Father to Be Read online

  For that Caleb hated him.

  “Caleb and I have met,” Bill said. He looked at Caleb as if he didn’t trust him, making the boy’s face burn hotter. Caleb stared at the toe of his ragged shoe until finally Grayson said, “Let’s go.”

  Nobody said anything till they got the bags loaded in the back of the truck and the kids had climbed in the backseat.

  Then Grayson said, “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Caleb. Yes, stealing is wrong, but you had a good reason—”

  Caleb slammed the passenger door, cutting off his words.

  At home Grayson tried once more. He came into the house last, carrying the bags with Gracie’s clothes. Caleb stopped him at the bedroom door.

  “I know it wasn’t comfortable going back in the store so soon, but it will be easier—”

  Caleb took the bags, then, just like he did back at the store, he closed the door in J.D.’s face.

  On Tuesday morning J.D., taking care to make no sound, went to the guest room, where the door was propped open. Two nights in a row, after the kids had gone to bed, he’d turned out the lights and closed the door. Two mornings he’d awakened to find the door open and the hall light on. He wondered which of the kids was afraid of the dark. The natural assumption would be Gracie, who was youngest, or Noah, who was smallest, but J.D. knew better than to make assumptions about kids.

  They slept soundly, looking so innocent and sweet. When they woke up, the younger three would still appear innocent and sweet, maybe even more so, as they clung to their big brother/protector, but Caleb awake and alert was neither. What he mostly was was difficult. Obstructive. Angry.

  And he was well within his rights to be all that and more, J.D. kept reminding himself.

  From the kitchen came the faint aroma of coffee, drawing him in that direction. The timer-controlled coffeemaker was his best gift ever to himself, giving him coffee on demand to make him feel human and in control. He needed to feel in control. He filled a mug, then took it, his shoes, and his socks out onto the steps. The pale gray sky was showing pink off to the east, and there were lights on in houses up and down the street. The dawn air was cool, sweet, and the neighborhood was quiet. It was a peaceful time of day.

  By the time he’d finished his coffee and laced up his shoes, Mrs. Larrabee’s back door had opened. His landlady made her way across the damp grass to his steps, offering a cheery smile when she saw him sitting there.

  “I admire your energy so early in the morning,” she said in greeting.

  “I admire your good humor.”

  “Are the children still in bed?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for coming over.”

  “I can drink my coffee in your kitchen as well as in my own. Go on now. Stretch your legs. Have a good time.”

  She went inside and he headed down the steps. After a series of stretches, he trotted down the driveway and to the street, where he turned right. He’d been running—in one way or another, he thought cynically—more years than he cared to count. Sometimes he loved it, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he couldn’t bear having nothing to do but think. Sometimes he found himself the worst company in the world—the last person he wanted to spend time with, the very last person he wanted to be.

  Today was one of the better days, with things to think about besides himself, his mistakes, his failures. There were the kids. It was difficult to reach the younger kids with Caleb exerting such control. Maybe if he got them around other kids … Alanna Dalton knew Caleb from school, and the younger Daltons, Josie and Brendan, were near the younger Browns’ ages. If they could spend some time together, maybe Caleb could ease his rigid control just a little. Maybe he could be a kid again for a while.

  J.D. was approaching Main Street, planning to turn right. But the sight of a familiar figure turning off Main onto Sixth and jogging away from him changed his plans.

  She wore bright red shorts and a royal blue tank, a pleasant change from the brown suit of the day before. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail that bounced with every step she took, and her legs … He sucked in his breath in a low whistle. No denying it, she had great legs.

  He thought about catching up to her and about staying fifteen yards behind her. Both ideas had their merits—talking to her versus watching her. Learning more about her or just admiring the obvious.

  The decision was taken from him when she reached City Park, turned onto the paved path, and slowed her pace, leaving him no choice but to join her. Once he did, she returned to her original pace. They’d passed the ice rink and the picnic tables before she finally spoke. “You know, I usually run alone.”

  “You’re alone. I just happen to be going in the same direction.”

  “I noticed. In the city, following a woman jogger is a good way to get yourself in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble? What did you carry for protection? Pepper spray?”

  “That’s illegal in New York.”

  “Like that stops anyone,” he scoffed. “Besides, we’re not in the city. One of these days you’ll become so much a part of Bethlehem that you’ll almost forget you came from someplace else. Your years in the city will seem like nothing more than a distant nightmare.”

  “Is that how you think of your years in Chicago? As a nightmare?”

  It was an innocent question, one he’d inadvertently set himself up for. Knowing that didn’t stop it from stinging though. It didn’t ease the sudden queasiness in his stomach or the sick taste in his mouth. “What years in Chicago?” he asked with forced lightness that sounded phony. “My life began when I came to Bethlehem.”

  Maybe she recognized the phoniness, maybe not. Either way, she gave him a long look and fell silent until they’d rounded the playground, when she changed the subject. “You never answered my question yesterday.”

  “You asked a lot of questions, and I answered every one. ‘Can I come in? Can I see the kids? Is there someplace we could talk? Can we close that door?’ ”

  “Why did you agree to take the children?”

  Fixing his gaze on the path ahead, he listened to the sound of their footsteps, hitting the pavement in unison. As the sun climbed higher, the sky lightened and the temperature began to edge up. Sweat trickled down his spine and left damp spots on his shirt. He was uncomfortable, but it was a pleasant discomfort.

  “I’m waiting, Dr. Grayson.”

  Rather than try to explain what he didn’t entirely understand himself, he answered flippantly. “Noelle was persuasive.”

  She responded dryly. “So you’re susceptible to pretty little things. What a surprise.”

  For a long time he hadn’t been susceptible to anything except self-pity, self-loathing, grief. Bethlehem—and the people he’d met there, the acceptance he’d found there—had changed that. “I’m a man. I like pretty women. So shoot me. But I didn’t take custody of four kids simply because a beautiful woman asked me to. And I didn’t give them up simply because another beautiful woman told me to.”

  The look she gave him was long, steady, and unimpressed. “Am I supposed to be flattered?”

  “When I flatter you, Ms. Malone, you won’t have to ask for confirmation. I was merely stating the obvious. Besides, you were the one who brought looks into the conversation.”

  After a moment she grudgingly said, “I suppose you can call me Kelsey.”

  “I suppose I would anyway, with or without your permission.” Then he grinned. “I don’t suppose you’re going to call me J.D.”

  “Who’s with the kids?”

  “Is that a new habit? Ignoring comments you don’t want to respond to?”

  “Surely you didn’t leave them home alone.”

  “Because it’s very rude. You really should break it before it’s too late.”

  She scowled at him, her hazel eyes narrowing. “Giving unsolicited advice is also rude. Who is with the kids?”

  “Mrs. Larrabee. If I’d left them alone, don’t you think I would have run the other way when I
saw you instead of following you?”

  “Why did you follow me?”

  “Uh, this is my regular route? I didn’t want to run with the sun in my eyes?” A quick glance showed that she didn’t buy either answer. Why should she, when it was so obvious? Gorgeous legs, six miles long, were an enticement no right-minded man would turn his back on.

  “I ran this route yesterday and didn’t see you, and the sun wasn’t up high enough when you started to even clear the trees.”

  “Maybe I’m just being neighborly.”

  “Huh.” Clearly unimpressed, she gestured toward the long, low building up ahead. “This is it for me—back where I started.”

  He turned into the parking lot with her, passed a half-dozen cars, and stopped at the end of the cracked sidewalk that led to number three. “Hey, I used to live in number three.”

  “What a coincidence.” She bent over, hands to the ground in a long stretch that pulled her clothes snug. It was an interesting sight from the front—the long line of her neck, her back exposed where her tank top dipped down, the muscles clearly defined in her legs and arms. How much more interesting it would be from behind, J.D. suspected, but if he walked around her to confirm that suspicion, no doubt she would stand up immediately.

  “You have any plans for tonight?”

  She straightened, unfolding her spine one vertebra at a time, raising her arms high above her head. When finally she looked at him, her face was flushed, her hair mussed, her tank top still clinging like a second skin. His heart rate should be slowing, his body cooling now that he’d stopped moving, but it wasn’t. If anything, his pulse might have increased a few beats and his temperature climbed a few degrees.

  “Why do you want to know?” She sounded aloof, wary, as if he might be asking for nefarious reasons, which was ridiculous. Not that he couldn’t think of a few wicked deeds he’d like to do with her if she were merely a woman, but she wasn’t merely anything. She was a social worker first and foremost—the social worker assigned to him and the kids. As long as that professional association existed, anything personal was totally off limits.

  “I thought I’d call Miss Corinna and Miss Agatha, ask if we could stop by their house this evening. You can see for yourself that they’re nowhere near too old to take care of the kids.”

  “All right. You can call the office and let me know.” She pulled a key from her shorts pockets and climbed the steps of her small porch without so much as a good-bye.

  “What? No invitation inside to see what you’ve done with the place?” he teased. “No ‘Thanks for the company, I enjoyed the run’? The least you could do is offer me a drink of water.”

  “Would you like a drink of water, Dr. Grayson?” She gestured to the right as she opened the door. “The hose is right there.”

  “You’re a hard woman, Ms. Malone.” Though she looked incredibly, womanly soft. “That’s okay. We’ll work on your manners. Bethlehem will teach you to be gracious in no time.”

  Her smile came slowly, unwillingly. “Would you like to come in and see what I’ve done to the place? How about a glass of water?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got a few more miles to go.”

  “Thanks for the company. I enjoyed the run—even though I normally do run alone.”

  He began jogging in place, warming muscles that had started to cool. “Hey, you never did tell me. What did you use for protection in the city?”

  “My neighbor’s dog—a big, mean, man-hating Rottweiler.” This time her smile was wickedly amused. “See you later, Dr. Grayson.”

  Kelsey stood in front of her open closet doors, staring at the clothes hanging inside. She’d come back from a visit to Alex Thomas’s law office that afternoon to find a message from J. D. Grayson that he’d arranged a six P.M. meeting between her and the Winchester sisters—a dinner meeting, no less. Though it was unusual—in eleven years she’d never been invited to dinner by a client’s baby-sitter—she could handle dinner with strangers.

  But could she handle dinner with the client?

  J.D. had been on her mind so much of the day that she’d even stopped thinking of him as Dr. Grayson. She had watched from the door that morning until he was out of sight, had thought about inviting him inside into her personal space. She’d considered the fact that her space had been his first—that he’d cooked in her kitchen, showered in her bathroom, maybe even slept in her bed. She’d wondered why he wasn’t married and what he’d given up in Chicago to come to Bethlehem and if he was as remarkable as he seemed.

  Thinking, considering, and wondering were all right, as long as that was all she did. She wanted a relationship somewhere down the line, once she was completely settled in and had had a chance to meet some men, but absolutely not with a client, and probably not with a psychiatrist. Their fields were too similar, their work too involved.

  With a sigh she reached for the navy jacket that matched the skirt she was wearing, then put it back, stripped off her blouse and skirt, and pulled on a dress instead. It was soft, summery, with a scooped neck, short sleeves, and a hem that fell almost to her ankles. The print was pale yellow flowers on a muted aqua background, and she tied her hair back with a matching yellow ribbon. The overall effect was much more casual, much more pleasing than her usual conservative suits and shirtwaists.

  And it was just for her. She wasn’t looking to impress anyone.

  After dumping the contents of her purse into a straw handbag, she locked up and headed for the Winchester house. It was exactly six o’clock when she parked out front. There were kids playing in the yard—the younger three Browns, plus two she didn’t recognize. Caleb sat at one end of a glider by a tree, pointedly ignoring the pretty girl at the other end.

  Kelsey stopped on the sidewalk to watch the kids for a minute, long enough to catch the attention of one of their playmates. The girl slid to a stop in front of her, pushed her blond hair back from her face, and stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Josie Dalton. Who’re you?”

  “Kelsey Malone.”

  They shook hands, then Josie bluntly asked, “Are you the welfare lady?”

  “I’m a social worker. I work for the Department of Family Assistance.”

  “You’re here ’cause of them and not us, aren’t you?” She gestured to the Browns with an outflung hand. “ ’Cause the welfare lady with the orange hair an’ the judge said we can stay with Aunt Emilie and Uncle Nathan till our mama’s well enough to take care of us herself, even if it is a long, long ti—”

  The girl on the glider had gotten up, walked over, and slipped her hand over Josie’s mouth. “You talk too much, Josie.”

  Josie wriggled free. “I do not. Miss Agatha says I talk just the right amount,” she said indignantly before running off to play.

  “Just the right amount for three kids,” the girl murmured. “Hi. I’m Alanna Dalton.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Alanna.” Kelsey lowered her voice. “Are you a friend of Caleb’s?”

  Alanna glanced over her shoulder at him, then shrugged. “Sort of. At least, I was until I saw him when he got caught … you know. Stealing.” She whispered the last word. “I don’t think he wants to be friends anymore.”

  She looked hurt—another female learning the power of males, Kelsey thought. She smiled gently at the girl. “I think he’s embarrassed about that, and probably a little frightened by being taken from his home. He needs a friend though. Maybe if you give him a little time … An awful lot has changed in his life, you know.”

  “I know,” Alanna said solemnly, and Kelsey thought she probably did. After all, she was living with her aunt and uncle instead of her parents.

  “Dr. J.D. and the rest of the grown-ups are inside. You can just go on in.”

  “Thank you.” Kelsey went to the top of the steps, then turned back to watch a moment longer. Alanna didn’t return to the glider and Caleb. Instead, she picked up Gracie and swung her around in circles, making her giggle delightedly, until they both collapsed to the groun
d.

  Smiling, Kelsey turned to ring the doorbell, only to find that the door was open and J.D. was standing there. “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said through the screen door.

  “I was invited.”

  “Actually, I was referring to the dress. For once you don’t look like you raided a prison matron’s closet.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to beg—not for that. You have to admit, that brown suit you had on yesterday and that navy blue thing today are—”

  “Professional,” she interrupted.

  “Severe.”

  “Conservative.”

  “Lacking in style.”

  “Simple.”

  “Plain. Ugly enough to scare the kids.”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed scowl. “I bet you wear shorts to work, and shoes without socks, and you probably don’t even own a suit.”

  His grin was supremely smug. “I own two suits—one for summer and one for winter. You saw me in one Sunday.”

  She’d thought he didn’t remember their brief encounter in the courthouse parking lot Sunday afternoon. He’d certainly given no sign of it on Monday. “You weren’t wearing a tie.”

  “I took it off before I was tempted to hang myself with it.” He offered another of those grins, so arrogant that part of her itched to slap it away while part of her wanted only to smile in response. The smile was winning out, when a woman appeared beside him.

  “J.D., don’t keep our guest waiting on the porch. Heavens, what kind of host are you?” She was slender, white-haired, with a warm welcome in her smile and her voice. “You have to forgive the boy. Sometimes he forgets his manners. You must be Kelsey. We’ve been waiting all day to meet you. Come in, dear. Let me introduce you around.”

  This time the smugness was all hers as she slipped past J.D. and let the older woman guide her into the living room, where the others waited. Her escort was Corinna Humphries. Her sister, Agatha Winchester, was plump, also white-haired, and almost overwhelmingly friendly. The other guests for the evening were the Daltons’ aunt and uncle, Emilie and Nathan Bishop. He was the police officer, Kelsey recalled, who had brought Caleb’s family to her department’s attention, and she mentioned this.