opened her mouth to remind Caleb that she had only agreed to see what Will needed to learn, not supply that knowledge herself, but before she could get out a word, a small boy got up off the sofa and walked toward her.
“My mom she says that school stifles creativity,” he said. “I don’t want my creativity stifled.”
“I’d like to stifle more than his creativity!” Miss Vincent muttered darkly.
Julie blinked. For a child who’d only been here a day, Will seemed to have made quite an impression on the housekeeper.
Stepping farther into the house, Julie took a good look at Will. His thin frame held not even the promise of someday developing the muscles that shaped his father’s body. Although his slightly oversize nose and his bright blue eyes had clearly been fished out of the same gene pool that had produced Caleb. But the expression of misery in the boy’s eyes made Julie’s heart contract with pity.
Poor little kid. How could his mother have just given him to a man the child had never even met? Caleb’s son deserved better. Any kid deserved better.
“Miss Raffet teaches first grade at the school you’ll be going to in the fall.” Caleb tossed the conversation gambit into the growing silence.
“And I promise our school tries to keep the stifling to an absolute minimum.” Julie smiled at Will.
“My mom says that public-school teachers is incompetent!” Will eyed her challengingly. “My mom says they only teach there ’cause they can’t do nothing else. My mom says I can learn everything I need to know at home all by myself!”
“Your precious mother—” the housekeeper began hotly, only to be quickly cut off by Caleb.
“We won’t keep you anymore, Miss Vincent,” he said firmly.
“Yes, sir,” the woman muttered, and with a final, frustrated glare at Will, stomped out of the room.
Julie felt a sneaking sympathy for the housekeeper. Clearly, Will wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.
Although, Julie studied Will’s forlorn face, she didn’t think he was being intentionally rude. Six-year-olds rarely understood the full impact of their words. Nor did they tend to think before they spoke. They just came right out with what they were thinking. Or with what they’d heard, and in Will’s case, he seemed to have heard more than he should have.
“How about if we go out on the patio, Will?” Caleb used the bright tone adults reserve for kids when they haven’t the vaguest idea how to talk to them.
“No,” Will replied promptly.
“No, what?” Caleb stared at his son in surprise.
“No, thank you?” Will tried again.
“First lesson on surviving in the adult world, Will,” Julie said, “is to learn about rhetorical questions.”
“What’s a re…ret…one of them?” Will asked curiously.
“It’s a question that doesn’t expect an answer. Like, don’t you think it’s time to go to bed? Or I’m sure you want to eat your spinach? Your father wasn’t asking your consent for us to go to the patio. He was politely telling you to do it.”
“And polite is getting to be in short supply around here this morning,” Caleb said.
Julie looked at Caleb, her eyes lingering on his face. There was a line between his dark eyebrows, and she could clearly see the muscles knotted along his jawline. The brilliant glitter of his eyes seemed dimmed. He looked as if he’d had a bad night, followed by a worse morning. Maybe what Caleb needed was a few minutes away from his son. And her away from him. The second thought followed on the heels of the first. It would give her a chance to totally regain her teacher persona, which being around Caleb had ruffled.
“Will and I can…” she began.
“No,” Caleb flatly rejected the idea before she could even formulate it. “Will is my son, and I want to find out firsthand what is going on.”
“As you wish, Mr. Tarrington.” Julie ignored the spurt of pleasure she felt as irrelevant.
“Caleb,” he corrected her. “And if I might call you Julie?”
The sound of her name on his lips did odd things to her equilibrium. Somehow, shaped by his deep voice, her name took on an allure that she knew it didn’t really have. It sounded mysterious and seductive, totally different from her normal practical self.
Mentally, Julie shook her head, trying to dislodge the fantasy. You are here to work, she reminded herself. Concentrate on the son. Him you can handle.
Julie’s gaze dropped to Will, noting the belligerent thrust of his lower lip. He looked confused and unhappy. She wanted to assure him that everything would be all right, but she refused to lie to him. She had no idea if everything would be all right in his world. Nor had she any way of making it so. She shot a quick glance at Caleb, who was watching his son with a hungry longing, and felt fractionally better. If human effort could fix Will’s world, then she didn’t have the slightest doubt that Caleb would do it.
“What’s you going to do?” Will demanded.
“Just read a little with you, ask you a few questions and play a few games,” Julie said.
“I ain’t ath…a…letical.” Will stumbled over the word. “Sports is dumb.”
“Tell me, what are your feelings on the English language?” Caleb asked dryly.
“Huh?” Will gave his father a blank look.
Julie cleared her throat, and gave Caleb a repressive look. This was no time to be worrying about Will’s command of English. Or lack, thereof. Trying to focus on too many things at once would only confuse the child. And probably make him more uncooperative than he already was.
“If we could get started?” Julie said.
“This way,” Caleb said as he headed toward the open French doors on the far side of the large recreation room.
“Is that one of them ret…things?” Will whispered to Julie.
“Yup,” Julie whispered back.
They followed Caleb through the French doors onto a brick-paved terrace. There were large terra-cotta pots filled with multicolored flowers scattered around, and beneath the shade of a huge sugar maple tree was a glass-topped table with four wrought-iron chairs circling it. To the left of the French doors were several loungers with brightly flowered cushions. The whole scene radiated a sense of peace and tranquillity. It would be the perfect place to relax after a busy day.
“How lovely this is,” Julie voiced her appreciation.
“He ain’t got no swimming pool,” Will pointed out. “At home, everybody’s got a swimming pool.”
“Everybody?” Julie set her briefcase down on the table and pulled out a pack of cards.
“Well, everybody who ain’t poor,” Will claimed. “Is you poor?”
