A Maverick And A Half. Marie Ferrarella

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she apologized, grabbing two paper towels and drying herself off as best she could. She found she needed two more just to do a passable job. Wadding up the paper towels, she tossed them into the same wastebasket that contained Sydney’s diaper. “You caught me off guard.”

      “Apparently.”

      Had the word sounded any drier, it would have crackled and broken apart as it left the stranger’s rather full lips.

      Marina walked back to her daughter, moving the car seat closer to her on the desk before she turned fully and addressed the stranger.

      In her best “teacher voice” she said to the man in her classroom, “Now then, you didn’t mention your name.” She spoke as pleasantly as she could, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

      Anderson drew himself up to his full height, aware of just how intimidating that appeared to the casual observer.

      “I’m Anderson Dalton,” he informed her in a no-nonsense voice. “You left a message on my phone, saying you wanted to see me about Jake.”

      The name instantly rang a bell. It wasn’t that big a classroom, nor that big a town, so Marina didn’t have to struggle to pair up the name to a student. But she was a little mystified as to why he felt the need to come in so quickly.

      “Well, I didn’t mean immediately,” she told him, sounding half apologetic if she’d conveyed the wrong impression. “I wanted you to call me back so that we could set up an appointment for a time that was convenient to both of us.”

      His wide shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. Okay, maybe he’d gone off half-cocked and misunderstood. But all that was water under the bridge in Anderson’s opinion.

      “Well, I’m here now,” he pointed out needlessly. “We might as well get to it—unless you want to take some time to dry off some more or maybe change your clothes,” he suggested.

      She didn’t have a change of clothes here. It never occurred to her that she might wind up taking an unexpected bath.

      “No, I’m fine.”

      That was Anderson’s cue. He immediately launched into a defense on his son’s behalf.

      Taking a step closer to the teacher, he all but loomed over her as he began his rapid-fire monologue. “Look, Jake’s a good kid, but you’ve got to remember, he’s dealing with a lot right now. It’s not easy for a kid his age to go from a big inner city to the sticks. Even so, I think he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of it, all things considered. A lot of other kids in his place might have acted out. You just have to cut him some slack, that’s all,” he told her with feeling.

      Marina opened her mouth but again, she didn’t get a chance to utter a single word. Jake’s father just kept on talking.

      “If anything’s wrong, then it’s my fault. Jake and I hardly had time to exchange two words since I found out about him and bang, suddenly I’m the one in charge of him, making all these big decisions. And hell—heck,” he censored himself, casting a side glance toward her infant daughter, “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. This parenting thing is really tough.”

      Well, that’s putting it mildly, Marina couldn’t help thinking. But being a private person, she kept that sentiment to herself. While she was generally friendly and outgoing, there were parts of her life that she considered to be private. Her unexpected entry into motherhood was one of them.

      Anderson didn’t notice the silence. He kept his monologue going.

      “Don’t punish the kid because of my mistakes,” he implored, growing more emotional. “Whatever Jake did that got you angry, he didn’t know any better. Let me talk to him—”

      This could go on for hours, Marina realized, dismayed.

      “Mr. Dalton, stop!” she cried, raising her voice so that he would finally cease talking and take a breath. “I don’t know what gave you the impression that Jake’s done something wrong, but he hasn’t. You’ve really got a great kid there, Mr. Dalton.”

      Anderson stopped dead and stared at her, clearly bewildered. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “You said we had to talk.”

      “And we do,” Marina agreed. One hand on the car seat, she glanced at her daughter. Despite the man’s verbose monologue, Sydney appeared to be dozing. Thank heavens for small favors, Marina thought. “But not because he’s done something bad.”

      The temporary relief Anderson felt quickly gave way to annoyance. “If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then why am I here?” he wanted to know. “I’ve got a ranch to run.”

      She saw that if she wanted to make any headway with Anderson Dalton, she was going to have to speak up and speak with conviction. Otherwise, the man gave every impression that he would steamroll right over her and keep on going.

      “I asked to see you because I am a little concerned about Jake,” she told him.

      In the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney beginning to stir.

      Please go on sleeping, pumpkin.

      “Concerned?” Anderson echoed. Was she doing a one-eighty on what she’d said a minute ago? Just what was this Ms. Laramie’s game? Didn’t the woman know how to speak plainly? “What’s there to be concerned about?”

      The man was beginning to irritate her. Marina started to wonder if this so-called meeting was ultimately an exercise in futility. But as he’d already said, he was here and since he was, she might as well press on and hope she could get through what appeared to be that thick head of his.

      Sounding as friendly as possible, Marina asked, “Have you noticed how quiet Jake is?”

      Anderson’s eyebrows drew together in what amounted to a perplexed scowl. “Well, yeah, sure. I noticed. Why?”

      Obviously the man needed to have a picture drawn for him. She did what she could to make that happen. “I’m worried that your son might be holding back something that’s really bothering him.”

      Anderson shrugged again. Just like a woman, he thought. Seeing problems where there weren’t any. Couldn’t she just appreciate the fact that Jake wasn’t some loudmouth 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

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