class comedian?
“Jake’s been quiet for as long as I’ve known him.” Which was technically the truth. It was also a roundabout way of avoiding stating outright that the length of time he’d been acquainted with his son could only be deemed long in the eyes of a fruit fly. “Like I said, it’s been a major adjustment for him—for any kid,” he stressed, “to move from the city to the country. Did you ever think that maybe Jake’s so quiet because he hasn’t had any time to get to know all that many people here yet?”
Sydney began to fuss in earnest and Marina automatically rocked the car seat to and fro, mentally crossing her fingers as she tried to lull her daughter back to sleep. She would much rather have turned her full attention to Sydney instead of talking to a thickheaded rancher who didn’t seem to know the first thing about the son living under his roof, but that wasn’t her call. She was Jake’s teacher and she owed it to the boy to help him if he did indeed need any help.
She tried again, tiptoeing diplomatically into the heart of the subject. “Mr. Dalton, I apologize if I sound as if I’m getting too personal here.” She saw him raise an eyebrow as if he was bracing himself. “But do you and Jake ever really...talk?” she asked, emphasizing the last word.
“Sure we talk,” Anderson retorted quickly, even as he thought that this wasn’t any of this teacher’s business. “We talk all the time.”
Marina was highly skeptical about his reply, even though she had a feeling that as far as this man was concerned, he and his son actually did communicate.
She paused for a moment, taking a breath. She knew that she needed to tread lightly here. She didn’t really know the man, not like she knew the parents of a great many of her other students, and she got the feeling that he wasn’t happy about the question she was putting to him. Even so, this needed to be asked and she wasn’t one who backed away, not when there was a child’s well-being at stake.
“No, Mr. Dalton, I mean talk about things that really matter,” she stressed.
Judging by the expression on his face, Marina felt she had her answer before the man opened his mouth to say a single word. But she waited for him to say something in his own defense anyway.
“Maybe not so much,” Anderson finally conceded rather grudgingly. He didn’t like having his shortcomings placed on display like this. “But I don’t want Jake to feel as if I’m pressuring him about anything,” he added quickly—and truthfully. He remembered what it was like, being hauled out on the proverbial carpet by one or both of his parents and taken to task for something he’d done—or hadn’t done when he should have. He didn’t want to make that sort of a mistake with Jake. He wanted Jake to feel like his own person.
He watched as Jake’s teacher pressed her lips together and murmured, “I see.”
With his back up, he felt his shoulders stiffen. What a condescending woman, he thought. How the hell could she possibly “see” when she knew nothing about him, about Jake or about the dynamics of their still freshly minted relationship?
“No,” Anderson informed her angrily, struggling to hold on to his temper, “you don’t.”
The man clearly had a chip on his shoulder now, Marina thought. He hadn’t behaved as if he had one when he’d first walked in. Was she somehow responsible for the change in attitude?
“All right,” she conceded, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Then why don’t you tell me?”
That was not the response he’d expected. Caught off guard and unprepared, Anderson started talking before he had a chance to fully weigh his words.
“For the first ten years of Jake’s life, I didn’t even have a clue that the kid existed—so I wasn’t able to be part of that life,” he added, which was, to him, the whole point of his frustration. He should have been there for the boy. To guide him, to support him and to get to know him. “Now that I’ve gotten temporary custody, I think that Jake’s confused and conflicted—not that I blame him,” he added quickly. “His whole world has changed and he’s discovered that everything that he thought he knew, he really didn’t.”
He blew out a breath and for a moment, Marina had the impression that he wasn’t really talking to her anymore, but to himself—and perhaps to the boy who wasn’t there.
“I really regret all those years that I lost because a kid really needs his father.”
Marina felt as if she’d taken a direct blow to her abdomen. For just a second, she remembered the disinterested look on Gary’s face when he told her that if she wanted to have this baby, she was on her own—as if he’d had no part in it.
The sentiment that Mr. Dalton had just expressed hit far too close to home for her to simply ignore or silently accept.
She did her best not to sound too defensive as she responded to his assessment. “Sometimes, Mr. Dalton, that just isn’t possible.”
The moment she said the words, Anderson realized his mistake. He really needed to monitor his thoughts before he allowed them to escape his lips, Anderson upbraided himself. He could see that he’d inadvertently hurt the woman. He glanced down at the baby in the car seat. The baby’s father wasn’t in the picture for some reason and Ms. Laramie had obviously taken his words to heart as some sort of a rebuke when nothing could have been further from the truth.
Anderson felt a shaft of guilt pierce his ordinarily tough hide. He didn’t want Jake’s teacher to think that he was criticizing her. That hadn’t been his intent when he’d stormed into her classroom. He’d only been trying to defend his son.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Laramie,” Anderson said contritely. “I meant no disrespect.”
Marina flushed. Of course he hadn’t. Why was she being so sensitive and overreacting this way? It was her job to think like a professional, not to turn everything around and focus exclusively on herself. Hormonal teenager girls did that, not state-licensed teachers.
She had to remember that, Marina silently lectured herself.
“None taken, Mr. Dalton,” she replied stoically.
* * *
“Anderson,” he prompted, correcting the petite redhead.
Since they’d just been talking about the ideal parenting situation, the unexpected insertion of his given name threw her. Marina looked at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”
“Not Mr. Dalton,” Anderson told her. Mr. Dalton was his father, Ben Dalton, a respected lawyer. He was just plain Anderson, a rancher. “Call me Anderson.”
She’d just met him today and she wasn’t accustomed to being so friendly with her students’ parents if she didn’t really know them outside the classroom.
“I don’t think that’s appro—”
“If we’re going to help Jake,” Anderson said, interrupting her, “I think we should be a team, not two polite strangers who sound as if they can’t wait to get away from one another.”
Marina frowned
