, a group effort. But Nathan remained by himself.”

“Last week was his first week at the new school, though, right? You'd mentioned you were worried about
moving him in the middle of the year, and it makes sense that a kid would take a little time adjusting to a new school, new home, new friends. Did she mention that or take that into consideration?”

Jessica nodded. “She did, and I brought that up as well, which is why she said she didn't call me last week. She wanted to give him a little time to adjust to his new surroundings.”

“Okay, so what happened to make her call this week?” he asked.

“This week, since we've had prettier weather and all, they've moved outside to the playground behind the school. It's full of things that encourage the kids to play together. Lots of playground equipment, a tall monkey bars set, seesaws, sandboxes, swing sets, kickball courts, tether ball, four-square corners, you name it.”

“Sounds like they've added a lot since we went to Claremont Elementary. I remember playing kickball and four-square and the one big swing set, but that's it,” he said, and she nodded.

“They've got everything now.” She recalled taking Nathan to look at the school before he actually started. “That was his favorite thing about his new school, that the playground was so much larger than the one at his old school. He was even talking about all of the things he could do on that playground. I envisioned him playing nonstop, making lots of new friends.” She paused, swallowed. “Everything that
normal
five-year-olds do on a playground.” She stopped. Everything that normal five-year-olds do. Nathan's teacher thought he had a problem. She'd insinuated that perhaps Nathan wasn't “normal.”

“But that's not what happened this week, when they
went outside?” Chad said, and she could tell that he was trying to bring her back to the conversation and away from the thoughts that were apparently showing her concern on her face.

“No,” Jess said. “Nathan went to one of the sandboxes each day and played on his own. The boys in the class gathered on the play equipment the first day, but he stayed in the sandbox. Mrs. Carter, his teacher, still assumed he was trying to adjust, so she thought she'd coordinate a group activity the next day to help him fit in and to kind of force the other boys to include him, I suppose.”

“What kind of activity?”

“She got out there with them and organized a kickball game. Her teacher's aide had the girls, and she had the boys.” Jessica paused, thinking about the playground filled with children, boys and girls all laughing and playing together…and Nathan off to the side. Alone.

“And Nathan? He didn't join in?”

She shook her head. “She said he stayed at the sandbox, and when she urged him to join in, he told her he was busy, that he was building a bridge and needed to finish it.”

Chad's eyes changed, brightening a bit with her comment, and then to Jessica's shock, the corners of his mouth lifted in a brilliant smile. “He told her he needed to finish his bridge.”

Jess didn't really understand why this was funny. “Yes.”

“And he didn't want to be bothered with playing because he had a bridge to build,” Chad said, now laughing amid his words.

Jessica blinked, tried to understand what part of
Nathan's actions made Chad think that this wasn't serious. Her child was isolating himself from other children his age. That wasn't normal; his teacher had said so, and Jess believed her. And now that she'd confided in Chad, in Nathan's father, he was making light of the problem. A prickle of frustration worked its way through her senses, and she wanted to tell him that he was laughing at Nathan. That he was making fun of their son.